Leigh nodded. It was hard to imagine a nicer place to work or a more considerate boss. She glanced down at her ever-expanding stomach. What do you think, baby? she asked silently. Can we risk it?
JAMES RETURNED TO VERA’S HOUSE ON THURSDAY NIGHT AND PULLED his car up the long gravel driveway, parking behind Leigh’s tan compact. He shut off the engine and stared at Leigh’s car, feeling wistful. The shop had told him that the repairs were done and Leigh had picked up the car earlier in the day.
But maybe I was secretly hoping for some other delay. If her car is here, she’ll be gone soon, he reasoned. Probably not tonight—it’s late to start the drive out to Cape Cod—but tomorrow or the day after.
James walked slowly up the path to the side door, toward the warm yellow light shining in the kitchen window. He saw Vera there, making dinner. Leigh stood beside her, helping, as she usually did, a patient audience for Vera’s scattered conversation.
Vera will miss her. Then he caught himself. I guess I’ll miss her, too.
He hadn’t realized that. Or hadn’t wanted to face it. She’s only been here a few days, not even a week, but I will miss her. Their walk on the beach had changed something. Though she never completely let down her guard, she seemed more relaxed with him these past few days. He wondered if she was always so reserved or if that held-back quality was connected to her husband’s death. She had such a heavy load to bear and did it without complaint. He had hoped to help her more somehow—as a friend. As a Christian, he told himself.
And she’ll need a lot of help once her baby comes. I hope her friend in Wellfleet is up to the job. I’ll ask her to keep in touch, just in case. I’ll still want to know how she’s doing.
James let himself into the mudroom and slipped off his coat.
“Is that you, James?” he heard Vera call in her singsong voice. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
James felt himself smiling despite his downcast mood. Of course it was him. Who else would it be?
“I’m sorry I’m late. I was held up at church.”
As he walked into the kitchen he saw Leigh first, arranging some flowers in a dark blue glass jug. She had a certain way of doing things, he noticed, a creative touch. He hadn’t been surprised when she told him she once wanted to be an artist.
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Aren’t these pretty? Molly Willoughby gave them to me. She had some left over from a party.”
“Put those on the table, dear. Perfect for our celebration.”
Vera picked a lid up off a pot and stirred something inside. “Leigh got her car back.”
“Yes, I noticed. It looks good.” James took a seat at the table, willing himself to sound composed.
Obviously, Leigh’s departure wasn’t a big deal to Vera. A celebration, she called it? Maybe she was trying to put an upbeat face on the situation. Leigh must be happy to be leaving, he realized.
Leigh set the jug of flowers in the middle of the table and took a seat across from him. The steamy kitchen had made her hair even curlier, he noticed, with thick, tight curls falling over her forehead and framing her face. She had a lovely face, oval-shaped with clear skin and dark eyes. A small dimple marked her chin; he had never noticed that before. He felt now as if he needed to study her, commit her image to memory. Then he realized he must be staring.
He picked up the newspaper from the chair and snapped it open. “Maybe you should drive your car around a day or two and test it out. You don’t want to get stuck somewhere on the way to Wellfleet.”
“She’s not going to Cape Cod. At least not yet.” Vera stood at the head of the table, obviously pleased to deliver her announcement.
Behind the shield of the opened newspaper, James felt his heart take a joyous, if disbelieving, leap. How could she be staying? Had he misunderstood something?
He slowly put the paper down and glanced at Leigh, but it was Vera who continued to explain. “Dr. Harding’s receptionist can’t come back until after the holidays, so he asked Leigh to stay until then.”
“I thought about it awhile and decided I should.” Leigh looked down at the table and smoothed the cloth under her hand. “For one thing, I’d like to pay you and Vera back for all the kindness you’ve shown me the last few days. And I want to pay for my share of the car repairs.”
She fixed him with a stern look, and he couldn’t help but answer with a smile. He’d known she would be annoyed when she found out he had paid the bill.
