Cape Light

by Thomas Kinkade

  “You’re the best.” Molly patted her brother’s shoulder. “Just fire a warning shot, and I’ll get them ready. You know how girls are,” she added, rolling her eyes.

  “Yes, I know,” he said with a laugh. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Nice seeing you again,” Jessica added.

  Molly nodded but didn’t reply.

  Later that evening, as they drove back to Jessica’s house, Sam talked about Lauren and Jill, his nieces. Jessica noticed that he didn’t talk much about Molly.

  Finally she couldn’t help but say, “I don’t think your sister likes me very much.”

  Sam looked surprised. “What makes you say that?”

  Jessica shrugged. “I just get this feeling. Didn’t you notice? I don’t know . . . maybe she’s like that with everyone.”

  Sam stared out at the road. “Molly can be a little . . . defensive sometimes,” he admitted. “She’s had a hard time lately, raising the girls on her own. Phil was supposed to send child support, but he sort of just disappeared. Half the time I think she’s just tired and worn out.”

  Jessica considered this. She was sure that there was truth in what Sam said. As much as she wanted children, she couldn’t imagine shouldering the kind of responsibility that Molly dealt with twenty-four hours a day. But Jessica also had a feeling that Molly was still working off the old high school script, with Jessica cast in the role of Miss Prim and Proper, the haughty, formerly rich girl and honor-roll student. Molly had been one of the wild ones, rebellious and a poor student. She’d gotten pregnant their senior year, Jessica recalled, and was married a few days after graduation.

  Okay, so maybe Molly still had an automatic dislike for her. Or maybe Molly didn’t think Jessica was right for her older brother, whom she clearly adored. It was the same attitude that Sam faced with her mother, Jessica realized.

  But Sam handled it differently. Her mother was far ruder to him, and he hadn’t even mentioned it. She would follow his example, Jessica decided as Sam pulled up in front of her house. She would be gracious to Molly and not complain about her again, she decided as she and Sam walked to the door.

  “Thanks for a great evening,” Jessica said. “I had a lot of fun.”

  “Even fixing Harry’s muffler?” he asked, his dark brows raised.

  “Especially that part,” she assured him. She thought back to her selfish attitude and how Sam reminded her of the right thing to do. She looked up to find him smiling at her. He didn’t seem to be thinking about that at all.

  “Well, it wasn’t at all what I had planned,” he admitted. “But I think it turned out all right.”

  “Just perfect,” Jessica assured him, her voice suddenly failing her as she stared into his eyes.

  His strong arms rose up and surrounded her, and she moved toward him willingly. He kissed her deeply, the touch of his lips slow and savoring. Jessica kissed him back, realizing that she had wanted this to happen again, ever since that day out in the rain. It felt good to be in his arms. Easy and right and exciting all at the same time.

  Finally Sam pulled away, looking as if it wasn’t all that easy for him. At least I’m not the only one feeling swept away here, she thought.

  “I have Molly’s kids tomorrow, but I’ll call you,” Sam said. “Maybe we can get together next week.”

  “Okay.” Jessica nodded, feeling a bit dazed. “I’d like that,” she said honestly. Smiling, he kissed her on the cheek and said good night again.

  She watched Sam’s truck pull away. He would call her, she knew, unlike Paul, who promised to stay in touch but so far had only e-mailed her once. Paul seemed so far away now—not just far away in miles but so far away emotionally.

  Inside the house Jessica saw the flowers Sam had brought her. Elsie was sitting beside the vase, and it appeared she had been nibbling them.

  “Elsie, get away,” Jessica scolded the cat. She picked up the flowers and carried them into her bedroom, where they would be safely out of the cat’s reach.

  The bouquet seemed precious to her now, and she hoped it would last awhile.

  DIGGER CAME DOWN THE STEPS SLOWLY AND FOUND Grace sitting at the kitchen table. Wearing her pale blue robe tightly belted at her waist, she sat with both hands wrapped around a large mug on the table.

