Love Finds You in Miracle, Kentucky

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “I am not forcing anything.”

  “Okay, you’re nudging then.”

  She pulled back her chin as indignation pulsed through her veins. “And what’s wrong with that, Tom Haynes?”

  “Oh, I dunno.” He lifted his tanned, bony shoulders. “Guess it all depends on where the nudging is headed. Off a cliff? Now that’d be a bad sort of nudging.”

  “No one is going to get hurt by my nudging if that’s what you’re insinuating. It’s my duty as matriarch to keep my family in touch with one another.”

  “Matriarch, huh?” He gave a snort of amusement.

  “Well, that’s what I am.”

  He took a moment to mull it over. “S’pose you are.”

  A weighty silence filled the small sanctuary, and Loretta sensed Tom’s opposition to her reconciliation efforts. But just like she wouldn’t tell him how to dress, he wouldn’t tell her how to run her family affairs. At this stage in life, they both knew better. Besides, she was doing the right thing.

  She finished with the flowers and placed each vase on the altar with the utmost of care. Then she stepped back and allowed herself a few moments to admire her handiwork. Make that God’s handiwork. He, of course, created those lovely begonias, so sturdy and forgiving. She had merely planted, watered, and weeded.

  “All set to go home?”

  Loretta turned to find Tom standing, waiting for her.

  She smiled. “All set.”

  Meg watched from the window as her dad and his other family emerged from their SUV. Both his kids, teenagers actually, had reddish gold hair, and Meg remembered them being tall and skinny. Now, however, both Ryan and Kelly had filled out in the right places, Ryan with his brawny shoulders and Kelly with her trim, shapely figure. As they walked toward the house with their parents, Meg noticed that her eighteen-year-old half-brother had surpassed Dad’s six-feet-plus frame.

  Her gaze shifted to Dad’s wife, Donna, who looked just the same as Meg remembered, average build, murky blond hair, and a stern frown pulling at the corners of her wide mouth. She hadn’t ever been the proverbial wicked stepmother. In fact, Meg realized she didn’t have an opinion of Donna at all.

  Sliding her focus back to her father, Meg decided he hadn’t changed much, either. So far, this visit wasn’t shaping up to be anything extraordinary.

  Meg drew in a deep, steadying breath, steeling her emotions, before making her way through the house and into the kitchen.

  Dad entered through the back door first. “Well, Meggie, it’s good to see you.” He captured her in a brief bear hug that made her lose her balance when he released her.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “You’re lookin’ fine,” he drawled. “Got a teachin’ job in Stanford, I hear.”

  “That’s right.”

  He gave a single nod. “Hope it works out for you.”

  “What makes you think that my new job here won’t work out?” Meg picked up on his doubtfulness and felt her already shaky confidence wane.

  A moment passed and she remembered her siblings. She peered around Dad and lifted one hand in silent greeting.

  “Hi,” they both muttered in unison.

  Seconds later Donna strolled into the kitchen, carrying a casserole dish. Setting it on the table, she glanced at Meg. “Well, well! Look at you, standing there all grown up and pretty.”

  Meg pushed out a smile.

  “Where’s your grandmother?”

  “Took some flowers to church. She should be back any time now.”

  For several long, awkward moments, Meg watched the members of Dad’s family glance at one another and then at her.

  Finally Donna stuck out her hip and planted a balled fist on it. “So what’s your mama got to say ’bout you movin’ here to Stanford?”

  “My ma—?” Meg swallowed the rest of her question, remembering that Mom, Dad, and Donna had all grown up in this area and attended the same high school. It was a well-known fact that Mom had always longed for the bright lights of the big city, and she often referred to Donna as “The Princess of Prudery.” Central Kentucky, of course, was her kingdom.

  “I’m sure Tricia had a few choice words about your comin’ here to teach,” Donna added.

  “You’ve got that right. She said I lost my—” Meg withheld the expletive. “—lost my mind.”

  Her stepmom appeared genuinely amused. “I figured. Some things never change. So where’s she living now?”

  “Arizona. She’s with a guy named Greg. He’s a plumbing contractor or something like that.”

