by Linda Wisdom
Sara stood up, .her body trembling with repressed anger at both the judge and Jess. When she reached the door, she stopped and turned around.
“By the way, Judge Carmody, the ‘boy’s’ name is Tim,” she said quietly. “Perhaps if the boys you see were treated as individuals from the beginning, they would feel more like important citizens and less like a file number.”
“Young woman, you are impertinent!” he blustered.
“No, I’m just a mother.” With that she made a dignified exit.
“You took a chance in there,” Jess informed her as the trio walked down the hall. “He deserved it, and more,” she said grimly. “But you deserve an award too. You made Tim sound like those juveniles you counseled and that his best hope was you.” She halted and swung around to face him. “How dare you do that!”
“I dare anything that will keep him out of jail,” he said, his hands planted on his hips, looking like the aggressive Jess she once knew. “You saw what the judge is like; he firmly believes even the first offenders should be locked up with the key thrown away. I did some checking up on him, so I knew what we would be up against, and I learned I was going to have to do some fast talking.” He shook his head, exasperated with the pair standing before him. Couldn’t Sara see what he was trying to do for them? For Tim?
“Sara. I was prepared to do anything I could for Tim in there,” he whispered fiercely, “I had to. And you know exactly why. What did you expect, that Tim would get off with a slap on the wrist and his promise that he would never do it again? Stop and think about what almost happened in there and ask me again if I was too hard on Tim.” His eyes challenged her, and there was something more than anger in their dark expression. There was also sorrow that she doubted him in the least when he had fought so hard for the boy he wanted so badly to call his son.
“I agree he should pay for the damages, but counseling?” Her eyes silently asked for his forgiveness. “I’m not going to any kind of counseling,” Tim broke in. “That’s for nut cases.”
Jess’s gaze sliced his way. “Fine, then why don’t I go back in there and tell Judge Carmody you refuse the conditions and to do with you what he will.” He suddenly wished Tim was young enough for a good old fashioned spanking, because that was clearly what the boy needed.
Tim panicked. “He’d send me away!”
Jess felt his temper slipping. “Then take your choice and make your decision quick. I will be giving up a lot of free time in hopes of knocking some sense into that thick head of yours, and if you and your mother don’t like it, let’s end the whole thing now.” He glowered at them. “If it’s all right with you, I don’t intend to stick around here all day.”
Tim eyed him suspiciously as he loosened the tie that was strangling him. “Why are you willing to do this for me? I mean you don’t even know me.”
Jess dropped his head, then slowly looked up. “Probably because I see a lot of me in you,” he said quietly. “And I’d hate for anyone to go through what I did. As I said, if you don’t like the deal, you can be the one to go in there and tell him. I have better things to do.” Not even looking at Sara, he left them standing in the middle of the hall looking at each other.
“Well, what will it be?” Sara asked finally. Tim thought about it. “Mr. Carson at the hardware store is looking for extra help, and I already have my work permit, so I’d probably have no problem getting the job.”
Sara knew Jess was right, but a part of her still battled the idea that Tim needed professional help. Then she remembered Jess telling Tim he didn’t want him to end up like him. Why didn’t something add up?
“I’ll drop you off at school on my way home,” she said quietly.
For the rest of the day Sara mulled over Jess’s words, but still couldn’t come to a definite conclusion. Tim arrived home in the late afternoon with the announcement he had a job at the hardware store three afternoons a week and a half day on Saturday. He had also stopped by the minister’s house and would be seeing him twice a week.
“What did he say?” Sara asked, trying to sound casual.
Tim shrugged. “Just that there would be times I’d hate him, but it would be understandable.” His reply wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “And he was going to show me alternate ways to work off my anger and frustration,” he added, clearly unimpressed.
“Did he say any more about why he didn’t want you to end up like him?” Did he ask about me?
He shook his head. “I go over there tomorrow. I’m hungry. When’s dinner going to be ready?”
