by Becky Melby
Black splashes spattered across her field of vision. Her breath came in short, squeezed spurts. April lowered her head to her knees.
“April? Did I lose you? Hello?”
“Mr. Palmer. . .” Her fingers spasmed around the phone. “That’s not. . .the job. . .I was offered.”
❧
There was a note on her door when she got home. April—I found someone to rent the apartment on the 15th. Stop in to say good-bye and give me your address before you move. Sydney.
She was jobless. In six days, she’d be homeless. She hadn’t even found an apartment in Winona yet—not that she would have gone there now. April ripped down the note and kicked open the door. Bud Palmer’s cackle echoed in her ears. “Christian? You thought this was a Christian show? Where in the world did you get that idea?”
Closing the door, she leaned against it. Lord Jesus. . . . It was the beginning and ending of her prayer, the same one she’d repeated over and over since breaking the phone connection with Bud Palmer. From the dim recesses of her memory, a verse whispered. . . . “The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.”
Her purse dropped, her arms crossed over her waist. She hadn’t yet shed a tear. Walking, driving, breathing sucked all her energy, not leaving enough to manufacture tears. She couldn’t afford the luxury of giving in to self-pity yet. She should be doing something—making lists, searching the Internet, thinking. But thoughts wouldn’t stick together in her mind.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared at the hodgepodge of boxes, bags, and baskets that cluttered her living room. Splash and Willy treaded water between two DVD skyscrapers. Snow Bear slept on a pile of folded blankets on the floor. . .like the street bear he was soon to be. Thin, late-afternoon sunlight hit the picture leaning against a box on the couch. Itasca. In the photograph, misty morning light filtering through the trees, reflecting in the water. The headwaters of the mighty Mississippi. . .quiet, serene. . .everything her life wasn’t at the moment. A place of beginnings, a place to think, to sort through the remnants of what used to be her life. . .
She could pack tonight and be there by noon tomorrow. She’d miss her last day of work and the surprise going away party everyone had been whispering about. But maybe they’d be willing to postpone it until Monday. It wasn’t like she was leaving town.
Like a shot of caffeine, the plan jolted her into action. Mental lists made lines and columns out of the mess that had filled her head just moments before. Call Jill, cancel Winona hotel reservation, call Itasca, tell Yvonne, Mom, Seth. . . .
Seth. Earlier, with Bud Palmer’s laugh still ringing in her ear, she’d picked up the phone to call him. And then it hit her. He’d feel responsible. He’d shared April’s dream with Brenda, like handing her live ammunition. She had to tell him in person that she wasn’t angry. He needed to see that she was doing okay.
Right.
As she bent to pick up her purse, a buzz sounded in the outside pocket. She pulled out her phone and stared at the caller ID. “Hi, Mom.” She didn’t have the energy to mask her mood.
“April?” Her voice sounded tight, strained. “I. . .heard you turned down the job in Winona.”
Alarm bells went off in April’s head. “Where did you hear that, and how did you know—”
“Did you get another job offer, honey?” Her voice bordered on shrill.
“No.” Muffled sobs met her ear. Not again, not now. “What’s going on, Mom? How did you—”
“It’s all my fault!” A louder sob. “I thought it was the best thing. I thought it would be good for you to get away from. . .there.”
Every cell in April’s brain stood at attention. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought you’d love the new job. Brenda made it sound like it was perfect for you.”
“Brenda?” April was yelling, but she didn’t care. “You talked to Brenda?”
“It was weeks ago, before I met Seth. I was so worried about you. I wanted to know the truth about him, so I looked her up, and she said she had the perfect solution. . . .”
April’s phone snapped shut.
❧
The last time she’d entered the doors of KXPB-TV, she’d been young and idealistic, with a head full of dreams. Before Caitlyn died, before she got a great job and then threw it away like a dog with a bone in his mouth looking at his own reflection.
She stepped into the dimly lit empty reception area. No one sat at the two desks behind the counter. The screen saver on a monitor rolled and transposed the call letters. KXPB. . .X-ceeding X-pectations.
