by Anna Schmidt
“And underneath?”
“Uncle Stan—Reba’s late husband—was the founder of the parade. It was like his baby, the way he made sure every detail was taken care of. He believed it was the kickoff to the season and that if he made it special enough it would draw people here from all over. They would talk about what a good time they had and come back. And since he died…”
“Reba has taken it on,” Jeb guessed.
“Pretty much,” Faith said, sliding off the stool. “Will you do it? It would mean a lot to Reba.”
“Of course,” Jeb said, as he carried his dishes to the sink, rinsed them and loaded them into the dishwasher. Through the window he saw Megan coming toward the inn. She was wearing a long skirt covered by a tan duster coat, and she was clinging to an oversize lady’s hat festooned with yards of netting.
“Faith, you need to get dressed,” she said as soon as she was inside the back door. “We have to leave now if we’re going to…”
Faith held up the freshly ironed shirt and nodded toward Jeb. “Auntie Reba has hired us a chauffeur.”
Just then Reba came rushing back, waving a pair of red suspenders. “Stan used these when he was a volunteer fireman. They’ll have to do,” she said. “Oh, Megan, don’t you look lovely. Isn’t she just a picture, Jeb?”
In the weeks since he had moved into the inn, Reba had not let up on her campaign to throw Megan and Jeb together at every turn. He saw Megan’s mouth tighten with exasperation. “I think I need to see the whole picture,” he said, relieving her of the hat and placing it on her head, then tying the long streamers into a large floppy bow.
He’d meant to lighten the moment, to show her that he was well aware of Reba’s intent and found it simply amusing. But he suddenly realized that he had never stood quite this close to her. Close enough to be aware of the flecks of gold that gave her eyes that sparkle he’d always thought the result of her dimples. Close enough to be charmed by the faint sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks. Close enough to be enveloped by the scent of lavender that brought to mind spring showers and gentle warm winds.
He finished tying the bow and took a step back. “A picture,” he agreed, “right out of the history books.”
Outside, an engine backfired and chugged as it labored up the drive.
“That’ll be Jasper. Now, Faith, honey, get yourself changed,” Reba instructed as she hustled the girl from the room. “You, too, Reverend,” she called.
“You don’t have to do this,” Megan said. “I can drive the car and…”
“Ah, but according to Reba that would be historically incorrect,” Jeb said as he unhooked the shirt hanger, picked up the suspenders and headed back down the hall to his room. “Besides, it sounds like fun,” he called, just before he closed the door.
“Fun?” Megan muttered, staring after him. Did the man not get it? Did it not occur to him that Reba’s plan was to have the three of them drive through town as if they were a family? Husband, wife and daughter? Did it not occur to him that there would be those in town who would hardly think Megan was the kind of woman he ought to be seen with?
The trouble was that she liked Jeb—more than liked him. She was attracted to him in a way she had not felt in years. But she recognized the impossibility of such a match, even if he found her attractive, as well. Which she was pretty sure he did, but in a friendly way. The very idea that a man like him would even consider someone like her was preposterous.
She bustled about, putting the kitchen and laundry room in order and praying. “I know this day is special for Reba, dear God, but I really need Your help here. In the past her matchmaking has been limited to hints and thinly veiled glances and such. This is a step up and, well, it’s embarrassing. And furthermore, there’s my own weakness when it comes to the man. Part of the problem here is that I can’t help wishing…”
“How do I look?”
Megan jumped as Jeb pushed back the door of the laundry room and struck a pose, the derby cocked at a jaunty angle and his thumbs looped beneath the bright red suspenders. But it was the bold black mark on his upper lip that made Megan burst into laughter.
“What is that?” she crowed.
Jeb looked wounded, but then he grinned. “Reba wanted a mustache.”
“But it’s black and your hair isn’t,” she pointed out.
“Thus the derby,” he replied, pulling the hat more firmly in place to cover his hair.
Megan took a step closer and stood on tiptoe to more closely examine the mustache. “Is that—tell me you didn’t use a marker,” she said as she ran her finger over his upper lip.
Just then Faith came hurrying into the kitchen, and Megan practically leaped away from Jeb as if they had been caught in a compromising moment. “I…wait till you see…” she stuttered, taking Jeb’s arm to turn him so Faith could get the full effect.
But Faith was scowling at the two of them and barely paused on her way out the back door. “Mr. Barnsworth is here,” she said. “In case you didn’t notice, Mother.”
“Faith,” Megan called, starting after her. Her daughter only called her Mother when she was upset. It was not a term of endearment.
“She misread the moment,” Jeb assured her. “When she sees this—” he pointed to his lip “—she’ll understand.”
But Jeb’s words did nothing to reassure Megan. As a little girl Faith had made it clear she was opposed to anything upsetting the balance of an all-female household. Gone was the grandfather whose moods and love Faith could never be sure of. Gone was the father she’d never known. In Faith’s world, security came in the female form.
