“Yeah,” she said with a smile, “McGuffey’s would be great.” Lindsay was already picturing how much fun it would be to see the friends she’d been thinking of.
It was a few minutes after seven when they settled into the booth at McGuffey’s. It was a slow night, so there were only a handful of diners and a few stragglers at the bar.
“Wow, this place sure has changed,” Lindsay mumbled. She pictured the room the way it once was and found it disconcerting to see formal waiters and white tablecloths. As soon as the gray-bearded waiter left with their orders, she leaned forward and whispered, “It’s so sad to see things change.”
Her father looked at her quizzically. “What changed?”
“Everything. This place used to be so lively. It was noisy and crowded…”
“Noisy and crowded is good?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “The Pub n’ Grub was great. When I walked in the door I felt so at home. I knew everybody, and it was fun. But look at the place now; it’s dead.” She gave a sad shrug. “You’re the only person I know here.”
John nodded. “True, it’s not like it used to be. But when McGuffey bought the place eight, maybe nine years ago, he improved almost everything. The food’s better—”
“But there’s no atmosphere!”
“Sure there is. It’s just not what you expected.” John smiled. “Things change, Lindsay, and that’s not necessarily bad—”
“I disagree,” she argued. “The changes I’ve seen have been nothing but bad. My building changing from rental to condo, was that good? Not for me.”
“Granted, it wasn’t good for you, but maybe the person who buys that apartment will feel differently. How you look at change depends on where you are in your life.”
Holding on to an air of disagreement, Lindsay shook her head. “Okay then, what about the Book Barn closing down, all those people losing their jobs. How can that be good for anybody?”
“I know you can’t see it now, but maybe each of those people will move on to something better in their lives. You’ve already told me Sara moved to Florida and loves it down there.”
“Maybe so, but she moved because she had to, not because she wanted to.” Lindsay was also going to point out the change that had taken place with Phillip, a change of heart one might call it, but she held back because it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with her father.
Looking at the sadness stretched across his daughter’s face, John said, “I know it’s been tough, but give life a chance. Sometimes when you think you’re as miserable as you can possibly be, something happens and changes everything. You meet someone special and…”
“Did you know Mom was that somebody special?” she cut in.
John took a deep breath. He knew there would be no opportunity to say what he had to say tonight.
“Yes,” he finally answered. “The first time I heard your mom laugh, I knew I was in love with her. She knew it too.”
Lindsay thought she saw the twinkle of memories dancing in his eyes. “That’s what I’m hoping will happen to me.”
“It will.” He smiled. “Just be patient, honey. Love isn’t something you can go looking for. When the right man comes along he’ll find you.”
Unfortunately, what Lindsay imagined to be the light of memories in her father’s eye was in truth the formation of a tear. He was thinking of how he was going to explain this to Eleanor.
~ ~ ~
I don’t often say this, but there are times when a human gets things right, and Eleanor was absolutely on the mark when she told John that he should have broken this news to Lindsay earlier. If I look no further than tomorrow, I can see the trouble ahead.
~ ~ ~
That night Lindsay settled into her old room, and it was if she’d never left. As she hung the remainder of her clothes in the closet and tucked her underwear into the dresser drawers, she hummed a tune she’d heard on the radio weeks earlier. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, then climbed into bed and snuggled under the comforter. That’s when the buzzing in her ear returned.
For several minutes she remained perfectly still, barely breathing, every ounce of concentration focused on listening to the sound. Words. Words from somewhere far away. Words chopped up into little bitty pieces…um…um…
She bolted upright.
“I’m waiting!”
Suddenly the buzzing stopped.
“Who’s waiting?” she said to no one. While her question still hung in the air, Lindsay heard the high-pitched bark of a dog.
John
I planned to tell Lindsay about Eleanor tonight. I’d gone over what I was going to say a dozen or more times, but every time I was ready to start Lindsay dredged up another memory of her mother.
Don’t misunderstand me. Bethany was, without question, a wonderful woman. But she and Lindsay sometimes went at it like two pit bulls. There were times when I’d be out in the garage or trimming hedges in the backyard and hear Lindsay’s voice screaming about how she wasn’t allowed to do one thing or another. To hear her tell it, every kid in Shawnee High School had more privileges than she did.
Of course, Lindsay doesn’t remember any of that. She only remembers the good times, which I suppose is how it should be. But when every other word she speaks is about how wonderful Bethany was, it’s almost impossible to bring up the subject of Eleanor.
The irony of this situation is that if Lindsay gave it a chance, I think she’d like Eleanor. In a number of ways, Eleanor is a lot like Bethany except maybe she’s a little slower to anger and a lot more forgiving. Of course that could be because of age. We’re a bit older now, and years do have a way of mellowing people.
Mellowed or not, I think Eleanor is still going to be pretty peeved when she finds out I haven’t told Lindsay yet.
Maybe if Eleanor is here standing beside me it will be a bit easier. Oh, don’t get me wrong; I know Lindsay can overreact at times. But trust me, she’s not the kind of girl to make a big stink in front of someone else, especially someone she knows I’m fond of.