From somewhere in the back of the long, narrow building came the sound of the current broadcast. The news was over, and the seven-to-eight slot was filled with spotlights on local organizations and school functions. Prime-Time Pine Bluff.
If she hadn’t seen Seth’s Camry in the parking lot, she would have left. The quiet was eerie, and she had no idea where to find him. A blade of light from a doorway sliced across the darkened hallway in front of her. She walked toward it, stopping when she reached the door. Mervin Fuller, Station Manager, the nameplate read. She tapped on the door.
“Come on in.”
The voice startled her. She pushed the door open. With his phone in one hand, pencil in the other, and feet crossed on top of the desk, Seth looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
“April!” His feet arced over the corner of the desk and hit the floor at the same time his phone landed in its cradle. “Hi!” He stood and walked toward her, hands reaching out before she reached him.
She thought she was smiling. But the look on Seth’s face told her otherwise. His hands clamped on her arms. “Sit down.” He guided her to a chair and took the one beside her. “What’s wrong?”
The sobs gave no warning. Racking, jarring, they emanated from some buried storehouse of hurt and fear and longing.
Like a fortress, his arms surrounded her. Her face pressed against his chest. He didn’t talk, just held her tighter, stroked her hair. Never in her life had she been held like this. How many times as a little girl had she imagined a rescuer, someone who would step in and make things right, who would defend and protect her? God had been her strength, but still she’d craved the feel of strong arms around her. Over the thud of Seth’s heart, she heard him whisper.
“Lord, comfort her, protect her, and fill her with Your love and the knowledge of Your presence.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “Whatever it is, April, I’m here for you. We’ll get through it. We’ll work it out.”
His words brought fresh tears. Finally, when his shirt was damp and her eyes sore, but there were no more tears, she told him.
❧
Seth eased off the accelerator when his headlights lit the sign for the 107A exit. He’d only been driving for about fifty minutes, but the muscles in his forearms ached from gripping the wheel. A sense of déjà vu washed over him. This was his second trip to St. Paul in fourteen hours.
But this time, he was hoping to not find Brenda.
As he turned onto the exit, his shirt pulled away from his chest then touched his skin again, cold and damp with April’s tears. Saying good-bye had been so hard tonight. But the only way he could offer her any hope was to bring an end to his three years of bondage to the Miss-St.-Cloud-wannabe.
He took a right on 70th Street. Minutes later, he pulled into the circle driveway on Lone Oak Road and parked in front of two tall white columns. It was the first time he’d ever used the front door.
Chimes echoed behind double mahogany doors at the press of his finger against a lit button. The door swung open, and the woman who had almost become his mother-in-law stood before him. Openmouthed shock smoothed her face in a way Botox never had. “Seth!”
“Margaret.”
Perfectly tipped nails ran through short-cropped, eternally blond hair. “Are you. . .looking for Brenda?” A spark of hope lit h
er gray eyes.
“No.” Absolutely no. “Is Gil home?”
Margaret tugged at the bottom of her fitted blouse. “He’s in his office.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside for him to pass. “I have raspberry lemonade.”
He stopped. The sadness in her voice turned him around. “That would be good.” He gave her a quick hug. Though she probably deserved most of the blame for the way her daughter had turned out, he doubted that she had any clue.
She led the way across marble floors and handwoven wool rugs to the study, stopping on the way to fill a chilled glass with lemonade.
Gil Cadwell stood in front of an arched window with his back to the door. In his midfifties, he was still a striking man. Disdain for golf carts kept him in shape.
“Hello, Gil.”
The man whirled. “Seth!” A grin lit his face. He covered the space between them in four long strides and engulfed Seth in a bear hug. “It’s been too long. Sit down.” He pulled away and gestured to two overstuffed leather chairs. As they sat down, he said, “Got your check this afternoon. By courier—you must have been anxious to make that last payment. I imagine that feels mighty good. You’re a prince of a guy, Mr. Bachelor. More of a man than I would have been at your age.”
