by Marci Nault
“Do you realize that I spend most of my life on the road?” Heather asked.
“Really? I thought you wrote your columns from looking at picture books.” He checked the time. “It sucks that I have to leave. I remembered this morning that I have to be at a site in New Hampshire by noon. Come with me and let me show you what I do.”
Heather looked at his beautiful smile and big eyes the color of tropical seas. She wanted to say yes, but she needed to work. There were travel plans to be made and pages to be rewritten, another column due. “I wish I could, but I’m swamped.”
They went downstairs and onto the deck. A manila envelope sat on the railing. “Oh, I wonder whom this could be from?” she said with sarcasm. A small handwritten note had been taped to the front of the church bulletin: The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body (l Corinthians 6:13).
Heather handed the paper to Tommy. “If Sarah knows you spent the night with me, everyone else is certain to hear the news.”
“Maybe we should pass this message to Grandpa.” He laughed. “I’m certain after all of his adventures he could use some saving.”
Heather giggled. “So you don’t care if your family knows about last night?”
“First of all, it’s none of their business and second of all, I plan to repeat our immorality as much as possible.” He bent and kissed her lips with a soft touch. “I’ll call you later.”
Victoria passed him as she walked toward Heather’s home. She gave him a quick hug and then raced to Heather’s side. “Did I just see him kiss you? Did he spend the night?”
“Maybe, but unlike you, I don’t share my personal escapades.” Heather walked toward her door. “Want some coffee?”
CHAPTER 22
Four days passed, and though Tommy called, their schedules kept them apart. The first night, something had gone wrong at a construction site and he couldn’t make it back to Nagog. The next day his meetings ran late. The last two she had writer’s block and had finally found her rhythm about the time he was free. With only a few weeks before she needed to leave for a monthlong trip to India and Nepal, she didn’t know how they were going to get their relationship off the ground. They’d fallen into a rhythm of talking at midnight as they both curled into bed and said good night.
Their conversations were like bedtime stories to her. He spoke about woodworking and how he loved the smell of sawdust. She told him about her travel plans and each night he asked her to tell him a story of a trip she’d taken. In exchange, he told her memories of growing up in Nagog. Through these talks, she felt she could reach out and touch him and his love for this place.
Of course, her desire to live in Nagog was challenged anew with each passing day. The aerobic queens had started at six this morning, and Heather had been too tired to join them. With a blanket and pillow, she tried to make her bathtub into a bed, since it was the only place to avoid the noise. Her kitchen still smelled like dog poop, urine, and rotten eggs. This morning everyone’s trash seemed to have found its way to her yard: banana peels, orange slices, meat hunks and bones, toilet paper, and aluminum foil covered her grass. She spent an hour cleaning up the mess and digging out smelly containers from under her porch.
As she was finishing, Carl walked up and said, “When you don’t keep the lids tight on the garbage cans, the raccoons get in.”
“I have a feeling it was a rather large raccoon that did this,” she said, and gave him a meaningful look to let him know that she was on to him. Then Bill and Daniel joined him for their latest project that never seemed to be finished or take shape. As Heather went into her house, they were hollering over the sound of saws, drills, and nail guns.
Heather stepped into the shower, and the hot water turned ice cold within seconds. She yelped, jumped from the shower, and wrapped herself in a towel. The bastards must have turned off her hot water heater again. She dressed in jeans and T-shirt and went downstairs. In the kitchen, a small red ant crawled along her thumb when she opened the silverware drawer. She flicked it to the floor and stepped on it. The bugs had returned too.
After talking with Tommy that night by the fire, her solution to the men’s abuse had been to let them get it out of their system. In two weeks, she’d be on the road again, only home intermittently. The hope was that by Halloween, they would’ve made peace with the fact that she lived here.
Suddenly, an old woman’s screams came from her neighbor’s driveway. As she raced across the backyard, Sarah came up behind her, and Heather slowed, not wanting to interfere.
Evelyn was fighting with Roger as he tried to seat her in the car. “No, I don’t know you. My mother told me to never go anywhere with strangers.”
Sarah took hold of Evelyn’s flailing arms. “Honey, it’s Sarah. Why don’t I take you to the doctor’s office?”
Tears streamed down Evelyn’s face. “You’re not Sarah. Sarah always wears a scarf to match her dress. You’re an old woman. Will someone please take me to my mother?”
“Okay, dear.” Sarah looked to Roger. “Another day?”
He nodded.
Sarah took Evelyn’s arm and led her up the walk.
Evelyn moved away from Sarah and headed toward Heather’s house. “I need to check the mailbox. My love is sending me a letter today.”
Heather’s heart went out to her neighbors. If only there was something she could do to help them, but for now she needed to help herself by getting her work done.
For three hours she sat in front of her computer, the sound of saws and hammers her constant companion. Her brain felt like an electronic appliance as the batteries ran low—it continued to work, but its progress was slow.
Outside on her deck, she stretched in the sunlight and thought about taking a dip in the lake. The warm air was thick with humidity and the cool embrace of the water might revive her senses. But for now she had to keep going. Maybe tonight Tommy would visit. The thought of seeing him in a bathing suit made her squirm. They could swim together, their wet bodies close as they kissed. The image gave her the strength to return to work, knowing that there might be a break in sight.