  He walked over and stood beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Hot milk with a dash of cinnamon, he noticed. The same drink her mother used to fix for the girls when they couldn’t sleep. Digger missed his wife. He needed her. She would know what to do for Grace right now, what to say. He didn’t know where to begin and said a swift silent prayer, asking for help.

  “What’s the matter, dear? Can’t sleep again?” he asked quietly.

  Grace shook her head. “I wish I could. I’m so tired,” she said wearily.

  “You work too hard, Grace dear. You ought to take a day off now and then. Close the shop tomorrow. We’ll go out to the beach,” he suggested.

  “I don’t think so. I really can’t, Dad. Sunday’s a big day in the summer. You know that.”

  She glanced up at him. Her face looked drawn, thin. She had been such a lively little girl, so happy and bright. Like a new penny. It used to lift his spirits just to see her smile. Where was that girl now? he wondered. Where had she gone? When Grace lost Julie, he lost Grace, too, he thought sadly.

  “You need some peace, dear. Some peace from your own thoughts,” he said, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. “Why don’t you come to church with me tomorrow?”

  “Oh, Dad . . . no, I don’t think so,” she said with a weak smile, but she didn’t pull her hand away.

  With his gaze fixed on her, Digger’s grip grew firmer. There were other times like this, when her sadness welled up like a tide, overwhelming her. Digger felt as if he had to hold on for dear life, or she would surely go under.

  “You’ve been thinking about Julie,” he said simply.

  She nodded, her head bowed. He could see she was crying, soundlessly. “Yes, of course. I always do, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. I know how hard it is for you, dear.” His gaze searched her face. He waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he said, “Is that what woke you? Did you dream of her again?”

  Grace nodded. She reached into the pocket of her robe and took out a tissue. “It was so real, Dad,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I put my arms around her. The way her skin felt against my cheek, the smell of her hair . . .” Grace paused, unable to say more. “Then I woke up,” she added finally.

  “Oh, my dear girl.” Digger leaned over and put his arms around her. “What can I say?” he asked her quietly.

  “Nothing,” she answered. “Nothing at all.”

  After a long moment Digger stood up and gazed down at her. “It doesn’t really get any easier, does it?” he asked.

  “No,” Grace said, her voice barely audible. “I-I was thinking about that Willoughby girl, too. Sam Morgan’s niece.” She met her father’s gaze and looked away. “I shouldn’t have been so hard on her.”

  “Well, she caught you by surprise, I guess,” Digger said sympathetically. He patted Grace’s shoulder. “Next time you see her, tell her you’re sorry. She’s a big girl, she’ll understand.”

  “I don’t know what to do about that piano now,” Grace admitted.

  “What to do?” Digger echoed. He sat down again, in the chair next to Grace this time. “I didn’t think there was anything you wanted to do.”

  “Well, I didn’t really give it much thought, even when Carolyn came to ask me about it. Then, when I saw the girl playing Julie’s piano, something in me just snapped. But I feel badly about the way I treated her.” Grace sighed and took a sip of her milk. “Now it seems like I just can’t stop thinking about that piano.”

  Digger just watched his daughter, unsure of what to say. At last he said, “Well, I think the answer will come to you, Grace. You needn’t force these matters. It will just sort of drift up, and you’ll look down and see it there.”
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  “Like a shell on the shoreline,” Grace said simply.

  Digger smiled. He had given her that advice many times when she was a young girl. It pleased him to see that she had not forgotten.

  “Exactly. And you’ll bend over and pick it up and say, ‘Ah. That’s the one,’ and put it in your pocket.”

  The corner of Grace’s mouth lifted slightly. Not really a smile, he thought, but a heartening sign nonetheless.

  “All right, Dad. I’ll watch for it.” She nodded and picked up her mug again.

  “Good. You tell me when you find it,” he said, patting her hand again. “I love you very much, Grace. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded, her eyes looking glassy again. “I love you, too, Dad.”

  “Maybe we should take Julie some flowers from the garden tomorrow,” he added. Grace visited the grave at least once a week, and while he didn’t care much for the cemetery, he liked to join her in that task from time to time.

