by Anna Schmidt
“Why me?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Maybe it was the way you trusted me back there. Maybe I’m just trying to get on your good side so I don’t miss out on those cinnamon rolls for breakfast.”
He saw the smallest twitch of her lips—a twitch that could lead to a smile.
“Then it’s Reba you want to befriend. She sets up the menus. I just do the baking.”
“I see.” But he didn’t see at all. He wanted to ask why she put herself down that way, why baking wasn’t at least as great a contribution as making up the menu, but her trust seemed too fragile to challenge. “Well, as a friend, maybe you could put in a good word for me?”
The smile blossomed. “I could, but the truth is if we don’t get back soon Reba’s likely to send out a search and rescue party.” She finally glanced his way. “Drive,” she said.
Jeb grinned and shifted the car into gear.
They were mostly silent on the ride back to the inn. She pointed out a couple of additional landmarks. He expressed polite interest. And then they were turning onto the drive at the inn. He pulled the car around to the side entrance near his room. “Thanks again for the tour, Megan.”
She had gotten out of the car, but had not yet started inside. “There’s one more thing you need to know,” she said.
He’d been lifting the box of books from the trunk, but he gave her his full attention. Something in her tone told him whatever was coming was important.
“My dad?”
“Yeah?”
“He started drinking when my mother left. Eventually he lost his job and we had to take welfare from the county.”
“Does he still live here?”
“After Faith and I moved in with Reba, he left town and sent word that he’d checked himself into the VA hospital in Milwaukee.”
“If you like, I’ll go with you when you visit,” Jeb offered.
“He left there shortly after that. No forwarding address—just gone.” She fanned the fingers of one hand like a magician doing a card trick. “Reba and Faith are my family, Jeb. They’ve been the only real family I’ve ever known. Everybody else chose to leave.”
She started for the side door.
“Megan?”
But she was already inside.
What would he have told her? That no one could choose their family—only their friends? That she wasn’t responsible for her father’s fall into alcohol any more than she was for Faith’s father abandoning them? That people you loved could be there one day and gone the next?
“She knows all that,” he muttered as he carried his belongings into the room he would call home for the next few weeks. “As her pastor, surely you can come up with something more than the platitudes she’s probably heard her whole life.” But it was times like this when Jeb felt inadequate to serve as anyone’s minister.
Chapter Four
M egan could not believe that in less than an hour she had given Jeb Matthews the digest version of her life story. She barely knew the man.
“Well, it’s done,” she muttered to herself as she hefted a load of wet linens from the washer to the dryer. “At least this way he heard it from me and not…”
“Who on earth are you talking to?” Reba asked, crowding her way into the narrow laundry room with a basket stacked high with towels.
“Me, myself and I,” Megan replied, relieving Reba of her heavy burden. “What are you doing hauling this around when you know very well the doctor told you no heavy lifting with that hip of yours?”
“My, my, we’re in a good mood.” Reba studied her closely. “Something you want to talk about?”
“No. I mean, I’m fine. Nothing wrong.”
“Uh-huh,” Reba said, clearly unconvinced. “Saw you and the preacher come back a while ago—together.” When Megan said nothing, Reba waited a beat, then added, “Have a nice lunch, did you?”
“We did. Henry and Rick told me to be sure and thank you.”
Reba snorted. “I’m not asking about the Epsteins and you know it, missy. Now, what happened?”
“Oh, the minister?” Megan lifted her eyebrows as if just catching on to Reba’s true interest. Then she grinned. “We had lunch, then he offered me a ride back down the hill since he was coming this way.”
Reba looked pointedly at the old kitchen clock she kept on the wall in the laundry room. “Must have either been quite a leisurely lunch or else you took quite a detour. It’s no more than a five-minute trip from the parsonage down to here.”
“He asked for a tour of the town.” Megan shrugged.
“Another sixteen minutes tops,” Reba muttered.
“We drove by the lake and stopped at the nature trail. That view looking back at town from the rise there is so picturesque.”
“And was this a silent retreat or did the two of you actually converse?”
“Reba, this isn’t like you. Nellie Barnsworth will dig and pick until she gets every last morsel about an encounter that interests her. Not you. What gives?”
“You’re upset. You were with the preacher. I want to know if there’s a connection. The man seems like the real deal and I’d like to think he’ll be a fine replacement for Reverend Dunhill, but he’s still on probation as far as I’m concerned.” Reba eased herself into the wicker chair and folded her arms over her chest. “Might as well tell me.”
Megan pushed herself onto the top of the dryer, her feet dangling the way they had when she’d first started helping out at the inn as a child. “He wanted to stop in at the Shack and introduce himself.”
“Ah,” Reba said, and Megan knew that she had fully grasped the problem. “And did you?”
“No. I thought he needed to hear from me what happened and then he could meet Danny’s sister.”
“So you told him about Faith…”
“And about my mother leaving and Dad’s drinking—oh, he got the whole picture.”
The dryer’s timer shrilled, but neither woman moved.
“Why do you do that, child?” Reba said wearily.
“Do what?”
