by Jody Day
The day I’d first proposed to Bailey came to mind. I’d hurt her because it sounded as if I’d wanted to hire a maid. Botched it royally, but it came out in the end. Wasn’t she still working her tail off for me? I hadn’t even brought her fishing; hadn’t really taken her anywhere. She’d be better off without me on so many levels. There was a slim chance I’d get up to my apartment without being seen, but I needed to clean up before telling her. I tried to put on a normal face.
There were people everywhere. Good, everyone was too busy to pay any attention to me. I headed through the packed diner to my apartment.
“Hey, Scott, did you have fun?” Her voice, her sweet voice, stopped me cold.
I turned to greet her. “Oh, hi. Just heading up for a shower. Yeah, it was nice to be outdoors.” I avoided her eyes and took off my cap.
Bailey, beautiful Bailey. My heart ached, but I had to do it. Don’t start trying to reason your way out of it, man.
“Good, then come down and eat some breakfast.” She kissed me on the cheek, scribbled a note on her order pad, and stuffed it in my pocket.
Her touch sent my emotions reeling. The desire to sweep her into my arms and kiss her, kiss her as if she’d be mine forever, nearly overtook me. I tore away from her and sprinted up the stairs. Closing the door behind me, I slumped to the floor. Breathing hard, I pulled out her little note.
Scott, I love you more than I can say. I’m so sorry for not understanding what you’re going through. I want you to know that I trust you. I know you’ll be fine, that we’ll be just fine.
Her scent wafted from the paper. I clutched the love note to my chest, struggled up from the floor and collapsed on my bed.
I don’t deserve her.
Maybe I could just sleep a little, get myself together and then go down.
I woke up in the hospital.
12
Once again bright lights stared me in the face. I turned my head away from the light and found Bailey sitting next to the bed.
She managed a brave smile, but she didn’t rush me. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey yourself. What happened?” No IVs? That had to be good.
“When you didn’t come back down, Toppy went up to get you. He had a hard time rousing you. You woke, but you were incoherent, so we brought you in.” She came over and kissed me. At least she didn’t cry.
I’d dreamed some weird dream about working in the diner. I’d been balancing three dinner plates on each arm, and doing quite well, until a stray cat came in as someone opened the door. It ran right under my feet, and I’d dropped the whole mess. Everyone, including Melissa had rushed to start cleaning it up. They shook their heads at me and said, “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
I tried to shake off the dream, but without noticeable success. “Just tired, I guess. You probably didn’t need to go to all this trouble.” My head felt like a bucket of glue.
“Toppy’s getting coffee. Dr. Harkin said, oh, well, here he is,” she said as the doc walked in.
“Are you going to follow your program, or will I have to admit you?” He reached out and shook my hand.
“Well, I...”
“You haven’t taken your medicine regularly, you spent the night at the lake and now you have a bad cold.” He crossed his arms and took a step back frowning.
“I...”
“I’m going to find Toppy and that coffee. Give him ‘what for’ Doctor.” She squeezed my hand and left the room.
“No excuse.” I sat up on the bed. “Can I go now?” Where was my cap? At least I had my clothes on this time. I stood up.
“Sit down, Scott.” Dr. Harkin pulled up two chairs next to the bed.
We sat facing each other.
“I know this is difficult for you. It doesn’t have to be this hard. I didn’t dictate that you make a complete 360. But you have to start taking baby steps to relieve some of your stress. You show signs of having a severe anxiety attack.” He crossed his legs still frowning at me.
What did he want me to say? We weren’t exactly buddies. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about the decision I’d made regarding Bailey. Since he hadn’t asked me a question, I decided to change the subject. “Your assistant’s pretty stuck on you. When are you going to bring her out to my place?”
Dr. Harkin cleared his throat and flipped the pages of his chart. “What makes you say that?” He leaned forward but avoided my eyes.
“Oh, the way she looks at you, the way you look at her. Since we’re in each other’s business today, I just thought I’d throw that out there.” I leaned back in my chair. Let’s see what he had to say about that.