  “Yes, I was planning to,” Grace said, her expression relaxing a bit, he thought, into something more peaceful. More resigned. “I’ll be glad for your company.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  EMILY AVOIDED THE CLAM BOX FOR MORE THAN A week after her run-in with Charlie. But on the morning she returned, she discovered her sabbatical hadn’t been long enough.

  She was quietly eating her breakfast at the counter when Dr. Elliot came in. He barely noticed her greeting. He walked straight over to Charlie, who stood chatting with some customers at a booth near the window, and tapped him on the shoulder.

  Emily watched Charlie turn, his expression changing from a questioning look to a nervous smile.

  “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Charlie Bates?” Ezra began angrily. “Well, let me just tell you, you’re the same now as you were when you were a boy—playing spiteful pranks and thinking you’re too smart to get caught. Well, you’re not. Not this time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Charlie faced the older man with his hands on his hips. He was still smiling, but Emily thought his smile seemed forced. “I have no idea what your problem is, Dr. Elliot.” He glanced around. “Can anybody understand him?” he asked the onlookers.

  Dr. Elliot’s body grew even more rigid, his face pale and gray as his suit.

  “Spare me your theatrics, Bates. You don’t fool me. I know you scared off my buyer. Told him he’d never get the permits to build, never get his plans past the town board, never make good on his investment . . . an anonymous call besides.” His voice rose on a shrill note. “You’re not only a liar and a meddler, you’re a coward!”

  Emily saw Ezra take a breath, struggling for control, and she wondered if she ought to interfere.

  “I did no such thing. You’re crazy!” Charlie huffed. “Coming in here, calling me names. You’re a crazy old man. That’s what you are, Elliot.” He turned and started to walk away.

  “Don’t you dare turn your back on me.” Dr. Elliot moved quickly behind Charlie, grabbed him by the collar with surprising strength, and turned him around again.

  Charlie looked shocked, then red-faced with anger. He was considering taking a swing at Dr. Elliot, Emily was sure of it. She stood up quickly. She had to put a stop to this.

  Just as she got up from her stool, Reverend Lewis entered the diner. He took in the scene with a surprised glance, then quickly approached the two men.

  “There, there . . . what’s all this?” he asked, his voice soothing.

  Emily saw Charlie back away, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. “Nothing, Reverend. Just a big misunderstanding is all.” Then he turned to the doctor and said, “Listen, I don’t know what made you think I fouled your deal, but it wasn’t me. Honest.”

  “You have the audacity to ask me to take your word?” Dr. Elliot asked, his voice trembling with rage. “Your word? When you’ve sat here, day after day, making speeches against me? I know you did it. The only problem now is trying to prove it. There’s something unlawful in what you did, Bates, and if you try it again, I’ll ruin you. No matter how chummy you are with the police.”

  The doctor strode out of the diner, slamming the door behind him. The restaurant was completely silent for a long moment. Lucy stood next to her husband, her eyes questioning him with a worried look.

  Charlie waved his hand in a dismissive motion at the door. “I don’t know what got into him. Sounds like he lost his big deal and now he’s looking for someone to blame. Sounds like he’s losing his mind in the bargain, if you ask me.”

  A few nervous laughs sounded, then the customers began talking among themselves again. Emily saw Charlie nudge Lucy to bring around more coffee before he made his way back behind the counter.

  Emily left some bills under the edge of her plate and started back to her office. There she called Police Chief Jim Sanborn and related the strange story.

  “Dr. Elliot came into the station a few minutes ago, and he’s sitting down right now, filing a formal complaint,” Chief Sanborn reported.

  “Well, that’s the first step,” Emily said. “You’ll look into it right away, of course?”

  “Of course. I’m going to assign Officer Tulley.”

  Emily wondered if that was wise. But she didn’t voice her concerns. She didn’t want to raise any doubts about Tulley’s integrity. Tulley was a good man and a dedicated officer, the heir apparent to the title of police chief if Jim ever stepped down. But he was also Charlie’s oldest friend.

  “Well, keep me posted, Jim,” she said.

  “I’ll let you know right away if we uncover anything interesting, Mayor,” Jim promised.

