Her Secret, His Son

by Linda Wisdom

  Chapter Seven

  Having slept little during the night, Sara was up at dawn. She made a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table drinking cup after cup of the strong dark brew.

  “You keep that up, and I’ll have to pry you off the ceiling before the morning is over,” Jackson predicted. shuffling into the kitchen, pouring himself the last of the pot and taking the time to fix a fresh pot before sitting down.

  “As long as I feel nothing, I’ll be happy,” she murmured, staring into her cup as if it held all the answers to her problems.

  “This is the first time Tim’s done anything really serious, Sara. The judge will take it into account,” Jackson assured her gruffly. “You don’t have to worry.”

  She shook her head. “You forget he’ll be seeing Judge Carmody, who believes anyone remotely resembling a juvenile delinquent should be locked away until he’s ninety.” She choked back a sob. Funny, she thought she was all out of tears. She looked over at him with fear clouding her eyes. Fear of what this hearing could bring.

  “Jackson, what am I going to do?” she cried.

  Unable to give her an answer he could only sit there and pat her hand, giving her what meager comfort he could.

  An hour later Jackson announced he’d open the station and advised Sara to take it easy that morning. There hadn’t been a sound from Tim’s room.

  She showered and dressed in dark blue twill pants and a pink and blue print blouse. After a light application of makeup and piling her hair up on top of her head she felt a bit more normal. Sara knew what she had to do, and she also knew she would have to wait until a more respectable hour to do it. She was in the midst of loading the washer when Tim appeared, looking as sick as she felt.

  “I guess saying I’m sorry won’t help much, huh?” he muttered, pulling the milk carton out of the refrigerator. Sara finished loading the washer and turned it on.

  “It would be a beginning,” she said quietly. “Why did you do it, Tim?”

  He shrugged, trying to look his usual cocky self. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Don’t give me that!” she snapped. “Do you realize how much trouble you’re in? Tim, you could very well be sent away.” Her voice broke at the thought. “I need to know exactly what happened.”

  “Why? You didn’t care to hear about it last night,” he said sullenly.

  “Last night I was in shock at coming home to find my son in jail. Today I want to hear what happened. And I want the truth, because that will be the only way I can help you.”

  “Help me? Come on, Mom. We already know what’s gonna happen.” He looked grim and frightened at what could happen to him. He wished he had thought about that before he had lost his temper.

  “Dammit, tell me!”

  Tim related the story in a monotone, keeping his eyes on Sara’s face the entire time. When he finished, he breathed a sigh of relief to see she believed him.

  “There’s nothing we can do, Mom,” he admitted on a hollow note.

  She remained silent, drumming her fingers on the tabletop.

  “There might be a way,” she said finally.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “There’s no guarantee, but if I accomplish this, you’ll have to swear to me you’ll go along with whatever happens, because it may be the only way I can keep you out of jail.”

  Tim agreed reluctantly. Sara felt ill inside, because she knew there was only one person who could help them, and she would have to swallow a mountain of pride to obtain that help. For her son she would do it and more.

  After breakfast Sara wrote out a list of chores for Tim to do and ordered him to be busy working on them while she was gone. Ten minutes later she parked her car in front of a one-story, white clapboard house with brightly colored flowers flanking the porch. For a moment she hesitated, her foot hovering above the bottom step. Then gathering up her courage, she ran up the five steps and rang the doorbell before she lost her nerve. Mrs. Harris, who had been the housekeeper for Reverend Mapes for more than thirty years and now worked for Jess, appeared.

  “Yes?” Sara couldn’t help but wonder if the gray-haired woman ever smiled.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Harris,” she greeted the older woman pleasantly. “Is Pastor Larkin in?”

  Mrs. Harris eyed her as if she wore a black leather miniskirt and skimpy top instead of her sedate skirt and blouse. “He’s busy working on his sermon and doesn’t like to be disturbed.” She remained behind the safety of the closed screen door.