Yep, that’s what I’ll do. When Eleanor gets here tomorrow morning, I’ll introduce her as a real close friend. After they’ve spent some time together, Lindsay will come to see what a wonderful person Eleanor is. Once that happens, our marriage won’t be a problem. At least I don’t think it will be.
Cupid
Rude Awakening
Procrastination. It’s a human trait and one that often leads to disaster, as you’ll soon see. The ideal answer would be to go ahead and give Lindsay the perfect match I have for her, but the truth is she’s not ready. Her brain has accepted Phillip was a bad apple, but her heart still longs for the scoundrel.
It’s strange how humans can be miserable in a love affair and even more miserable when it finally ends. I’d think the loss of a lover such as Phillip would be cause for celebration, but instead of remembering the truth of his behavior Lindsay is remembering the small handful of thoughtful things he did. As long as she’s looking through that warped window of memory, it’s impossible for her to see the potential in a new love. It’s a condition we call romance-restricted, and when it’s combined with misappropriated affection we’re talking about a ticking love bomb.
Right now not even I could give this girl a love that would last. The only thing I can do is increase her level of distraction. Lindsay is one of those women who never wants what comes easy, so I’ll have to pique her interest by teasing her with pictures and promises. Eventually she’ll go for it. Humans always do. Just tell a human there’s something they can’t have and presto-chango! Biting into that forbidden fruit becomes an obsession.
~ ~ ~
The sound of muffled voices woke Lindsay. It wasn’t the faraway voice of last night. It was the sound of people talking, words going back and forth with short pauses in between. Thinking her father most likely had the television on, she closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.
Sleep didn’t come. The window shade that had bee
n hanging there for more than fifteen years had suddenly become too narrow, and it left room for a strip of sunlight to slide through. The beam of light landed smack across Lindsay’s eyes. She could see it with her eyelids closed and when she turned her face to the wall, it was worse. The light bounced off the mirror and magnified itself.
She blinked open her right eye and checked the clock. Almost ten, time to get up anyway. Lindsay grabbed the robe she’d left hanging on the back of the door when she’d gone off to college, then pulled her slippers from beneath the bed. She listened a moment longer then started for the stairs. Before she set foot on the first step, she knew.
It wasn’t the television; it was a woman talking with her father.
“Not yet,” he was saying, “not yet.”
Lindsay couldn’t make out precisely what the woman said in response, but it was something about someone named Ray. She listened as intently as one listens to whispers carried on the wind but the words were fuzzy, and all she got were bits and pieces. It had to be one of the neighbors, she reasoned. Who else could it be? She hesitated for a minute; then the voices stopped and she continued down the stairs. When the living room came into view she saw her father and a light-haired woman locked in what was unquestionably an embrace.
“Well, excuse me!” Lindsay snapped.
The couple quickly stepped back from one another. John turned and looked up at his daughter.
“I didn’t realize you were awake,” he stammered.
“Obviously!”
“Don’t misunderstand—”
“Misunderstand?” she exclaimed. “What is there to misunderstand?”
“Lindsay, give me a moment and I’ll—”
The woman standing next to him tugged on his arm. “John,” she said, “I think this might go better if I were to leave.”
“No, Eleanor,” John answered, “stay. I think we need to sit down together and—”
Eleanor had already caught a glimpse of the anger spread across Lindsay’s face.
“No,” she said and shook her head. “What you need to do is spend some alone time with your daughter.” Her answer was more sympathetic than chastising.
Lindsay did not offer a stay or go; she just stood there glaring at the woman, her hands on her hips and her expression as flat and hard as the bottom of a cast iron skillet.
John bent and kissed Eleanor’s cheek. She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder then slipped quietly from the room.
Before the door clicked shut, Lindsay said angrily, “Do you want to explain what’s going on here?”
“Yes,” John answered. “But we need to sit down and talk about it calmly.”
“Yeah, sure, like this is something we can talk about calmly,” Lindsay muttered as she dropped onto the sofa.
John ignored the comment and sat alongside her. “Eleanor and I have been friends for a very long time,” he began, but as the words tumbled from his mouth he realized he could no longer say what he’d rehearsed. It would be impossible to claim they were simply good friends. What Lindsay saw left little doubt as to the nature of their relationship.
“I knew Eleanor before I met your mother.”
Lindsay gasped. “This was going on when you and Mom—”
John shook his head. “Don’t be foolish. I hadn’t seen Eleanor for almost thirty years. Then last year I ran into her. One thing led to another and before long—”
“Ran into her?” Lindsay said. “Ran into her like in a pick-up bar?”
“No.” John exhibited his annoyance at such a thought, but Lindsay’s expression didn’t change one iota. “Eleanor’s not that kind of woman. It was quite coincidental; we were both shopping on Main Street when we spotted each other—”
Lindsay didn’t wait for the rest of his explanation. “So what you’re saying,” she said sarcastically, “is that this is a thing with you two?”
