“No, I don’t think so,” she said slowly. She braced herself, wondering how he’d take it.
“What are you saying? Never? You’ll never come back?” he asked nervously.
“I didn’t say never. I’m not sure,” she explained. “I’m just not ready yet to get back together. Though I think if we ever did, more counseling would be a must.”
He sat staring at her, his mouth set in a tight line. He seemed to be on the verge of anger but struggling to control himself. For once, she thought.
Lucy saw him swallow hard, as if holding back the harsh words that could ruin everything again.
“Well, I don’t understand why,” he said in a reasonable tone. “You can’t be comfortable living here, without any of your own things. And having to handle the kids by yourself all the time—that can’t be easy,” he pointed out.
“It isn’t,” she agreed. “But there are benefits for me.”
He didn’t seem to like hearing that, and he twisted his mouth in a sour expression. He didn’t ask her what she meant. He didn’t want to know, she realized.
She liked the freedom she had to come and go as she pleased. And not having to tiptoe around Charlie’s temper and ego every minute, like a dysfunctional ballet dancer. She’d never had a life as a single person. She’d gone from living with her folks to being a wife and mother. But in the past few weeks she’d felt more her own person than ever. She wasn’t ready to just give that feeling up.
“Are you starting school again?” he asked.
“I registered for the spring semester. Classes don’t start until next week,” she said.
“I see.” He rubbed his hands together. “Well, will you think about what I’ve said? It would be worlds better for the children, Lucy. You know that. Now, if you set out to teach me a lesson, I’ve learned it. I have. But we don’t need to give the boys a rough time for any longer than necessary, do we?”
“The boys are fine,” she stated flatly.
She wasn’t really sure that they were, though. Both were having nightmares and acting out in school. But she wouldn’t admit that to him now.
She stood up, indicating that the talk was over and that he had to go. “I’ll give it some thought,” she told him.
“All right. That’s good enough for now, I guess.” He stared at her a moment, his brown eyes full of sadness and something else, a look of strange longing, she thought. Like pining after some possession that’s been taken for granted, one that is really missed once it’s broken or lost.
She felt unexpectedly emotional all of a sudden and quickly walked to the door. She pulled it open, barely glancing at him again. “Good night, Charlie. Thanks for stopping in,” she said politely.
“Good night, Lucy. I’ll see you,” he said, walking slowly into the cold, dark night.
“MARK’S BEEN STAYING AT MY HOUSE,” RACHEL SAID TO BEN, WHEN SHE met him at the hospital on Tuesday morning.
“I appreciate you telling me,” Ben said.
Mark had managed to avoid him ever since the Sunday sermon. When Ben came into Carolyn’s room and Mark was there, Mark got up and left. Though Rachel hadn’t said anything, Ben knew the rift upset her. This was the opposite of how a family should be acting in a crisis, he thought tiredly.
“Are you okay in the house on your own?” Rachel asked.
“I’m fine,” Ben assured her. “Except for missing your—” He broke off his statement of the obvious as Doctor Whittaker came into the room.
“Carolyn’s blood pressure has finally stabilized,” he told them. “It’s a good sign. She’s in far less danger of having a second stroke. But the symptoms of her coma remain unchanged. There’s no telling if she’ll wake up soon or remain in this state indefinitely.”
“At least there was some good news,” Ben said to Rachel, after the doctor left. He gazed down at Carolyn again. Her skin looked smooth as porcelain. He’d do anything to see her blue eyes open again, to hear her voice.
“I think Mark should know what the doctor said,” Rachel told him. “He’s downstairs getting something to eat. I’ll go talk to him.”
“No, I’ll go,” Ben said, getting up from his chair. It was time he spoke to Mark. Long past time, he thought.
Ben left the room and started down the corridor. He met Mark face-to-face just as his son stepped out of the elevator.