  Sara tamped down her impatience. “Would you please ask him if he could give me a few minutes?”

  She debated, then turned away muttering, “I’ll see.”

  Within a minute she returned to the door with a startled expression on her face. “He said he’d see you. Mind you, don’t keep him long!’

  Sara nodded as she walked down the hallway to the addition that housed the minister’s office. The door stood open with Jess standing under the arch.

  “Good morning, Sara. You’re out early today.” Dressed in faded jeans and a white cotton shirt with the cuffs rolled back, he looked more like the Jess she remembered. “Please, come in. Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” she murmured, suddenly uncomfortable with her reason for being here.

  Jess closed the door and returned to his desk. He couldn’t help but notice the lines of strain around her mouth and the purple shadows under eyes reddened from crying. Where was the smiling, relaxed woman he had seen twelve hours ago? He leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced across his flat stomach as he waited for Sara to tell him her reason for being here.

  “I realize it’s crazy for me to be here after my high-minded speech last night,” Sara blurted out. “But I don’t know where else to go, and this is something you have experience in.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  She almost broke down after his quiet statement. “It’s Tim.” She quickly related the events of the previous night.

  “But if this is his first serious offense, he’ll probably get off with a warning and the requirement he has to pay for the damage he caused,” Jess assured her.

  Sara shook her head. “You don’t know Judge Carmody. He makes Judge Roy Bean look like a cream puff. This man believes the best way to handle juveniles is to hand out stiff sentences the first time around so they won’t be tempted to stray again. And if they do, then they weren’t good kids to begin with. He’s known for saying what a shame it is that paddling was outlawed. What Tim did was serious, yes, but sending him away won’t accomplish anything except turning him into a very bitter boy.”

  She stared down at her hands which nervously twisted her purse strap. “I don’t know what to do, Jess,” she confessed wearily. “I’m so afraid the worst will happen.”

  He didn’t speak for a few moments. “Is he truly sorry for what he did?”

  She nodded. saying wryly. “He has your temper, but is very quick to cool off afterward.”

  A smile twitched the corners of his lips. “Ah, yes, the infamous Larkin temper,” he mused. “Didn’t he inherit any of my good points?”

  “He’s always there for the underdog.”

  Jess closed his eyes to hide the pain he felt. What had Sara gone through all those years coping with a boy who was quick to fly off the handle? For some divine reason they had been meant to part at that crucial time in their lives and to go on to new experiences that had shaped their characters. No longer was Sara the somewhat flighty young woman. She had grown into a mature, self-assured woman who had had to learn to roll with the punches the hard way. And he certainly didn’t go hunting for a fight anymore when things didn’t go his way.

  “Sara, I cannot honestly go before a judge and vouch for Tim’s character when I don’t know him all that well.” He broke the news to her gently since it hurt him just as much as it hurt her. No, Tim didn’t belong in jail. And if anyone knew that, it was himself.

  Her lips trembled as
she strove to keep her composure. “I-I realize you can’t lie, but surely you can think of something that would help him.” She held her hands out. “Please, Jess. I’m so frightened over the outcome.”

  He stood up and walked around his desk to lean against the polished wood. He grasped her hands, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. “I do have an idea,” Jess mused. “But it’s a gamble.”

  Sara looked up at him, but her head had trouble cooperating when her senses were painfully aware of the warmth of his hands covering hers and his lean figure standing before her.

  “Don’t,” he whispered, his voice harsh.

  “Don’t what?”

  He dropped his hands and turned away, jamming his hands into his back pockets. “You were the one who coolly stated we were better off not seeing each other on a social basis,” he said roughly, refusing to turn back around. “I didn’t like it, but I was prepared to accept your edict, because I understood why. If necessary, I would have even found a new church.” He drew in a deep breath. “But you make it difficult to keep to those rules when you show up barely twelve hours later asking for my help.” He spun around, revealing pain etched in his features.

