The Gathering Place

by Thomas Kinkade

  True enough, Sara thought, glancing up at him through a watery gaze. Was he trying to get back at her in some way? Leaving first so she couldn’t leave him later? She bowed her head and rubbed her eyes. No, that wasn’t it. He was really eager to go. He just didn’t see a future for them any longer.

  Finally she looked up at him. “So you just came back to say good-bye? What was the point of that?”

  She knew she sounded bitter and hurt, but she couldn’t help it. She had been so happy and hopeful when he showed up at Lillian’s door. She’d never imagined this.

  “Sara . . .” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Not everything works out the way we want it to. You’re young, yet. When you’ve had more relationships, you’ll understand.”

  “Oh no, not the age thing again,” she said wearily. It seemed whenever Luke got backed into a corner, he resorted to reminding her that he was older and, presumably, wiser.

  “Well, I can’t help it. It’s true. I just wanted to set things straight with you and tell you what was going on with me now. . . . I don’t see things working out for us anymore. Maybe you were right to put me off.”

  Was he hoping she would argue with him? Sara felt too hurt to fight with him about it anymore. She had put her heart on the line, and she was too late. His feelings for her had changed.

  “You didn’t seem to think so at the time,” she reminded him sadly. “But what’s the difference? You sound as if your mind is made up.”

  “It is,” he said quietly.

  Sara stared up at him, willing herself not to cry. “Okay, then. Happy New Year, Luke. Good luck with your new job,” she added bitterly.

  “Sara . . .” He stepped toward her, but she moved away. She turned and started walking quickly to the corner, her head bowed as she tried not to cry.

  “Sara, wait a minute. Let me walk with you,” he called after her.

  “No!” She turned and nearly screamed the word at him. “I don’t want you to. Just leave me alone.”

  She could tell from his expression that she’d convinced him not to follow. Then she turned and started running back toward her car.

  “SO HOW DID IT GO WITH SARA’S PARENTS? YOU NEVER TOLD ME,” DAN asked, leaning back in his chair. The lighting in the restaurant was low, and a small candle on the table between them cast his face in a warm golden light. Emily secretly studied his handsome features. It was hard to keep her mind on the conversation.

  “Well, it was sort of a disaster. But maybe that was good in a way,” she replied. “We all needed to clear the air. Sara was stuck in the middle. I felt bad for her.” Emily sighed. “I think I’m having too good a time now to get into it.”

  “That’s all right. I just wondered.”

  So far they had spent a wonderful evening together. The chamber music had been beautifully performed, and the restaurant Dan had chosen was perfect. They’d talked and laughed for hours and now lingered over dessert, as they waited for midnight to ring in the New Year. Emily didn’t want to spoil the mood by fretting over something she couldn’t really do anything about.

  Dan smiled at her. “Would you like to dance?”

  “I’d love to, but does your leg feel all right?”

  “I’m all right,” he said, coming to his feet. He held out his hand to her, and she took it. “You’ll just have to hold me up if I stumble.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she agreed, as they stepped onto the dance floor.

  The music was slow and dreamy, and Emily felt herself relax in Dan’s strong embrace. He was a good dancer. Even with a bad leg, he moved deftly for such a tall man.

  “You’re very quiet,” he said, his voice close to her ear. “Anything wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing at all. Everything’s perfect. . . . That’s just the thing. Why talk?”

  He glanced down and smiled at her, but didn’t say anything. She felt him pull her slightly closer as they took a turn.

  They stayed on the floor for two dances, both slow, familiar songs. Emily couldn’t remember when she’d felt so comfortable with someone and so happy. Except for Tim, of course. But that was so long ago. When she thought back, her memories of those days had a hazy, dreamlike quality, almost as if she’d imagined it all. It was sad, but with time, everything had faded, like an old photograph, even the pain of her loss.

  “I must confess,” Dan said, as they returned to their table, “New Year’s Eve was never my favorite holiday. Most of the time I go to bed early and just pull the covers over my head.”

