The New England: ROMANCE Collection

by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris

  “Of course. You asked me to keep it safe before you left for the service. Since you know who I am now, I thought you should have it back.”

  His smile faded into gentle melancholy. “Thank you, Clemmie. I don’t know what to say.”

  She stared in wonder, noting moisture filmed his eyes. Never had she thought her return of his trinkets would affect him so deeply. She wished now she’d brought them earlier in the week, at a time when she and Joel didn’t have to be anywhere and he could spend as much time reminiscing as he liked. But she’d promised Hannah she would attend and didn’t want to disappoint her friend either.

  “We should probably leave soon,” she said reluctantly.

  “Of course.” His smile disappeared as he set the box on the table.

  “You really don’t want to do this, do you?”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “You survived the fair. Even enjoyed it.”

  “Yes, among strangers and those who already knew—of this.” He motioned to his eyes with an impatient jerk of his hand.

  “Hannah knows. And her mother. They don’t think any less of you.”

  “They haven’t seen me yet. It’s bound to be awkward.”

  Clemmie hissed an annoyed breath. Talk about awkward! Sometimes he could be so difficult.

  “If your present condition bothers you so much, you should have the operation.”

  “I told you why I can’t.”

  “And I told you why that’s rubbish. God doesn’t want you to suffer, no more than any of us want you to suffer.”

  He shook his head in skepticism.

  “Remember the thief on the cross? The one crucified next to Jesus? That thief deserved punishment and suffering. But when he asked Jesus to remember him when He went to paradise, Jesus told the thief that he would be with Him that day. You’ve suffered, too, Joel. A great deal. And if you’re bound and determined to believe that you deserve to carry out some crazy penance for what happened to your friends, well then, I should think that penance is long over and you’ve paid your debt in full. Now it’s time to forget the past and turn back to God. He’s never forgotten you.”

  Unable to bear another negative response, she moved out onto the porch to wait. No more than a minute passed before he joined her. He remained silent, his face a tense mask. But he took her arm, and together they went to the waiting car.

  The ride remained silent, scrambling Clemmie’s nerves, but she didn’t dare speak. She didn’t want further discord, and clearly Joel was upset with her.

  The bazaar was crowded, held inside a huge room of a civic building Hannah’s mother had rented, and Clemmie marveled that not one foot of unused space appeared visible. Everywhere—against the walls, in the center of the great room—stood antiques, knickknacks, useful and decorative objects, and some modern items as well. All of them were itemized, along with a description of their use neatly printed on each attached yellowtag—very helpful on some of the more unusual antiques, which at first glance had no purpose Clemmie could identify.

  To a passing stranger, she and Joel might look like a couple in love, as close as they walked, but Clemmie knew better. For whatever reason, Joel had decided not to bring his cane, and he stuck to Clemmie like glue, holding her arm tightly. She made sure to point out each step or problem in the path that could hamper him.

  They stopped walking with the crowd so Clemmie could inspect a cuckoo clock, something for which Darcy had often expressed a fondness, thinking the little bird that popped out “quite a corker.”

  “Clemmie!” Hannah practically squealed. “I thought you’d never come. Joel, hi.” Her tone went shy and girlish as she looked his way. “You may not remember me, but I’m Hannah from the Refuge. Bill and Sarah’s daughter.”

  “Of course I remember you.” He gave her a kind smile. “Though you were just a little thing before I left. Seems you’ve grown up, too.”

  Hannah giggled. If Joel could see the manner in which the cute brunette prettily blushed, Clemmie felt sure he wouldn’t worry so about how others perceived him. Blind or with sight, Joel still had the ability to turn every young woman’s head and make them act like little more than besotted schoolgirls. Had she been that bad as a child? With a flush of warmth, she realized she’d been worse, though she’d also been able to talk to him on a sensible level, not chattering away nervously as Hannah now did. Of course Hannah always had been a chatterbox.

  “Mother will be so pleased to see you. What a surprise to learn you’ve lived here all this time. And, oh, you simply must come to the church picnic. They’re holding it by the lake, and there will be croquet and plenty to eat and boating….”