  “Think this time it’s for real?” Donna’s sincere tone surprised Meg.

  She rolled her shoulders in response. “Who knows?”

  No one spoke. During the prolonged silence, Meg watched Ryan amble to the fridge and pull out a pitcher of lemonade.

  “I want some, too,” Kelly said.

  “Yeah, son, make that three.” Dad caught his son’s gaze. “Aw, heck, just pour five glasses.”

  “None for me. Thanks.” Meg lifted her mug. “I’m still working on my morning coffee.”

  Four heads turned toward her and regarded her as if she’d grown a pair of horns.

  Molten-hot humiliation crept up Meg’s neck and spread across her face. “Um, I’m not lazy or anything. It’s rather involved. I’m sure the story would bore you to tears.”

  “Well, now, I’m sure that’s not true.” Dad recovered first and gave her one of his easy smiles. “In fact, we’d love to hear you ramble on for a while. We’re all too tuckered out for talking. Kelly and Ryan each own a horse, and after the ridin’ and groomin’ and cleanin’ the stables—”

  “Which we all do as a family,” Donna put in.

  Meg picked up on the word “family,” and her broken heart crumbled a little bit more.

  Dad just smiled. “Well, we’re pretty worn out this time o’ day.”

  “I’m sure you are.” Meg hoped her voice didn’t sound as cynical as she suddenly felt.

  “Ryan and I give riding lessons, and we actually get paid for it.” Kelly lifted her glass of lemonade to her lips. “Do you ride, Meg?”

  “No. No, I don’t.”

  “Well, maybe I can teach you how some time. I mean, seein’ as you’re going to live here and we’re—you know, sisters and everything.”

  Sisters. Meg forced herself not to gape. She had expected the cold-shoulder treatment, but instead her sixteen-year-old half sister was attempting to reach out.

  “Sure. I’d like that.” Meg couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

  “Okay.” Kelly drank down a good portion of her lemonade. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “And then maybe you can help me shop for a homecoming dress.”

  “Shopping?” Meg was floored all the more. “Okay. I like shopping.”

  Donna cleared her throat. “Who says you’re going to the homecoming dance, missy? Dad and I are still thinkin’ on it.”

  “But, Mama, I’m sixteen now—”

  “We’ll discuss this later.” Dad sent Kelly a look of warning. “I’m sure Meg doesn’t want to listen to us have this debate right now.” He clapped his beefy hands. “How ’bout we go out on the screen porch and set awhile instead?” He glanced at Meg. “When your grammaw comes home, she’ll kick us out of her kitchen anyhow.” He looked at his wife. “Ain’t that right, honeybunch?”

  “That’s right.” Donna smiled up at him.

  With ice clinking in their now-sweating glasses, they ambled outdoors. Meg followed her stepfamily, thinking this might not be such an interminable evening after all.

  Cammy wheeled her chair closer to the open window. Daddy and Mrs. Foster stood on the lawn, talking, and Mrs. Foster had raised her voice. She sounded mad.

  “Oh, whatever, Vance. I don’t believe you. ‘Not meant to be’? Please! You could at least be honest with me and tell me the real reason you don’t want to see me anymore.”

  Honest? Cammy leaned forward, straining to see through the sc
reen. Obviously Mrs. Foster didn’t know Daddy very well, because he was always honest. Whatever he said, Mrs. Foster should believe him.

  “This isn’t about us, is it? It’s about her.” Mrs. Foster pointed at the house. “You let her run your life. If she doesn’t like something or someone, you move heaven and earth to fix it.”

  “You’re right. I do. Because that’s my responsibility as a father.”

  Cammy realized they were talking about her now. She moved her chair in closer, careful not to be seen through the window.

  “She’s spoiled, Vance.”

  Cammy couldn’t quite make out Daddy’s reply.

  “You dote on her. You’re not helping her learn to be independent. You’re enabling her physical disabilities by giving in to her every whim.”

  “She’s eight years old, Nicole! She’s been through a lot, and she deserves to be happy.”

  Go, Daddy! Cammy felt a smile stretch across her lips.

