by Marta Perry
“Don’t you want to play?”
“I’m not much for volleyball.” She took the blanket from his shoulder and nodded toward a woman with a child along the sideline. “Marcy and I will join the audience.”
He almost let her walk off alone.
“Hey.” He scooped Marcy up and put her on his shoulder. “I might not be the most sensitive guy in the world, but at least I’ll take you over there.”
“Sounds pretty sensitive to me.”
They walked around the improvised court, and he responded in kind to some good-natured ribbing about the newlyweds arriving late and whether or not he was in shape for the game.
He tossed the blanket down next to Linda Trent, relieved that it was she. At least Annie had met her.
“You remember Linda, don’t you? We ran into her and Joe at the Town House the other night.”
“Sure. She’s in the play group, too.” Annie dropped down onto the blanket, pulling Marcy close as Linda’s toddler dived at her. “It’s nice to see someone I know.”
He stood still, frowning. Linda was avoiding his eyes. That wasn’t a good sign.
“You can go play volleyball, Link—”
That might have been a warning in Annie’s words. Maybe she understood more than he’d thought. “Linda and I will chat.”
Quickly, before he could think too much about it, he bent and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.
“Have fun, sweetheart. It won’t take me long to beat these guys.”
Her color rose. “See that you do. We’ll be cheering for you.”
He jogged onto the court, trying to beat down his concern. No good would come of his confronting Linda. Little as he liked relying on anyone else, he’d have to trust Annie’s judgment on this one.
Somewhat to his surprise, he did.
Annie watched him jog onto the court. The other men greeted him easily, apparently not feeling any barriers between them even though Link was their boss.
Did Link realize how they accepted him, or was that acceptance so routine that he didn’t even think about it anymore? The little he’d told her about his childhood had shown her how much he valued belonging here.
He’d certainly picked up quickly enough on Linda’s uneasiness. She’d seen it in his eyes.
Little Charlie made another determined dive at Marcy, and Linda pulled him back onto her lap. “Marcy doesn’t want a hug, sweetie.”
Annie shook a bag of blocks out onto the blanket. “Why don’t you two play blocks? Marcy, help Charlie build a tower.”
The blocks distracted the children, for the moment at least, and Annie smiled at Linda. “It’s so nice to see you. I was afraid I wouldn’t know a soul here.”
Should she ask Linda right out about Julia? If Linda had already chosen sides, that might be the worst thing she could do.
Give me the words, Lord. I don’t know how to approach this.
“Everyone knows who you are.” Linda helped her son put one block on top of another. “I’m sure they’re ready to get acquainted.”
“I appreciate that.” How open should she be? “I thought maybe, with the custody case going on, people might find it awkward to be friendly.”
“Because of the Lesters?” Something shadowed Linda’s dark eyes. “I don’t think so.”
She sounded reassuring, but a faint hint of some other emotion disturbed Annie. What wasn’t Linda saying?
Cheers and jeers erupted on the volleyball court, and Linda’s husband, Joe, pounded Link on the back. Apparently he’d done something good. Link’s face, split by a grin, looked younger—like that of the boy she’d known once. Fallen in love with, once.
She shoved that thought out of her mind. She had enough worrying her without dwelling on that.
“I’ve been hoping that Becca and Davis’s friends, like you and Joe, would feel that Link and I are the right people to have Marcy,” she said carefully.
“Of course we do.” Linda said it so quickly that nervousness seemed to drive the words.
Annie’s apprehension deepened. All her natural reticence urged her to let the subject drop, but a stronger instinct pushed her forward. Maybe that feeling was the guidance she’d prayed for.
She put her hand over Linda’s where it lay on the blanket. “What is it, Linda? Something’s obviously bothering you.”
Linda bit her lip, looking at her with such a guilty expression that Annie sensed what was coming before the woman spoke.
“I…I didn’t mean to. But I think I did something wrong.”
“This is about Mrs. Bradshaw showing up at play group, isn’t it.”
Linda nodded, blinking back tears. “I’m sorry. Really I am. I didn’t know that was why she was being so nice to me. I should have realized she was up to something.”
Julia, obviously. Tension was an icy ball in her stomach. “What happened?”
“I ran into her—Julia, I mean—at the grocery. She’s never done more than nod at me, but that day she stopped, said how cute Charlie was.” Linda flushed. “I guess I was flattered that she wanted to talk to me. She asked about the play group.”
“And you told her when it met and that it would be at my house.”
Linda nodded miserably. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize she meant mischief. But then, when the social worker showed up, I figured Julia must have told her.” She grasped Annie’s hand. “I really am sorry. I wanted to tell you but I just couldn’t.”
And Annie wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.” She tried to smile. “Anyway, I was the one who messed up, not you. You could probably have juggled the play group, the brunch and Mrs. Bradshaw without batting an eyelash.”
Linda didn’t respond with a smile. Instead, her eyes filled with tears. “I’d never want to do anything to hurt you. Honest. After the second chance Link gave my Joe, we’d do anything for him.”
“Second chance?”
