Sunday Kind of Love

by Dorothy Garlock

  Today, with the birth of their child, it would happen.

  Many of the other seats in the waiting room were filled with faces Gwen recognized, including Sandy’s parents and John’s younger brother. They were all people she’d once known well but hadn’t seen for years. She briefly spoke to each of them, offering her congratulations, before returning her attention to John.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  “Just fine,” he answered. “Sandy’s the one doin’ all the work.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  John chuckled. “Not in the least,” he told her, while pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe sweat from his brow.

  Just then, a door opened and a nurse stepped out. John practically leaped at her, hoping for a bit of news, looking like a dog that’d been waiting all day for its master to come home, but the woman shook her head.

  “Nothing yet,” she said, then set off on her rounds.

  John’s brother laughed. “He’s been like that since he got here. It’s like he’s got a blister on his backside and can’t stand to sit down!”

  “Well, maybe I am a little nervous,” John admitted.

  “You’re just excited to become a dad,” Gwen told him.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he replied. “I’ve been dreamin’ about this day for as long as I can remember. Think of all the fun we can have! Throwin’ the baseball, goin’ fishin’ down at the river, trompin’ through mud puddles—all the stuff I liked doin’ when I was a kid.”

  Gwen thought back to the conversation she’d had with Sandy in front of the drugstore. Her friend had said then that her husband was sure they were having a boy; from the way John was talking, describing activities that weren’t ideally suited for a young lady, he was still convinced.

  “What if Sandy has a girl?” she asked.

  John snorted and shook his head. “Won’t happen,” he answered.

  “But what if?” Gwen insisted. “It’s just a flip of a coin either way, you know. One side you have a boy, but if it’s the other…”

  “Then she’ll be the biggest tomboy Buckton’s ever seen!” he announced enthusiastically, but then grew serious. “Truth is, for as much as I go on about havin’ a boy, I won’t be disappointed if it goes the other way. All that matters is that Sandy and the baby are healthy.”

  John’s heartfelt declaration of love for his wife and as-yet-unborn child moved Gwen. Here was a man for whom family truly mattered. It made her think about the relationship growing between her and Hank. Could they have a similar future? Was it possible that one day she’d be in the delivery room, while Hank nervously paced outside, waiting for their baby to be born? The thought made her pulse race, but in a good way.

  “So did you ever talk to Hank Ellis?” John asked out of the blue.

  Gwen was caught off guard and couldn’t answer.

  “Sandy told me what happened,” he explained, seeing her confusion. “She said he dove into the Sawyer after you.”

  “He saved my life.”

  John nodded. “You know, I always liked Hank. Unlike most folks in town, I’ve never been angry at him for Pete’s death. I just pity him, I reckon,” he explained. “Who can’t feel for a fella who lost someone like that?”

  My father, for one.

  “I think Hank’s a little misunderstood,” Sandy’s husband added.

  “More than you know.”

  The pages Gwen had written were now folded up in her handbag. She still had plenty of doubts about what to do with them, but John’s opinion of Hank gave her hope. Maybe there were more people in Buckton who felt the same way. If they knew the truth about the accident, would they look at Hank differently? Would they be able to understand why he’d lied? Would they be willing to give him another chance?

  Just then, the delivery room door opened. Once again, John jumped at the sound. A different nurse walked out, smiling broadly.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Fiderlein,” she said. “You’re now the father of a baby girl.”

  Without hesitation, John began to whoop and holler, running from person to person, unable to stay still as he was overcome by happiness. He acted like it was his birthday, Christmas morning, and the moment his favorite sports team won the championship all rolled into one. One moment he was bear-hugging his brother, the next he was spinning his mother-in-law around the room, tears of joy streaming down his face.

  There wasn’t a dry eye in the room, Gwen’s included.

  “She’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”

  Gwen stood beside Sandy’s bed, holding her friend’s brand-new daughter. Kelly Fiderlein slept soundly, swaddled tight in a blanket. She weighed next to nothing, but Gwen cradled her close, as if she was the most precious jewel in the whole world. Everything about her was small and delicate, from her button nose to her pursed mouth and squeezed-shut eyes, but especially her fingers; they opened and closed in no discernable rhythm, as if they were being manipulated by a puppeteer. Deep inside, Gwen felt something stir, a desire for a child of her own, a chance to be a mother, to build a family of her own with Hank Ellis. Looking down at Kelly, rocking her gently, Gwen couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Do you like her name?” Sandy asked.

  “I love it.”

  “I know John had his heart set on a boy he could call Junior. I hope he wasn’t too disappointed.”

  Gwen shook her head. “There’s no chance of that,” she said as Kelly’s eyes fluttered open, sparkling a brilliant blue, then quickly shut. “You should’ve seen him out in the waiting room. No one has ever been that happy.”

  Her friend laughed. “That sounds like when he first came in here. He couldn’t stop bouncing around the room or lifting the nurses up off the ground,” Sandy explained. “He didn’t stop until one of the doctors got after him. I think he was afraid that John would be too rough with the baby. But when they brought Kelly in, he held her like she was a china plate, like he was afraid he’d break her. Here was this bear of a man and his itty-bitty daughter. It was quite the sight.”

