Home to Hart's Crossing (4-in-1 Edition)

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  And still she wondered.

  Chapter 5

  From: “James Scott” jtscott@fiberpipe.net

  Sent: Wednesday, September 28 8:02 AM

  To: “Jenna & Ray” jscottengland@yahoo.com

  Subject: Greetings from Idaho

  Hello, Jenna and Ray.

  ALL IS WELL HERE. You’ll be pleased to know that I feel more settled in my new/old home. The boxes are dwindling away a few more each day. It’s amazing how many things your mother and I accumulated over the years. I sold a lot in my garage sale but maybe not enough. Don’t worry. I did keep everything you said you wanted, and those things are in boxes in my garage.

  Jenna, I know you were worried about me moving to this small town after being gone for five decades, but I can assure you, I’m going to be quite happy. The slower pace of Hart’s Crossing agrees with me. Many of the people I knew as a boy have either moved or passed away, but there are a few old friends who still live here. It’s good to become reacquainted with them.

  I attended a small community church on Sunday and feel certain it will become my church home. The pastor is a young man—in his late thirties, I think—and an excellent teacher. He’s on fire for the Lord, which is something I want in a pastor. You know how important it is for your father to be planted in a good, Bible-believing church. I can do without a lot, but I can’t do without that. Or I sure wouldn’t want to do without it, at any rate.

  After church, I dined at the home of one of those old friends I mentioned above. I was one grade ahead of Stephanie Watson when we were in school. (Her last name was Carlson then.) She’s a lovely woman. You would like her. She was widowed last year. She and her husband were married even longer than your mother and I.

  I’ve hired a neighbor boy to mow the yard every week, and come spring, I’m going to get the exterior of the house painted. I’m not too fond of the bright shade of blue that’s on there now.

  By the time you two come to visit me, I should have a guest room all ready for you. I hope that visit will be some time soon. I miss you.

  Love, Dad

  P.S. My new phone number is 208-555-4632. I haven’t changed my cellular service yet, and I still don’t have an answering machine hooked up. Best time to catch me at home is in the morning.

  * * *

  From: “Jenna Scott-Kirkpatrick” jscottengland@yahoo.com

  Sent: Wednesday, September 21 10:02 PM

  To: “Dad” jtscott@fiberpipe.net

  Subject: Glad all is well

  Hi, Daddy. Your email was waiting for me when I got home from work. I’m glad to know you’re doing okay. I still don’t understand why you wanted to move to Idaho, but it sounds like, for now, you’re glad that you did. Just remember, you can always go back to Washington. Nobody will blame you if you change your mind.

  Ray and I are planning a holiday in Greece within the next twelve months. He isn’t sure when he’ll be able to take his vacation, so we have to be flexible. Who knows when we’ll make it back to the States? You should get your passport in order and come see us.

  I’m glad to know you’re making friends, but please be careful when it comes to relationships with lonely widows. You’re a handsome man who’s financially well off. Some women would be eager to take advantage of you, you know. Don’t lose your head, Daddy.

  I love you,

  Jenna

  * * *

  “Don’t lose my head,” James muttered, staring at the computer screen. “Women eager to take advantage of me. Of all the idiotic—” He cut himself off before he said or thought something he would regret.

  Why did Jenna insist on treating him like a half-wit? No, worse than that. Like a child. Imagine what Jenna would have written if she knew he and Stephanie were going to the movies tomorrow evening.

  He took several long, calming breaths.

  In his daughter’s defense, Jenna had no way of knowing what a wonderful woman Stephanie was. But he still thought it best if he didn’t mention his growing attraction for her in future emails to his children.

  “What they don’t know can’t hurt them.”

  James glanced through the remainder of the email in the Inbox. Nothing from either Kurt or Paula, but there was the daily devotional from purposedrivenlife.com. He paused to read it, and his spirits lifted in response to the words on the screen. It was good to know, even at the ripe old age of seventy, that God still had a purpose for his life.