In those early years, whenever Megan had begun seeing a man, Faith had made her displeasure known. Over time it just became easier not to date—not just because it upset Faith, but frankly because it was just too hard. Megan didn’t trust male/female relationships any more than her daughter did. She’d always thought that once Faith was older there would be time to explore the possibility of romance.
But unlike the child who had clung to her and begged her not to go when a man had come calling, this girl marched straight through the kitchen and out the back door with a kind of self-righteous confidence that scared Megan. After all, hadn’t that been the promise she’d made God after Danny had abandoned them? Help me raise this child—this precious gift—to be strong and kind and confident, and I’ll never ask another thing for myself.
Chapter Six
“F aith!”
The girl had climbed into the rumble seat of the antique car and folded her arms tightly across her chest. On an ordinary day Megan might have taken this as a reaction to the chilly May morning, but the scowl on her daughter’s beautiful face told her it wasn’t the weather. Jeb and Jasper were standing in front of the car, deep in conversation about the mechanics of driving a Model T.
“Faith, I don’t know what you thought you saw back in the kitchen just now, but…”
“Hey, I get it. It’s fine for you to cozy up to the new minister, but if I so much as speak to Caleb it’s like a federal case or something.”
“That’s unfair and unlike you.”
“If Caleb and I share a private moment that’s cause for calling out the National Guard. But if you and Reverend McDreamboat over there…” She jerked her head in Jeb’s direction.
“That’s enough, young lady.” One of Megan’s main concerns about Faith spending so much time with Caleb and his friends was the difference she saw in her daughter’s demeanor afterward. There was a new hint of cynicism and sarcasm.
Megan saw Jeb glance their way, his eyebrows lifted in a question. Megan turned her attention back to Faith. “This isn’t the time to discuss this, but understand one thing. Reverend Matthews is our friend and our pastor—nothing more.” She saw a flicker of wanting to believe in Faith’s eyes. “And for the record I have nothing against you and Caleb being friends. I just worry—as any mother would—that he’s older.”
“Gee, two whole years,” Faith muttered.
“There are times when two whole years might as well be ten,” Megan said as she reached back and took her daughter’s hand. “Hey, I just don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”
“I’m not a kid.”
“No, you’re not, and that’s part of the problem.”
“Are we all set back there?” Jeb called.
Faith looked up for the first time since storming out to the car. “What is that thing on his lip?” she whispered, trying hard not to laugh.
“Reba wanted a mustache,” Megan explained.
As Jeb moved closer Faith leaned forward. “That’s like a permanent marker,” she announced. “You are so never going to get that off.”
“Sure I will,” Jeb said with a grin. He reached up and stripped off his upper lip the length of invisible tape he’d drawn the mustache on and cut to exact shape. “Nothing to it,” he said as he pressed the fake mustache back in place and climbed into the car. “All set,” he called as Jasper cranked up the engine.
Everyone declared the parade to be the best ever and Jeb was glad that he’d agreed to help out. The truth was that he’d been glad for the diversion. In the years since Deborah and Sally died, he’d always spent the day dwelling on his loss, blaming himself for the many times he had chosen work over his family, and praying for God’s guidance in atoning for those past mistakes.
He looked out over the crowd gathered at the lake park. They were enjoying the free cups of ice cream the Shack had donated and catching up with some of the regular summer residents who used the holiday weekend to open their cottages and cabins for the summer. He couldn’t help but reflect on how much his life had changed. He wasn’t all the way there yet, but he was on the right path. And then he saw Megan Osbourne.
She was sitting on top of a picnic table, her feet resting on the wooden seat as she fed ice cream to a small child sitting next to her. She was still wearing the duster, although she’d abandoned the hat. Even at a distance Jeb picked out the sound of her laughter from all the other chatter that surrounded him.
He recognized the two women with Megan. One was a waitress at the local diner and the other was a young mother whose husband had helped Rick finish the roofing repairs. One was a woman Megan had known all her life and the other was new to the community.
Watching the exchange, Jeb realized that Megan had two distinct personalities when she was around others. Sometimes, like now, she was totally at ease, laughing, leaning into the conversation while she multitasked, feeding the child and taking an occasional bite of ice cream for herself. But Jeb had also noticed that there were times when Megan was more withdrawn. It wasn’t so much shyness as insecurity. And yet the woman Jeb had come to know as he’d worked with her planting flower beds or handling minor repairs around the inn was spirited and funny and smart. More than once she had startled him with her insights regarding some church member or neighbor that he was struggling to understand.
“You can’t take Myrtle Taft at face value,” she had coached him one afternoon as they replaced storm windows with screens. “She’s taught seventh grade here for forty-some years. Being a teacher in a small town means she’s as likely to run into her students at the grocery as she is to see them in class. Myrtle believes that it’s important not to be one person in the classroom and another out in public, so she long ago chose to be the schoolmarm no matter the circumstances.”
Jeb had thought about that and had begun treating Mrs. Taft with an extra dose of respect and deference. And to his surprise the woman had warmed to him immediately. In fact, just the day before she’d stopped at the church and handed him an envelope.