“No, don’t run away from me,” Ben said quietly, when it seemed Mark was about to duck his head and turn away. “I want to talk to you. I have some news about your mother’s condition,” he said, hoping to lure him. “And you know we need to talk anyway.”
“Fine.” Mark nodded, his expression showing little emotion.
They went into the family conference room Ben had noticed near the nurses’ station. Once inside he closed the door. There was a table and some chairs. The large windows framed a view of a snowy courtyard.
Mark sat at the table, his hands neatly folded in front of him. “What is it about Mom? Did you talk to the doctor again?”
“Yes, he just came by. He had some good news. Her blood pressure is finally stable. She’s mainly out of danger of having another stroke.”
“That is good news,” Mark agreed, looking visibly relieved.
“There are no signs of the coma lifting, though. No signs at all,” Ben repeated.
Mark looked up at him. “That could happen suddenly though, right?”
“Sometimes.”
Mark stared straight ahead again. Ben waited, unsure of whether he should speak first.
“Why did you humiliate me at church on Sunday?” Mark said abruptly. “Was that really necessary?”
“I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t talking about you specifically. I was talking about people in general. Maybe my words just struck a chord. Maybe you felt guilty,” he added.
“Maybe you just think I should,” Mark shot back at him. “That’s your job, right, parceling out guilt and forgiveness?”
Ben felt put down and goaded. But his volcanic anger at his son seemed spent. Maybe during the long days of watching over Carolyn or in church on Sunday his angry energy had burned off, leaving only a bitter taste on his tongue.
“Your mother couldn’t control her depression. She did everything she could to make it up to you—whatever it was you thought she’d neglected to give you. But you just could never let her off the hook. Let both of us off,” Ben said tightly. “Why is that, Mark? Why do you feel such a need to . . . to punish us?”
“I haven’t punished you,” Mark said. “What have I done? Left school when I knew I wasn’t getting a thing out of it for all the money you were spending. Yes, I traveled around, trying to make some sense of things. My own sense of things,” he emphasized. “How was that punishing you? How did that have anything to do with you or Mom, for that matter? I didn’t take the mindless way, the easy way—sleepwalk through college, get the expected job, marry the expected girl. I tried something different. Is that how I punished you?”
“No, not at all. That’s not what I mean,” Ben cut in.
“Okay, I’ve made my life harder than it has to be,” Mark admitted. “But I’m the only one who’s suffered from it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ben told him. “There are people who care about you. All this time we’ve felt as if you’ve rejected our caring, our love, our concern. You’ve even rejected our faith.”
Ben paused, taking a long breath. He couldn’t tell if his words had any impact at all. Mark sat so still, his face a blank, staring out the window at the frozen scene below.
“Can’t you see how that’s hurt us? Especially your mother. You’ve withheld your love from her, no matter what she’s said or done. It’s been terribly painful for her. Didn’t you have any idea of that?”
Mark didn’t move. He barely seemed to be breathing, as if he’d put himself in some sort of trance.
Finally, he spoke in a quiet, almost gentle voice. “You have no idea what it was like to be your son. To grow up in this
town with everyone watching my every move. Just like Sunday, back in church. Hearing them whisper behind my back. ‘The minister’s son, always acting out. Poor Reverend doesn’t know what to do with him.’ ” He turned to face Ben. “How could I ever live up to those expectations? Or breathe within those rules? I couldn’t, Dad. I had to get out just to get some sense of who I really am and what I want from my life. I had to go where nobody knew me—or our family,” he added.
Ben didn’t know what to say. He’d always recognized that those pressures existed for both of his children. Rachel had just taken them in stride. Mark was different, taking them more to heart. Ben had never realized before how deeply. All this time, he’d understood Mark’s need to distance himself as a personal rejection. But it was bigger than that, and at the same time, more essential to Mark. He was struggling to find out who he was, beyond this town and his automatic identity in it.
“But what about your mother? The way you’ve acted toward her?” Ben asked. “I don’t understand that.”
