Unexpected Son

by Marisa Carroll

  But this time of sanctuary was coming to an end. This morning a uniformed park attendant had knocked on the cabin door and reminded him that he must be out of the park by noon on Saturday. The cabins were not winterized and therefore not habitable during the coldest winter months. He was going to have to move on, and soon.

  He wasn’t certain exactly where he would go. There was nothing and no one for him back in Miami, or anywhere else, for that matter, but the shipping season on the lakes was months away and he might as well head south as any other direction. He was a man alone, without family or friends, and he had never been more aware of that fact than he had been these past three days. He looked into the future and the utter bleakness of it weighted his heart and his body. Maybe that was why, today, sundown had caught him unaware, too far from the cabin to make it back before dark unless he took the path that skirted the small lake.

  The sun was a low, red ball of fire hovering just above the tree line, its light breaking into shards of orange and gold that soared upward into the sky and lit the water of the lake with sparkles of copper and bronze. The geese were already patrolling the surface, aware, perhaps, of some weather change coming that his human senses could not discern.

  They might have been the same geese that Margaret Alyssa had fed along the shores at Timberlake Lodge. He had no idea how far south they moved in their wanderings. For a moment in his mind’s eye he saw his half sister’s child, her face a study in determination as she marched up to the water’s edge, intent on feeding her geese, as stubborn and loyal as her great-grandfather. For a moment he couldn’t help but imagine picking up her sturdy little body, savoring her warmth and the baby-shampoo smell of her hair.

  His niece. A beautiful, wonderful child, who shared his blood.

  And then unbidden, unwanted, his thoughts skipped past Margaret Alyssa to Sarah. Her babies. Their babies would have been just as beautiful and quick and bright as Margaret Alyssa. If he had had the courage to stay and make his life with her.

  “Dammit!” Now that his thoughts had breached the barriers he’d erected, he would never be free of memories of her. Her taste, her scent, the sweet sound of her voice, the feel of her in his arms. He would go to his grave with the echoes of her laughter in his ears and the pain of leaving her in his heart.

  “God, Sarah. I don’t want to be alone.” He picked up a rock and hurled it out into the lake. It landed a hundred feet away from the geese, but the explosion of sound and fury frightened them and they sailed off, honking in agitation.

  Michael watched them go. He didn’t want to be like those geese, always on the move, always just beyond the reach of the ice. He wanted to be a partner, a lover, a husband and father. And if he didn’t have the courage to reach out for those things, he would be no better than the man who’d fathered him. An unhappy shell of a human being, too weak to fight for what was good and true, too afraid to make right what was wrong.

  Michael turned away from the lake and the geese and the cold beauty of the December sunset, walking into the shadows that surrounded his cabin. He had already proved himself Ronald Baron’s son. He had driven away from his dreams and the woman he loved without a backward glance, taking the easy way out. He had learned nothing from loving Sarah, a woman of faith and character, who loved him in return.

  Running away was easier than staying to defend his name and build a place for himself in Tyler.

  Running away was easier than loving and sharing not only good times but bad.

  He had run away from Sarah and everything he’d come to hold dear because that was what he had always done.

  It was a pattern he’d never had the courage to break.

  But this time when he got into his truck and headed south, he would know for certain and for always that it had cost him his future and the woman he loved.

  * * *

  THE CHOIR WAS FINISHED singing. The last strains of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” echoed among the rafters and faded away. Sarah sat quietly in her high-backed chair to the left of the lectern, nearly hidden from the assembly by a bank of festive red poinsettias. She remained seated for another moment or two, while the singers settled back into their pews.

  Then she stood up, smiled and mouthed a thank-you. Finally she turned to the congregation, unconsciously squaring her shoulders beneath the warmth of the beautifully pieced and quilted Advent stole that had been her gift from her young-adult Sunday-school class the year before.

  “Wasn’t the choir wonderful?” she asked. “I think we should give them a round of applause.” The applause was warm, but perfunctory. It was obvious the members of Tyler Fellowship had something else on their minds. Sarah took a deep breath. “There are several announcements to be made after I pronounce the benediction,” she said carefully. She didn’t have to look down at her notes, but she did anyway, fighting to get control of the sudden, cold wave of fear and anxiety that threatened to swamp her. “Please bow your heads. May the peace of Our Lord, Jesus, be with you today and always. Go in peace.” She opened her eyes and gazed out at the sea of faces staring back at her.

  She should have called her parents or one of her brothers to be with her today. She shouldn’t have tried to face this alone. But none of them, so rock-solid in their faith, their relationships, would have understood the uncertainty in hers. Thy will be done, she said silently to herself, and raised her head. “The dress rehearsal for the Christmas pageant is Thursday night at six o’clock sharp. Don’t forget. The performance will be directly after services next Sunday. Then Christmas Eve service will be at seven p.m. and Christmas Day will be at the regular time for morning service.”

  Usually by this point in the announcements there was some fidgeting, searches for purses and misplaced gloves, hymnals being slipped into the racks attached to the backs of the pews. Today there was silence. Sarah took a deep breath and went on. “For those of you who haven’t heard, there will now be a meeting to air the concerns of some of our members who feel that I have been conducting my personal life in such a manner as to reflect badly on this pulpit.” She folded her hands together on top of the lectern to still their sudden trembling. “Reverend Aronson has been sent by the district office of the denomination to hear those concerns.”