“Megan Osbourne mentioned that you were thinking of setting up some sort of social gathering place for the teens. Believe me, pastor, with the influx of summer folks influencing our local youth, those youngsters will bear watching. You’ll need to buy some equipment, I expect—a television with one of those video game players. I priced them out and this should cover the cost of a nice one. All I ask is that you supervise the selection of games. Some of them can be quite violent, you know.”
Jeb had listened to this lecture politely and thanked her for her generous donation, although he had not opened the sealed envelope until much later that evening. The amount of the check had been staggering. One thousand dollars. He’d been tempted to call Megan and share the news with her, but it had been after eleven and…
“Well, you can tell her now,” he said as he saw Megan hand the child back to his mother. Then Megan headed toward the booth where Reba was handing out small American flags to passersby.
“Megan!”
She paused and looked back at him. She had a way of looking up at people as if she were wearing a hood and needed to take care not to reveal too much of her expression. She was doing that now, but then he saw a smile twitch at the corners of her mouth. Whatever had been going on with Faith earlier seemed to have passed. Megan was relaxed and clearly enjoying the day.
Jeb grinned as he fell into step with her. “I wanted to tell you…” he began.
“Reba needs…” she said at the same moment and then she laughed. “You first.”
“I thought we should start making some plans for the youth center,” he said, taking her elbow to steer her past a group of young people sprawled across the grass and oblivious to anyone but themselves. “Myrtle Taft has kicked us off with a sizeable donation.”
“Really?”
“A thousand dollars,” he added, and waited for her to express the same shock and awe he had felt upon seeing the check.
“That’s nice,” was her only response. Her attention had been drawn to a far corner of the park where Faith and a tall, strapping boy were walking toward the lake, their arms wrapped tightly around each other’s waists. “Would you excuse me?”
She would have started after them, but for reasons he didn’t fully understand, Jeb reached out and took her hand, stopping her. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “She’s your daughter.”
Rather than reassure her, his words seemed to cause Megan more doubt. “Caleb Armstrong is older and more sophisticated,” she explained. “She likes him and she’s flattered by his attention. That can be dangerous for someone her age—even a girl as bright and confident as Faith.”
“Tell you what, you go check in with Reba and let me handle this, okay?”
The surprise he’d expected when he told her about Myrtle’s check had been nothing compared to the look of sheer astonishment she gave him now. “I really don’t see…”
“We need help organizing a youth center, right? Who better to give us a hand in appealing to the summer teens than Mr. Leader of the Pack there?”
“I… He… It’ll never work.”
“Ooh, you just laid down a challenge I can’t resist, lady. Watch this.” Jeb took several long strides toward the two young people. “Hey!” he shouted. “Are you Caleb Armstrong?” he added when Faith and Caleb glanced back.
Jeb saw Faith say something to Caleb, and then the boy smiled broadly and started back up the hill toward Jeb. “Yes, sir, I am,” he said extending a handshake.
“Just the man I’ve been hoping to meet,” Jeb said as he shook the boy’s hand. “I’m the minister of the Chapel on the Hill—Jeb Matthews. Faith’s mom suggested that if anyone could give me advice for a project we want to get started at the church, it would be you. Do you and Faith have some time now?”
“Sure,” Caleb replied without so much as a glance at Faith. “How can I help?”
Jeb had read the young man exactly right. In his years in the corporate world he’d met a lot of guys like Caleb—eager to make their mark, good at sizing up opportunities that might help them impress those who held some power, oblivious to those whose affections they’d already won. Jeb knew how someone like Caleb Armstrong operated because he had once been exactly that kind of person.
Megan saw Faith cast her a belligerent look. She took the easy way out, shrugging her shoulders as she looked back at Jeb and Cal
eb and then headed over to Reba’s booth.
“Oh, Megan, bless you. Could you take over for a few minutes and let me catch my breath?” Reba said as she plopped down on a stool and inhaled deeply several times. “I think this is the biggest crowd we’ve ever had for the parade,” she added, beaming up at Megan. “Stan would be so pleased.”
Megan put her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “I’m sure he’s looking down on us all right now. Who do you think asked God to send us such a beautiful day?” She gave Reba a quick hug then turned to distribute flags to a crowd of tourists.
“So what’s with Jeb and the Armstrong boy?” Reba asked when there was a break in the line for a free flag.
Megan shook her head. “I think he’s trying to get him involved in the youth center project.”
“Good idea.”
Megan lifted one eyebrow.
“Ah, you don’t think so?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s just that it seems like another possibility for throwing Faith and Caleb together.”
“It also is something that might pique Faith’s interest in getting more involved at church—something, I would remind you, that you’ve worried about in the past.”
Megan grinned. “You always were a glass-half-full kind of person.”
Reba took Megan’s hand. “Honey, here’s what I know. You have done a good job raising that child and there comes a time when you have to give her the wings to try flying through life on her own. And there’s a bonus in that for you, as well.”
“And that is?”
Reba winked. “You finally have time to give a little thought to what the rest of your life might look like once your fledgling is out on her own.”
“Oh, Reba, thanks to you I have a wonderful life—everything I could possibly want is right here in Singing Springs.”