Under the oak tree, Sarah sat at the picnic table reading the Bible. Her voice floated on the breeze as she started to read the scripture aloud. “Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one. Love is never boastful, nor conceited, nor rude; never selfish, not quick to take offense. There is nothing love cannot face; there is no limit to its faith, its hope, and endurance.”
“Sarah, why do you think I need saving?” Heather asked.
“You can’t find love outside yourself; you must find it within and through the Lord. Then everything else falls into place.”
“To be honest, I would really appreciate it if you’d stop giving me sermons. I’m not religious.”
“Neither was Victoria. She felt fame would bring her happiness; in the end it didn’t.”
“She seems happy to me,” Heather said.
“Looks can be deceiving, especially with Victoria.” Sarah closed her Bible and walked away.
Heather shook off the conversation and went upstairs to her office. Where to start?
The phone rang and she picked it up. “Heather, it’s George.”
“How’s my favorite boss these days?” She leaned back in her chair and tapped her pen against her leg.
“Not so good right now,” he said in a sad tone.
Heather froze, panic rising in her body. “What is it?”
“The executives have decided to go with the television star for the Sunday column. Most of your syndicates will follow.”
“So I’m out?” Heather said trying to control the fear that filled her lungs instead of air.
“You still have two years on your contract, and they plan to use you somewhere, they just haven’t decided where yet. I’m sorry, Heather. I fought for you, but—”
“No, it’s okay. I know, it’s the industry,” she said. “I should call Charlie and tell him. Should I ca
ncel my trip?”
“I would put it on hold for now. I don’t know if they’re going to change your travel budget.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
Heather looked at the stacks of papers on her desk: flight itineraries, hotel options, this week’s column. All the work she’d done in the last few months had been for nothing. Panic constricted her lungs and she opened her windows for fresh air. The smell of cigars filled the room. “It was so cold in Russia . . .” How many times could they tell the same tale? Their cigar smoke was ruining her furniture. Her new couch smelled like a men’s club, and her beautiful home was being terrorized. She couldn’t control anything else in her life, and if she wasn’t going to be traveling, this had to stop.
She marched downstairs and out to the table where Bill, Carl, Daniel, and Joseph sat. “Do you mind moving? Your smoke is coming into my living room and your conversation isn’t allowing me to work.”
Bill puffed on his cigar and blew smoke into the sky. “We’ve been meeting at this table for over fifty years.”
“So you’ve told me. Maybe it’s time for a new place. Like your own yard,” she snapped.
“You’re being rude and I suggest that you take a different tone,” Daniel boomed.
“Don’t yell at me. I’m not one of your grandchildren. I own this property and I want you off it.”
“Heather, try to calm down,” Joseph said. He stood and placed a hand on her arm.
“No. I’m tired of your smoke coming into my house. It’s time to move,” she said.
“Now, that’s a good idea,” Carl said. “Everyone in agreement that Heather should move out of the community raise their hands.” He lifted his hand into the air and smiled at her.
“What’s going on?” Agatha barked as she walked toward them.
“We’re voting Heather out of the community,” Carl said.
“Sounds good to me,” Agatha said.
“Why? What have I done?” Heather yelled. “Nothing except host two parties in the three and a half months that I’ve lived here.”
Sarah emerged once again from her house. “Young lady, stop your screaming right now. The Bible says, ‘Children obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Honor thy father and mother . . . ’ ”
A volcano of emotions erupted in angry red sparks. “You’re not my mother, and will you cut the ‘saving me’ crap? I’m sick of it. Your little notes about my sexual escapades and your Bible on my deck aren’t going to convert me.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, Heather knew she wasn’t upset with her neighbors, but a monster had awakened—the stress from the last few months was taking on a life of its own.
“I know all about your little pranks. I get that you don’t want me here, but this is my home. Do you understand?”
“Heather!” Sarah loomed over her. “You will stop this tantrum this minute.”
The word tantrum set her off further. “I’m a grown woman. I expect a little more respect.”
“Then act like it,” Bill said.
“I don’t care about planes overhead, about your feet being cold, or listening to your damn health problems. None of you knows what it’s like to try and succeed in this day and age. So leave me the hell alone.” She stormed into her house and slammed the front door.
Upstairs, her breath caught in her throat as she collapsed onto the chaise. A cloud of anger emanated from her trembling body. They had it coming, she thought. They’d stunk up her home and shut off her hot water heater. As she began to calm, the realization hit. She’d yelled at her neighbors and created a scene. Told them that she didn’t care about their lives.
How was she going to face Tommy and explain how ugly she’d been? He’d hate her. Guilt sat in her stomach like oily pizza as she finally faced the real reason she’d been upset: her conversation with George. The career she’d spent six years building was on the line, and she needed to solve that problem first, or in two years she wouldn’t have the money to pay for this place—that’s if they didn’t break the contract earlier.
She went into the office and picked up the phone. “Hi, Charlie. We need to meet. The Globe just took away the Sunday column.”