“Don’t be silly. You don’t have to worry about that, I’ve already told you.”
“Don’t worry about me, either.” Vera put in. “You need all your money for the baby now.”
That was certainly true, James thought. He had been trying not to pry, but as far as he could tell, Leigh didn’t seem to be in any way prepared for the child’s arrival.
“What about your friend?” he asked.
Leigh looked confused at the question. “Oh . . . my friend in Wellfleet, you mean? She was actually relieved to hear I was going to stay. Her mother was in the hospital and is getting out later this week. My friend will be caring for her while she recovers. As it turns out, if I had made it there last week, I would be a major unwanted guest right now.”
James couldn’t believe the surge of happiness that filled him. It was as if someone had just turned on the lights in a dark room.
“Well, you’re wanted here.” Vera touched Leigh’s shoulder as she carried a bowl to the table. “It’s funny the way things work out. I think the good Lord wanted Leigh to end up right here all along. Don’t you, Reverend James?”
Those were his very thoughts, though he didn’t feel as free as Vera did to share them.
“That might be.” He glanced across the table and smiled at Leigh. “Now we’ll have another chance to try that hike to the lighthouse.”
“Before I get too huge, you mean,” she added with a laugh.
James laughed, too, then realized that if Leigh stayed until the holidays, she would most likely have her baby in Cape Light. That was an awesome thought. He would get to see the baby. He felt unaccountably happy about that, too.
The night of the accident, when he first heard Leigh’s story, he had felt that perhaps she came into his life so he could help her. James realized now that he had been given a second chance. Grateful, he resolved that this time he wouldn’t waste it. He would make a better effort to really help her and her child. Maybe that was God’s plan, after all.
“YOU NEED TO HOLD THE PADDLE LOWER, HONEY. SWING ACROSS YOUR body.”
Jessica sighed and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. She tried again, swinging wildly and missing the ball by a mile. She couldn’t help it. She had never played racquetball before. Well, maybe once, and she had hated it equally then. The only reason she had come along on this outing to Sports Zone was because Sam asked her to.
Behind her she could hear Darrell snickering. Sam glanced over his shoulder and gave the boy a warning look. Then he picked up the small blue racquetball, which seemed to bounce as if it had supernatural properties whenever she touched it though it was totally tame in his hands.
“Okay, Jess. Let me show you one more time.”
Jessica waved her racquet at him. “That’s all right. You just go ahead. I’ll try to hit it if it whizzes by.”
“Okay. Let’s play.” Sam turned and served the ball. She knew he was holding back, trying to serve gently for her sake, but the ball still eluded her. She swatted her paddle and missed again, feeling foolish but trying to hide it.
Behind her, she could hear Darrell’s sneakers squeaking on the polished wooden floor as he ran and dove for the ball. He dipped down and whacked it, nearly falling on the floor with his effort.
He looked so thrilled to make contact, Jessica had to smile at the sight of his face.
The ball pinged off the ceiling and then the wall. Jessica felt as if she were trapped inside a pinball machine as she tried to follow it.
“Get ready, Jess. That�
�s yours. Here it comes . . . ,” Sam coached her.
“All right. I’ve got it. . . .” Jessica ran toward the ball but totally mistimed her swing. Once again, her paddle swished through thin air while the ball dribbled off in another direction entirely.
“Oh, man . . .” Darrell tried to keep the volley going, but the ball had lost its momentum and rolled weakly toward him. He picked it up, looking frustrated. Jessica could see the boy wanted to play at a much more vigorous pace than she was capable of. They had taken him here as a special treat and now, thanks to Jessica, he was clearly being robbed of his fun. “Can I serve this time?” he asked Sam.
Before Sam could answer, Jessica said, “Why don’t you come up here and take my place? You guys can play one on one. I think I need a little break.”
Sam looked at her curiously. “We just started playing. Do you feel okay?”
“I’m fine, really.” Jessica headed for the camouflaged door in the far corner of the court. She couldn’t help but notice how Darrell suddenly perked up.