  “EASY NOW. EASY . . . WAIT JUST A MINUTE. YOU’RE going too fast for me. . . .”

  “Hold your end up higher, will you? Oh, blast . . . it’s slipping. . . .”

  “Keep your shirt on, Harry. I’ve got it.”

  “Let’s put her down a minute. Here, on the grass.”

  “Slowly boys, easy does it.”

  “Do be careful, you’ll ruin the action.”

  “Not in my garden! You’re trampling the dahlias!”

  Jessica was walking home from work when she heard them, a cacophony of voices, all shouting excitedly. Then she realized that Sam’s truck was backed up in the Bramble Shop’s drive, and a small crowd of people was trying to lift something large and cumbersome into the truck bed.

  She recognized Sam, Digger, and Harry Reilly, holding up various ends of the odd-shaped piece. She also recognized Carolyn Lewis and Grace Hegman, standing together on the sidewalk, calling out even more directions. Molly Willoughby stood in the truck bed, spreading out blankets as two young girls danced around the crew. Unmistakably Morgans, even from a distance, Jessica thought. They had to be Molly’s daughters, Lauren and Jill.

  Jessica crossed the street and approached the chaotic scene. Nobody even noticed her. She could see now that they were moving an upright piano in several large pieces. The group was struggling with the harp-shaped piece inside that held the strings.

  “Up on the count of three,” Sam said. “One, two, three . . . In you go . . .” he gasped.

  The piano innards went up and into the truck with Harry and Molly guiding each side.

  “Very good!” Carolyn shouted encouragingly. “You don’t want to put anything on top of that, of course, you’ll ruin the strings.”

  “Did you hear that?” Grace asked, approaching the men with concern.

  Carolyn suddenly noticed Jessica. “Hello, Jessica. Come to see the circus . . . or joining up?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jessica answered with a smile. “Need any help?”

  “Ask Sam, he’s in charge,” Carolyn said.

  Sam was up in the truck now, pulling the piece to one side to make room for the rest. He wore heavy gloves and looked hot and sweaty. His eyes lit up when he saw Jessica. “Just what we need, fresh recruits. Want to help?” he asked.

  “Sure. What can I do?”

  She noticed Molly glance at her bro
ther, and shake her head, as if to say, “What in the world can she do?”

  Wearing a business suit and pumps, Jessica suddenly realized she wasn’t quite dressed for this project. But Sam had a job in mind for her anyway. “She can drive one of the trucks. Molly, you’ll drive the other. The rest of us need to stay in the beds, holding this stuff down so it doesn’t slide all over the place.”

  Molly glanced down at Jessica. “He wants you to drive his truck,” she said with a challenging edge to her tone.

  Jessica swallowed hard and squinted up at Molly and Sam. “I can do that. No problem.”

  “That’s my girl,” Sam said, flashing her a grin.

  Was she his girl? Jessica noticed Carolyn’s small knowing smile. No, that’s just an expression, Jessica told herself. Sam probably used that expression with every woman he met, from age eight to eighty.

  While the moving crew continued their efforts and arguments, Jessica took off her suit jacket and left it on the grass alongside her briefcase.

  Lauren walked over to Jessica. “Hi,” she said in a friendly tone. “That’s my piano. Well, Grace Hegman is going to loan it to me for as long as I need it.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Jessica said sincerely. Sam had told her about the incident with Lauren in Grace’s barn. She was surprised to hear it had all turned out so well.

  “It’s a beauty, too,” she said to Lauren, glancing at a segment of the outer wooden structure as it was loaded into Harry Reilly’s truck. “I never saw one painted like that before.”

  “Grace did it. She said the wood was a little funny in spots, so she painted it yellow and did the flowers. The inside is still good though,” Lauren added. “Mrs. Lewis checked it for us. She says it only needs a few strings and some work on the pedals.”

  “I think it will be perfect. I’d love to hear you play sometime. Sam says you’re pretty good.”

  Jessica saw Lauren flush, suddenly shy. “I’m okay.”

  “Lauren.” Molly came up to them. “We’re ready to go. You and Jill ride with Mrs. Lewis, in her car.”