  “I have no concerns,” Nellie Phillips called loudly from the first pew, exactly where she had told Sarah she would be. “She’s doing a fine job of ministering to me and mine.” The old lady was surrounded by Jonas, Randy and Darryl, their wives and children and grandchildren—all the vast Phillips clan, three pews deep on each side of the aisle. Sarah blinked back tears of gratitude at their strong showing of support.

  “Some of the rest of us do,” said a voice from farther back in the church. Myra Allen, Sarah thought, and sighed. Several heads nodded in agreement, but no one else spoke.

  Leon Hansen stood. “Reverend Aronson will conduct this meeting in accordance with the rules of the denomination. You’ll all get your chance to speak. Reverend.” He motioned toward the dais where Sarah was standing.

  Sarah had met Reverend Aronson before the service. He was a jovial-looking man with thinning gray hair and the practiced smile of a politician, but his eyes were kind and intelligent, and Sarah had felt confident that he would not be rushed to judgement. That was why, when he had asked her earlier if she wished to confront her accusers in private, she had said no.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, mounting the three shallow steps to where Sarah stood. “Let us have a moment of silent prayer that all our hearts may be guided by Our Lord’s fairness.”

  Once more, Sarah sought the words to ask God to help her make the right decision. All last night she had lain awake, wrestling with her decision. Should she stay, fight to regain her pride and her pulpit? Or should she leave, as Michael had done, to start over again where no one knew who she was or why she had left Tyler? Did she have the strength to stay and fight to
redeem her good name? Without Michael, did she want to?

  Sarah lifted her eyes and looked out over the congregation. There were the Phillipses, strong and united. There were the members of her teen study group and her Sunday-school class, Angela Murphy and her parents.... Suddenly her doubts began to slip away, one by one. Calm settled over her spirit. No ringing voice spoke inside her head, but her prayer had been answered.

  She would stay. She would fight for her good name. She had done nothing wrong but fall in love with a man who couldn’t love her back. Tyler was her home and she intended to remain for as long as she could.

  “Amen,” Reverend Aronson said, raising his head. “Ladies and gentlemen of the congregation, it has been brought to the attention of the bishop that Reverend Fleming may have been conducting herself in a manner unbecoming to her calling as a minister of Christ’s gospel. If any of you here can verify those remarks, do so now, in my hearing.”

  There was a rustle of movement as people craned their necks to see who would come forward. Others looked down at their hands or up at the ceiling. Those members of her congregation were undecided, Sarah realized. They wouldn’t speak against her, but neither were they ready to rise to her defense. Finally Myra Allen stood, then one or two others—employees of the F and M, people with great pain and great uncertainty and no one to blame for those travails. Her heart fluttered in panic again but she pushed the new doubt aside.

  “Reverend Sarah has been seen visiting the motel room of a man in the dead of the night,” Myra announced into the stillness. She cleared her throat. “And she has admitted herself that she was with this same man at two o’clock in the morning the night Ingalls F and M was burned to the ground. It’s not fitting. They aren’t married. They weren’t even engaged.”

  “We will be engaged by the time she leaves this church if I have anything to say about it.”

  Sarah’s eyes sought the figure at the back of the sanctuary. “Michael.” Distracted by her thoughts, she hadn’t even heard the church doors open and close.

  He came striding forward, his footsteps loud on the bare, hardwood floors. Heads turned to watch his progress, but Michael ignored them all, his eyes fixed on hers.

  She had feared she would never see him again, had steeled herself against that possibility, had congratulated herself on every minute of every day that she managed to survive without him. But now he was back, and she knew she’d been fooling herself. She would have gone on living, eating and breathing and going through the motions, but without him she would never truly have been alive again.

  “Who are you?” Reverend Aronson inquired, blinking in surprise.

  “My name is Michael Kenton.” He halted at the bottom of the steps. His clothes were rumpled, his face beard-roughened and drawn from lack of sleep. “I’m the man Sarah was with.”

  “Then sit down, young man. You will be given a chance to speak at the appropriate time.”

  Michael barely glanced his way. “Now is the time,” he said. His tone brooked no argument. He turned his head, glanced out over the congregation. “You’re fools, all of you, if you think badly of this woman. She has honor and integrity. She’s good and kind and better than most of you deserve.” His eyes sought and held Sarah’s. Now he was speaking directly to her. “She taught me that hatred and revenge were not an option. She showed me that I could belong somewhere. She showed me how to love.”

  His voice was rough around the edges, the words halting, but strong and clear. “I love you, Sarah Fleming. I want to marry you. I want to stay here in Tyler, make a life, raise a family with you. But if the lot of you are fools enough to let her go, then I’ll take her away from here, to a place where she’s appreciated and honored, and you will all be poorer for her loss. But not me. I’ll thank God every day of my life because I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

  He stepped forward, his eyes still locked with hers. He held out his hand. For a moment Sarah couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Panic flared briefly in Michael’s midnight eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you, Sarah. I came back for you.”