Jessica found her gym bag outside the court’s door and pulled out a bottle of water. This morning when Sam had suggested this outing, she tried to tell him that Sports Zone was not her zone. But Sam, in his charming way, had cajoled her into coming.
Now she watched Sam and Darrell through the window, going full out as the little blue ball ricocheted madly around the room. Darrell made a tough point and they whooped and hollered, playing their hearts out.
Sam’s point in getting her to come along, of course, was to bring her and Darrell together on neutral ground, to show her that the boy wasn’t the “horrid little creature” her mother thought he was.
Despite Sunday’s misadventure, Jessica didn’t think badly of Darrell. But apparently, it wasn’t enough to accept him from a distance. For reasons she still didn’t understand, Sam seemed determined that she and Darrell really get along.
Sam stepped out of the court just as she drained her water bottle. “Why don’t you come back in? You play with Darrell. I’ll sit out.”
Jessica glanced at the boy. He rarely spoke to her directly, but she had become expert at translating his eloquent facial expressions. He looked as if Sam had just suggested a lunch of spinach and sautéed liver.
“I don’t think—” she began.
But Sam wasn’t giving up. “Come on, Jess. Show the kid your stuff. Don’t wimp out on me.”
She met her husband’s dark eyes and read his unspoken message. She had retreated to the sidelines and he wanted her to try again. To make contact with the ball—and the kid.
She took a breath and picked up her paddle. I can do this, she told herself. So what if I look like a chicken running around with her head cut off? It’s just a game, for goodness’ sake. And he’s just a little boy.
“Okay. I’ll play,” she agreed.
Sam leaned forward, kissed her cheek quickly, and murmured, “You’re an angel.”
“Don’t you forget it,” she replied as she stepped back into the court. Darrell stared at her with a neutral expression as she said, “Why don’t we just hit around a little? We don’t have to play a real game. You want to serve first?”
Her young opponent seemed pleased by the suggestion. “Cool. Ready?”
To Darrell’s credit, he didn’t try to kill the ball and humiliate her totally. The ball bounded just ahead of her and she ran toward it. Luck was with her. Jessica managed to stand in the right place at the right time. She held out her racquet, made contact, and the ball gently bounced toward Darrell again, an easy shot for him to return.
They volleyed back and forth for a while. Jessica felt some of her tennis skills finally kicking in and was able to keep up without too much trouble. Gee, I’m practically enjoying this, she thought. She smiled over at Darrell, but his expression was serious, his playing intense despite the nongame.
Was he trying to show off for Sam? she wondered. The boy seemed to feel he was in some sort of competition with her for Sam’s attention. But that’s just because he’s had so little, she reminded herself. He doesn’t know that with someone like Sam, there’s always enough to go around.
The ball whizzed past her and she realized she had lost focus. “I didn’t even see that one. Good shot, Darrell.”
She picked up the ball and glanced at her partner. He returned a grudging smile, looking pleased with himself.
She served the ball again, trying her best to keep the ball in play. If Darrell enjoys himself out here with me, he might like me a little better, she thought. Maybe it will even make up a bit for the way I lost my temper on Sunday. She wanted to apologize to him for that but so far hadn’t found the chance.
They rallied a while longer before Sam called, “Time to wrap it up.”
“Already?” Jessica looked at the clock, surprised to see their court time was almost up.
Sam came onto the court. “Hey, great game, guys. You were both awesome.” He walked over to Darrell and put his arm around his shoulder. “Why don’t we have some lunch and see what we want to do next?”
“Those minicars look cool,” Darrell said as they started toward the food court.
“Yeah, they do look fun,” Sam agreed.
Jessica walked behind, feeling like a third wheel again and not quite sure if Sam’s plan for a day of fun and bonding was really working. Her racquetball rally with Darrell went as well as it could, but it hadn’t really changed anything between them.
The dining area, called Munchie Zone, was in the center of the sports complex. Sam found them a table from which they could view several different activity areas: basketball, floor hockey, volleyball, and a corner where there seemed to be a massive water balloon fight in progress.