  Sensing Joel withdraw at the mention of church just by the tensing of his muscles beneath her fingers, Clemmie was half-tempted to cover her free hand over her young friend’s mouth. Instead she widened her eyes and raised her brows as a signal to stop. Hannah got the message.

  “Oh, but just listen to me carrying on. I really should get back to work. Were you thinking of buying that cuckoo clock?”

  “Yes. For Darcy. Her birthday is in two months. But I haven’t decided….” With regard to the benefit’s good cause and the condition of the piece, the asked-for five dollars wasn’t steep, but Clemmie didn’t have much money left, not after buying the ingredients for Joel’s special dinner, as well as a new hat and gloves for herself to wear to church. Her old ones had worn dreadfully, something sweet-but-blunt Hannah had pointed out her first Sunday when she’d dressed for the church meeting.

  “If it’s for Darcy, I’m sure Mama would agree to knocking off a dollar or two. Darcy’s always been such a lamb to us, and she helped Mama and Papa plenty when they first came from the island all those years ago.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “If there’s a problem, I’ll chip in the difference.”

  “Thank you, Hannah. You’re a dear.” Clemmie unsnapped her purse and pulled out three bills, which Hannah took with another smile at Joel then Clemmie, as if she approved.

  Once Hannah left, Joel spoke. “Is there anything else you wanted to see?” To her surprise, he took the clock from her and tucked it under his free arm. Clearly he wanted to leave. Her mission accomplished, she longed for some place more quiet as well.

  “No. We can go now.”

  His nod clearly relieved, they moved together toward the exit.

  “Joel Litton, as I live and breathe,” a sweet feminine voice said. A classy blond moved before him and put a light hand to his sleeve. He jerked, and Clemmie’s gratitude that he hadn’t dropped the clock barely eclipsed a surge of jealousy.

  “Sheridan?”

  She laughed brightly. “Yes, it’s me. I’m glad you remember.” She glanced at Clemmie, not one ounce of jealousy in her eyes, though Clemmie couldn’t say the same for her own.

  “Hello, I’m Sheridan Wallace. An old friend of Joel’s.” She again looked at him. “Who’s been a very naughty boy for not letting anyone know he was in town. Paisley told me, and when she did, I couldn’t believe it. But here you are.”

  “Yes, here I am.” Joel’s voice sounded grim. “Did she also tell you I’m blind?”

  Clemmie realized his condition might not be apparent, since he carried no cane.

  No shock crossed Sheridan’s elegant features. “She did.” Her manner became quiet and concerned. “And I’m very sorry to hear that happened to you, so very sorry. But tell me, where are you staying? Paisley mentioned you were with Herbert and his family. Surely you’re not living there?”

  She moved into the subject with such skill, making it clear she didn’t consider his blindness a flaw. Clemmie wanted to hate her, just because of what the woman had once been to Joel, but found she couldn’t bear such an immature grudge.

  “Actually, I am.” Joel’s expression eased, and he smiled. “In his shed, if you can believe that.”

  Sheridan’s big baby blues grew wider. “Oh, Joel, tell me you’re not serious? Doesn’t he have enough
rooms in his house? I hate to think of you all alone in a cold shed with the spiders and rats—”

  Joel laughed. “No rats. There are mice.” His voice teased. “But it was my choice.”

  “But why? That’s simply ridiculous.”

  Clemmie looked back and forth between them, feeling like an outsider watching a Ping-Pong match as they conversed. She thought Sheridan would never go away.

  “I would love to stand here chatting all afternoon and catch up, but I have to get back. I’ve been on a break.”

  “You’re working at the bazaar?” Clemmie asked in surprise.

  “My mother is on the women’s committee. Do you know Sarah Thomas? She runs it.”

  “She’s my friend Hannah’s mother. I’m staying with them for the summer.”

  “Really? My mother and her mother are best friends.”

  “Really?” Clemmie’s tone lacked Sheridan’s enthusiasm. “Small world.”

  “Isn’t it? Listen, we simply must all get together sometime soon. Are you going to the church picnic next Sunday?”