  “And why would you want to do that?” she asked, laughing at him.

  “I don’t know. Because everyone else seemed so infernally happy—and I wasn’t.”

  “Oh. Are you happy now?”

  “I am tonight. With you,” he said, smiling. He reached out and took her hand. “You’ve never told me much about your marriage. Were you happy together?”

  “Yes, truly. It seems like that now, anyway.” She met his gaze. “What about you and Claire? You must have been happy at first.”

  “We were. At least I thought so. But there was always tension, I guess, about the newspaper, mostly. How much time I spent there. I think I did spend too much time there,” he admitted. “I missed a lot with Lindsay and Wyatt. I know I’d do it differently now. But when they’re little, you just think they’re going to stay like that forever. You think there’s always going to be some other baseball game or piano recital you can go to if you miss one.” He paused. “You must think I was a bad father.”

  “No, not at all. I’ve met your kids, and I think you’re a pretty good father.”

  “I’m okay. Nobody’s perfect. I had the same problem with Claire. She wanted more from me—more time, more attention. By the time I started paying attention, it was too late. We were too distant, too angry at each other. And she was already involved with someone else.”

  “That’s sad,” Emily said. She noticed that he didn’t blame his wife for what had happened, even though she had left him for someone else.

  “We were supposed to go on this trip together. We talked about it all the time.”

  “And now you’re going on your own.”

  “Yes, I am. One of these fine days. Next week I’m going back to the office to give Wyatt some pointers on being a publisher, whether he likes it or not,” Dan said in a definite tone. “After he’s settled in, I’m off.”

  “Sounds good,” Emily said lightly.

  Dan looked confused for a moment, as if there were something he wanted to say but wasn’t sure he should.

  “It’s hard to believe I’m actually, finally, going. It’s something I’ve talked about, dreamed about, even mapped out, for years. And lately I’ve been wondering, well . . . if maybe I’m just going to prove something to myself.”

  “Such as?”

  “That I’ll do it anyway, with or without her.”

  “Oh. I see.” Emily frowned. She hadn’t known about this part of the story. It changed things in a way. “Do you think that’s it?”

  Dan shrugged. “I’m not sure. It started out as something I planned with her, but now it seems to have become my own thing.”

  “I think once you’re out there, it will be your own thing, and you’ll have a wonderful trip,” she told him.

  “I hope you’re right. Maybe I’ve just been stuck in that house thinking too much. Thinking has always been my downfall. I try to avoid it whenever possible.” Dan smiled at her. “You’re great, you know that?”

  “Thanks. Why?” she asked, with a breathless laugh.

  “A lot of other women would be trying to talk me out of this, not encouraging me to go.”

  “Not buying you a five-in-one fog horn and flood light, you mean?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” Emily took a breath as she decided to venture into delicate terrain. “I know things are . . . happening between us. But that’s sort of a fluke. I mean, you’re not even really supposed to be here. So I
can’t get mad or try to make you feel guilty for going, when I know how much it means to you,” she said sincerely. “I wouldn’t even want you to stay if that was your reason. If you really care about someone, you want them to be happy, don’t you?”

  “Theoretically. It’s amazing to me how often the real world doesn’t seem to follow that theory.”

  “Well, that’s how I feel. Really.”

  “That’s why I think you’re so great. You’re probably the greatest woman I’ve ever met in my life,” he said. “I do care about you. I care very much.”

  “I know that,” Emily said. The tender expression in his eyes told her it was true beyond any doubt. She felt her pulse quickening, as she wondered if her own feelings and Dan’s might actually be closer than she had dared hope.

  “What do you see in your future, Emily? What is it you think will make you really happy?”

  Emily looked up at him, unsure of whether she should answer him honestly. But he had asked the question. If ever there was a time to let him know where she stood, this was it. Hadn’t Jessica told her to just go for it?