“It’s not a thing. Eleanor is someone I care for.”
“Care for? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I love her,” John answered. He had hoped the discussion could be handled differently, but he had no alternative. “We’re planning to get married.”
“You’re kidding!” Lindsay exclaimed. “Please, tell me you’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.” John’s words came slowly, and there was a note of sadness in them. “I had hoped to tell you sooner but we haven’t had the opportunity, and then last night—”
“You said you’ve been seeing her for a year. In that whole year you couldn’t find one single opportunity to give me a call and say, ‘By the way, Lindsay, I’m seeing someone, and we’re thinking of getting married’?”
“I was waiting until we could sit down together and talk about—”
“Oh, you mean like now?”
“No, I don’t mean like now.” A crackle of agitation pushed through his words and the patience he’d shown earlier disappeared. He no longer left an opening for argument. “I was going to tell you last night, but you never gave me a chance.”
“Why not before? Why didn’t you tell me before last night?”
“Because you haven’t been home. A number of times I suggested you come home for a weekend, but you were always too busy. We haven’t had more than a ten-minute telephone conversation for almost two years.”
“But now it’s different. You knew I was coming home to live. Why couldn’t you have at least warned me ahead of time?”
“I didn’t plan it this way. I thought while you were here for a Labor Day visit—”
“Visit? This isn’t a visit! I gave up everything and moved back because I thought you were lonely, because I thought you needed me.”
John gave a heartfelt sigh. “Maybe this isn’t what you want to hear, but be honest with yourself, Lindsay. The real reason you came home is because you were unhappy in New York. I can understand that and it’s fine, but don’t lie to yourself and say it was because I was lonely.”
For a long moment Lindsay said nothing. She just sat there with her lower lip quivering and her eyes filling with water. John reached across, took her hand in his and tugged her closer.
“Eleanor’s a good woman,” he said tenderly. “She’s someone who can make both of our lives fuller and richer. Please trust that I would never do anything to make you unhappy and at least give her a chance.”
There was no answer. Lindsay leaned her head into John’s chest and began to sob.
John wrapped his arms around his daughter and held her for a long while. When the tears finally began to subside, she mumbled, “I’ll try.”
The words didn’t come from her heart; they were simply what she felt obligated to say.
Believing the controversy to be over, John bent and kissed Lindsay’s nose as he had done when she was a child. “Once you girls get to know one another,” he said, “everything will be just fine.”
Lindsay answered with a hint of smile, but moments later she scurried off to her room.
Once upstairs she closed the door to her room, threw herself on the bed and allowed the tears to come.
“How could he?” she said with a moan. “How could he do this to me? To Mom?”
A big ball of resentment settled in Lindsay’s chest as she thought of the stranger pushing her way into their life. She thought back on the words “getting married” and came to realize this woman would one day sleep where her mother had slept and sit in her chair at the dining room table. In time all the things that were once Bethany’s would be gone and the house would be filled with this Eleanor. Such a thought settled in Lindsay’s heart and caused her to miss her mother even more than she had in the days following the accident. For a long while she lay there wallowing in a pool of sorrow thick as pudding. By the time she rose from the bed and stepped into the shower, she had built an impenetrable wall around her heart.
That evening the three of them came together for dinner. A smiling John sat at the head of the table, Lindsay on one side and Eleanor on the other
. Lindsay stared across the table with a glare that had bits of ice sprinkled through it. Eleanor focused her eyes on her plate, twirling strands of spaghetti so slowly that at times she seemed to come to a standstill.
“It’s wonderful to have my two special girls here together,” John said.
Lindsay moved her icy glare over to him.
Eleanor lifted her eyes for a moment, smiled at Lindsay, then refocused herself on a meatball.
“Well, it’s wonderful for me to be here,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you, Lindsay, and I’ve been looking forward to—”
“I hadn’t heard a thing about you,” Lindsay interrupted.
“Lindsay,” John said, not angrily, but with an easily understood intonation.
Softening her glare, Lindsay said, “Yeah, it’s nice.”
After that most of the conversation was either between John and Lindsay or John and Eleanor, never between Eleanor and Lindsay.
~ ~ ~
As you can see this is not going well, and it didn’t get any better on Saturday when Lindsay woke to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. She surmised it was Eleanor, and the thought slammed into her like an angry fist. Lindsay pulled on a robe and tromped downstairs. Sure enough, there was Eleanor scurrying about the kitchen like a woman who had lived there all her life. She was wearing an all-too-familiar apron and seemed to know the precise location of every condiment, dish, pot or pan.
“Good morning, honey.” Eleanor smiled.
“Please don’t call me honey,” Lindsay said coolly. “My name is Lindsay, and I really don’t like to be called anything else.”
Despite the crustiness of Lindsay’s words, Eleanor’s tone remained the same.
“Okay then,” she said cheerfully, “Lindsay it is. I’ve got some sausage and pancakes ready—”
Wishing for Wonderful: The Serendipity Series, Book 3 Page 6