“I don’t think we should just ignore it,” she went on. “Maybe you should speak to somebody, a therapist. It might help to talk to someone and sort out your feelings.”
Good advice, as always. He had thought of that himself, of course. But it was different hearing it from Carolyn.
He’d prayed about it, of course, asking God for some direction, some insight into these feelings. But so far, no insight had come.
“Maybe some counseling would help,” he allowed. “I’m not sure what I need right now,” he added honestly. “Perhaps a spiritual retreat of some kind.”
Carolyn’s warm gaze remained on him. “That sounds good, too. Just promise me you’ll look into it. You won’t just brush this aside?”
Ben nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll find someone to talk to. Maybe another clergyman who understands my situation.”
It was hard to admit that he had come to that point, that this mood was more than just the result of a bad day or a bad week. It was, he thought, due to growing frustration over feeling his message wasn’t being heard. Or perhaps heard, but not heeded, which was even worse. He felt a little better admitting his feelings to Carolyn.
“It’s good to talk to you about this. I should have told you sooner.”
She leaned over and took his hand. “You’re always there for everyone else. You always give so much. I’m here for you, Ben.”
“Yes, you are. I ought to be counting my blessings instead of complaining.”
Carolyn smiled, her easy, winsome smile that had won his heart so long ago. “You can always complain to me if it makes you feel better.”
He felt better just holding her hand, as always. She was right, though. He couldn’t let this go too far. He had to face it squarely and find someone to help him sort things out. There was a minister up in Princeton he could talk to, an old friend. He would call tomorrow and see when they could visit. The thought lifted his spirits just a notch or two.
Carolyn leaned over and suddenly shut out the lamp. The room was dark, except for the lights twinkling on the Christmas tree.
“Look at the tree. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes, we picked out a good one this year, nice and full.”
“I like the way it looks with just the lights on.”
“I do, too. Why don’t we skip the ornaments? That would save you some work.”
“That would be something different.” Carolyn laughed, though she didn’t sound at all convinced it would be better.
Maybe that was all he needed in his life right now, Ben thought. Just something different.
CHAPTER FIVE
SARA WALKED INTO THE BEANERY, DEEP IN A CONVERSATION on her cell phone with her editor, Lindsay Forbes. “I think I got a good shot, too, right while he was waving the canceled checks.”
In the midst of a routine meeting of the county building commission—a meeting Sara dreaded covering since it was usually so deadly boring and devoid of any interesting news—a longtime commissioner was accused of assigning contracts for road repair to his brother-in-law and taking kickbacks.
It was a scandal in the making and certainly worthy of the front page in tomorrow’s edition.
If she wrote the story up quickly.
“I’m just picking up some lunch. I’ll be back in five minutes,” she promised Lindsay before ending the call.
It was already past three. Another gobbled meal at her desk. Such was her lot in life these days. But she wasn’t complaining; a front-page byline was more important than food any day.
Sara snapped her cell phone closed and dropped it into her cavernous leather knapsack. She’d already made her way to the take-out counter and now faced a waitress ready to take her order.
“Sara! Over here!” She turned quickly at the sound of Luke’s voice. He was sitting at a table near the back of the café. He waved her over, and she walked toward him, smiling. But she felt the expression freeze on her face when she noticed a woman sitting at his table, an extremely attractive woman with sun-streaked blond hair cut in shaggy layers and large brown eyes that pinned her with an interested stare. Forget extremely attractive; the woman was flat-out gorgeous.
Sara approached warily, wishing she had run a comb through her hair and freshened her lipstick when she had had a chance.
“Hey, Sara, what are you up to?” Luke greeted her.
Sara felt like smacking him. How dare he sit there with that bombshell and sound so perfectly casual?
“Just picking up some lunch. What are you up to?” She tried to keep the sarcasm from her tone but somehow couldn’t.
“Just visiting with my friend Christina. She called the other night, remember?”
“Sure, I remember.” Sara looked directly at Luke’s old friend. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sara.”
Christina smiled slowly. Not unkindly but in a somewhat patronizing manner, Sara thought.
“Nice to meet you, Sara. Luke tells me you’re a reporter on the local paper.”
“Yes, I am. Luke tells me you’re writing a book.”
“Trying to. It’s sort of miserable at the beginning, like pushing a rock uphill,” Christina said with a self-deprecating laugh. “But every time I write one, it does get a bit easier.”
Every time? How many books had she written? Well, she was older, about Luke’s age, Sara guessed. That was some comfort, or not, depending on how you looked at it.
Sara resolved to Google Christina Cross as soon as she got back to the office.
“I was just showing Christina around,” Luke explained. “Want to sit down and have some lunch with us?”
From the look of the table, it seemed they were just about finished. Sara didn’t want to join them anyway.
“No thanks. I’ve got to get back to the office. Lindsay wants my copy right away. Seems some commissioner awarded his brother-in-law lots of juicy contracts. There could be an investigation.”
“That’s a good story. I guess you have your little scandals here, too, don’t you?” Christina sounded surprised, as if she’d found some otherwise well-behaved children fighting in a sandbox.