“The way she looks at me? Really?” His face contorted and then grew younger with each passing second. “What did she say?”
“Say? Nothing. Are you blind? I thought you had to be smart to be a heart doctor.” Good, we were off the “Bad Scott” subject.
“She’s, well, I...” he stammered. Heart doctor, not matters of the heart, apparently.
“What, she’s a little younger than you? Not by much, I’d guess.” I almost laughed at how the tables had turned.
“Five years.” He scratched his head and grimaced. “I don’t think she’s interested. She’s my assistant, and a darn good one, but I’ve never so much as...”
“That’s not so many years. And you’d better ‘so much as’ or you’re going to lose her. She won’t wait around forever.” I might just get out of the ER without too much more trouble. At least my theory about Melissa and the doc was spot on.
“I think you’re mistaken. There’s never been a hint of interest from her.” He stood up and paced a few steps beside the chair, his face red.
“Hinting won’t cut it, Doc. Tell her, and before it’s too late. Now, if you’ll just sign me out of here.” I rose from my chair and inched toward the door. Ironic that I should be giving advice on romance since I couldn’t measure up to managing my own.
“Sit down; I’m not finished with you. I’ll write down specific instructions for you. If you don’t abide by them, I will insist on putting you right back in this bed.” He scribbled on a notepad from his pocket.
I sat down. “Meds and rest. I got it. I’ll do it, I promise.”
“More than that. I’m setting you up with the counselor. Keep your appointment when they call and schedule it. The first person they’ll call if you skip it is me.”
I nodded, picked up my jacket, and shuffled toward the door again.
“Fine. If I see you back in here because you didn’t take care of yourself, you’ll definitely be a candidate for hospitalization, and then you’ll have to miss your wedding.” He reached out his hand for another shake.
The wedding that won’t happen. “Listen, you should bring Melissa out to Bible study at the diner on Sunday mornings. Don’t put it off. Life is too short.” Just how short for me, God only knew, but I wouldn’t risk Bailey’s future on my stupid heart.
I had to tell her, and soon.
13
That same dream began to plague me every night. I wasn’t stupid. I knew it reflected a picture of the stress I felt. But why a dream that told me what I already knew? Why not include a solution? Why did I find it so hard to pray? Prayer had been like breathing before. Now it felt like a brick wall between God and me. I’d always felt so strong, as if I was standing on a solid rock foundation that nothing could move. I had felt that way up until Mom got sick.
The quiet of my apartment in the early morning held no defense against the memories, so I just let them flood over me. Mom’s brave announcement that she had breast cancer and opted for radical surgery. Dad sitting, white as a sheet, by her side as she talked to me. I remember his hands trembling. I’d never seen fear on my father’s face before. The foundation shook.
My protective instincts kicked in. I’d just worked, taking on more and more of Dad’s responsibilities so he could spend time with Mom. When she got too sick to run the inn, we stopped booking guests. Hospice set up at the inn the last two week
s.
I still reeled from my Mom’s death, and then Dad had his stroke. He hadn’t done anything strenuous for months while he took care of Mom. After the funeral, he tried to go back to work at the washout, but the months of taking care of her, being inside, no exercise, it took a toll on him. The doctor said he hadn’t taken very good care of himself the whole time he took care of Mom. He recovered some of his physical strength, but his speech was affected, and he repeated everything in threes.
I cooked for him, washed his clothes, helped him bathe, and put him to bed, all of it. Plus, handled all the work of three businesses. The inn went by the wayside until Bailey came along.
That same fear and earth-shaking insecurity that I’d experienced through that trial plagued me now. I wasn’t ready to die, but it just seemed as if it was the natural course of things for the West family. The last thing I would do would be to drag Bailey down in this sad state of affairs.
If it wasn’t the stress dream in the diner, it was the dream about my mother in her blue dress standing among the flames in Pinewood Manor, telling me she’d never leave me. I must be losing my mind.