“What would you like to eat?” Sam asked her.
“Anything . . . I don’t care. A salad or something?”
He rolled his eyes. Okay, so he wasn’t going to find a salad here, not even a deep-fried one. “How about pizza or a hot dog?” he suggested.
“A hot dog would be okay. And a diet cola,” Jessica turned to Darrell. “How about you, Darrell? What would you like for lunch?”
“Pizza and coke,” he answered quickly.
“You got it,” Sam told him. “The line doesn’t look too bad; I’ll be right back.”
Darrell looked suddenly alarmed and glanced from Sam to Jessica. “Can I come with you? I could help you carry stuff.”
Sam considered the offer a moment. “I can handle it. You wait here with Jessica.”
Darrell looked unhappy at the answer but sank back into his seat. He sighed and stared out at the nearby basketball court, his chin resting in his hand. Jessica felt distinctly snubbed. Darrell obviously didn’t want to sit alone with her, not even for as long as it might take for Sam to buy a few hot dogs and sodas.
Hey, I’m good with kids, she reminded herself. Molly’s girls adore me. I can win this kid over. He’s not such a tough customer. Jessica caught his eye across the table and smiled. He didn’t smile back, but at least he stopped ignoring her.
“So . . . how’s it going at New Horizons, Darrell? Do you like it there?”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. They make us work a lot—schoolwork and homework. We help make the food, clean up the dishes. Stuff like that.”
“Sounds like you do work hard.”
“I’m only there because if I didn’t go, I’d have to be in jail instead.”
“Is that so?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. The policeman put the handcuffs right on me. Just like you see on TV.”
“Wow . . . that must have been scary for you.”
“I wasn’t scared,” he insisted. “I said, ‘Go ahead. Lock me up. I’m not scared of you.’ ”
Jessica suppressed a smile, sure he was trying to act tough, to show off for her. He had a wonderful imagination, that was for sure. She knew for a fact that though this story was true of some other kids there, usually older, it wasn’t Darrell’s at all. He’d been suspended for truancy,
caught wandering around Boston alone when he should have been in school. He may have been caught stealing some food from a convenience store. Jessica wasn’t sure. Sam had said his mother was in a drug rehab program, and the social services agency had sent him to New Horizons instead of foster care.
“I guess you miss the city and your family.”
He shrugged again. “My mother . . . she’s sick. She’s not home anyway right now.”
“I hope she gets better real soon and you can be with her again.”
Darrell’s face took on a thoughtful expression. “Yeah, me too.” Suddenly, he stared up at her. “Why are you saying all this stuff to me? You don’t even know my mother.”
Jessica felt stung but she also saw that he had a point. She shouldn’t have gotten so personal so quickly. He was upset about his mother and maybe even ashamed of her situation, and Jessica, who barely knew him, had no right to pry.
“That’s true. I don’t know your mother,” she said slowly. “But I know you, and—”
Darrell shook his head. “You don’t know me. You don’t even like me.”
“I do like you,” she insisted. “I like you very much.”
Was that true? she asked herself. She didn’t feel close to the boy, and she was fairly certain he didn’t care much for her. Mostly, she felt sorry for him.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to lie to me. I heard what you said at your mother’s house when I went upstairs to wash up. When you thought I couldn’t hear.”
Jessica felt her cheeks flush with shame. “I was upset, Darrell,” she admitted. “I really didn’t mean it, honestly . . . I just lost my temper, I guess. I’ve been meaning to apologize to you, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.” Her excuse sounded weak, and she had an awful feeling that she had just made everything worse.
He gave another of his shrugs and stared out at the basketball players again. “Lots of grown-ups think I’m bad. You don’t have to act all nice and lie about it just because Sam is around.”
Jessica started to reply then stopped. She felt painted neatly into a corner. No matter what she said now, he’d argue with her. No matter what she did today, she couldn’t seem to get it right.
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