  Speaking of purpose, he’d best get on with his day. He closed the email program and powered down the computer.

  A short while later, he backed his late-model Buick LeSabre out of the garage and drove to Smith’s Market. For a small grocery store, the selection of packaged items and fresh foods was reasonably good. James wasn’t picky at any rate. One of the downsides of growing older was the diminished delight one had in eating good food. Martha had been a gourmet cook, so James knew something about fine dining. Those days were gone.

  Well, he supposed the lessened enjoyment helped keep his weight down, so he should be grateful.

  He pushed the shopping cart around the end of the aisle and stopped when he saw Stephanie placing a box of Grape-Nuts into the red shopping basket on her left arm.

  Now here was something he could still enjoy, he thought. Just seeing her brought a smile to his heart.

  What would have happened between us if I hadn’t joined the army? The question had plagued him since Sunday. And now, as he looked at her in this grocery aisle, new questions joined the first. Would we have gotten married? Would we have had kids together? Would we have been happy?

  She glanced up. “James.” A pale blush pinkened her cheeks.

  “Good morning, Steph.”

  They hadn’t seen one another since he went to her home for dinner, although they’d spoken by telephone when he called to ask her to the movies. Now he was keenly aware of how much he’d wanted to see her again.

  “Good morning,” she replied. “Doing a bit of shopping, I see.”

  He glanced down at the items in his cart, then up again. “Nothing that’ll taste as delicious as the meal we shared.”

  The color in her cheeks intensified. That was the moment he suspected she’d thought of him often this week, too.

  Will wonders never cease.

  Oh, Jenna wouldn’t be happy about this development. She wouldn’t be happy at all.

  * * *

  The Apollo Theater first opened its doors in May of 1927. The premier attraction was Don Juan starring John Barrymore.

  In the years that followed, the theater saw the townsfolk of Hart’s Crossing through the Great Depression, through World War II, through the turbulent sixties, through good times and bad times and everything in between. In the eighties, the theater doors closed, and folks expected the building would be torn down. But then Dave Coble, the town’s current chief of police, bought the theater and began a lengthy period of historical restoration and modern improvements.

  The Apollo’s grand reopening occurred in late 1995. Toy Story was the feature film that weekend. Some people in town saw the movie two and three times.

  One of Stephanie’s earliest memories was of coming to the Apollo with her parents, her father wearing a suit and fedora, her mother in a floral print dress, hat, and gloves. Stephanie couldn’t have been more than four years old at the time, but she remembered sitting in the first row of the balcony. She could still recall the images of horses galloping across the screen.

  Another of her memories closely associated with the Apollo was of her first kiss. It was that memory that replayed in her mind as she and James approached the ticket booth on Friday evening.

  “I hope it’s a good film,” James said.

  “It’s supposed to be excellent. I read a review in People when I was at the hair salon.”

  Friday wasn’t her usual day to have her hair done, but she couldn’t go to the movies with James with it looking a fright. So the instant the ladies of the Thimbleberry Quilting Club departed t
hrough the front door of her home this morning, Stephanie had hurried out the back door, into her car, and off to Terri’s Tangles to get a cut and style.

  James purchased two senior citizen tickets from the bored-looking teenager seated in the booth. When he turned toward Stephanie, her gaze slid to his lips, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss James now that he was a mature man.

  Oh, what a thought! She never should have agreed to come with James tonight. This felt too much like a date. Dating? At her age? How ridiculous.

  An odd smile curved the corners of James’s mouth, as if he’d read her mind and was amused by what he found there.

  Oh, good grief. She felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. Whatever on earth was wrong with her? She wasn’t the giddy sort.

  Tell that to the butterflies in her stomach.

  “Would you like something from the snack bar?” James asked. “I could get us each a drink, and we could share a box of popcorn.”

  “All right.” She doubted she could eat a single bite. “I’ll have a Diet Coke, please.”