“I’m at the apartment. Come over,” he said. “I knew this was going to happen.”
“Meet me at Gina’s place instead. I’m going to be staying with her for a few days while I try to sort this out.”
A half hour later, Heather was trying to force a suitcase into the back of her car. “They don’t call you Mini for nothing,” she grumbled. Tom’s truck turned into the drive and her head fell forward onto the roof of the car. Damn. Now he shows up.
He stepped down from the truck. “Where you headed?”
“I need to get away,” she said without looking at him.
“My thoughts exactly. I was hoping you might come to my place tonight. I’d like to cook you dinner.” He smiled hopefully. “Unless you’re leaving on a trip?”
“I can’t have dinner with you.” She tried to ram the suitcase into the car with her hip. He moved her aside, took the suitcase, and slid it into the front seat. Dirt and grease smudged his T-shirt and grimed his fingernails. He wiped at his clothing. “I’m a mess. I rushed here from work. On the way I blew a tire.”
“That stinks. I’m sorry you had a rough day,” she said curtly and walked around the car to the driver’s side.
He kicked at the dirt, hands in his pockets. “Heather, I don’t mean to be forward. I know I should’ve called first, but I’d really like to spend time with you. What’s wrong?” He walked toward her and brushed a strand of hair away from her downturned face.
If she looked into his beautiful eyes, if she continued to let him touch her, she might break in half. She knew he’d reject her the moment he knew what she’d done.
“I can’t do this right now,” she said, and she turned to open the driver’s side door when Victoria walked up and stopped at Tommy’s truck.
No, Heather thought, I can’t face her too. I have to get out of here.
“Heather, what’s going on? Did something else happen with the men?” He stroked her arm. When she didn’t respond, he leaned in to hold her.
“Please, just leave me alone,” she whispered.
“Wait a minute. What happened since our phone call last night?” He moved closer and grabbed her hand.
“I don’t think you and I fit. You visit your grandfather on weekends and are happy to sit home on a Friday night in an elderly community. I travel the world. Nagog isn’t where I belong, and we both know it.”
“You could fit here if you tried.”
“No”—she shook her head—“I’ve been living someone else’s life. I need to make my dreams come true, and I can’t do that if I stay. I can’t even write here. It’s time for me to be realistic and return to Boston and get my career on track. I can’t be distracted right now. Please, just let me go.”
Tom stared at her, his face searching hers. “Okay. I don’t understand, but if that’s what you want, I’ll back off.” He took a step backward. “The sad part, Heather, is that I’m sure you’ll get everything you want. I just hope when you get there, you’re actually happy and don’t regret the family you lost.” He turned and walked toward his grandfather’s house.
You can’t lose what you never had, she thought. She got in the car and started the engine. As she backed up, she glanced at Victoria and gave a small wave, then looked away. The word home echoed in her heart, but she boxed up her emotions and didn’t look back.
Victoria stormed into Molly’s kitchen. Her best friend sat at the table, her head in her hands. A half-mixed bowl of brownies had spilled on the floor and the thick brown batter was splattered against the cabinets, but Victoria didn’t notice.
“You won’t believe what I just heard,” she said urgently.
“What?” Molly said in a soft voice.
“I was walking over to see Heather and I overheard her conversation with Tommy. She’s going back t
o Boston! She practically told Tommy he wasn’t good enough. That he’s too simple. She obviously doesn’t know anything about him! What he’s accomplished. What it took for him to get there.” Victoria paced. “All she does is push people away when they try to help her. I’m so mad.”
“That’s because she’s you.”
Victoria stopped. “Excuse me?”
“You’re angry with her because she’s you.” Molly laid her aching head down again.
“That’s crazy. I’m angry because she’s making the wrong choices.”
“No. You’re angry because Heather forces you to face the mistakes you feel you’ve made.” Molly rubbed her temples.
Victoria threw her hands up and rolled her eyes.
“I’ve watched you our entire lives,” Molly went on. “You’re my best friend. And there were times when I was jealous. All you had to do was walk into a room to be noticed. Your face was plastered on ads and billboards across America. You traveled the world, and when you decided to grace us with your presence I fell down like the queen was coming to visit. Everyone saw what you wanted them to see, your jet-setting and your fancy clothing. See any parallels yet?”
“I don’t need to listen to this.” Victoria walked toward the door.
“Stop right there! You will hear this, and at seventy-four it’s about time you do,” Molly yelled.
Shocked Victoria froze with her hand on the doorknob and turned.
“You want to know why I didn’t get angry like the rest of them? I saw you. When no one else looked for the truth, beyond the glamour I saw the pain in your eyes—the fear of a lost lamb who also needed somplace to call home. Heather has that same look, and she doesn’t have anyone to turn to like you did.
“Victoria, she’s you. She fears that if she doesn’t achieve fame and success, she’s worth nothing. That was you after Joseph left for the war. All you ever heard was how beautiful and important you were. If you let yourself be weak or normal, if you showed people how afraid you were, then everyone would be let down. That fear got you an amazing life, a tremendous amount of heartache, and over fifty years lost with the man you love and the people who care about you.”