A Different Light

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A Different Light Page 24

by Mariah Stewart


  “What would you like us to do?” Callie asked eagerly.

  “Well, I see my good friend Timmy Forbes is still moving rocks over there by the back fence. I bet he’d appreciate your help,” Ms. Evelyn suggested.

  Athen closed her eyes and held her breath, awaiting Callie’s protest.

  “Sure.” Callie drew heavy canvas work gloves from the back pocket of her jeans and took off without a backward glance at her startled mother.

  Ms. Evelyn smiled and patted Athen’s arm. “Let me see if I can find something suitable for our mayor to do.”

  “No, no.” Athen shook her head. “I’m here as a friend, just like everyone else. I’ll do whatever it is you need done now.”

  Ms. Evelyn surveyed the work in progress. “Why don’t you join Georgia—she’s the young lady in the green shirt over there. She and Mr. Tate are picking up bottles and other trash. There are recycling baskets for the glass right there by the sidewalk.”

  Athen picked up a basket and headed toward her assigned work crew, trying unsuccessfully to catch a glimpse of Quentin in the crowd. She introduced herself first to Mr. Tate, who looked to be in his eighties and who was hard of hearing, and then to Georgia, a slender, pretty young woman with skin the color of cocoa and eyes like chunks of coal who proved to be an amiable work companion. Georgia hummed and sang softly in a lovely lilting soprano as they carried out their chores. Athen found herself wishing she could carry a tune so that she could join in. At one point, a photographer from the Woodside Herald snapped a picture of Athen as she lifted a load of glass.

  She glanced over her shoulder to locate her daughter in the ever-growing crowd of workers. As she scanned the throng, she found not only Callie standing next to Timmy, but Quentin as well. He was speaking to both children, and had the total attention of both. She smiled to herself as she watched him place a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  Far from being the wisecracking reporter she’d first met, he was now a man of strength and humor and a gentleness she hadn’t expected. Not to mention that he’d awakened something inside her she’d assumed she’d never feel again.

  “Well, I see you’ve met the boss.” Riley Fallon exchanged a loving look with Athen’s companion.

  “Oh, you’re Georgia’s fiancé?” Athen was roused from her musings.

  “Riley and I will be married in August.” George beamed.

  “Best wishes to you both.” Athen smiled with genuine pleasure even as she sneaked a peek over Riley’s shoulder. The children were back to work carrying rocks. Quentin was nowhere to be seen. “I wish you every happiness.”

  “Thank you, Athen,” Riley said as a loud whistle pierced the din created by a hundred or so chattering voices.

  “What was that?” Startled, Athen flinched.

  “The signal for lunch break,” Georgia told her.

  “Gosh, it didn’t occur to me to pack lunch.” Athen thought aloud. “I’d better grab Callie and run out to pick something up. She’s probably starving by now.”

  “That’s all been taken care of,” Georgia assured her. “When you work with Ms. Evelyn, you don’t have to worry about going hungry. I’d better go see if I can lend a hand.”

  The young woman followed a path through the high grass to the sidewalk, where boxes were stacked high on tables covered with white cloths. The ladies of the AME Church of the Brethren were about to serve lunch.

  “Ugh!” Athen studied her dirty hands, wondering how she could eat anything these fingers had touched. She waved to Callie as her daughter and Timmy approached her.

  “Isn’t this fun, Mom?” Callie’s eyes sparkled.

  “Let me see your hands,” Athen demanded, and the child held out two blackened paws for inspection.

  “Not to worry, Mom.” Callie pointed to the line forming across the street.

  She should have known Ms. Evelyn would think of everything. A hose hooked up to the faucet on the front of the row house across the street spewed water, and one of the AME ladies offered liquid soap in a large pump container. Rolls of paper towels were stacked in the back of a nearby station wagon and large trash cans stood by for the discards.

  “Hey, this is great stuff,” Callie exclaimed as she opened her box lunch. “Look, Mom, ham sandwiches, apples, brownies. Cool!”

