While he discreetly complained about the interruptions to their meal, Emily could tell that he was basking in the attention. He’d had some visitors at home, but isolation had been setting in. This was just what he needed, she realized. Dan Forbes might have the air of a loner, but he was really more social than he would ever admit.
“Gee, if I had known I was going to see so many people, I would have cleaned up a little,” he admitted, as they left. “I look sort of ragged, don’t you think?”
“You look fine. But you should have let me trim your hair,” she teased him.
They were out on the sidewalk. Emily glanced up and down Main Street, wondering what they should do next.
“That reminds me . . . How about cruising past the barbershop? I can’t risk you coming at me with those scissors again, Emily.”
“Well, I really don’t give a bad haircut, but I’m sure Bob is a lot better,” she admitted, pushing him along.
“The town looks wonderful,” Dan said. “This is the first time I’ve been out since they put up the decorations. I tell you, cooped up in that house, I hardly felt like Christmas was coming, except for the TV commercials. Now, I really do.”
It did look pretty, Emily agreed, with tiny white lights on all the trees on Main Street, and lights strung across the avenue at intervals. There was even a Santa’s sleigh, complete with the eight reindeer, strung up across the street in front of the Village Hall. Each of the shopkeepers had set up a small tree, decorated in keeping with his business. The hardware store had trimmed its tree with nuts and bolts and plumbing washers. The stationery store had used pens, pencils, and colored index cards. The Bramble tree was covered with tiny teacup ornaments and bits of lace and ribbon.
Finally they reached Bob’s Barbershop. Like everyone else in town, Bob Greenfield was delighted to see Dan. However, he seemed particularly struck by Dan’s long hair and beard.
“I heard you broke your leg. I didn’t know you were a castaway on a desert island.”
“Good one, Bob.” Dan glanced at Emily, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, I’m all yours. Let’s do it.” Dan spun his wheelchair to face the mirror, submitting to the barber with a sigh.
“This may take a while,” Bob said to Emily.
She nodded. “See you later.”
While Dan got his hair cut, she strolled around town, browsing the shop windows. She returned about twenty minutes later to find Dan looking different—and even more attractive. The barber had given him a short, layered cut, and instead of shaving off the beard, he’d trimmed it back and groomed it.
“Better?” Dan asked, once they were out on the street again.
“Much,” she agreed. “I thought you were going to shave off your beard.”
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
“I didn’t before,” she said honestly. “But now it makes you look sort of . . . distinguished.”
“Oh no, getting to the distinguished stage, am I?” he asked, making her feel that she’d said the wrong thing.
“And dashing,” she added. “Definitely dashing.”
“Okay. I’ll settle for dashing,” he said, sounding pleased. “Mind you, I’m not going to shave once I get on my boat.”
“That makes sense,” Emily remarked mildly. Secretly she felt jarred to be reminded again of his imminent departure.
His plans hadn’t changed; that was no surprise. Briefly she wondered what would happen if she drummed up the nerve to be honest with Dan about her feelings. What good would it do? None at all, for either of them, she decided.
Dan’s determination to sail off into the sunset wasn’t something he was doing to hurt her, she reminded herself. It was just a case of bad timing. The only thing to do was to watch out for her own heart. She had to be careful. She couldn’t let herself fall for him completely—though at times like this, it felt as if she already had.
She quietly sighed, as she pushed the wheelchair down Main Street. Together, they checked out the shop windows, and Emily found herself grateful for the distraction.
“I don’t know what to get anyone for Christmas. My kids and Scott, I mean,” Dan said. “They’ve all been pretty good to put up with me. Especially Lindsay. I’ve been looking at things on the Internet, but I don’t even know their sizes. And I can hardly run to the door when the boxes come to hide them.”
“I could shop for you,” Emily offered. “Just give me some ideas, and I’ll go out and see what I can find.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that, Emily. That’s too much extra work for you,” Dan argued. “All that rushing around, standing in lines—”
“Don’t be silly. That’s what the holidays are all about,” she kidded him. She met his gaze and smiled. “Honestly, it won’t be any trouble at all. I’ll be in the stores anyway. I can do it. I really want to,” she insisted.
He was quiet for a moment and rubbed his beard with his hand, a gesture she hadn’t noticed before. “Well . . . if you would do that, I’d be eternally grateful. Really.”
“Then consider it done,” she replied.
They stopped in front of a fancy clothing store that had an old toy train circling a miniature village beneath the Christmas tree.
“Look at that shawl. It’s gorgeous. Maybe Lindsay would like something like that,” Emily said.
“What am I looking at?” Dan asked, in a humorous tone.
“That woolen shawl. See it in the back—that gorgeous azure blue?”
“Oh, sure. I see it now. That is pretty. What color did you call it again?”
“Azure blue,” Emily said slowly, gazing at him.
“Yes, azure. Of course.” He was smiling at her, a secret sort of smile that made her feel warm inside. Admired. As if he wasn’t thinking of the woolen stole at all, just about her.
“Do you think Lindsay would like that?” she persisted.
“I think she might. Let’s keep it in mind.”