“Thank you. But. . .there’s a little problem.” Just imagining the look that would soon harden Gil’s features started his stomach churning. If he’d known any other way to put this to rest, he wouldn’t have involved the man who had been more of a father to him than his own father. “Brenda is refusing to sign over her half of the business.”
“What?” Gil’s eyes glinted like steel.
“I have nothing on paper to show that I paid her off.”
Gil rose to his feet. His hands coiled in tight fists at his sides. “I’ll take care of it, Seth. Enough is enough. She’ll sign. You’ve done more than anyone would have expected.” His shoulders suddenly lowered. Shame and frustration wove through a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry, Seth.”
Standing and closing the gap between them, Seth put his hand on the older man’s shoulder. They’d had too many conversations about Gil Cadwell’s oldest daughter. “It’s not your fault.” He pulled his hand away. “I just don’t know what game she’s playing this time. She doesn’t want the station, does she?”
“No. She doesn’t.” A sad smile lifted one corner of Gil’s mouth. “She wants you.”
Nineteen
As she turned north onto Main Street, sunlight shot between two buildings, through the passenger window, around Yvonne, and behind the frames of April’s sunglasses. Her eyes and head still hurt from crying, and she had no more answers than she’d had the day before. And yet, a vague sense of hope had begun to infiltrate her dark mood. All because of a man who knew how to listen. . .and hug.
And a best friend. She squinted at Yvonne. “This may be the most sacrificial thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“That’s pitiful.” An undecipherable smile twisted Yvonne’s lips to the side. “I take a personal day from work to walk in the woods with you, and you call it sacrificing? You ain’t seen nuttin’ yet.” She pointed ahead to the right. “Pull up in front of Perk Place. I want to stock up.”
April parked the car in the shadow of the coffee shop awning and opened her purse. “Get me a Polar Cap.”
“Come in with me.” In answer to the question on April’s face, Yvonne added, “I’ve only got two hands.”
Closing her purse, April got out and followed, muttering the whole way. “We’re stopping for brunch in Brainerd, you know. You’ve got three bags of chips and half a dozen water bottles in the backseat. How much stuff do you need for a four-hour trip?”
Yvonne walked ahead of her to the counter, ignoring every question April aimed at her back. A boy with three earrings in one ear asked for her order.
“I’ll have a large Polar Cap, a medium White Chocolate Mocha with a squirt of raspberry, a large Dolce Latte sprinkled with cinnamon, and a large Hazelnut decaf, cream on the side.”
April folded her arms across her chest. “How many rest areas do you think there are between here and Itasca?” She turned away, staring at booth after booth of tourists with cameras, hats, and rambunctious children. Yvonne grabbed her elbow.
“Do you want a muffin or a scone?” Yvonne’s finger jabbed the air in the direction of a glass-front case. “Pick one, my treat.”
“I’ll have a chocolate chip muffin.”
“Make that four.”
“Yvonne! You’ll be a whopping size 2 by Sunday if you don’t watch it.”
Yvonne handed money to the earringed boy and took a white bag from him. Motioning for April to wait at the pickup window, she waved. “I’ll be in the car.”
Rude. Something was eating at Yvonne. Probably some misunderstanding with Kirk. Before they got to Milaca, she’d wrangle the truth out of her. April took the cardboard holder with the four drinks and walked toward the door. With one foot on the sidewalk, she nearly dropped the cups.
Yvonne leaned against the side of April’s car, holding the bag of muffins and smiling like a Cheshire cat. To her right was Kirk.
To her left stood a man with deep brown eyes. . .holding out a jar of jam and a package of Twinkies.
“Breakfast?”
❧
Towering red pines, ramrod straight, stood like sentinels on either side of the needle-covered path. They walked past a cabin built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. Huge brown-painted logs stood on a stone foundation. A stone chimney rose from the roof. Cozy, romantic. . . A warm flush started at April’s ears and spread toward her toes.