  They sat on the ground under a tree, surrounded by others seeking shade from the bright afternoon sun. Athen gratefully propped herself against the rough bark, happy to give her aching back a respite from bending over countless times to retrieve discarded bottles in the high grass. She popped open a can of soda and explored the contents of the white box.

  “Hey, Timmy, over here!” Callie waved, then turned to her mother and pleaded, “Don’t say it, Mom.”

  “Don’t say what, Callie?” Athen suppressed a smile.

  “Don’t say, ‘I told you he was a nice kid,’ okay?” Callie whispered.

  “Never occurred to me.” Athen grinned as both dark-haired Forbeses approached.

  “Hey, Timmy, I got brownies, did you?” Callie leaned over to open Timmy’s box to peer inside.

  “You look comfortable.” Quentin smiled down at her. “Mind if I join you?”

  “You’re welcome to pull up a rock and join us, but the tree trunk is mine and I’m not sharing.”

  “A little out of shape, are we?” He plopped to the ground next to her.

  “Pathetically so.” She unwrapped a ham sandwich on what appeared to be a freshly baked biscuit. “I haven’t bent over this much since Callie was a baby and made a game out of pitching toys from the high chair.”

  “Well, you know, some men find a woman covered in dry dust very sexy.” He leaned closer to her, a glint in his eye. “I find those grimy smudges across your face irresistible. And those little pieces of dried leaves in your hair …”

  “You’re a sick man, Quentin Forbes.” Her hands probed her hair until she found the foreign matter and pulled the crunchy brown leaves from the tangle of her long tresses.

  “Well, would you look at Himself.” Quentin sat up suddenly and motioned toward the center of the clearing, where Dan Rossi, Jim Wolmar, Harlan Justis, and Angelo Giamboni strode through the crowd like visiting royalty.

  “What do you suppose he’s up to?” Athen wondered aloud, her eyes narrowing as she watched her former mentor shake a hand here, pause to give a pat on the back there.

  “Giving this effort his blessing.” Quentin grinned and took a bite of his apple. “Creating a photo op at the same time. Look, there’s the Channel Seven news van, just pulling up.”

  The mobile newsroom set up quickly, the street reporters and the camera crew seeking first Ms. Evelyn, then Dan Rossi, who seemed to be doing a lot of gesturing and smiling. Athen observed in silence from her place at the back of the clearing, hidden from the cameras by the sea of workers in whose midst she went unnoticed.

  “What a charade,” Quentin scoffed as Rossi prepared to take his leave minutes after the news van had departed.

  “What good timing on his part,” Athen noted.

  “Good timing, my ass.” Quentin laughed derisively. “You don’t really think it was a coincidence that he just happened to arrive right before the cameras, do you?”

  “Probably not. But to watch him, you’d think he was campaigning.”

  “Of course he’s campaigning. A good politician never misses an opportunity to shake a few hands and make the people feel like he’s one of them.” Quentin paused. “Does that bother you?”

  “Why would it bother me?” she snapped. “He knows the job is his to take back next year. It just seems a little … early, that’s all”

  “It’s never too early, especially since there’s bad blood between the two of you. I suspect he knows you’re here, and he just wants to remind everyone that he’s still around, too. There are a lot of votes out here today.”

  “So?” Athen gathered up the wrappers from her lunch and stuffed them into the box.

  “So he’s just letting them all
know he’s on their side.”

  “What side? There is no ‘side’ but his,” she reminded him.

  “Maybe,” he muttered. “Maybe not …”

  “Want me to take that, Mom?” Callie reached a hand out for Athen’s empty lunch box. “I’ll throw it in the trash can over there.”

  Callie and Timmy collected a stack of white cardboard containers from the adults sitting around them and headed for the trash receptacles that had been placed throughout the crowd.

  “Guess it’s time to get back to work.” Quentin stood and offered a hand to Athen, who groaned as he pulled her up.

  “What are you working on?” she asked. “I tried to find you earlier, but I didn’t see you.”

  “I was helping Pat Greene and Reverend Davison with the tractors.” He appeared pleased that she had admitted to looking for him. “And now I get to load cow manure onto wheelbarrows.”