“It’s almost like you want to push people away. You’ve done it your whole life.”
“I haven’t. I don’t,” Megan protested, as she hopped off the dryer and began unloading it. “It’s just that Jeb is— Well, as a minister and one who is new to this congregation, he’s in a unique position when it comes to people telling him things, and I just thought…”
“You don’t think. That’s the problem. You react based on what you imagine people are going to do or say.” Reba reached for a pillowcase and folded it, pressing the wrinkles out with flat hands. “I’ve told you this before, Megan—you are not your parents. They had their troubles and their challenges and met them the only way they knew how at the time. I expect they both carry around a lot of regrets. You, on the other hand, have no need to regret the decisions you’ve made or to put yourself down for how you’ve played the cards you were dealt. You’ve earned your place in this community and in the hearts and minds of those who live here. End of story.”
Megan was well aware that whenever Reba uttered those three words, she meant them. For Reba this conversation had come to its natural conclusion. Change the topic, stay silent or leave the room, because for Reba there was nothing more to be said on the topic of Megan’s confession to Jeb Matthews.
But Megan had plenty to think about—which was, of course, exactly what Reba intended.
On Sunday morning Jeb awoke with a start. He’d been dreaming about Deborah and Sally. Well, not exactly about them. The dream had been about his work—the work he’d done before. He needed to meet a deadline and then get home for something important. Deborah was going to be upset. His stockholders were going to be furious. He was headed straight for disaster and nothing he could do or say would avert it. Then the phone rang—in his dream and on the nightstand next to the canopied bed.
He shook off the familiar nightmare and reached for his phone, noting the digital clock read
5:47 a.m.
“Pastor?”
He tried to place the voice, male, unsteady, familiar. “Yes?”
“It’s Rick Epstein, Henry’s son. I’m really sorry to call so early, but it’s Dad. He’s had a heart attack. We’re at the hospital and the doctor says it doesn’t look good, and me and Mom were wondering…”
Jeb sat on the side of the bed, reaching for his clothes as he listened to Rick tell him how his father had seemed just fine, but then had gotten up in the middle of the night and collapsed. The paramedics had come right away and brought the older man to the hospital in Eagle River. “Tell your mom that I’m on my way,” Jeb said.
“Thanks.”
As soon as he’d dressed, Jeb headed out to the inn’s kitchen, hoping to grab a banana or muffin to eat on the road. Mentally he calculated the time he would need to drive to the larger town, see how Henry was doing, reassure or comfort the family as appropriate and be back in time to deliver the eleven o’clock service. One leftover of his days in the corporate world was the way his mind instantly kicked into gear when a crisis arose.
He rounded the corner from the hallway to the kitchen and was surprised and relieved to see Megan there, kneading dough.
“Henry Epstein’s in the hospital,” he said, helping himself to coffee from the pot she’d obviously just brewed. “I’m heading over to Eagle River. Could you call the choir director and let her know I might be late for services?”
“What happened?” She set the dough in a pan to rise and pulled off her apron.
“Rick said something about a heart attack.”
“Let me just leave a note for Reba and I’ll go with you. We can call Fran Peters once we’re on the road. She gets up with the rooster.” She pulled on a heavy wool shirt that Reba kept by the back door and grabbed a banana and napkin. “Bring your coffee. I’ll drive while you eat something and make the calls. Rick and his mom must be frantic with worry.”
She was out the door and behind the wheel of her rusting car before he could protest. By the time he climbed into the passenger seat, she’d found her keys in the purse she apparently kept hidden under the front seat and started the engine. When she reached the end of the drive and turned left instead of right as he had expected, Jeb spoke up.
“He’s in Eagle River, not Boulder Junction.”
“Got it. I know a short cut. Call Fran and ask her to also call Reba in half an hour so she can put the bread in to bake. We had a couple of late guests come in last night.”
“That’s why you were up at this hour?”
Megan smiled. “I’m up by six most mornings. It’s an old habit. I like the time before everyone starts to stir. I like the quiet—the mist rising off the lake, the birds going about their morning chores, the lack of human interruption. Of course, once the season starts in earnest I’m up because we need to get started baking and making sure things are ready for our guests.”
Jeb nodded as he carefully balanced his mug of coffee against the twists and turns of the narrow back road she’d taken. “When I was in the corporate world, I used to get to work by six every morning. No one else was there at that hour and I found I did my best work then. What I could accomplish in that ninety minutes before the phone calls and e-mails and other employees started arriving was sometimes amazing.”
“What company did you work for?”
“Ever hear of Mogul Pharmaceuticals?”
“Sure. They came out with that new cancer drug a few years back.” She glanced at him. “You did that?”
“Not technically, but yeah, I was heading up the company when they launched that. I was also in charge when the drug had to be pulled off the market two years later,” he admitted.
“I never understood that. I mean, if it worked then why…”
“Statistically speaking it didn’t work often enough to make up for the risk of side effects.”
“Still, if I had a terminal cancer diagnosis, I’d be willing to take that risk.”