“In an hour. Will you go down and help Jackson until then?”
Sara waited until Tim left the house before calling Jess. Mrs. Harris’s frosty voice informed her the reverend was in his study and wasn’t to be disturbed, but Sara refused to back down, and after a few moments Jess came on the line.
“Yes, Sara?” His tone was without any emotion. She could have been a perfect stranger.
“I wanted to apologize for this morning.” She gripped the receiver tightly. “You’re the expert in these matters, and I wasn’t willing to listen to you after you had gone to all the trouble of going in there with us. I should have trusted you.”
“Yes, you should have.” He wasn’t giving an inch.
“I thought ministers were supposed to preach about forgiveness.” She tried to inject a light note.
“You’re the one who swings from one end to the other,” he reminded her. “First you’re willing to see what chance we have, then you push me away. How am I supposed to take anything you say when I’m not sure what your next reaction will be?”
Sara winced. How she hated to admit he was right.
“After several sessions with Tim I’d like you to accompany him to a few,” he informed her. “I’ll let you know the days and times later. Thank you for calling.” He carefully replaced the receiver in the cradle.
Jess hated to sound so cold to Sara, but he had to force her to see some sense. He freely admitted he had his own selfish motives in this; it gave him a chance to get to know his son and vice versa. At the same time he intended to get to know the new Sara and for her to get to know him also.
He looked around at the spare furnishings that made up his house. He then thought of Sara’s home with its warm colors and homey atmosphere. Before, his house was considered a place to sleep, change his clothes and meet with members of his congregation. He had few personal mementos scattered around. Not like Sara’s home, where side tables boasted photographs of Tim from newborn to present, a few of Sara and the walls were decorated with lithographs of waterfalls. The furniture was old and worn, but no one seemed to care. Their aura of the average family made him jealous, because he knew he could never be a part of it. Of course there was one way of barging into that family unit-give up his church and let everything out into the open. Talk about another continuing episode on that daily soap opera about the trials and tribulations of Henderson. But he knew he would never do it. His work came first, and while he was attracted to Sara all over again that would have to wait for a while until he had a chance to work with Tim and see where it could all lead.
Jess closed his eyes, feeling an inner peace flow through him. Sara certainly wouldn’t recognize this quieter side of him. He had grown to enjoy these times of meditation. He also thought fondly of Wayne, who had shown him the way. He missed his friend, who had died of cancer two years before. Jess would have wanted to call and talk to him about Sara. Perhaps Wayne would have had the answers Jess was looking for. He smiled. No, Wayne would just tell him to pray and search his own heart for the answers. It sounded so simple and was so complicated all in one fell swoop. Oh, well, it would fall into place soon enough. That was one thing he knew for sure.
TESS ARRIVED at the gas station bright and early the next morning bearing a plate of still-warm cinnamon rolls. “Jackson, I’m stealing Sara for a while,” she announced. “I promised to sort through the new items for the missionary cupboard, and I knew Sara would be only
too happy to help me.” She smiled at Sara’s stunned expression and rapid shaking of her head. “Wouldn’t you?”
“I have a lot to do here,” she argued.
“Nothing that needs the two of us.” Jackson eyed the plate with a hungry gaze. “You two ain’t going to eat all of them rolls by yourselves, are you? I’d sure hate to see you get fat.”
Tess laughed as she set the plate on the workbench near him. “That’s probably why I brought this along for a bribe.”
Jackson wiped his hands on a rag and grabbed a roll, biting into its sweet stickiness. “Okay, you can take her.”
“I can’t believe I was given up so easily.” Sara laughed as the two women walked over to Tess’s car.
“What can I say? My cinnamon rolls have forced greater men to fall,” Tess said airily, starting the car. “Now let’s get this show on the road. I have a bone to pick with you, sweetie.”
“I can’t imagine I’ve committed a major crime. I just don’t have the time for it,” Sara admitted, fearing the worst.