“Link didn’t tell you?”
Annie shook her head. She didn’t want to admit how many things she and Link hadn’t shared.
“Joe is an alcoholic,” Linda said simply. “He hasn’t had a drink in years, and I know he won’t again. But one time he messed up, showed up at work drunk and nearly caused an accident. Most people would have fired him without a thought. Not Link. He sobered him up, got him to rehab, even kept paying his salary until he could work again. We can never thank Link enough for that.”
“I didn’t know.” It was another insight into her husband, and one she hadn’t expected.
“Anyway, we’re on your side.” Linda clasped her hand. “I’ll do anything to make up for telling Julia. Anything.”
Annie had to blink back tears. “It’s all right. Really.” Oddly enough, she felt as if she’d made a friend.
“Okay, smile!” Annie sighted through the viewfinder and clicked the camera button, hoping she actually got a picture. The old-fashioned wooden carousel swung Link and Marcy past her as she lowered the camera, but she caught a glimpse of the baby’s laughing face.
She’d try again the next time they came around. The music tinkled happily, the painted wooden horses moved up and down. Link had told her it was one of the oldest wooden carousels in the country still in operation. Watching it was like watching a piece of the past.
Link and Marcy came into view again as the carousel slowed. She snapped two more pictures in quick succession. Marcy didn’t show a bit of fear at being atop the glossy palomino. She laughed, waving both arms wildly, obviously perfectly secure with Link’s hands holding her.
They looked right together. She grappled with that thought as the carousel stopped and Link carried Marcy toward her. It seemed somehow disloyal to Davis and Becca, to be thinking how right they were together. Besides—
“What are you looking so solemn about?” Link lowered Marcy into her stroller. “She loved it.”
“I was just hoping I actually got a picture of how much she loved it. I’m not exactly
the world’s greatest photographer.” She fell into step as Link started pushing the stroller along the path. “But actually, there’s something I need to tell you. Can we wait a bit to rejoin the others?”
He nodded. “Let’s take a walk.”
She had to tell him what she’d learned. She could only hope he wouldn’t overreact.
“It was Linda. She’s the one who told Julia about the play group.”
“How do you know?” His hands tightened on the stroller handle and his jaw tensed.
“She told me.” Annie hurried her words. “She really didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Julia wormed the facts out of her without Linda realizing what was going on.”
“That sounds like Linda. She always thinks the best of people.”
“You’re not angry, are you?”
He shook his head, but she sensed something held back.
“Not at Linda. Now Julia—I suspect Julia knew just what she was doing when she suggested the social worker stop over at that particular time. She probably knew it might upset you to have Mrs. Bradshaw showing up the first time you hosted the play group.”
“It’s kind of a creepy feeling.” The breeze sent a shower of golden leaves skittering across the path, and she had to push her hair back out of her face. “Knowing there’s someone who’s—well, wishing you ill.”
He looked as if he were considering her words. “I don’t think it’s as active a feeling as that where you’re concerned. They just want you out of their way.”
“But Frank really does dislike you.” She hadn’t thought it through, but she realized it was true as soon as she said the words.
“I’d say so.” Link stopped the stroller where the grassy area sloped into the trees. A trail led on into the woods along a stream, disappearing around a steep curve in the hill.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “He has ever since Davis and I went into business together. Actually, I think he resented Davis from the day he was born. Our success, whatever it amounts to, made him worse.” He reached out to take her hand. “I’m afraid you just got added onto his dislike for me.”
She ought to pull her hand free. She didn’t want to.
He nodded toward the trail. “Are you up for a walk? I promise you, there’s something special at the end of the trail.”
“It looks too rough for the stroller.”
“I’ll put Marcy in the carrier on my back.” He pulled the carrier from the stroller basket as he spoke.
“In that case, sure.” She shouldn’t be taking advantage of another excuse to be alone with Link, but they were together so much anyway that it hardly seemed worth the effort to try and impose limits.
She helped him adjust the carrier, and then lifted Marcy to his back. The baby pounded her small hands on his shoulders, bouncing eagerly.
“I think she’s looking forward to a hike,” Annie said. “What about the stroller? We can’t just leave it here.”
“Sure we can.” He shook his head in mock sadness. “You keep forgetting you’re not in the city now. No one will bother it.”
“You’re right. Things are different in Lakeview.”
No one would steal a stroller from the park. That was a positive, certainly. The clannishness she’d seen in the people here might be a negative, at least where she was concerned, but she thought of Linda’s caring and felt a little better.
Link walked easily up the trail, even with Marcy on his back, and she followed.
“Linda told me about what you did for her husband.”
He shrugged. “Joe’s a good worker. I didn’t want to lose him. He’s proved himself since then.”
She didn’t think that was all of it. “Some employers wouldn’t have given him a chance to prove himself.”
He was quiet for a moment, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he glanced back over his shoulder. “A few people gave me a chance to prove myself. I figured I ought to pass it on.” He lengthened his stride, and she sensed that was all he intended to say.