  “And what are you going to do in about five or six years when she starts developing as a woman?”

  “Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

  “You’re a fool, Vance. There’s no man on earth who can take care of a disabled young woman, work a full-time job, and still have any sort of normal life. I think you should reconsider that Christian group home idea. Maybe not now, but—”

  “I told you before, it’s out of the question. I refuse to send Cammy to an institution.”

  Uh-oh, Daddy sounded like he was mad now. Cammy sat up a little straighter.

  “It’s hardly an institution. It’s a group home, and it’s staffed with skilled personnel. Trained women. Christian women who can care for Cammy.”

  “For heaven’s sake, she’s not a vegetable!”

  “Don’t you dare use that tone with me, Vance Bayer.”

  Cammy cringed. She didn’t like hearing people argue. It scared her. Tears stung her eyes, and she rubbed them away. Mrs. Foster sure didn’t understand. But Cammy did; she knew what an “instooshin” was. There were some kids at day camp from an instooshin. But they had more stuff wrong with them than just their legs not working right.

  “I’m sorry.” Daddy sounded sorry, too. “I think we need to leave it right there. It’s a shame things didn’t work out between us, but I can see that they never will.”

  “Oh, Vance—”

  “It’s no use, Nicole. I think my capability to love another woman died with Angie three years ago.”

  Mrs. Foster was silent for a minute, and her voice was softer when she spoke again. “You haven’t given me much of an opportunity to prove you wrong, Vance. Nine or ten short weeks?”

  “Any longer isn’t fair to you, Nicole.”

  More silence.

  “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “No, wait—please.” Mrs. Foster sounded like she might cry, and Cammy felt like she’d cry right along with her. She didn’t like Mrs. Foster, that was true enough, but she didn’t like seeing people sad more than anything.

  “It’s over, Nicole. Let’s both move forward.”

  Nobody said a word for what seemed like forever, and Cammy stretched her neck to try and see what they were doing.

  Suddenly they passed by the window, and Cammy saw that Mrs. Foster was crying now. Cammy wiped away a tear of her own. Too bad Mrs. Foster couldn’t learn that Cammy was able to do lots of things; she didn’t have to go to an instooshin. She could take care of herself and Daddy, too. And someday, when she walked again, everybody who didn’t believe it would see it for themselves.

  Cammy had dreams about walking, like Joseph in the Bible who had dreams from God that came true! When it happened for real, Mrs. Foster would be sorry she said Daddy should send her away. Cammy loved Daddy and she knew he loved her right back.

  Mrs. Foster’s car started up, and moments later Daddy passed by the window again. Cammy had to act fast; he better not find her by the window.

  She gave a hard push on the wheels and moved her chair quickly backwards. Then she maneuvered it around, banging into the table as she did so. The lamp on top of it wobbled back and forth and Cammy prayed it wouldn’t crash onto the floor.

  She held her breath.

  Seconds seemed like hours.

  Whew! She let out her breath. It didn’t fall.

  But just then, Daddy walked in from outside. He glanced at her and then his eyes moved to the open window. Suddenly Cammy felt her face get hotter and hotter.

  “I certainly hope you weren’t eavesdropping, young lady.”

  Cammy gulped, then crossed the first two fingers on her right hand. Her friend Sasha Donahue said it was okay to fib if you crossed your fingers, but only if you use your right hand. Not the left one.

  “Well?” Daddy folded his arms. “Were you listening to my conversation with Mrs. Foster?”

  Cammy shook her head. “Oh, no, Daddy. Not me.”

  Chapter Six

  Morning sunshine splayed through the kitchen window and caused the cheery yellow curtains that framed it to appear almost neon.

  “Wasn’t it fun last night, getting together with your dad, Donna, and the kids.”

  “Hardly kids,” Meg said as Grams refilled her coffee cup. “Ryan will graduate from high school this year.”

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Grams set the carafe back into the automatic maker. Then she took her seat at the table across from Meg. “It’s difficult for me to believe that you’re finished with high school and that you’ve earned your college degree. I’m so proud of you—proud of all my grandkids.”