Tess didn’t say anything right away, but Sara knew better than to feel relieved. As soon as the two women arrived at the church and walked down to the basement where the children’s Sunday School classes were held and over to a large cabinet that held various items given to visiting missionaries, Tess continued her complaints.
“You are supposed to be my best friend, the person who suffered right along with me through training bras, double-dating, the mother-daughter talks where we used to compare notes and a few other blackmailable items. Now I have to learn from the grapevine that Tim beat up some kids, was arrested and thrown in jail, and our esteemed minister had Sunday dinner at your house. Do you know what it’s like to get gossip secondhand? Especially when I have to act as if I already knew it all.” Tess took out a stenographic notebook and began listing the new gifts. “Somebody actually gave five tubes of Muppets toothpaste?” she muttered, searching the contents of one of the large, brown paper shopping bags sitting by the cabinet. “Donations were certainly generous this time.”
Sara chuckled as she lifted the toothpaste tubes. “They even threw in matching toothbrushes.”
“So tell me what happened.” Tess refused to be deterred for more than a moment.
“All right, I plead guilty, but the way things have been going lately, I’m lucky to get up in the morning.”
“That is not telling me what happened.”
Sara sighed. “A lot.” As she handed her friend several boxes of men’s aftershave and women’s cologne, she related the story of Jess’s dinner invitation and the evening spent in Charlotte and Tim’s so-called invitation from Lora Summers. “Needless to say I was stunned when I came home to Jackson’s announcement that Tim was in jail. The next day I took my hat in my hand and went to Jess, because I knew Tim would have to see Judge Carmody and he would need all the help he could get.” She carefully folded a stack of dish towels and gave them to Tess, Who carefully marked each item in a stenographic notebook. “Oh, no,” Tess groaned, then brightened. “But he isn’t in jail now, or my grapevine isn’t as efficient as it used to be.”
“No, Jess will be counseling him,” Sara explained, then giggled as she held up a lacy nightgown. “You have got to be kidding.” The two women laughed softly as they guessed who might donate the sexy nightgown before Tess reverted back to Sara’s slip of the tongue. “Jess? My, my, we are chummy with the reverend, aren’t we?”
“He only came over for dinner, and he’s counseling Tim, nothing more,” Sara said primly.
“That’s all?” Tess jeered, holding the nightgown in front of Sara, who promptly snatched it away and folded it up, stuffing it in the back of the cabinet. She doubted it would be chosen.
“Tess, some things are private,” she protested. “My God, he kissed you,” she guessed. “And, Sara, you kissed him back.”
“Tess!”
“Sara Anne Murdock, you never could lie to me, so don’t try now. Besides, your face is as red as a beet,” she accused, then leaned forward. “Is he still a great kisser? I mean I figured he was a good kisser before, because you’re all dreamy eyed, just from the memory no less, so he must have improved with age. And well, you can’t have an affair with him, so you may as well kiss your brains out. Is that what you did?”
“Tess!” Sara was horrified by her friend’s, audacious statement, but she couldn’t help laughing anyway.
“Well, you can’t,” she persisted. “It’s almost the same as if he was a priest. Actually it’s a good thing he isn’t, or you’d really be out of luck.”
Sara laughed so hard her sides hurt and tears ran down her cheeks. She grabbed the edge of the cabinet door for balance. “You’re bordering on the sacrilegious there. Besides, Tess, you know very well nothing can happen between us.”
“Because of old lady Masterson and her coven?” Tess showed her disdain. “Look, Sara, you’ve done without for a lot of years. If you get the chance, take it and don’t look back,” she said earnestly. Checking the two grocery bags and seeing that they were empty, she folded them carefully and put them in the cabinet also.
“Jess and I talked, and we’ll keep a low profile until we make a decision one way or another.”
“But that’s not what you plan to stick to if you can help it.”
