by Anna Schmidt
“We’re friends.”
“Come on, Meggie, this is me you’re talking to. We may have been out of touch, so to speak, but we know each other better than most sisters do.”
Megan seized on the opportunity to change the subject even if it meant talking about something that could be potentially painful or even damaging for their renewed friendship. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I regret all the time that we’ve wasted. I mean, now that I realize what we might have had in spite of…”
“Okay, you want to talk about Danny? Let’s talk.”
The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Jessica’s brother, but given a choice between that and Jessica’s speculations about her growing attraction to Jeb, Megan chose Danny. “How is he?” she asked softly.
“He’s the same—self-absorbed, arrogant and insecure.” Jessica sighed. “I love him to death, but he’s so tied to material things as marks of, not only his success, but who he is. More so since his last divorce. And he hardly ever sees his kids. I just wish…”
Her voice trailed off and Megan realized her friend was close to tears. “Jess, it’s okay.”
“No. It’s not. I hate seeing him like this—so lost. He never comes home anymore, not since our folks died. Dad’s funeral in Milwaukee was the last time, and then he flew in that morning and back that very night.”
It was odd to be comforting Jessica about a boy—now a man—who had abandoned Megan in her hour of need and never once acknowledged Faith. Shouldn’t she be feeling some small satisfaction that he appeared to be unhappy? That maybe the life of fame and fortune he’d been set on hadn’t turned out so well after all? But all she felt was sympathy for her friend, crying in earnest now.
“I’m sorry,” Jessica blubbered, wiping tears away with the cuff of her flannel shirt. “You of all people…sorry.”
“Now, you listen to me, Jessica Burbank,” Megan said, leaning closer as she held her friend’s hand across the table. “Danny made his choices and I made mine. My only concern was, is and always will be that Faith not be hurt.”
“Don’t you think it hurts to know your father abandoned you?” Jessica shot back, and then her face crumpled anew. “Oh, Meggie, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“My mother made her choice,” Megan said softly. “And just like Faith knows where Danny is, I know my mother is out there and if I wanted to I could find her, confront her, spew out all the pain and grief she caused in my life.” Megan shrugged. “And exactly what would that accomplish? If someone doesn’t want you, doesn’t want to be with you, Jess, all you can do is understand that it’s that person’s choice. It may not be yours, but there’s very little you can do to change it. You just have to go on with the life God gave you and maybe hope that one day that other person might reconsider.”
“How can you have that much forgiveness in you?” Jess whispered.
“It’s easy to forgive others,” Megan said. “It’s forgiving yourself that comes hard.”
“No wonder Jeb Matthews looks at you sometimes the way he does. You have preacher’s wife written all over you, girl!”
Megan burst out laughing. This was the Jessica she knew and loved, the friend who would follow her down any detour from the initial topic but would find a way to tie it all back to that uncomfortable original question. “Reba is one matchmaker too many in my life, Jess. Don’t you start, too.” She gathered her things. “Have to run. I’ll e-mail everyone.”
“Hey, Meggie?”
Megan turned and smiled.
“Good to be back to normal, don’t you think? I’ve missed ‘us.’”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
Jeb stood off to one side of the renovated church basement hall. The place was packed with young people and their parents. It was hard to believe that this light, spacious room was the same dank and gloomy place it had been just a week earlier. One afternoon Pete Burbank had arrived with a crew of local teens and their parents. In short order and under the watchful eye and drill-sergeant direction of Jessica, they had scrubbed and painted walls, cleaned and replaced windows, changed light fixtures and installed a new tile floor.
Then Megan had driven up the hill, leading a caravan of minivans and pickup trucks loaded with furnishings she’d persuaded merchants as far away as Eagle River to donate to the cause. New lounge chairs, a sofa, half a dozen café sets, bookcases and magazine racks, even a flat-screen television. Next she unloaded plastic bins filled with dishes, utensils, throw pillows, books and pictures to complete the décor.
“Everyone has been so incredibly generous,” she’d gushed, wide-eyed with wonder as if she hadn’t had a thing to do with moving people toward that generosity. “I mean, look at this.”
Thinking about it now, Jeb couldn’t help remembering how beautiful she’d looked despite her oversize coveralls and the paint-spattered newsboy cap that covered her hair. In her eyes he saw such pride and joy—not for herself, but in the deeds of others. And from that day he’d been drawn to her in a way that he had to admit was most decidedly not one of minister to parishioner.
Now he watched from across the transformed room as Megan proudly pointed to one item or another and told the history of the gift to a group of parents gathered around her. She was wearing a simple blue summer dress and white sandals and, as usual, her makeup was limited to a bit of lip gloss and mascara. What else did she need? Jeb thought.
“You’re about as hard to read as she is,” Jessica said, handing him an ice cream sundae and nodding in Megan’s direction. “When are you going to stop dancing around each other and start a serious courtship?”
Jeb laughed and took a bite of his sundae. He liked Jessica and her husband. Pete was as quiet and reserved as Jessica was direct and outspoken. They fit each other perfectly. “Hey, I’ve barely been here a month.”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t toy with her, Jeb. She’s had a hard life.”