So how would I tell Bailey? I didn’t want her pity, but she’d probably understand if I said I was going to die. But I knew my beloved. She’d say it didn’t matter. I’d better not give too much reason; just tell her it wouldn’t work out. And if I had to lose her, I couldn’t have her just down the street. I’d have to get her out of the inn. I decided to sell it. I could put it on the market and then tell her. Something. Anything. No way would I get out of this without looking like a jerk, but it was best for her.
The sooner, the better.
14
I turned off the engine and sat there a minute staring at the front of the inn.
Bailey had decorated the porch with pumpkins and strands of autumn leaves. Crocheted afghans were draped in cozy abandon over the rockers.
I’d intended to jump out and knock on the door.
She came outside and waved hello. She motioned me up to the porch and then sat down in one of the rockers.
The knot in my stomach twisted like a vise. A gust of wind blew dead leaves up the steps as I ascended. I stumbled and wobbled like a drunken sailor crunching the leaves. They released the woodsy scent that Bailey loved. Her favorite time of year. Maybe I’d better do this somewhere else, some other time. No, best get it over with.
She reached for my hand as I took the top step. I avoided her eyes as I sat in the rocker next to her, not taking her hand.
“Bailey, I have to tell you something. I don’t know how to tell you, so I’m just going to spit it out.” I took off my cap and crushed it between my hands.
“Are you all right?” She leaned toward me, fear dulling those beautiful eyes.
“Yes, as far as I know, health-wise.” I continued wringing my cap into a lump.
“Whew, good. By the look on your face, I thought maybe bad news.” She blew out a relieved wisp of air.
“It’s us. That’s the bad news. I’m sorry, sorrier than you’ll ever know, but it’s not going to work out.” A stabbing pain jabbed my chest and threatened to choke me. This felt worse than the heart attack.
“What do you mean? The wedding? We can still put it off if you need more time. I don’t mind, sweetheart, whatever it takes.” She rubbed my arm.
“No, not just the wedding. I mean us. It’s not going to work out. I...” I stopped. My shallow breathing made my chest heave.
“You’re...you’re breaking up with me?” Bailey turned her head sideways, eyes wide. She sat back in the rocker and drew the afghan around her shoulders.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m not up to a relationship, there’s just no way of knowing what’s going to happen.” Now I knew what it felt like to be the biggest jerk in the world.
“You mean…not ever? I don’t understand. Baby, do you mean that you don’t love me anymore?” She tightened the afghan and crossed her arms. Tears sprang to her eyes.
Don’t love you? The only thing there is that’s left of me is that I love you. I looked that thought straight into her eyes, but I wouldn’t say it. There was no use giving her hope. She’d get over it; she needed to marry someone strong and worth the trouble.
“I’m sorry, so sorry. Please forgive me.” I stood to leave. As I passed her, she reached for my hand. I stopped and turned to her.
“Please, Scott, don’t do this.” Tears spilled onto her face. “We’ll figure it all out. The Lord will help us. Please, sit down and let’s talk about it, pray about it.”
I pulled her hand to my cheek, willing myself to remember her smiling, not in pain and tears. The silk of her hand reminded me of what I’d looked forward to so much, and would now never have. I didn’t deserve her, and she sure didn’t deserve this.
Focus on something else. I looked at the top of my worn boots. Make them turn and walk away. One step toward the stairs. She wouldn’t let go of my hand. I wrenched it loose, put my head down, and walked away.
15
The love of my life nearly backed into a tree as he roared out of the driveway. The dam of tears that welled up and threatened to break out did not come. I took a deep, deep breath and exhaled praying.
The Spirit whispered ‘don’t worry’ on that breath.
I still felt the solid foundation of Scott’s love. My arms shivered, and I pulled the afghan from Scott’s rocker and added it to mine. Now would be a good time to rehearse all the good advice given to me about Scott’s emotional state. Still, my mind kept leaning toward hurt. Even with the words of the Spirit holding me up, I just wanted to sink.