Pulling her sweatshirt off, she tied it around her waist, relishing the sun on her bare arms, the slight breeze drying her damp T-shirt. She slipped her hand back into Seth’s. “Have I said ‘Thank you’ lately?”
“Not in the last three minutes. So we’re forgiven for wrecking your girl time?” He pointed toward Kirk and Yvonne, walking hand in hand far ahead of them.
Why was it, again, that two days at Itasca with Yvonne had sounded so wonderful? You can wreck my girl time any day. “You’re forgiven. I just feel bad about the dumpy motel you guys are stuck with while we’re in the lodge.”
“We guys is tough.” He gave a manly grunt. “It’s only one night. And we’ll get our share of time in front of the fireplace at the lodge when that front comes in this afternoon. We’re in for quite a storm.” His thumb caressed the back of her hand. “How are you doing, for real? Or would you rather not talk about it?”
“I’m still a little numb. God’s got this all figured out. I know that. I’m trying to look at this as an adventure into the unknown.”
“That’s my girl!”
She liked the sound of those words.
Inches off the path, a patch of sunlight illuminated a lady’s slipper. Delicate white petals hung suspended over a pink-tinged pouch. A low hum drew her gaze to a circle of ferns. Low above the deep green fronds, a dragonfly hovered, its blue body held aloft by clear, black-veined wings that beat the air. All reminders to savor the moment.
Seth let go of her hand. His arm slid across her shoulders, unspoken encouragement for her to open up.
“I’ve had plenty of panic moments in the past twenty-four hours, but I don’t think the full truth has sunk in yet. I don’t have a job. I don’t have a place to live. I’m going to end up sleeping on my mother’s couch and busing tables at a greasy spoon, all because, once again, I checked my reporter instincts at the door.”
“Please tell me you’re not blaming yourself for this.”
“I’m too trusting.”
Pine needles absorbed the sound of Seth’s laugh. “That’s not a fault, April. You’re not a cynic, and that’s commendable. You were up against a master of deception. Believe me, I know.”
They stopped at the sign for the headwaters. Kirk and Yvonne were already balancing on the rocks that crossed the shallow water. Acutely aware that Seth seemed to be gathering his th
oughts, April read the sign half-consciously: Here 1475 ft above the ocean the mighty Mississippi begins to flow on its winding way 2552 miles to the Gulf of Mexico.
“If I hadn’t told Brenda about your dream, this never would have happened.”
April pulled back and stared into his eyes. “Please tell me you’re not blaming yourself for this.”
A wink accompanied his smile. His hands rose to her face. “I helped get you into this mess. If you’ll let me, I’d like to be part of the solution.”
❧
“Maybe we shouldn’t go all the way to the top.” Gripping the railings on either side of her, April yelled above the wind.
“Go on down if you want.” Seth’s voice came from behind her.
And give in to fear. She shook her head and nailed her gaze to the backs of Yvonne’s knees. I can do this. She didn’t dare look up but figured there couldn’t be more than three more zigzag flights of stairs to the top of the eighty-foot Aiton Heights fire tower. The view at the top would be worth it. It would.
The wind seemed to pick up with each step. The tower swayed, slightly but unnervingly. Finally, she planted her feet in the green-painted, seven-foot-square roofed cab at the top. She walked across the platform and stood beside Yvonne. “Wow.” Thousands of acres of trees spread in every direction. A blue lake rested like a sapphire amid the green. To their right, the sky was deep blue and cloudless, but black clouds rolled toward them from the southwest.
Seth came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “You stared down another fear. This could get to be a habit, you know.”
The temperature was dropping, and his warmth was welcome. She nestled against his chest. “Next week, bungee jumping.”
She felt, rather than heard, the rumble of his laugh. “I’ll be the one on the ground taking pictures.”
April pointed toward the mountain of steel gray clouds roiling and tumbling, growing taller and wider before their eyes. “It’s moving fast.”
“We’d better get back down.” Seth’s arms dropped. “Hold on. I’ve got a call.”