  “You go to their church, too?” Clemmie’s heart dropped another level. “I’ve never seen you.”

  “We sit in the balcony.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, if you’ll be at the picnic, we must talk more then. I really have to go.”

  “I look forward to catching up,” Joel said with a smile.

  Clemmie gave him a sharp look, one that, of course, he couldn’t see and she couldn’t help. She practically bit her tongue in two so she wouldn’t spout anything that might make her seem green-eyed with envy. Because, she realized with a grimace of self-loathing, that’s exactly what she was.

  Clemmie remained quiet the entire drive back, and Joel wondered what bothered her. To try lightening the atmosphere, since he knew he’d brought about enough dark moods, he decided to share with her a decision he’d reached.

  “Next Sunday, I’d like to go to church with you. Would you mind?”

  She gasped. “Of course not, but after the way you acted before the bazaar, I, well … I must say I’m surprised. What changed your mind?”

  He expected that question but not the tightness in her voice. Wasn’t she pleased? She’d been bugging him for weeks to attend. “Between you and Herbert, I’ve been getting an earful. I guess something sank in. It doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about everything, but I’ve been around crowds twice now and survived.”

  Actually those who knew him hadn’t treated him much differently at all. Maybe at first he’d noticed a slight awkwardness and uncertainty about how to proceed because, he assumed, no one wanted to injure his feelings. On both occasions the discomfort had faded, if not disappeared altogether. And those he didn’t know, well, he didn’t really care what they thought. Clemmie had been right about that, too.

  “Maybe I’m ready to take that next step,” he added when she didn’t respond.

  “Then I’m honestly happy to hear it.” Her tone became softer. “I’m sure you’ll find it a lovely place. Since I’ve been there, I’ve found the people to be kind and caring. But we don’t have to go to that picnic afterward if you don’t want to.”

  “Would you rather we didn’t?”

  “No. It’s just … I understand if you don’t want to.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He had hoped his answer would have eased the tension; instead, the resulting silence felt thicker than before.

  Chapter 15

  I’m a terrible person, Hannah.”

  Her friend moved into view behind Clemmie, who stared soulfully at her image, trying to tame her wild waves with a comb. She gave up, dropping her arms to her sides.

  “Why would you say such a thing?” Hannah’s eyes were curious.

  “Because it’s true?” Clemmie slumped in the vanity chair. “This last week, Operation Save Joel has undergone significant improvement. He doesn’t always give negative comebacks when I talk about his condition or suggest that he can enjoy life again. He’s become more positive, nicer to be around.”

  “I must admit I agree from the little I saw of him. He’s a real sheik! That man and the man you described to me after your first day there are poles apart! Still, I couldn’t believe it when you told me he wanted to go to the church picnic. You’ve made remarkable progress!”

  “Yes.”

  “So why so glum? You should be dancing for joy.”

  Clemmie gave a wry grin. “I question his motives for his sudden change of heart. Instead of accepting it at face value and being happy, I wonder if it’s because of his old girlfriend. That’s what makes me horrible.”

  Hannah put a hand to Clemmie’s shoulder, looking at her in the mirror. “It doesn’t make you horrible. It makes you human.”

  “If only she were mean and nasty, I wouldn’t feel so bad.”

  “But she’s not?”

  “You tell me. You probably know her. Sheridan Wallace. Her mother is a friend of your mother’s.”

  Hannah’s eyes went huge. “Sheridan is Joel’s old girlfriend?” A sympathetic frown creased her brow. “Oh, yes. I can see your problem. She’s tops. Very nice to everyone.”

  “Great,” Clemmie said unenthusiastically. “You’re a fan, too.”

  “Has Joel expressed … feelings for you?”

  Clemmie hesitated. She couldn’t tell her young friend about the kisses; they were too special to share, even with Hannah. “Nothing untoward or meaningful.” On his part anyway.

  “Oh good.” Hannah’s relief was evident. “Then I think you should just reflect on your reason for starting this whole endeavor. To help Joel learn to live again, which is exactly what you’re doing.”