The path grew narrower and steeper, and conversation would have been difficult if he’d wanted to talk. Steep cliffs of gray shale rose on both sides, and the path twisted to follow the rushing stream.
Link looked over his shoulder again. “This is Eagle Glen. Are you okay to go on?”
“Fine. It’s very pretty.” Actually, it was a little scary. The valley was so narrow that the sound of the water seemed to fill it.
Pale green moss covered the lower part of the cliffs, with tiny lavender and white wildflowers growing improbably in the smallest of niches. A fragment of verse passed through her mind. “He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock.”
Link paused. “Need a breather?”
“I’m okay.” Except that she did sound breathless.
He grinned. “It’s just a little farther.”
“Lead on.”
A few more yards and the path rounded a sheer buttress of gray rock. Beyond it—
Annie stopped, amazed. No wonder the water had sounded so loud. The stream widened out to a shallow pool, rimmed by flat gray rocks. Above the pool, a waterfall cascaded from the top of surrounding cliffs.
She tilted her head back. “It’s astonishing.”
Link smiled, obviously pleased with her reaction. “Eagle Falls. It’s one of the highest falls on the east coast. Higher than Niagara, although it doesn’t have that volume of water.”
High, high above them she could see a sliver of sky. A tree, bright with autumn gold, leaned over the top of the cliffs. Its leaves drifted down like golden rain onto the still pewter pool beneath.
Annie’s throat grew tight. The towering gray walls might have been a Gothic cathedral. “It’s like—”
“A church,” he finished for her. “That’s what I always think when I come here. God’s own creation.”
“Yes.” The word came out in a whisper.
Lord, I think we both feel Your presence here. She realized she didn’t know what specifically to pray for, but that didn’t seem to matter. Please, guide our steps.
For a long moment she just looked at Link, feeling as if they existed, for once, in perfect harmony.
Chapter Eleven
“Good night, little sweetheart.”
Link lowered Marcy into the crib. She snuggled down, curling one arm around her teddy bear, her body relaxing and her eyes drifting shut.
He patted her, humming softly, knowing she didn’t need it but wanting to prolong the sweet moments. He looked back with faint surprise at the man he’d been just a few short weeks ago—the man who hadn’t even been able to put a baby to bed.
Confidence made the difference—both his own confidence that he could do this and Marcy’s confidence in him. It surprised him how much pleasure he took from this simple accomplishment.
He switched off the elephant lamp, leaving a small pink night-light burning, and slipped quietly from the room.
The old house was Sunday-evening quiet, with Annie out to Bible study and Marcy asleep. The house seemed to settle around him, as if it had become used to his alien presence, accepting him even though he wasn’t a Conrad.
He went slowly down the stairs to the family room. Family. The word lingered in his mind.
What was God trying to teach him?
He’d put Annie’s dollhouse on the folding table so he could work on it at odd moments. He picked up the tiny stair rail he’d glued together—then felt as if he were standing back and looking at himself.
Putting a baby to bed. Mending a dollhouse. Sure looked like a family man to him. He stifled the little voice that said appearances were deceiving, and pulled the lamp closer so he could get a better angle on the dollhouse’s interior. He began fitting the railing back into place.
The door swung open. Annie came in with a gust of rain. She shook out her umbrella and propped it in the corner.
“You’re working on the dollhouse.” Her face lit with so much pleasure that it warmed him.
“I had a little time to spare after I got Marcy down.” He leaned back in the chair, watching as Annie shed her jacket and fluffed rain-dampened hair.
She came toward him. “Did she go down all right?”
“Without a murmur.”
Her smile seemed to congratulate him. She rested her hand on the back of his chair as she leaned over to peer into the dollhouse. He caught a whiff of her light, fresh scent and felt the moist brush of her hair against his cheek.
“You’ve done so much already. I never dreamed you could repair all the damage. I’d have given up.” She glanced at him, her face very close.
He managed to take a breath without strangling. If she had any idea how much he wanted to kiss her, she’d fly across the room.
“Wait until I give it a fresh coat of paint. It’ll look like new.”
She ran the tip of her finger along the wooden mantelpiece. “There used to be a picture in a miniature frame over the mantel. I’ll see if I can find something, but it will have to be attached so Marcy can’t pull it loose.”
“I can do that.” He studied her face. She looked lost in memories. “What about furniture? And dolls?”
“I’ll look for things that are big enough to be safe for an almost-two-year-old. I remember—”
“What?” What’s put that look of sadness in your eyes, Annie?
“We had a family of dolls that fit the house—father, mother, two sisters, and a baby that Becca insisted was a brother named Tommy.”
“No chance of a real baby brother, I take it?” He put the question cautiously, still not sure what she found unhappy in these reminiscences.
“My mother was hospitalized for severe depression several times, and I imagine my parents decided it was too difficult to have any more children. As it was, my father had his hands full taking care of us.”
He’d once assumed that Annie and Becca had had the perfect childhood. He’d been wrong.
“Weren’t there any relatives who could help?”
Annie shook her head. “Not any who lived close. And Daddy never wanted to send us away. We managed. I looked after Becca.”