“I wouldn’t,” Jeb protested, surprised to even be having this conversation.
“You wouldn’t intentionally. But for a woman like Meggie with her history…well, you can’t play by the usual rules.”
“Understood,” Jeb said and concentrated on his ice cream.
Jessica touched his shoulder. “Hey, I’m just a meddling friend—hopefully yours as well as Megan’s. Don’t pay any attention to me, or anyone else. Go with your heart. You’ll be fine.” Then she spotted one of her twins climbing a tall bookcase. “Robert Franklin Burbank,” she shouted, “get down from there this minute.” And she was gone.
Jeb carried his empty dish to the pass-through window of the kitchen. Megan was at the sink now, washing dishes and humming softly to herself.
“Hey there,” Jeb said. “Great work getting this place up and running. I think we’ve got a hit on our hands.”
She was beaming. “The kids seem to really like it,” she said. “Jessica and Pete have worked wonders with the place and the kids—I mean, Faith and Cindy and even Caleb…”
“Caleb has his talents,” Jeb said, stepping into the kitchen and picking up a dish towel.
“I know he does. He’s really a leader among the teen crowd and his family—well, they’ve been coming up for summers for so long they’re practically considered locals.” She handed him a plate to dry and turned to put another stack in the soapy water.
“But you worry about his intentions toward Faith,” Jeb said.
“Actually, I have little doubt about his intentions. I worry about how Faith might interpret his sudden attention to her. I mean, he’s barely left her side all evening. I guess I thought when he came back for the summer and the other, older summer kids were also here he’d be less inclined…”
“Haven’t you noticed? Since he got back Faith has barely given the poor guy the time of day. Caleb isn’t used to being ignored.”
Megan smiled. “Yeah. I’m pretty proud of the way Faith has handled herself. She was really disappointed that once he returned to Milwaukee she barely
heard from him.”
“She’ll be fine,” Jeb said. “She’s had a very good teacher—two great teachers, if you count Reba.”
He saw a flicker of doubt cloud Megan’s eyes. “I just want so much for her.”
“Do you ever think about wanting for yourself, Megan?”
She looked up at him. “What could I possibly want? I’ve already been so blessed. I have Reba and Faith, work I enjoy in a community I love, and all of this in spite of…well, let’s just say it didn’t always seem like things would turn out so well for me—for Faith and me.”
She handed him the last bowl and he wiped it and spread the towel on the counter to dry. “Want to get some air?” he asked. “It’s the first really warm night we’ve had since I got here.”
Her hesitation was brief but undeniable.
“I’d really like to take off the preacher face for a bit and just enjoy the evening, Megan,” he added.
She looked up at him, her eyes scanning his features. “I wasn’t aware you had a ‘preacher’ face,” she said.
“Oh, sure. I actually have an entire wardrobe of them.” He pulled an exaggerated expression of deep concern and sympathy then immediately switched to a deeply furrowed brow and the scowl of disapproval. “And the one that always seems to work,” he said, folding his hands piously in front of him and looking down at her with a benign smile.
“Stop that.” She was laughing though. “Let me just get my sweater. I left it upstairs and…”
“No need,” he said, removing his suit jacket and placing it around her shoulders. “Got you covered.”
“Jeb, I…” The doubt was back.
“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s two friends out for a walk on a summer night, nothing more, okay?”
But once they were outside Megan found that she was all too aware of the man walking beside her, his hands in his pockets as he breathed in the sweet scent of lilac and honeysuckle.
“I love lilac,” he said. “To me it’s one of God’s best shots at creating the perfect flower. Think about it. It has color and fragrance and it bursts out of the bush like lavender fireworks, right about the time of year when we most need something so alive and abundant.”
“It’s my favorite flower, too,” Megan said. “One time Reba’s husband, Stan, surprised me by filling pots and pots with lilac branches and setting them in my room.” She giggled at the memory. “I could barely open the door.”
“It must have been a special occasion. Your birthday?”
“No. Stan always said sometimes you need to do special things just because it’s a Tuesday or another perfectly ordinary day. He was like that—always thinking up ways to show his love.”
“You must miss him.”
“I do, but Reba’s the one whose loss is greater. They were married for nearly fifty years. I don’t know how women like Reba and Ginny Epstein get past a loss like that. I…” She covered her mouth in horror, remembering that Jeb had also lost his wife—and his child. “Oh, Jeb, I’m so sorry. Prattling on here and not even thinking of how painful this must be for you. I mean, your loss must still be so fresh and…”
They had walked down the hill from the church to the inn. The wide front porch, with its row of white wicker rocking chairs overlooking the lake across the road, was deserted. “Let’s sit here for a while,” Jeb said, indicating the porch.
He waited until she was seated in a rocker and then he sat on the top step of the porch looking up at her, his face in shadow while hers was highlighted by the full moon above the calm lake waters.
“I’d like to tell you about that, Megan—the deaths of my wife and daughter. I’ve never really told anyone the entire story, but you’ve been through your share of grief and pain. I’ve realized that I need to talk about this to someone, and something tells me that you’ll have a special understanding because you’ve experienced a similar loss.”