  Here goes nothing, she thought, feeling as if she were about to dive headlong off a cliff. “Well . . . I guess all these weeks, getting to know you, has helped me finally figure that out,” she began slowly. “I’d like to get married again.”

  Dan stared at her, his mouth hanging open a bit. He realized it and snapped it shut. “Well, that was honest.”

  Emily swallowed hard, feeling crushed inside but struggling not to show it. Obviously, Dan wasn’t about to leap across the table and propose to her. Oh, how could she ever have expected anything like that? She’d been such a fool.

  She fought back the tears that she felt welling up. You cannot cry, she told herself sternly. That would make it even worse. You cannot even look remotely distressed.

  She forced herself to smile. “You did ask me.”

  “So I did.” He took a breath. “So, while I’m off sailing around, you’ll be looking for a husband?”

  Was he perhaps a little jealous? It almost sounded that way under his joking tone. No, stop right there! she told herself. He’s not jealous. Get the message: He doesn’t care. At least, not enough to change his plans. Better I know now.

  “Something like that,” she finally answered, managing a lighter tone. “But you make it sound a little calculating.”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to. You’ll let this future husband find you?”

  “Maybe. Then again, I don’t have all that much time, I guess.”

  “Is there some time limit you’ve set for yourself on this project?” he asked curiously.

  “Not me, personally. But the other part is, I’d like to have a baby.”

  Now his eyes widened, as if he were caught in headlights. Emily would have laughed at his shocked expression, if it didn’t hurt so much.

  “A baby, huh? Well, that’s a surprise. You’ve never mentioned that.”

  “I know. It almost sounds silly saying it aloud,” she admitted. “But I’ve been thinking about it a lot, ever since I started getting to know Sara. I always thought if I ever found her, I wouldn’t care so much about that part. But it’s been just the opposite. The more I get to know her, the more I feel I’ve missed out on raising her.”

  “I understand,” he said slowly.

  “The odds are against me, I guess.” She shook her head and laughed at herself. “You know, they say you can’t get what you want until you know what you want. Well, at least I finally know, right?”

  He took both of her hands in his. “I hope you get what you want, Emily. I know you deserve it.”

  “Thank you, Dan,” she said, unable to meet his intent blue gaze.

  I was right. He’s not the one. It just won’t work out, she told herself, overwhelmed by an aching sadness. She struggled to keep a reasonable perspective—or to at least not burst out crying right in front of him. For goodness’ sake, I didn’t even realize how much I was hoping he’d have some change of heart. How could I have let myself fall so deeply in love? Please Lord, she prayed quickly, please let me soon see that this is all for the best.

  Meanwhile, she sat there holding his hand, feeling something deep inside crushed and ruined, like a flower trampled underfoot.

  The band struck a loud chord, and they both turned at the sound. “—nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one . . .” The band leader led the crowd in the traditional countdown. “Happy New Year!” he announced.

  Noisemakers and horns sounded. Confetti flew overhead. The familiar strains of “Auld Lang Syne” filtered through the chaos.

  Dan moved closer and put his arms around her. He smiled and stared into her eyes. “Happy New Year, Emily,” he whispered.

  She wound her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him for the New Year without even answering. She’d already said what she had come to say.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ALONE IN HER APARTMENT, SARA STARTED THE NEW YEAR by first brooding and then cleaning in a frenzy. She only wished she could clear her heart of unwanted feelings as easily—just stuff them all in a big black trash bag and leave them on the curb to be carted away. But it wasn’t nearly that easy. She’d tried hard not to think about Luke, but she kept glancing at the clock, wondering if he’d left town yet or if he would call her today.

  By nightfall, she realized she wouldn’t hear from him again. Well, that’s that, she told herself. It will hurt for a while, but I’ll get over it. He was right in a way. I’m probably not ready for a real commitment. It’s really just as well, she decided. This reasoning gave her a sense of resolution, even if deep inside she was still raw and aching.