Mark glanced up at him. “I know it wasn’t Mom’s fault. I know she couldn’t help being sick—but she was, Dad. I’m not saying she didn’t love me then or doesn’t love me now. But there was something missing, something important. And you never wanted to face that.” There was no accusation in Mark’s voice now, only weariness. “I knew I’d never have a chance of getting past it if I couldn’t admit it.”
Ben accepted Mark’s words without argument. He was protective of Carolyn, never wanting to see any flaw in her. But just because he understood and had adjusted his expectations to her ability to give, didn’t mean Mark had been able to. Wasn’t that what he was really saying?
“I’m sorry. I really am,” Ben said quietly. “I didn’t really get it before now. It’s almost funny,” he went on, “because I said almost the same thing to your mother about you. I said we can’t heal this if we don’t face it and talk about it. But she didn’t want you to feel accused or attacked when you got home. She wanted you to come back, no questions asked. Unconditional forgiveness. Unconditional love,” he added, feeling his throat tighten with emotion. “Despite what’s gone on these last few days, I always promised myself that if you ever came back, the first thing I would tell you was how much I love you. How much both of your parents love you and that we only wanted to understand and resolve these differences that have kept us at odds all these years, Mark. That’s all your mother wanted you to know,” Ben quietly concluded.
Mark shut his eyes for a moment. “But it’s too late for Mom,” he said sadly.
“We don’t know that,” Ben reminded him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s taken this crisis to bring us together and talk this out. But that, too, is God’s plan for our lives. Your struggles, your questions, every urge that led you away from this place was part of your journey back again, too.”
“I know. It’s been like a huge circle,” Mark said. “A few days ago I would have been horrified to see that. But not now, for some reason. It seems right to me somehow,” he admitted.
Ben waited a moment, then he said, “Let’s go back upstairs and check on your mother. I’m sure Rachel needs to get back to the baby.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
FOLLOWING HIS DOCTOR’S ORDERS, DAN STAYED AT HOME and off his leg all day Tuesday. Once again, Lindsay went down to the newspaper office to turn out the next edition.
He called her at five and learned that she was going to work late with Sara. “A story just came in on the emergency services grant. I need to change the front page,” she said hurriedly. “I think there’s some spaghetti sauce in the freezer for dinner.”
“I’ll find something. Don’t worry,” he managed to say, just seconds before she hung up.
She was in the thick of it now, he thought, realizing what he had sounded like to other people for most of his life. He fixed himself some dinner and waited, reading a book. When Lindsay finally came home, he followed her into the kitchen, curious.
“So what’s tomorrow’s headline?”
“ ‘Mayor Wins Battle for Federal Funds.’ ”
He nodded. “Good one. I’m sure the mayor will like it.”
“She gave us a good statement. You know Emily,” Lindsay said, giving him an inquisitive look. He frowned and looked away, feeling uncomfortable. Maybe he’d call and congratulate Emily. They’d barely spoken since their argument on the beach. He kept picturing the way she looked on New Year’s Eve, an evening that had felt partly like magic and partly like a bittersweet breakup scene in a movie with a realistic ending.
He missed her something awful. He could barely admit to himself how much. But he knew he shouldn’t call. He didn’t want to lead her on anymore, to get her hopes up again. He sighed and turned back to Lindsay, who was browsing in the refrigerator.
“I left some pasta for you. It’s on the stove.”
“That’s okay. I’m not that hungry.” She emerged from the fridge with a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread and began making herself a sandwich.
“Sara got the story,” she told him. “It’s her first headline. You should have seen her face when she saw the dummy. Want to read the story? I brought the copy home.”
“Sure, I’ll read it later,” he said.
“She’s been dogging Warren Oakes for weeks now,” Lindsay continued, “but he wasn’t giving much. But she worked the other angle and gained Callahan’s confidence. She even got him to fax us a copy of the official letter Warren got today by messenger.”
“Sidestepped Warren. Nice move,” Dan said, with admiration.