They window-shopped all the way down Main Street, finally ending up at Emily’s Jeep, which was parked near the green. Dan had even found a scrap of paper and a pencil in his jacket pocket and jotted a gift-idea list on the way.
By the time they reached the car, the sunshine was quickly fading, and the lights on Main Street glowed in the dusk.
Carolers stood on the opposite corner, under an old-fashioned gaslight that was trimmed in honor of the season. The singers’ voices blended in sweet harmonies, and despite the cold, people on the streets stopped to listen.
Emily helped Dan up out of his chair. Once again he leaned on her for support, with his arm wrapped around her shoulders and her arm circling his waist. They turned together to look at the lights and listen to the singing.
“How pretty,” Emily remarked.
“Yes, very pretty,” he agreed. He turned and gazed down at her, and for one wild moment, she thought he was about to kiss her.
Then the sound of a car door slamming nearby reminded her that they were still on Main Street.
She pulled back, the mood broken. “Ready to go home?”
“Not really . . . but I guess I have to. It’s been a great day. The best I’ve had in weeks,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know how to thank you, Emily.”
“Oh, you’ll think of something,” she said lightly.
Then she pulled open the car door and began to help him into the backseat. It had been the best day she’d had in weeks, too. One Emily knew she would remember for a long time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LUCY SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE AND OPENED ONE OF HER school notebooks to a clean page. She pushed aside some coffee mugs and cereal bowls, then picked up a pen and started to write.
Dear Charlie, I don’t think this letter will come as a surprise. I’m sick and tired of fighting and don’t see that we can get along anymore. So I think it’s better for everyone, even the boys, if we separate for a while.
She stopped writing, noticing fat wet tears staining the edge of the paper. She found a tissue on the
counter and dabbed her eyes and then the paper, too.
I am going to stay at my mother’s with the children. You can see them anytime you like. I’ll call you tonight.
She wondered then if she needed to tell him she wouldn’t be working at the diner anymore. But that would be obvious, wouldn’t it? Even to Charlie? It was Monday, her day off. He would come in tonight, find the note, and figure it out.
She wondered finally how she should sign it. The word love seemed hypocritical now, but it was so much a habit. She sat very still, trying to figure out what she really felt for Charlie. Did she love him anymore at all . . . or not? I’m too mad at him right now to know one way or the other.
Finally, she just wrote her name at the bottom of the page.
She sighed and stared around the familiar room. How could she leave her kitchen, her house, all her things? She had to find a new job, a new place to live. She had to explain this all to the boys somehow. And right on top of Christmas. She wasn’t a very good mother to do this to them in the middle of the holidays, was she? Wasn’t it easier to just stay?
Still, something inside insisted that she had no choice. She had to go. This morning. Right now. It felt like suddenly something was pushing her forward, right out the door.
She and Charlie had gone through one of their usual arguments this morning. He wanted her to put in more hours this week at the diner, and she’d said she was too busy with school. It would only be another week or so until the term ended. Why couldn’t he be more patient about it?
Somehow they’d gotten around to the topic of seeing Reverend Ben again. Charlie said he’d had enough of that, so she might as well stop nagging him. He wasn’t seeing a marriage counselor ever again—Reverend Ben or anybody. That was that. Then he just stormed out of the house.
The boys had been upstairs, getting dressed for school. They came down, quiet as mice, and ate their oatmeal without their usual arguments. Her heart ached for them. Then she walked them down to the bus stop with Bradley, their dog, just like every other morning. Only inside something had snapped. Some switch had turned over, and Lucy returned to the house, her heart weighing as heavily as a stone. She didn’t even bother to put the breakfast dishes in the sink. She just sat down and wrote Charlie’s note, her mind made up.
Now she took the note and left it in the middle of the table, leaning against the sugar bowl. The same place she might leave him a note about walking the dog or a reminder to bring home a gallon of milk.
For a moment, she considered calling Reverend Ben. He would be sympathetic, she was sure. But he might try to persuade her to stay, and she didn’t want to be swayed. No, she’d go see him after it was all done. After she moved out.
She headed upstairs. First she would pack the boys’ bags, remembering to take some favorite toys and books. Jamie still slept with a worn stuffed tiger. It was going to be hard for them. But children sensed what was going on between adults. She remembered the way her parents fought. Her father drank and flew into angry rages. Her mother had loyally stuck by him for the sake of the family. But recently her now-widowed mother had confided that she wasn’t sure she had done the right thing.
“So don’t go following after me, in case that’s what you’re thinking, Lucy,” her mother had warned.
Lucy knew her mother would help her now. She would welcome her and the boys. The house where Lucy grew up was empty, with plenty of bedrooms, and fortunately it was close to the boys’ school and friends. Her mother would even loan her some money, if it came to that. She’d often hinted as much, but Lucy had always acted as if she and Charlie were working things out. It embarrassed her for anyone to know that her marriage was such a dismal failure.
Well, they were going to know now. Lucy folded a sweatshirt with the green emblem of the Boston Celtics and put it into a blue duffle bag.
Charlie had snuffed out any hope of their relationship ever working. And once you lost hope—well, what you did you have? You didn’t have any choices left.
“DAD? I’M GOING NOW.”