  While James stood in line for their refreshments, Stephanie waited in the lobby near the entrance to the theater. She studied the various posters on the walls that advertised the movies coming to the Apollo in weeks to come. During the school year, the theater was only open on the weekends, Friday evening through the Sunday matinee. Most movies played for one weekend, the occasional blockbuster being the exception to that rule.

  There weren’t many people here tonight, which caused her to wonder about the review she’d read. Maybe the film wasn’t good after all. But she supposed the high school kids came to the 9:00 show.

  She turned her head and saw Liz Rue, owner of the Tattered Pages Bookstore, walking toward her. “Hi, Steph. I’m glad I ran into you. The book you ordered came in today. I meant to call you, but I kept getting interrupted.”

  “That’s all right. I wasn’t in any rush. I’ll come into the bookstore tomorrow to get it.”

  “Say, would you like to sit with Ivan and me? It’s no fun to go to the movies alone and we—”

  James stepped to Stephanie’s side, holding a cardboard tray with the two large drinks and a large popcorn in it. “Sorry that took so long.”

  Liz looked as if she were choking on her unfinished sentence.

  “Liz, have you met James Scott? James, this is Liz Rue. She owns the bookstore on Main Street, across from the Good Buy Market.”

  James nodded his head to acknowledge the introduction. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Rue. I stopped in your store the other day. The Tattered Pages, right?”

  “Yes.” Liz’s gaze moved from James to Steph to James again.

  Was she surprised to see Stephanie out with a man? Or was it seeing her with this particular man—the one who bore a striking resemblance to one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive—that surprised her more? Whichever it was, Stephanie had a sinking feeling she and James were about to become grist for the rumor mill.

  How embarrassing!

  James said, “Steph, let’s find our seats, shall we?” To Liz, he added, “Please excuse us, Ms. Rue. I don’t like to miss the previews of coming attractions.”

  “Of course. Enjoy the show. Steph, don’t forget to pick up that book.”

  “I won’t.”

  Longing for the dim light of the theater to hide her flushed cheeks, Stephanie followed James. He motioned her into a row, and she sank onto the second seat off the aisle, wishing she could simply disappear.

  As James handed her the Diet Coke, he leaned close and whispered, “I don’t mind, you know.”

  She looked at him, but his eyes were hidden in shadows. “Mind what?”

  “I don’t mind if they gossip about us.” He paused, and she could just make out his smile. “Not if what they’re saying is true.”

  Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned over and pressed his lips against her right cheek.

  Chapter 6

  STEPHANIE’S DREAMS WERE FILLED with James and that gentle, sweet kiss he’d placed upon her cheek in the darkened movie theater. She awakened the next morning feeling gloriously, joyously alive.

  Miranda arrived on her doorstep at 8:00 a.m.

  “Well, this is a surprise.”

  Judging by her daughter’s dour expression, something was troubling her, but Stephanie didn’t ask what. She’d learned through the years that it was best to let Miranda open up on her own.

  She motioned her daughter inside, then led the way into the kitchen. “I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought Foster had an away game.”

  “He does. We’ll leave town in a little bit. I came over while Vince packs the car.”

  “Coffee?”

  Her daughter shook her head. “No, thanks.”

  Stephanie poured herself a cup.

  “Mom, are you okay?” Miranda leaned her shoulder against the refrigerator.

  “I’m fine.” She turned from the coffeemaker. “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought…Well, maybe I haven’t been paying enough attention to you lately. I know you must get lonely, with Dad gone.”

  Stephanie nodded. “Yes, sometimes I’m lonely. But it’s all right. I know you all have busy lives. I remember what it was like when you were in high school and going several directions at once. And I wasn’t juggling a job like you are. I don’t expect you to be at my beck and call, dear.”

  Miranda worried her lower lip, a frown furrowing her brow.

  “Oh my,” Stephanie said softly, realizing at last the reason for her daughter’s unexpected visit.