“Yes, we do,” Sara said evenly. “But the crooks are usually shorter than the ones in the city. I mean, on average.”
Luke stared at her a minute and then laughed. Christina smiled mildly but didn’t reply.
“Well, sorry to run. See you,” she said, meaning Luke. She had little desire to see more of Christina Cross.
Luke met her gaze a moment and waved. He had a rather dopey look on his face, she thought, as she turned and headed for the door.
Sara was halfway to the newspaper office when she realized she never got to order her lunch. Oh . . . bother. She’d have to call out for something and starve in the meanwhile.
Another reason to be mad at Luke. He had some nerve sitting there so smugly with that—that Christina. He probably planted himself there just hoping Sara would run into them so he could make her jealous. That’s what it was, Sara decided. Just because she told him she wasn’t ready to get engaged.
And he jumps on the first log that floats by!
Couldn’t he see through that Christina? She was about as sincere as the blond streaks in her hair. How dumb was Luke, anyway?
Fuming, Sara stomped into the newspaper office, nearly walking right into the editor in chief.
“There you are. I was just about to call you again.”
Eager for Sara to start her article, Lindsay was practically breathing down her neck as she followed Sara back to her desk.
“So, tell all.” Lindsay perched on the edge of Sara’s desk, her arms crossed over her chest.
Sara related the events of the meeting and the accusation and argument that had taken center stage. “So this commissioner is denying flat out that he’s taken any kickbacks and then this other county official, an attorney, pulls out copies of canceled checks. You should have seen the guy’s face. I thought he was going to have a heart attack or something.”
“Soun
ds good. But watch the editorializing. The guy isn’t even officially charged with anything yet. Did you get any statements when the meeting broke up?”
“I tried, but they cleared out pretty quickly. Ducked out, more like. I’ll make some calls, see if anyone will talk to me.”
“See what you can get. But start the piece right away. We don’t want to be here all night.”
Sara felt the same way. She had tentative plans with Luke that night. On Friday evenings they usually got together late, after her art class. But Luke had looked pretty busy in the Beanery. Maybe he had forgotten. Or maybe his dear old friend was staying on into the evening. They had a lot of catching up to do, Sara was sure, feeling upset and annoyed all over again. She would wait and see if he called.
She stared at her computer screen, momentarily forgetting what she was supposed to be writing about. Then she pulled out her notepad and forced herself to settle down.
Covering news like this was tricky business. So far it was only a lot of accusations flying around. If she wasn’t careful in her reporting, the paper could get in trouble. Lindsay would go over her article, of course, but the real responsibility rested with her. She wasn’t going to let Luke and that Christina person mess up her story. She had to focus.
Several hours later, Sara and Lindsay were the only ones left in the office. Lindsay was going over Sara’s story for about the third time. It was getting to be a long day.
Despite Sara’s efforts to be careful, Lindsay had found more than a few errors. Sara took it on the chin and kept returning to her desk. She wasn’t about to explain what had thrown her off track.
“All right, this is better. I think that’s everything.” Lindsay looked up from the copy. “Good job, Sara. You should go home and get some rest.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Sara went back to her desk and gathered up her knapsack and belongings. Her cell phone rang. It was probably Luke, she guessed, trying to catch her at the last minute.
“Hello?” she said curtly.
“Hi, honey. Are you coming to class tonight? I just wanted to check,” Emily asked.
Sara took a class in watercolor painting with Emily on Friday nights. They were both so busy, it was usually the only time they got see each other. Sara felt beat but knew their time together meant a lot to her mother. She glanced at her watch. She was already late.
“Yes, I’m coming. I got stuck at work. I’m just leaving now.”
“Were you working on a good story?”
“A doozy. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“All right. Don’t rush. Did you eat anything?”
Sometimes Emily sounded so motherly, Sara practically laughed at her. But it felt good to know she cared so much. “I’ll pick something up on the way,” she promised.
Emily would appreciate the story. She wouldn’t think it was “cute and small town.”
Sara grabbed her jacket and called out a last good night to Lindsay before she headed out the door. She was looking forward to seeing Emily. Her mother was a good listener and wise about relationships, too. She’d surely say something that would make her feel better about Luke and this Christina episode.
THE PAINTING CLASS WAS HELD IN AN OLD SCHOOL BUILDING THAT had been turned into a community center. At night the classrooms were filled with adults studying everything from yoga to car repair.
Sara normally enjoyed taking a break from real life—work, Luke, and even the writing she did for herself. But tonight she felt tired and out of sorts, not in the mood to focus on the bowl of yellow pears on a blue satin scarf set up for a still life. She quietly slipped into the class, spotted her mother, and headed across the room. Emily was busy at work, blocking out her page with broad strokes. She looked up at Sara and smiled.
“Another fruit bowl.” Emily’s tone was hushed. She glanced over her shoulder at the instructor who stood a few aisles away. “I’m not sure if my painting talents are improving, but at least I’m getting some intellectual fiber.”