  “Some guys have all the luck.” She headed in the general direction of her workbasket, Quentin accompanying her as far as the end of the sidewalk.

  “Well, now.” Ms. Evelyn observed them with genuine pleasure, noting the casual manner in which Quentin’s hand rested on Athen’s shoulder. “Isn’t this nice?”

  If the morning had been long, the afternoon was endless. By four o’clock, however, the lots were devoid of debris, the weeds cut down, the ground plowed, and the new soil mixed with the old. Ms. Evelyn was delightedly tearful as she surveyed the acre and three-quarters of fertile ground. One by one, the work crews departed, Ms. Evelyn hugging each of her laborers and thanking every one for their efforts.

  “Your father would be proud of you today,” she told Callie. “You worked like a trooper.” Callie beamed with pride at the compliment. “Ari would be, too.” Ms. Evelyn took hold of Athen’s hand. “God knows the man would have been right in the thick of things if he could.”

  “We’ll be sure to tell him all about it,” Athen assured her.

  Quentin leaned over to place a kiss on the small woman’s forehead. “Tomorrow morning, same time, same place?”

  “Bless you, Quentin.” She patted his arm. “You can start later tomorrow. After church would be fine.”

  “You mean there’s more?” Athen asked in disbelief as they walked up Schuyler Avenue.

  “Just for the carpentry crew.” He laughed at the look of horror on her face. “We’re going to build the bandstand I told you about. I told her I’d bring a hammer.”

  “Mommy, Timmy said I could come over and ride with him.” Callie’s delight at the prospect shone in her eyes. “Can I go? Please? I haven’t gone riding in soooo long.”

  “Now?” Athen looked over the filthy urchin who stood before her. “I think you should go home and get cleaned up and have dinner.”

  “She can have dinner with us, Mrs. Moran,” Timmy offered.

  “That’s a great idea.” Quentin took hold of Athen’s elbow. “Why don’t you both plan on a ride, then stay and have dinner.”

  Athen groaned. “My knees are sore, my back is sore, and all I want is a long, hot bath. Sorry, guys, but a nice brisk ride is not on my agenda. And Callie is not fit for polite company until she gets a shower.”

  “Well, then, plan B. Why don’t you go home, get cleaned up, and then drive out when you’re ready? We can sit and relax while the kids have their ride, then we can all have dinner together.” He lowered his voice. “Callie and Timmy are getting along great, and she hasn’t snarled at me once all day. Things are looking up.”

  “All right,” she agreed. “But I’ll need at least an hour.”

  “Whenever.” He unlocked his car and Timmy jumped in. “You remember where the house is, at the end of Pond Lane?”

  “I do. We’ll see you later.” Athen nodded and steered Callie toward their car.

  Dinner for the four of them would be interesting, Athen mused, but right now, nothing appealed more than the promise of a hot bubbly tub and clean clothes. The Forbeses would have to wait.

  21

  Athen drove up the long lane leading to the Chapman mansion recalling the one and only other time she’d been there: the night of the rally where Dan had announced her candidacy. She inwardly shuddered at the memory of that evening. Looking back, it had been a nightmare from start to finish.

  She parked at the side of the house, and she and Callie proceeded to the front door. Brenda Chapman responded to the bell, greeting them with much more warmth than she had the last time they met.

  “Timmy’s down in the barn,” Brenda told Callie. “I’m glad to see you wore long pants to protect your legs. Have you ridden before?”

  “I used to take lessons,” Callie said as they proceeded through the long, wide hall. “But I had to stop last year.”

  “Well, let’s see how much you remember.” Brenda smiled at Athen as they passed through a banquet-sized dining room, then French doors that opened onto a wide veranda that spanned the length of the house.

  “Lydia,” Brenda addressed her stepmother, who was seated on a high-backed white wicker chair, looking for all the world like a duchess. “Athen and Callie are here.”

  Lydia Chapman welcomed them as if they had been the oldest and dearest of friends.