  “That’s very obvious, Grams.” Meg smiled into her coffee before taking a drink. “As for last night, I have to admit that I enjoyed myself. Even Dad seemed to warm up as the evening progressed.”

  “Things are different between the two of you now. You’re a grown woman.”

  “And I’m no longer a ping-pong between my parents.”

  “No. No longer that.” Clouds of compassion filled Grams’ gaze.

  Meg forced a grin. The last thing she wanted was pity. “Well, with your help, I’m making my own way now. A new way, different from my mom—maybe even my dad, too. I believe it was Albert Einstein who said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I’m breaking free of the insanity.”

  Grams set her palm over Meg’s hand. “You’ve got a good attitude: Live and learn. You’re wise for your young age. Sometimes it takes folks a lifetime to come to that conclusion.”

  “Thanks, Grams.” The compliment bolstered Meg’s self-confidence, and again she felt lucky to be there.

  “Anybody home?” Tom’s voice wafted in from the back door. Seconds later he walked into the house.

  Meg took in his neat appearance, dark gray suit, and somewhat coordinating tie. “My, my, don’t you look spiffy.”

  He gave her an amused grin before turning to Grams. “She’s got your sass. I’ll say that much for her.”

  Meg laughed. In addition to her dad, stepmother, and half siblings, she’d become better acquainted with Tom last night, too.

  Grams stood. “Want a quick cup of coffee?”

  “Naw, I had my fill.” He tapped the face of his wristwatch. “And I think we best be headin’ over to church about now.”

  “We’re both ready to go.”

  “I figured.” He looked at Meg again. “With all the clocks in here, who could lose track of time?”

  “For sure.”

  Meg and Tom shared a laugh while Grams rolled her eyes at the both of them. “Everyone’s a comedian this morning.”

  “Hopefully the same will apply to Preacher Wilkerson,” Tom quipped.

  Meg continued to grin.

  “Some Sundays he drones on till noon.”

  “Tom Haynes, that’s a very disrespectful thing to say about our pastor.”

  “Can’t help it ’cause it’s true.” He winked at Meg.

  She smiled.

  Grams clucked her tongue at
him as she strode into the dining room. “I’m going to fetch my purse and then we can be on our way.”

  Meg pushed her chair back and collected her own small but fashionable brown handbag from the kitchen table. She slipped its skinny leather strap over her shoulder, remembering the day she’d discovered it in one of her favorite secondhand shops.

  Grams returned and together they walked outside to the car. During the drive to church, Meg soaked in the lush scenery through the tinted window, happy that she’d made positive inroads with her dad and his other family last night. It was evident from their behavior that they were making an effort to get to know her, too. They seemed interested in her and what she had to say. Ryan asked questions about applying for college scholarships. Kelly talked fashion and suggested she and Meg go shopping sometime. This morning Meg awoke with a lighter heart, and for the first time, she felt like she actually belonged to the Jorgenson side of her family.

  Tom pulled his older model Lincoln Town Car into the lot and parked. Meg peered at the structure. A red-brick church set on a hill with the countryside all around. A picturesque scene, for sure. But Meg still couldn’t figure out why Grams and Tom made the fifteen-minute drive to this church when they passed at least ten on the way—including the church Dad and his family attended right in Miracle. Of course, theirs was more modern-looking, and Meg had learned last night that Grams and Tom felt it was too “lively” for them.

  They walked to the entrance and Tom politely opened one of the white double doors while Meg and Grams stepped inside. A waft of cool air met them, and Tom muttered about the air conditioning always being set too low. Grams ignored his grumbling and led them into the sanctuary. Meg immediately spotted the little girl she’d met on Friday night. It was hard to miss her since her wheelchair was parked at the end of a pew in the center aisle.

  Meg smiled as she passed by, and the child’s face lit with enthusiasm. Meg couldn’t help laughing to herself as she scooted into the padded pew after Tom and Grams. Even from where she sat two pews up, Meg could hear the girl begging her dad to let her sit next to her “new teacher.”

  “You’ve made quite the impression on little Cammy Bayer,” Grams remarked, patting the back of Meg’s hand.