  “So how are you feeling?” Gwen asked.

  “Like I got run over by a truck,” Sandy answered. “Twice.”

  Though Gwen still thought her friend was beautiful, glowing in the aftermath of childbirth, she had to admit that Sandy looked exhausted, too. Her hair was mussed up, a few strands sticking to her forehead with sweat, and she’d stifled a couple of yawns since Gwen had entered the room. In short, she looked exactly like one would expect, given that she’d just delivered a baby.

  Sandy frowned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why not?” Gwen asked.

  “Because I don’t want to scare you,” she answered. “You might want to do this yourself one day.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve already heard all the horror stories.”

  Her friend’s eyes narrowed. “You have?”

  Gwen nodded. “My mother,” she explained. “She used to say that giving birth to me is the reason I don’t have any siblings.”

  “It does hurt,” Sandy acknowledged. “But it’s worth it.” She looked at the bundle of joy in her old friend’s arms. “You know, it’s kind of strange,” she admitted. “I thought I was prepared to see my baby for the first time, but when the doctor held her up, my whole life changed. It was both scary and exciting. Just like that, I realized that I wasn’t living only for myself and John, but for that little girl, too.”

  There was a knock on the door. A nurse entered to take the baby for a while so that Sandy could get some rest. Gwen very reluctantly handed Kelly over, missing her before she was even gone. “I should go, too,” she offered.

  “Wait, Gwen,” Sandy said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied, not wanting to burden her friend with her troubles, especially at a time like this.

  Sandy smiled. “I may not have seen you much the last couple of years, but I know you better than almost anybody. I can tell when
something’s bothering you. Spill it.”

  “It can wait,” Gwen said. “The nurse is right. You need to rest.”

  “We both know that if you don’t tell me now, I’m going to lie here and think about it. I won’t be able to sleep a wink! Unless you want that on your conscience, I suggest you start talking.”

  Gwen sighed. Sandy was right; she wouldn’t be able to let it go.

  So she told her friend everything, starting at the beginning. She laid out all that she’d learned about the night Pete died. It sounded almost as unbelievable coming from her own lips as it had coming from Hank’s. Sandy listened, wide-eyed and silent; Gwen imagined that she herself had looked much the same when Hank had told her the truth.

  “Wow…just…” Sandy stammered once Gwen had finished. “Wow…”

  “But I don’t know what to do now,” Gwen continued. She pulled the folded pages from her pocket. “Should I take what I wrote to the Bulletin? Surely Sid Keaton would publish it. I mean, if this isn’t news, I don’t know what is.”

  “So what’s stopping you?” Sandy asked.

  “Hank,” she answered. “He lied about what happened because he wanted to protect his father. If what I wrote is published, then his sacrifice becomes worthless.”

  Sandy was silent for a moment, thinking. “How did Myron react when you saw him?” she finally asked. “Was he reluctant to talk?”

  Gwen shook her head. “Just the opposite. He told me that this has weighed on him ever since the night of the accident. He hates himself for not being brave enough to admit to what he did. Myron knows it isn’t fair that Hank assumed the blame for Pete’s death. He wants to make it right.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What happened that night is as much Myron’s story as it is Hank’s. Probably more so,” her friend explained. “Hank loved his father enough to take the blame for something he didn’t do, but that doesn’t mean Myron has to go along with it. Not forever. If he wants to confess, who can stop him?”

  Gwen understood that Sandy was right. It obviously bothered Myron that Hank was hated by most everyone in town, especially when that anger should’ve been directed at him. Maybe it was guilt that fueled his drinking. Regardless, Myron had been clear when they’d talked in his hospital room. He wanted the truth known, no matter what it might cost him. Still, she couldn’t stop worrying about how Hank would react.

  “I don’t want to make Hank angry,” she said. “I’m afraid that by doing this, I’m going to end up ruining what we have.”

  “He might be mad,” Sandy conceded. “At least for a little while. But it won’t last long. I’d bet that both Hank and his dad will feel better quick. Carrying around all that guilt can’t have been good for either of them.”

  For the second time since Gwen had come back to Buckton, it’d been her dearest friend who had pushed her in the right direction.

  Toward Hank.

  Nothing about making her decision had been easy. Standing in Sandy’s hospital room, taking in all that had been said, Gwen understood that now that she had put her plan in motion, she had to see it through to the end.

  “I think I know what to do,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “I’m just glad I could help. Maybe you could—” Sandy began but then yawned, too tired to hold it back.

  “That’s my cue to go,” Gwen said, leaning over the bed to kiss the new mother’s forehead. “Get some rest.”

  Sandy was asleep before Gwen reached the door. Out in the hallway, she looked at the pages she’d typed.

  It was time to take them where they needed to go.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ARE YOU TELLING me this is what really happened?”

  Sid Keaton leaned back in his chair, his feet on his desk, the pages Gwen had written in his hands. When she’d first arrived at the Bulletin, the publisher had been hurriedly putting the final touches on the latest edition, double-checking with his reporters, making edits, and laying out advertisements. The issue was scheduled to go to the printer in less than an hour. While Sid had been friendly, asking if she was excited to see her article in print, it was clear he had little time to talk.