  “I had to come to you,” Sara murmured, damping down a desire she knew she couldn’t afford to feel. There were too many differences in their lives now to even contemplate it. “I’ve been up most of the night racking my brain for a solution, but nothing could come to mind.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m so tired of fighting alone.”

  Jess whistled a tuneless melody between his teeth. “Send Tim over after lunch,” he ordered. “I’m going to lay down some ground rules for him, and they won’t be easy. If he agrees, then I’ll do what I can, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

  “I realize that, and you won’t have any problems with him,” she said swiftly. Jess looked skeptical. “I thought you once said he’s a lot like me.”

  He is.”

  “Then I hope you have a lot of faith, because you’re going to need it.”

  Sara stood up. “For the longest time I didn’t want to believe in anyone.” Her smile was misty. “Until now.”

  Jess had faith, but he also knew problems could crop up if he wasn’t careful. He’d worked with a lot of troubled kids over the past ten years. So why did he feel uneasy about this one?

  “Jess,” Sara said, appearing unsure of herself as she shifted from one foot to the other. “I, ah, I-” she shook her head to clear her thoughts “–-I realize I’m pretty gutsy to see you after my high-handed manner last night, and you had every right to refuse my request. Thank you.”

  He held up his hand to silence her. “Sara, I understand why you said what you did last night, and I also understand why you came today. After all, I am your minister. Why don’t we just see what happens? Okay?”

  “You mean what hand fate deals us?” she asked wryly.

  The corners of his lips moved upward. “More like the hand God deals us,” he corrected gently.

  “Yeah.” She had the grace to look abashed. “I tend to forget you’re not the Jess I once knew.” She slipped out of the room before he could reply.

  Jess returned to his desk, but couldn’t resume work on his sermon. Not when he wanted to give thanks that Sara had come to him. He still wasn’t sure if they had any kind of future together, but he wanted the chance to find out. He wasn’t stupid–he knew close association with Sara could prove harmful to them both, not to mention Tim, if the truth of his parentage ever came out at the wrong time. Because he wanted Tim to know he was his father. It may have been too late to become a parent, but he’d like to become his friend. “Reverend?” Mrs. Harris knocked and poked her head around the open door. “Would you care for some coffee and fresh-baked oatmeal cookies?”

  He grinned. “And if I know your cookies, they’re chewy with plenty of chocolate chips in them. Mrs. Harris, you’re adding another ten pounds to my frame. Pretty soon I’ll have to roll down the aisle.”

  The housekeeper beamed with pleasure. “I just want to make sure you have everything you need.” She paused. “Is Miss Murdock all right? I heard her son was in Jail last night for badly hurting some boys.” The cold disapproval in her voice indicated her feelings toward the Murdock family.

  For a moment Jess was sorely tempted to shock the self-righteous woman with a few home truths, but he subsided, fully aware he wasn’t supposed to give in to such things.

  “I’m sure Ms. Murdock has enough on her plate without having to worry about gossip.” His tone was faintly reproving.

  She flushed. “I’ll get your coffee,” she murmured, slipping away.

  Jess sighed. The more he heard, the more he realized Sara’s fears weren’t all of her own making. He had thought that moving to a small town would give him the rest he needed from the pressures of the halfway house he’d worked in. Instead he had walked into another Peyton Place, where he was one of the characters needed to fill out the cast. He could see the story line now.

  Rebellious youth turned preacher arrives in small town where former lover resides with their love child and lives stoically under a cloud of malicious gossip. Oh, yes, this was the stuff soap operas were made of. No wonder they say truth is stranger than fiction.

  “NO WAY!” TIM SHOUTED, his hand slicing through the air. “You’re not getting me near that holy house. I won’t do it.”

  “You have to,” Sara argued. “It could be your only chance to stay out of jail.”