“I’m listening.”
Chapter Eight
J eb ran his hands through his hair and then stared out at the lake, where the moon shot a spotlight across the still waters. “The facts are pretty basic—not that unique. Deborah took our daughter, Sally, to see a movie one night. It was winter and rain was turning to sleet by the time they left the theater. For whatever reason, instead of taking the expressway to our suburb, she decided to drive the back roads—roads she was unfamiliar with in daylight. Roads that can narrow suddenly and wind their way through the landscape.”
He was aware only of the stillness that surrounded him. Megan had not moved since he’d begun talking. He turned slightly to look back at her. She was sitting forward in the chair, her hands clasped in her lap. He couldn’t see her face, but she radiated empathy and concern.
“The officer who first arrived on the scene believed that she missed a turn, skidded on the slippery pavement and lost control. He also mentioned that she had to be doing at least seventy, and that…” He swallowed hard forcing out the one detail he had never admitted aloud. “That made me wonder,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He cleared his throat and continued. “You see, the reason she’d left with Sally for the movies is that we had had a terrible argument. We’d been arguing for weeks, but this one was different. This time each of us said things that we knew would be hard to take back. This was the first time we’d actually used the word divorce, and it was all anger with no attempt on either of our parts to see the other side of things.”
“Oh, Jeb, you can’t think that your wife deliberately…I mean, she had your daughter in the car.”
“No. She would never intentionally harm Sally. She was just so furious. I had never seen that level of rage in her before. If only…” A shudder racked his body and then Megan was sitting on the step next to him, one palm resting gently on his back. The gesture was so spontaneous, so filled with genuine understanding that Jeb felt the loosening of bonds of doubt and guilt he’d carried with him since that terrible day.
Megan continued to sit with him, rubbing his back in a rhythmic pattern and letting him cry. Finally she said, “You know I was so young when my mother left us. But the older I got the more I used to wonder about her leaving. What could Dad have done to make her stay? Or worse, had it been my fault? Was it because of me that she decided to leave?”
“You weren’t responsible. You were a child, an innocent,” Jeb said, regaining control of his emotions as the focus shifted to Megan.
“And neither were you. Your wife had had time to calm down while she was at the movies. You mentioned that it was late and the rain had made the road slippery.”
“But she never took that road.”
“What if she took it thinking it was a shortcut? What if she wanted so much to get home to you and put things right that she took a risk?”
“I never thought of it that way—I was always thinking about the way we’d left things.” He looked out over the water. “Thanks. That helps more than you know.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through this. Losing a child…well, it’s beyond comprehension.”
“Yeah.”
There didn’t seem to be anything else to say so they sat there for a long moment, listening to the night sounds, thinking their own thoughts.
“Megan?”
“Right here,” she joked, thinking perhaps it was time to lighten the mood a bit.
“How could you think that you had anything to do with your mother’s leaving?”
He felt her shoulder brush his as she shifted. “I felt that way for a long time—until Faith was born, really. And then I realized that in so many ways my life was much more difficult than my mother’s was. She had a husband. I had an entire town that chose to believe I had gotten myself knocked up by some stranger, rather than face the fact that their hometown hero might have feet of clay. She had a home and the financial means to raise me in style. I had a father who lost all of that when he chose the bottle over raising me. And I had the welfare system always threatening foster care, but never really getting around to
it since we lived out here in the boondocks.”
Jeb turned so that he was looking directly at her. He took her hands, stroking the backs of her fingers with his thumb. “You had Reba and Stan, and you had Faith,” he said.
“She became my life and the more I loved her, the more I understood that Mom not loving me enough to stay or take me with her was her problem. It was not something I had done or not done. She made a choice.” She linked her fingers with his. “And Jeb, your wife may or may not have had a choice that night but if she did, then it was her choice.”
Jeb had long been aware that healing could come from many sources—prayer, time, new life directions—but it had never occurred to him that the very words he needed most to hear would come from this woman who’d had a life filled with struggle and disappointment. “You’re an incredibly perceptive woman, Megan Osbourne,” he said, his voice husky with admiration.
As he’d learned was her way, she brushed off the compliment. “Naw—I’ve just had more time to come to terms with my losses than you have with yours. And really, there’s no comparison. I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking. Your wife and child died. My mother is still out there somewhere—probably.”
“You don’t know for sure?”
“When I was in high school I stopped looking. You know teenagers. I was in my if-you-don’t-want-me-then-I-don’t-need-you period. And then shortly after that I realized I was pregnant and, well, I had bigger things to think about than whether or not I was ever going to see my mother again.”
“And now that Faith is almost grown and will soon be off to college?”
Megan laughed nervously. “Let’s not wish time away, Jeb. She still has a year of high school and, as for college—well, we’ll see. Besides how did this suddenly become all about me?”
“Because you’re fascinating,” Jeb said, his tone completely serious. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Megan. I was serious when I told you that if you’d have come in for a job at my company I would have hired you on the spot.”