  Until Gwen had told him the reason for her visit.

  They’d gone into his office. Sid had shut the door and even lowered the blinds, making it clear to his employees that they weren’t to be disturbed. Before Gwen had even taken a seat, he’d bombarded her with questions, wanting to know where she’d gotten her information. In answer, Gwen had handed him what she’d typed up. He had sat down and begun to read, his eyes racing across the pages.

  “I gotta say, at first glance, it’s hard to believe,” he said.

  “It’s the truth,” she told him.

  “So let me get this straight. Myron was driving, but Hank took the blame for his brother’s death to protect his old man.”

  Gwen nodded.

  “He could’ve gone to jail,” Sid observed.

  “I don’t think he cared. With his mother and Pete dead, most everyone he loved was gone. His father was all he had left. Besides, he wasn’t thinking clearly just after the accident. He did what he thought was right.”

  “There’s a lot of quotes from Myron in here,” Sid said, tapping the pages. “Did he know what you planned on doing with what he told you?”

  “When we talked, he made it perfectly clear that he wanted people to know what he’d done,” she explained. “Myron’s tired of hiding it. He knows that I was writing something to bring to you.”

  “What’s Hank’s take on all this?”

  “He doesn’t know,” Gwen answered honestly.

  Sid stared at her for a moment, then tossed the pages on his desk. “You’re awfully close to this story, aren’t you?” he asked. “I can see it in your writing.”

  Gwen frowned. She’d taken great pains to try to remove her personal involvement with Hank from her work. As she’d rewritten the pages over and over, Gwen had strived to make it about the facts of the accident and the quotes that revealed the truth, leaving out any opinions or conjecture. Obviously she hadn’t done as good of a job as she’d thought.

  “Don’t worry. It isn’t that obvious,” Sid told her, as if he’d once again read her mind. “But I’d be willing to bet I’m right.”

  “You are,” Gwen admitted.

  “How so?”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m in love with Hank.”

  The room went silent. Outside the closed door, Gwen could hear the hustle and bustle of the newspaper. People called out to each other. Telephones rang. But inside Sid’s office, neither of them made a sound.

  “Have you thought about the possible consequences of this being published?” he finally asked. “It could be ugly.”

  “I have,” Gwen answered, remembering her conversation with Sandy.

  But she and Sid weren’t thinking about the same sorts of consequences.

  “You might want to think again,” he said. “Hank dodged a bullet before, but when word of this gets out, he could end up behind bars.”

  “What?!” Gwen blurted. “How?”

  “I’ve never met a police officer who took kindly to being lied to,” Sid explained, “and that’s just what Hank did. Now, the fact that they didn’t press charges after the accident makes it likely they wouldn’t do it now, but there’s no guarantee. There could be trouble for publishing this. For Hank and Myron.”

  Gwen felt foolish for never considering that Hank could get in trouble for lying. Maybe Sid was right and nothing would happen. After all, punishing Hank or his father now wouldn’t bring Pete back. Was it worth the risk?

  “Let me make a phone call,” Sid said.

  He dialed, and after a couple of seconds greeted the person who answered. “Margaret! Hey, it’s Sid over at the Bulletin,” he said, as friendly as could be. “Say, is Bruce in? I’ve got something I want to run by him.” A pause as he listened to her reply. “Sure, I’ll wai
t.”

  Gwen knew that Sid was talking about Bruce Palmer, Buckton’s chief of police. Her nerves started to get the better of her; she had such a hard time keeping her hands still that she considered sitting on them.

  But she needn’t have worried.

  When the policeman got on the line, Sid went to work. Gwen marveled at how he maneuvered their conversation. He never came out and said that he had evidence Hank wasn’t responsible for his brother’s death, but instead beat around the edges of it. He suggested things rather than stating them. He hinted rather than declared. Listening to him gave Gwen an idea of what being a professional journalist was all about. By the time Sid hung up, he was smiling.

  “I think Hank will be in the clear,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” Gwen asked, unable to shake her worry.

  “I’ve known Bruce since we were kids,” Sid explained. “We might not agree on everything, but I don’t think he’d steer me wrong.”

  “Does that mean you want to publish what I wrote?”

  “Absolutely. But the final decision is yours to make.”

  But it wasn’t, not completely.

  Gwen remembered what Sandy had said. What happened that fateful night was Myron’s story to tell. While it had been her idea to put the truth in the newspaper, Hank’s father had agreed with her, had wanted his guilt and responsibility for his son’s death known. While Hank might end up angry at the both of them, Gwen still believed that the only way for him and her to be together, to start building a future, was to stop living a lie.

  In the end, her choice was easy.

  “It should be published,” she said.

  Sid smiled broadly. “In that case, I’ve got another call to make.”

  This time, the conversation wasn’t as friendly.

  “Yeah, Gary, I’m gonna need you to hold the paper,” he began, then immediately frowned. “I know. I know what time it is. I can read a damn watch, but look, something’s come up.” She could hear shouting through the receiver. “Yeah, but…no, I don’t know how long it’s gonna take, but we have to wait.”