  Clemmie sighed. “You’re right. I need to stop being selfish and do whatever I can to support and encourage him. Thank you for reminding me what truly matters. You’re a real friend by keeping me in line. Don’t take this wrong, but sometimes you seem so mature for your age.”

  “Mother would disagree. She doesn’t like the girls I’ve been keeping company with, before you came. She says they’re a bad influence and make me do childish things.”

  As Clemmie fastened her hat to her head, lowering the netting that covered the upper portion of her face, she wondered why she hadn’t met them but didn’t ask. She had enough to ponder.

  Half an hour later, when she arrived at Herbert’s, she found Joel in a pleasant mood, even offering cordial conversation to Hannah and her mother. Herbert had managed to get his car running, and he and his family followed in their Ford.

  In church, Clemmie could feel Joel’s tension—his body strained from where it touched hers in the crowded pew. Whether he got anything out of the message on releasing one’s burdens to the Lord, she didn’t know, but she felt it appropriate for his situation. They didn’t spend time mingling afterward, instead driving straight to the picnic area.

  “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he questioned almost sadly as they strolled, arm in arm, to a shady copse of trees. Today he’d brought his cane, but he still held fast to Clemmie’s arm. “I can feel the warmth of the sun and smell the grass and flowers and even the water.”

  “You can smell water?” She knew his senses were sharpened but hadn’t realized water had a smell.

  “It’s a cool, brisk scent. The grass is earthy but fresh. And the flowers …” He looked almost remorseful. “I wish I had paid more attention to the different kinds of wildflowers there are. I never cared much for them when I had my sight. They were all the same to me, except in color and shape of course. But a flower was a flower.”

  “Just as a rose is a rose by any other name.”

  An awkward silence ensued. Reminded of her duplicity, Clemmie hurried to add, “The ones we’re walking among now are white and yellow. Some sort of daisies, perhaps?”

  “I know the scent of roses,” he answered her previous statement. “And lilacs. That’s your scent. Soft and fresh. Brisk but soothing …”

  Clemmie held
her breath. Just what was he saying? Or was she reading too much into his low words?

  “Joel!”

  The breathless moment was disrupted as a newly familiar voice called his name. Clemmie turned to watch Sheridan’s graceful approach. Even over uneven ground, she seemed to float.

  “It’s so wonderful to see you! I wasn’t sure you were coming when we talked at the bazaar.”

  “I have persuasive friends.”

  “Oh?” Sheridan laughed and glanced at Clemmie. “Well, good for you! He can be so stubborn, can’t he? Sometimes it takes a bulldozer to move him.”

  “Yes, he can be a cross between mule-headed and pigheaded.”

  “I’m here, too, ya know.”

  Clemmie smiled, ignoring his mock affront. “He’s always been like that. We go far back. We were both children at the Refuge. My parents ran the place.”

  “Oh! So you must be little Clemmie!” Sheridan’s voice sounded pleased. “Joel told me all about you and growing up on the farm.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, not thrilled to be referred to in such a manner.

  “Clemmie and I have always been good friends.”

  She felt as if a weight dropped to her shoulders. By Joel’s reply, of course Sheridan would understand they weren’t dating. And they weren’t, she reminded herself. So if he wanted to resume whatever relationship he had with the woman, Clemmie shouldn’t feel betrayed.

  She reminded herself of that all through the luncheon. Clemmie could barely eat the thin slice of pork—the pig donated by a wealthy church member—or the brown beans as she fought despondency. Sheridan stayed close to Joel, and given the manner in which they reminisced of past occurrences, Clemmie felt like a third wheel.

  When Sheridan offered to get Joel a slab of peach pie, something else Clemmie knew he enjoyed, she gritted her teeth at the smile he gave the pretty blond, wishing his effusive thanks could have been for her instead. Indeed, he seemed quite in his element, his old gregarious nature for which he’d been greatly admired back in full strength.

  Stop it, Clemmie! You’re acting like a green-eyed witch, and you have no right. Just be happy he’s happy. It’s what you wanted.