Dan heard Lindsay in the doorway of the kitchen and turned to look at her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Just fixing this old lamp. I picked it up at a tag sale a while ago. It’s just been sitting around, with a lot of other fix-it projects I’ve never had time for.”
“It’s pretty,” Lindsay said, taking a closer look.
“It will be,” he promised. “I want to get one of those silk shades with a fringed edge for it. You know, that real antique style. Maybe you can find one for me sometime in your travels. I’ll give you the dimensions.”
“I can try. That will look good. Where will you put it? In the living room?” his daughter asked.
“Oh, I’m not sure yet,” he said vaguely. He turned to cut a piece of wire. He actually thought Emily might like it. They’d seen one just like it in the window of the Bramble Shop last Saturday, and she practically swooned over it. He was fixing it as a surprise for her, but not as her Christmas gift. He really had to get her something special for Christmas; he just didn’t know what.
“So, you look nice. Going on an interview?” he said, hoping to change the subject.
Lindsay nodded. She sat at the table. “In Newburyport, at an advertising agency. It’s a small firm, but they sounded nice over the phone. With Scott working in Southport, it doesn’t make sense to keep looking down in Boston.”
“Of course not. You two will have to find a place around here now. Luckily you didn’t sign a lease or anything in the city. You’d be stuck,” Dan said.
“Well, we are going to move out, so don’t worry,” Lindsay promised. “We really didn’t mean to stay half this long.”
“Don’t be silly. You stay as long as you want. I know I’ve been impossible, unbearable, and sort of a big pain in the neck,” Dan admitted, making her laugh. “You’ve been great to put up with me, honey. Honestly. And you’ve been a great help to Wyatt. He says he couldn’t survive without you. What’s he going to do when you find a real job?” he teased her.
“I don’t know. I guess he’ll manage somehow.” He noticed his daughter’s expression change. She looked uneasy. Worried about her interview maybe?
“How do you think Wyatt is doing so far?” Dan prodded her. He threaded the wire through the lamp base and pushed it up the brass pole. “You’re down there with him every day. I know he’s hit a few bumps here and there, but he’s doing all right, wouldn’t you say?”
“Sure . . . he’s doing fine.” She looked down at the leather gloves in her hand and smoothed one out.
Dan watched, wondering what had suddenly changed her mood. “Is there something you think I ought to know?”
“You ought to be asking Wyatt that, I think,” Lindsay said, with a shrug. “I’m not going to . . . to report on him for you.”
“I appreciate that,” Dan said. “But you know how Wyatt is. He won’t ask for help. He’ll barely talk to me about the paper. He says either he’s running it or he’s not.” He looked at his daughter carefully. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable discussing. It’s just that you seem to be down there all the time. You must know what’s going on.”
“Why do you think I’m down there all the time, Dad?” Lindsay asked bluntly.
“Well, he’s been asking you to help with the clerical end of things. I know that much.”
Lindsay stared at him a long moment, and Dan felt his heartbeat quicken. There was something going on here he didn’t know about. He wasn’t at all sure that Lindsay was going to tell him what it was.
“Wyatt is working hard, Dad. He’s really trying very hard,” Lindsay said. “It’s not that he doesn’t love the paper. I really think he does. . . .”
“But?” Dan coaxed her.
“I’m not really sure he understands that the paper is more than just what’s happening this very day. Wyatt doesn’t seem to see the big picture, what the Messenger really is, beyond a great headline
or a big photo on page one.”
Dan was surprised at his daughter’s eloquence and passion. He didn’t think she thought much about the Messenger one way or the other. His wife never had. In fact, toward the end of their marriage, she viewed the paper as her mortal enemy.
“And what do you think it is?” he asked quietly, curious to hear what his daughter would say.
“Oh, well—” Lindsay sighed and pushed her hair back with her hand. “I’m not a writer or even a photographer,” she said, meeting his gaze. “So I see it a lot differently, I guess. It’s the advertising and the circulation and giving our regular readers information every day to help make their lives a little easier. Even if that only means a bus schedule or a recipe or a coupon for the hardware store. Oh, you know what I mean,” she said, looking suddenly self-conscious.
“Yes, I do,” he said quietly.
“I don’t mean to say anything negative about Wyatt,” she said suddenly.
“I know you don’t. And I’d never tell him we had this conversation.”
“He’s doing fine. We just see the paper differently, that’s all. And he needs to be more mindful of business matters,” she added, with a small smile. “But he can always hire someone to do that for him.”
“That goes without saying,” Dan agreed, with a sigh. “How is the advertising base lately?”
“It’s back up. We’re at last year’s levels for December or even a bit higher.”
“That’s good.” Lindsay had done that, he was sure. But for some reason, he just couldn’t give her the credit that was due. Not right now.
Dan avoided her gaze and scratched his bearded cheek. “I’m still not so sure about this beard. It’s scratchy sometimes,” he said, purposely changing the subject.
Lindsay came to her feet. “How does Emily like it?”
Dan looked up at her. He was about to ask why she thought he would be concerned about what Emily thought, but he knew his daughter was on to him. Women had a special radar about these things.
“She says it makes me looked distinguished and dashing.”
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