“We knew the Chronicle didn’t have it yet, so we wanted to get it in for tomorrow. Besides, it’s important news for the village.”
“And everybody loves to read about a battle between Village Hall and the county,” he said. “That always plays well.”
Dan watched her sit down with her sandwich and a glass of milk. She was all revved up after an exciting day at the paper, just like he used to be. He understood completely.
“How’s your leg?” she asked, between bites.
“It’s a lot better. Doesn’t hurt now at all. But I have had it up a lot.”
“Will you be going in tomorrow?”
“Oh, only for an hour or two, I think. I just need to wrap up some stuff.”
“Oh . . . like what?” she asked, her interest piqued.
“I’ve called off the sale to Crown,” he told her.
He sat back in his chair, watching her reaction. Lindsay looked as if a glob of peanut butter had stuck in her throat.
“I thought it was all set,” she managed to say.
“It was. But I hadn’t signed anything yet. You were right.” You and Emily, he silently amended. “I couldn’t do it. I don’t know what came over me to think I could.”
“Well, I’m happy you changed your mind.” He watched a slow smile spread over her face, and he felt his heart warmed by it.
“Lindsay, I humbly offer you the job of owner, publisher, and editor-in-chief of the Cape Light Messenger, which as you know has been in our family for generations. The last two at least have never missed a scheduled issue. I know you will bring even more honor to this title and our great family tradition.”
She looked up at him. He couldn’t tell what her reaction was at first. Her eyes narrowed with disbelief—or was it just uncertainty?
“Are you sure you want me to?” she asked him.
She had reason to doubt him now, and he regretted that. It was time to set the record straight.
“That day we argued, after you got that message from Ted Kendall, I didn’t know what I was talking about,” he confessed. “I was so focused on Wyatt and set on the plan of him taking the paper, I had no idea what you’d really been doing there and what you were really capable of. But more than that,” he hurried to add, “I had no idea of your feelings about the Messenger. You’ve not only got the head, but the heart for it. That’s what it takes, honey. True love, utter devotion. I
f you still want it, it’s all yours,” he offered.
She pressed her lips together, looking as if she might cry. “Yeah, Dad. I do want it,” she said.
“Good then . . . that’s just great.” Dan felt relief and happiness rising up inside him. He stood up awkwardly, wobbling on his new cast, then he reached across the table and hugged her.
“Congratulations, honey. I’m so proud of you and so happy. This ended up just right after all,” he said, feeling amazed at the fortunate turn of events.
“Thanks, Dad. I’m happy, too.” She sighed and wiped a few tears from her eyes.
Dan smiled at his daughter, knowing that somehow in his stumbling plow-horse way, he’d made the right choice after all.
SARA GOT INTO THE OFFICE EARLY ON WEDNESDAY, EAGER TO SEE THE day’s edition and her first headline story. Lindsay was already there, working at Dan’s desk. She cut the string on the bundle of fresh newspapers and handed Sara a copy. “Here you go, hot off the press.”
Sara thought of her parents in Maryland and then about her mother’s network of relatives and friends. “I better take a few,” she said, making Lindsay smile.
“Sara,” Lindsay said, “sit down a minute. I need to talk to you about something.”
Lindsay looked serious, so Sara thought it must be about the sale of the paper. Sara hadn’t heard much about the situation lately, but everyone had assumed it was still imminent. Ed Kazinsky was already trying to work out a deal with Crown News to keep his column.
“I have some news,” Lindsay began. “My father isn’t coming back to the office anymore.”
“Because of the sale?”
“No, the sale is off. My dad told me last night. We talked, and I’m going to run the paper now. I’m the new publisher.”
Sara felt breathless for a moment. “Wow! That’s terrific! I’m so happy,” she said honestly. She felt like jumping up and giving Lindsay a hug, but she knew it wouldn’t seem professional. “I was hoping something like this would happen.”
“So was I, but I’d basically given up,” Lindsay confided.
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