“That’s what some patients thought until they experienced the side effects and, in some cases, died anyway. Then there were lawsuits and the shareholders got nervous, and the company had plenty of less risky products on the market and in the pipeline. So the board made a business decision and pulled it off the market.”
“But it wasn’t a business decision,” Megan argued. “If the medicine saved one life…”
Jeb drained the last of the coffee, set the mug on the floor between his feet and peeled the banana. He broke off a piece and handed it to her. “That’s not how it works.”
She chewed her banana in silence, her expression one of deep concentration on either navigating the road or digesting his last comment. He waited for a debate on the pros and cons of business versus human need. He was actually enjoying their discussion.
“So, is that why you left corporate America for the ministry? Because you no longer believed in what you were doing?”
She had slowed the car to accommodate the posted speed limit as they entered the town of Eagle River.
“It’s one reason,” he admitted, but his reasons for entering the ministry were far too complex for the five minutes they might have now. “Is that the hospital up ahead there?”
“Yeah,” she said, and seemed to have accepted his response at face value. “I’ll drop you off and park, then meet you in the ICU. Just take a left to the elevators inside the front entrance. The ICU waiting room is on the third floor.”
He was relieved to be back on the safe ground of coming to the aid of mutual friends. “Sounds like you’ve been here before.”
“Once or twice,” she muttered as she pulled up to the front entrance. She did not look at him, and Jeb realized that he wasn’t the only one who was haunted by memories stirred either by their conversation or this unexpected trip to the hospital at dawn. He felt the urge to reach out to her.
“Go on,” she said softly. “They need you.”
As soon as Megan exited the elevator, she saw Henry’s wife, Ginny, and knew the news wasn’t good. She was seated on a vinyl sofa with Jeb next to her, his arm around her shoulders as he spoke softly to her. She was tearing a tissue to shreds and nodding slowly.
“Dad’s in surgery,” Rick said, coming to meet Megan.
Megan stood on tiptoe to give the giant of a man a hug and held on when she felt his shoulders sag and shudder. A set of automatic doors swung open with a burst of air at the far end of the corridor and Rick released her as he turned to face the surgeon coming their way. Ginny stood and Megan noticed that Jeb stood with her, his arm resting loosely around her shoulders. The doctor wore scrubs and did not look directly at them. Megan’s heart plummeted at the same time she heard the air rush out of Rick’s lungs as he crossed the room in two steps to tower over the doctor.
He spoke to Ginny and Rick at some length and she reached for her son’s hand and held on. She nodded repeatedly and remained dry-eyed while tears rolled silently down Rick’s cheeks unheeded. Megan saw that Jeb’s long fingers had tightened on Ginny’s shoulder and that he was asking the doctor questions. She waited for the surgeon to leave and then went to Ginny, who had collapsed onto a chair.
“She’ll be all right,” she told Jeb, and nodded toward the distraught Rick.
Like a time-lapse sequence in a film, gradually the room filled. A social worker came and explained the next steps to Ginny. The funeral director was called. Ginny’s sister and Henry’s three siblings arrived with their families. And through it all Megan watched as Jeb quietly took charge, gently guiding Ginny, Rick and their family through the first steps of saying goodbye to a loved one.
Meanwhile she did what she did best. She fetched coffee. She sat with the family member who seemed to most need her. She slid a box of tissues from one side of the table to another, depending on the need. She placed her wool shirt-jacket around Ginny’s thin shoulders when it seemed she could not stop shaking.
“Megan?”
She looked up and saw Jeb motioning to
her from across the room. He pocketed his cell phone and stepped into the hallway, away from the others.
“I need you to do me a favor,” he said.
“Of course.”
“I tried calling Fran, but she’s already left for the church and she won’t hear the phone in the office.”
Megan nodded. The choir director liked to arrive early and run through the hymn selections and her prelude before others arrived.
“Would you go back—go to the church and tell Fran what’s happened. Ask her if she’s okay with making today’s service into a hymn sing and meditation. Jasper should be there by now. As an elder he can lead folks in a couple of readings.”
She could practically hear the wheels turning as he put together the plan. She couldn’t help thinking that he must have been a very effective business executive. Already this morning he had dealt with the necessary procedural details, all the time making sure that Ginny, Rick and other family members were comforted in their grief. Meanwhile he was remembering that he had an entire congregation expecting to show up for services in little more than an hour. “I’ll leave right away.”
“And, Megan?”
She had already pressed the elevator button as he pulled off his crewneck sweater and placed it over her shoulders. “My Bible is on the desk in my room with the passage for today’s scripture marked.”
“I’ll get it and give it to Jasper,” she promised, as the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding.
“Actually,” Jeb said, holding the doors as she stepped in, “why don’t you read it? Close the service with it and ask everyone to stand in silent prayer for a moment after.”
Megan’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t…I…”
“I’m counting on you,” he said with a smile, and let the doors slide shut.
As she hurried out to her car, Megan reprimanded herself for all the questions she should have asked. Should she tell Jasper to explain to the congregation why the new minister was missing the service? Should she come back for Jeb after the service? Should she…