“That’s about all the fiber I’ve had all day,” Sara quipped in return. She took a to-go cup of tea and a container of yogurt out of a paper bag and set them on the table, then set up her paints and easel. She stared at the fruit bowl, not sure where to start.
Emily dabbed at her painting with quick strokes. “Tell me about your story.”
“You’re going to like this one. Looks like a scandal is brewing in the county building commission.”
What Sara really wanted to tell Emily about was meeting up with Luke and his old girlfriend. That was the biggest story on her mind. And he hadn’t called her tonight either, she realized. He always called at night to check in, even when he knew she was working late or had this class.
Before Sara could go further with her story, their instructor, Sylvia Cooper, appeared. In her mid-sixties, Sylvia was a former high school art teacher and now a professional artist. Her specialty was watercolor landscapes, mostly beach scenes. She’d won a number of awards and her pictures were exhibited in galleries throughout New England. She was dressed tonight in a long, loose tunic top and skirt in deep purple tones that made a striking contrast to her pure silver hair. She wore several large silver rings on each hand; strands of bright beads around her neck and an array of silver and copper bracelets made a jangling sound as she moved through the room.
Sylvia was always very encouraging. Overly so in some cases, Sara thought. She now cast an appraising glance over Emily’s picture.
“I like the way you’ve outlined the fruit. Nice and bold. The paint is getting too opaque in here, though.” She pointed to a section on the bowl. “Keep it transparent, fluid,” she coached. “Remember the light.”
Her usual warning. Sara suppressed a smile.
“Oh, by the way. I read about your episode with the abandoned baby. What an experience.”
“It was pretty unbelievable.” Emily cast a quick look at the instructor.
“What’s become of the child? Is she in an orphanage?”
“She’s been in the hospital the past week, being treated for a respiratory infection.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Is she better now?”
“She’s coming along. She won’t be placed with adoptive parents until the county completes an investigation. But Dan and I have applied to be her temporary guardians.”
Sara had been half listening as she started her painting, but at that last sentence her head turned toward Emily. She could barely hide her shocked expression.
“That’s wonderful of you and Dan to step forward like that and help the child,” Sylvia said.
“It’s something we really wanted to do.”
Something Emily wants to do, Sara decided. She knew Dan wasn’t interested in taking on a baby, not that he didn’t like children: he was great with Darrell and Tyler. But once Jessica and Sam’s kids had come along, Sara had heard him comment often enough that he was glad his child-rearing years were behind him.
“Well, best of luck.” Sylvia glanced at Sara’s blank canvas and shot her a puzzled look.
“I had to work late,” Sara said apologetically.
“That’s all right, dear. I’ll come back and check at the break.” She touched Sara’s arm as she walked past to the next student.
Sara turned to Emily. “So you applied to be guardians? I didn’t realize—”
“It’s all happened very quickly. We just decided to go ahead with the paperwork on Wednesday and had the home visit last night. I just didn’t get a chance to tell you,” Emily explained. “We don’t even know for sure if it’s going to work out.”
“That’s great. I hope it does.”
“So do I,” Emily said.
For some reason, it hurt a little to hear the excitement and anticipation compressed in the simple reply.
Sylvia called for attention and gave the class some pointers. A welcome interruption to the conversation, Sara thought. She turned to her blank sheet of paper and dabbed some paint on. She wasn’t sure why, but s
he didn’t think Emily’s news was so great. She was certainly surprised, though.
Emily was going to take in a baby. Her birth mother was going to care for another child.
The last time she’d seen Emily with that look of excitement and particular glow was when Sara had finally agreed to stay in Cape Light so they could get to know each other better.
You’re jealous. That’s the problem. You’re jealous of a poor, homeless little baby. Sara felt a wave of guilt.
No, I’m not. That’s not it at all, she argued with herself.
No? Then what is it?
I just think it’s a bad idea. Emily’s too old and too dedicated to her job to take on a baby. Dan will freak. She might even end up messing up her marriage over this. But who can tell her that? Look at her. She’s on cloud nine.
Exactly. You’re not going to be Emily’s number one anymore. You’re not going to be her “can do no wrong” princess. You’ve been dethroned, the little voice pointed out.
Sara plunked her brush into a container of water and turned to the snack she’d brought along in lieu of dinner. She flipped the lid off the yogurt and took a spoonful. She should have skipped the art class and gone straight home to eat a real meal, crash in front of the TV, and go to bed early.
She had come to see Emily, seeking some comfort from her problems with Luke, and now she felt even worse.
Then again, she would have heard the news sooner or later.
Sylvia began circulating around the room again. “Finish whatever you’re working on, and we’ll take a ten-minute break,” she announced.
“So, when will you find out?” Sara asked Emily.
Emily, who was swirling her brush in a long curvy line, didn’t look up for a moment. “Tomorrow,” she said finally. “The social worker said she’ll call early if it’s a go. We may have to pick the baby up right away. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” she confessed.
Sara forced a smile. “Get used to it. I hear babies keep you up all night.”
Emily nodded and turned back to her work. “We’ll see,” she said wistfully.
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