Should I pack up and go to my mom’s? Move back in with Mandy and Macy? What about my pre-engagement promise to stay and run the inn through the fall? Should I see that through? I really began to feel handicapped. Without my necklace to comfort and ground me, I felt so lost. I still couldn’t find it. No. I would not lose that necklace and I would not lose Scott.
I know he loves me. What if he didn’t get over this? How long could I wait? Forever, if I thought he’d ever come around. My heart wrenched. The pain I’d seen in his eyes made my heart hurt, but something stronger pervaded even that. Fear, pure and unadulterated, had emanated from his eyes. Determination replaced my hurt. It welled up, and I knew exactly what I had to do.
Fight.
~*~
Now I’m a freak with a shattered heart. I couldn’t remember how I drove back to the diner or got up to my room. I just knew where I had to be and somehow got there.
Bailey would be packing up about then, and I didn’t want to be in the diner to see her drive past, out of my life forever.
I threw myself onto my bed. No matter how hard I squeezed my eyes shut, I could not erase her eyes, her skin, our plans.
~*~
I sat on the porch and prayed until the sun shot golden shafts through the pine trees and then disappeared. The diamonds in my engagement ring shone as if they’d stored the day’s sunshine. I closed my eyes against the memory of the pain on Scott’s face. Hope had not faded, but disappointment wove its dark tendrils around me.
Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life. The proverb rang true. My heart ached, but I knew my heart’s desire would come. I tossed off the afghans and arranged them on the rocking chairs. Time for something to drink.
I hunted for the box of coffee mugs I’d brought from the apartment. Ah, yes, I’d put them in the pantry. One by one I lined them up across the window sill above the sink. Gifts given to me over many years from those who loved me and knew how much I loved autumn. Each one depicted a fall scene. Baskets of apples nestled on a hay wagon. Rosy cheeked children in knitted sweaters raking mountains of golden foliage. I always imagined the anticipation on their faces as they would run and jump in those glorious piles.
Pumpkins and ivy encircled my favorite mug. Gran had given it to me during my first semester in college. The black background rendered the orange vivid and bright. I’d fou
nd its twin in a gift shop in Marshall not long after Scott and I had been engaged. So much for the daydream of a fall morning at breakfast, Scott and I drinking from my favorite mugs.
I filled it with water and set it swirling in the microwave. A packet of hot chocolate would be great just about then. I took the hot mug of cocoa and its empty identical twin and sat down at the kitchen table. Normally, the creamy concoction caused a delicious drowsiness. Not this time.
I’d be praying into the night.
16
“Mom, can you meet me at the prayer garden? I need you.” My voice shook more from lack of sleep than the November morning chill. My confidence began to shake in the wee hours of the morning. Scott’s enemy, the fear beast, rose up. I could almost see it, feel it, even taste the wicked, sulfur torture it rained on Scott.
My heart heaved with sorrow at the remembrance of his face when he broke up with me. He didn’t want to. He loved me. Somewhere in his plagued mind he thought I’d be better off without him.
Far from it. My prayers for him tore me to pieces. Why couldn’t I get peace? Instead of feeling victorious, the enemy crept up inside my heart. Where was that fighting spirit from the night before? Did God mean that I should let him go? I’d been able to handle the breakup when I thought it was temporary, just until Scott conquered his fears. But now the possibility remained that maybe he was right.
The cold bench on the gazebo left my bones aching.
“Bailey, are you all right?” Mom stepped up on the gazebo floor and stopped, her brow furrowed.
“Mom, I didn’t hear you. Thanks for coming. I’m sorry. I couldn’t even remember whether you were off today or not.” I held out my hand to her.
“You rarely disturb me at work, so I thought it might be important. It didn’t take much for me to get away. What’s wrong?” She put her arm around me. “Good heavens, you’re freezing.”
“We’ll go inside in a minute. I just needed to talk to you. I’ve been praying here all morning and I’m worse off now than when I began.”