  For a heartbeat, then two, then three, she searched his gaze, looking for something—what, she wasn’t quite sure. And then she saw it. She saw that the barriers were down, the shadows gone from his eyes. His thoughts were laid bare for her to see—the love and the promise. She could see into his heart, almost into his soul. He meant it. He loved her and he would honor that commitment for the rest of his life.

  She held out her hand, no longer concerned with Reverend Aronson or the judgment of her congregation. Everything would be all right. Michael’s hard, warm fingers closed around her hand. “I love you,” she said, smiling up at him. “Welcome home.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “LYSSA, GIRL? Are you still awake?”

  “Yes, Dad.” Alyssa rose from the window seat in the big bay window in the living room. The only light came from the Christmas tree in the corner. All around her in the quiet town of Tyler, her friends and neighbors slept, dreaming their Christmas dreams, reliving the memories of the holiday now past. But she couldn’t sleep and she didn’t want to waken Edward, who had to leave for England early in the morning, so she had slipped out of bed and come downstairs.

  “I couldn’t sleep, either. Too much turkey and mince pie,” Judson grumbled. “I hate mince pie, but for the life of me I can’t make Tisha understand that. She just keeps baking them. I saw the lights from the tree when I came downstairs looking for the antacid. There’s none in my bathroom.”

  “I’ll get you some.”

  He waved her off. “No need. I can find it myself. What’s troubling you, Lyssa girl?”

  “Just post-Christmas blues, I think.” It was much more than that, but she didn’t want to trouble her father.

  “Don’t try and bamboozle me. You couldn’t when you were five and you can’t now. Out with it. What’s wrong? Is it Jeff and that Kenton boy? You can’t make them feel like brothers, Lyssa, no matter how hard you try.”

  She shook her head, although she didn’t think he could see the gesture in the near darkness. “You’re right. They’ll have to work it out on their own.”

  “Then what is it? The F and M? We’ll be fine, girl. We’ve always worked through the hard times before.”

  “Dad, what if it was arson?” She thought of the horror of watching the building go up in flames, of realizing that someone she knew might be the cause of that destruction. She remembered the anger and frustration on the faces of the men she had known for years, men who had been on the verge of doing violence to Michael Kenton because they feared for their lives and their futures. “What if the insurance company refuses to make good on our claim?”

  Judson’s shoulders slumped for a moment, but he straightened again, moving across the floor slowly, a little stiffly, because the room was cold and his arthritis had been bothering him of late. “There’s no use borrowing trouble. We’ve got enough of the real McCoy without making it worse. We’ve just got to have faith in the Good Lord and in ourselves.”

  He came to stand beside her, put his arm around her. She laid her head against his shoulder. For fifty years he had been there for her, and though, sometimes lately, their roles were reversed, he was still here for her when she needed him most. “No matter what that insurance investigator comes up with we’ll find a way to get the F and M up and running again. We’ll find the money someplace,” he repeated under his breath. “Some way.”

  * * *

  IT WAS CHRISTMAS NIGHT, almost midnight, but Michael couldn’t sleep. He stood at the window of Sarah’s bedroom—their bedroom—looking out into the moon-bright darkness. Snow covered the ground. Here and there, red and green and blue Christmas lights still twinkled on porches and shrubbery, but most of Tyler was asleep.

  They had been married three days earlier, and now they had spent their firs
t Christmas together. He twisted the wide gold band on his finger. Its weight was strange, but also strangely comforting. It was a symbol of love, of commitment, of bonding. All the emotions he had spent so many years denying and now embraced.

  “Michael?” Sarah sounded sleepy and a little confused. “Are you all right?”

  He turned away from the window, seeking the source of her warm voice. “I’m fine. Just not sleepy, that’s all.”

  Sarah still worried about the brick-throwing incident at the Green Woods Motel, but he had decided to put it out of his mind. He’d refused to press charges and had even paid for the window at the motel, so the owner did the same. Some of the townspeople might not be ready yet to welcome him with open arms, but he didn’t think too many of them considered him an arsonist anymore.

  “I told you not to have the second piece of pumpkin pie for dessert,” she said, holding out her arms. She was wearing the buttercup-yellow nightgown Liza had given her as a wedding present. The color suited her hair and eyes, and the gown was soft and silky and very, very sexy. Sarah had blushed like a teenager when she’d opened it, and Liza had laughed, delighted by her confusion.

  Of the Baron/Ingalls family, only she and Cliff, Amanda and Ethan Trask had attended the simple dignified ceremony. Jeff still refused to acknowledge their relationship, and although they’d sent best wishes, Alyssa and Judson stayed away, as well.

  “Michael? Come here, tell me what you were thinking about.”

  Ten days ago he would have made an excuse or sidestepped her request with a curt answer. But those days were gone, as was the cold ache of loneliness he’d carried around inside himself for so many years.

  “I was thinking about how much things can change in a very short time,” he said, stepping out of his jeans and sliding under the covers, into her arms. “And I was thinking how glad I am Liza gave you that nightgown as a wedding present.”