  “Do sit with me, dear.” She motioned for Athen to take the chair to her left. “Quentin tells me you’re not up to riding this evening. Brenda, take Callie down to the stable and let her choose a horse, would you? And tell Quentin our guests are here.” Turning to Athen with a charming smile, she added, “Quentin and Timothy went down to see a new foal.”

  “A foal!” Callie all but jumped for joy. “Can I see, too?”

  “Of course.” Brenda laughed. “Right this way, miss.”

  “Quentin tells me you and Callie worked very hard today,” Lydia said as she pressed a button on the wall. “Wonderful project. If Hughes and I were younger and less arthritic, we’d have been working right alongside you. We’re big believers in backing community efforts, but these days, we limit our contributions to monetary donations rather than physical labor.”

  “These community projects need financial backing, too,” Athen noted.

  Lydia turned to address the woman who appeared in the doorway, apparently in response to the push of the button. “Rose Ellen, do you think we might have some tea?” She placed a hand on Athen’s arm and asked, “Or would you rather have coffee?”

  “Tea would be fine, thank you,” Athen replied.

  “A small pot would be lovely, Rose Ellen. Thank you.” When the woman left, Lydia told Athen, “Rose Ellen is my right hand. With a house this big, at my age, I just can’t handle it all anymore. It’s a blessing to have help.”

  “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Chapman,” Athen told her.

  “Thank you, but please call me Lydia.” She leaned back into her chair. “Hughes bought this place at auction years ago. Originally, it had been the home of a robber baron or some famous Mafia person, I forget which. In any event, Hughes spent years bringing it up to snuff. It needed everything because it had been vacant forever.” She paused momentarily as Rose Ellen produced the requested tea. “Thank you, dear.” Lydia smiled and continued. “We’ve had such fun buying antiques these past two years, though, of course, I had some of my own furnishings shipped out from St. Louis—family pieces, mostly. No point in leaving them in storage with this wonderful house waiting to be filled up.”

  Lydia seemed to possess the ability to speak indefinitely without pausing for breath. Athen’s head was beginning to swim when she noticed Quentin’s approach from across the vast lawn where, last Labor Day, tents had stood.

  “Ah, there’s my son now.” Lydia beamed at the sight of him. “I can’t tell you how delighted we are to have Quentin and Timmy here with us. They’ve had a bad time of it, what with Cynthia abandoning them like that.” She made a “tsk-tsking” sound. “No one was more surprised than I was when she pulled up stakes with little more than a fare-thee-well and just left them. How any woman could walk away from such
a good man and such a darling child, I’ll never understand.” A cloud crossed Lydia’s face. “He’s such a joy, my grandson—my only grandchild, you know. So like his father as a boy. Hello, darling, we were just talking about you.”

  “If I know you, you were talking and Athen was politely listening.” He grinned, then said to Athen, “Feeling better now?”

  “Much.” She smiled and sipped her tea.

  “Not too late for a ride.” He perched on the railing that surrounded the veranda.

  “You let her relax,” Lydia instructed. “And besides, she’s not dressed for riding. That blue-green color is wonderful on you, by the way, Athen. It’s a lovely sweater. I’ve always loved those heather shades.”

  “Mother,” Quentin interjected. “I think Hughes just pulled up.”

  “Oh? Perhaps I should dash down to tell him we’ve company for dinner.” Lydia rose and bustled off into the house.

  “My mother will talk you deaf, dumb, and blind if she likes you.” Quentin laughed. “Obviously she likes you. She’ll have you dizzy before the night is over.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to take that long.” Athen shook her head, wondering what caused Lydia Chapman’s apparent change of heart. The older woman’s clear blue eyes, tranquil as a gentle sea today, had dismissed Athen with their frosty glare on their last meeting.

  “Quick, let’s walk down and watch the kids before she comes back.” He held his hand out to her.

  “Good idea.” Athen placed the delicate porcelain teacup on the table and took his hand. Together they strolled down to the riding ring where Timmy and Callie were receiving some instructions from Brenda.

  They hung over the fence for a while, quietly observing their respective offspring walk, trot, and canter at Brenda’s command.

 

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