  On Wednesday she was eager to get to the office. Wyatt sent her out on a story right away, a boring meeting about parking meters, but Sara didn’t mind. He also asked her if she could find some candid shots around town of villagers enjoying the winter. There wasn’t much news this week, and he wanted some photos on hand for filler.

  Sara returned that afternoon, surprised to see Dan in the office, working with Wyatt. She sensed a definite tension in the air that eased about twenty minutes later when Dan left. What was going on? she wondered. It didn’t seem like a good time to ask, though, so she focused on her work.

  Jane and Ed had already gone for the day when Lindsay stopped by her desk to say good night. “I have to run. I’m meeting Scott to look at apartments. Wyatt’s back in the darkroom. I didn’t want to bother him. Could you let him know I had to go?”

  Lindsay left, and Sara returned to her writing. She was just finishing her piece, when she heard Wyatt return to his desk.

  “Here’s the copy to go with the photos,” Sara said, handing it to him, “Oh and Lindsay had to go. She has to look at some apartments with Scott.”

  Wyatt sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Uh-oh. I really needed her tonight. Oh well, I’ll manage. And you’re still here,” he said, casting her a bright grin.

  Sara felt put on the spot. But she quickly returned his smile. Hanging out with Wyatt tonight wasn’t the worst idea. It sure beat going home and sulking about Luke.

  “I want to show you something,” Wyatt said. “You got some great shots of those ice skaters. Come in the darkroom, and take a look.”

  Sara had never been inside the darkroom before and was curious to see it. The narrow room was dimly lit by a red bulb, which she knew wouldn’t affect the developing process. One counter held an enlarger. Another, next to the sink, held a row of trays with chemicals for the various solutions used to develop and fix the prints. There was also a clothesline strung near the sink, with wet photos hanging from clips.

  “Look at this one.” Wyatt turned on the enlarger, and an image of a woman in a fur-trimmed cap twirling on the ice was projected on the wall. “You really got her.”

  “Thanks,” Sara said. She appreciated the compliment, especially coming from Wyatt.

  “Let’s go through the negatives together and decide what to
use,” he suggested.

  “Sure.” Sara felt a little awkward stuck in the tiny room with Wyatt, but so far he hadn’t let her have this much say about which photos of hers they would use. She felt it was a silent acknowledgment that her work was improving.

  They reviewed the negatives and chose six photos. Wyatt’s praise of her pictures had Sara glowing; she was glad that the darkness hid her expression. They were almost done when Wyatt reached around her to adjust the enlarger. She felt him very close for a moment, his arm coming around her shoulder, his cheek brushing her hair.

  She froze in place, not daring to turn her head or meet his eye. But just as quickly, he stepped away and turned to place the negatives on a light box on the counter behind them.

  “Have you ever considered studying photography?” he asked.

  “Uh, no, not really. I’ve always liked taking pictures, though.”

  “You’re really good,” he said. “I thought at first it was a fluke. You know, those shots you took at the tree lighting,” he confessed, making her laugh. “But now I can see it’s more than just lucky breaks. You’re good with a camera.”

  “Thanks.” Sara felt a little overwhelmed. “I’m not sure photography is something I’d really pursue, though. I really think of myself as a writer.”

  “You’re good at that, too, no question,” he said, turning to her. Even in the dim light, she could sense a certain intensity when he looked at her. She felt uneasy and looked away.

  “Well, I have a lot to learn about reporting. I know that now,” she admitted.

  He smiled at her and reached out to touch her shoulder. “I’ve been hard on you. Maybe too critical. I’ve been stressed a lot, I guess. You’re doing a good job,” he said. “And you’ve been a great help to me around here. Really.”

  He gazed at her a moment, and Sara felt a wave of sympathy for him. He didn’t have it that easy, either, she thought. Though he’d never said as much, she knew he was trying hard to live up to his father’s expectations.