  “What?”

  “This is about my date with James last night, isn’t it?”

  “Your date?” Miranda straightened away from the refrigerator.

  Ironic, wasn’t it, to have her daughter objecting to that term. Stephanie had resisted it, too––up until the moment last night when James kissed her.

  Quelling a smile, Stephanie said, “Isn’t that what they still call it when a man and woman go out to the movies?” She carried her coffee to the kitchen table and sat down.

  “Mom, this isn’t like you.”

  “What isn’t like me, honey?” She feigned ignorance. Or innocence. Or both.

  Was it wicked to tease her daughter this way?

  Miranda joined her at the table. “Isabella says that man is an old school friend of yours. I’m sorry I didn’t meet him last weekend. I should have been at the game, but—”

  “His name is James.” Stephanie felt a warm glow just saying it. “James Scott.”

  “Whatever. James. Fine.” Her daughter was getting more distraught with every word. “But Mom, you don’t know anything about him. He hasn’t lived here in, what? Fifty years?”

  She couldn’t contain the smile a moment longer. “Fifty-two.”

  “You shouldn’t rush into a relationship, Mom.”

  Her good humor began to fade. “I would hardly call going to a movie rushing into a relationship. And you’re wrong about my not knowing anything about James. You’d be surprised by the number of subjects we’ve talked about in a short period of time. He’s articulate and he’s interesting and he’s got a delightful sense of humor.”

  “But people in town are talking, Mom.”

  “Then let them talk.” Stephanie squeezed her coffee cup between both hands. Last week, she’d felt guilty for enjoying his company. Last night, she’d been embarrassed when she realized others might gossip about her and James. But this morning, everything was different. “Unless I’m breaking the law or falling into sin, what I do is no one’s business but mine.”

  “Mo-o-o-om.” Her daughter drew the word out in a wheedling tone.

  “And it isn’t your business either, dear.”

  Miranda drew back in surprise.

  Trying to soften her rebuke, Stephanie said, “I’m a grown woman, Miranda. I know my own mind and heart.” She took a sip of coffee, giving herself a moment to weigh her words. “I may be a senior citizen, but I don’t have one
foot in the grave. I have every intention of living as full a life as the Lord will allow in the time I have left on earth. Your grandmother lived to be ninety-two, and her mother lived to be ninety-five. If I inherited those same genes, I may have another twenty-five years in me.” She learned forward. “How would you want me to spend those years?”

  “I…You…” Miranda glanced at her wristwatch. “Oh, great. I’ve got to go.” She rose. “We’ll talk about this another time.”

  Stephanie gave her daughter a patient smile. “If you wish.”

  A few moments later, alone again, she released a deep sigh. Had she been unkind or unreasonable in what she said to Miranda? She hoped not.

  Lord, show me if I was in the wrong. She’s my daughter and she cares about me. I don’t want to hurt her.

  She sipped her cooling coffee.

  Is it wrong for me to feel such fondness for James? Is it wrong for me to want to be with him? Am I being a foolish old woman?

  Perhaps she was reading too much into that simple kiss. James hadn’t held her hand during the movie or tried to kiss her again after he took her home. Perhaps they were friends and nothing more.

  Do I want it to be something more?

  “Yes,” she whispered, her heart acknowledging the admission with its quickened beat. “Yes, I think I do.”

  * * *

  The Scott family photograph album lay open on the coffee table. It was a thick book, lovingly assembled by Martha through the decades. The cover had changed several times, as had the type of binding. At first, it had been a simple affair. But after his wife took a scrapbooking class about a decade or so ago, the album had become a work of art, beautifully detailing the years of their marriage: James and Martha’s wedding day, the births of each of their children, vacations at the shore, and countless firsts—first teeth, first steps, first days of school, first home, first brand-new not-previously-owned automobile.

  Photographs of the children graduating from high school, then college. Photographs of the children’s weddings. Photographs of the grandchildren.