  “Old Man Carmody wouldn’t dare send me to jail,” he blustered, but the fear in his eyes belied his brave talk. He’d heard talk about the narrow-minded judge who didn’t believe in the old phrase Boys will be Boys. “Besides, who says that do-gooder can do anything? Just ‘cause he says so? Give me a break,” he scoffed.

  Because he’s your father, she wanted to scream at him, but she kept her mouth shut. This was definitely not the time. Not when she needed Tim’s full cooperation.

  Sara did something she had never done in her life. She poured herself a cup of coffee and added a generous portion of whiskey to it. She hated herself for this display of weakness, but she was at her wit’s end.

  “Mom.” Tim was horrified to see her take a drink. Liquor was something she almost never touched, except when she had had that bad toothache one night. Then he saw the tears in her eyes and knew he was the cause. For the tough guy he portrayed to the world, he was a regular marshmallow where she was concerned. “Okay, I’ll talk to the guy. But that doesn’t mean I’ll go along with what he says.” He picked up her coffee cup and dumped the contents into the sink. “Larry’s mom drinks her coffee like that. You don’t want to turn into a turnip brain like her, do you?” he said gruffly.

  Sara ducked her face to hide her expression of Pleasure. Tim tried so hard to keep his good traits under wraps. She was glad he didn’t try hard enough.

  “You can go over there around one o’clock,” she told him, as he poured her a fresh cup of coffee and set it before her.

  “He’ll probably make me memorize the whole Bible,” he muttered, walking out of the kitchen. “Isn’t it enough I go to church every week?”

  “And most times you sleep through the sermon,” Sara called after him. “Hey, Reverend Mapes was an all-right guy, but you have to admit he was pretty boring sometimes. Can you imagine being a preacher’s kid? You couldn’t have any fun at all. Mom, you okay?” He ran back to clap her on the back as she choked on her coffee.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She breathed deeply. “Why don’t you help Jackson until lunchtime? Then you can take a shower and change your clothes before going over to Pastor Larkin’s.”

  “A shower and clean clothes, too? God, Mom, what I do for you.” He shook his head as he left the house. “I still think we’d be all right without anyone’s help” were his parting words.

  “Not anymore, my love,” Sara murmured. “Not anymore”

  TIM STILL FELT SKEPTICAL about this meeting when he approached the pastor’s house. Under orders
he had showered and changed into clean jeans and T-shirt before lunch. He was surprised his mother hadn’t inspected his ears to make sure they were clean, too, since this seemed so important to her.

  He hadn’t missed Mrs. Harris’s expression of faint disgust as she led him through the house to the backyard.

  You’d think I was going to steal her blind, he thought, as she opened the back door and gestured outside.

  “Reverend.” The older woman’s voice was noticeably warmer, but still held a trace of wariness and something else Tim couldn’t identify as she studied him closely. “The Murdock boy is here.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Harris,” he called out. “Come on out, Tim. It’s too nice to stay inside.”

  He ventured outside and found Jess standing near a large green-and-white metal gardening shed. Wearing only a pair of faded cutoffs, he looked far from the picture of the stately minister Tim saw on Sunday mornings.

  “Hi, Tim.” Jess greeted him with a broad grin. “Why do I have the idea your mother made you clean up before she allowed you out of the house?” His own brief clothing showed smudges of dirt, and his bare body gleamed with sweat.

  “I think it’s part of a contract they sign when their babies are born,” Tim muttered, looking as if he wished he were anywhere else but here. “You know, kids aren’t allowed to get dirty, or if they do, no one outside the family can see them that way.”

  Funny how that phrase about family brought a pang to Jess’s heart. He wondered if Tim had been like him as a small child and believed mud was better than any article of clothing. How had Sara dealt with that muddy facet of the Larkin nature years ago?

  “I thought we could begin rebuilding the fence at the edge of the property.” Jess gestured with the hammer he held in one hand. Tim looked confused. “Wait a minute. You expect me to work?”