“Tess, I can’t allow Jess to compromise himself. When the proper time comes, I’ll tell Tim the truth about his father, but not while they’re working together. I don’t want Tim to lose his respect for Jess.” They walked upstairs and out into the warm sunshine, where Tess dragged Sara over to her car and took out a covered plate and thermos. They carried their snack over to a nearby tree and sat under the inviting shade. While they feasted on fresh cinnamon rolls and iced tea, Sara couldn’t help but look around every so often as if she were afraid Jess would suddenly appear. Or hoped he would.
Tess contemplated the last roll before she picked it up, carefully tore it in half and offered one part to Sara.
“I read somewhere that people eat more when they’re sexually frustrated,” she said casually. “Do you think that’s true?”
Sara held Tess’s piercing gaze as she slowly accepted the piece. “Then I don’t know why you bother eating at all. That’s probably the least of your worries.” She devoured the roll in two bites
Tess chuckled. “The perfect solution to keep a husband from straying: make sure he’s so tired he doesn’t have the energy to look at other women.”
“You have a very special marriage, Tess. Something to cherish,” Sara told her seriously. “Then go after your own special love.” “The time isn’t right.”
“Then make it right,” she urged. “Sara, you can do anything you want. You know that.”
She sipped her tea. “Can I? Sometimes I wonder. Jess and I lost each other once before. Who says it won’t happen again?”
“Only if you refuse to look on the bright side.”
“This has nothing to do with looking on the bright side, and you know it,” Sara argued.
“Don’t be a fool, Sara,” Tess said in a sharper tone than she had ever used with her friend. “You’ve been given this second chance. Don’t throw it away.”
The two women stared at each other, neither refusing to give up.
“Please, Tess, I have to do this my way.”
Tess opened her mouth, prepared to argue, but just as quickly closed it as if deciding now was not the time.
Chapter Ten
At first glance Sara knew Tim’s first session with Jess had not gone well. He came home scowling and in a thoroughly rotten mood. She was prepared to overlook the mood until he began complaining about dinner.
“This is the fourth time we’ve had chicken in less than two weeks,” he complained, picking at his meal. “Pretty soon I’m going to grow feathers and cluck.”
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it,” Sara pointed out tautly, putting her fork down. “All you’ve done since you’ve gotten home is
complain about everything. You couldn’t find clean jeans, a dry towel, and even your fork wasn’t up to your new standards. I suggest you snap out of this quick or remain in your room for the rest of the evening.”
He stared at her long and hard with Jess’s eyes. Uttering an exasperated sound under his breath, he shoved his chair back and stalked out of the kitchen.
“He’s sure got a tick up his-”
“Jackson!” Sara warned.
“I thought the preacher said these sessions were supposed to help him,” he argued.
Sara sighed wearily. “I did, too.” “Then somebody better tell Tim that.”
She knew very well who that person would have to be. She got up from the table and headed for Tim’s bedroom. She knocked and waited for his invitation before entering.
“Tim, the day will come when I won’t be able to find you among this mess,” she commented, picking her way carefully over scattered clothing and books. She sat down on the bed beside him. “What was your session like?”
“Usual bull,” he muttered, refusing to look at her. “That makes a lot of sense. Do you talk about school, your friends, family, what?”
Tim bolted up. “Look, Mom, I don’t want to talk about it, okay? We just talk about stuff.”
Sara mentally backed off, realizing these sessions were going to have to be private, even from her.
Tim stared down at the book in his lap. “He likes me to talk about what I feel when I get angry,” he said finally. “How the hell do I know how I feel when I’m mad? I don’t think about anything then.”
“Is that what you told him?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he say?”
He grinned. “That he was glad I didn’t give him some line about seeing bright colors or hearing voices. I guess some kids do that.”
“Tim, these sessions are very important for you. Do you understand?” she asked, touching his shoulder.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean that I have to like them.”
Sara agreed. “Have you started your homework?”