Thomas Kinkade's Cape Light

by Katherine Spencer

  “Easy enough. Does your wrist hurt, Grandma?”

  “No, dear, not a bit. I think that’s all healed now. Though your aunt Evelyn insists on taking me to Dr. Harding today. To follow up.”

  “It’s a good idea,” James agreed. “You don’t seem yourself. Are you tired?”

  She sipped her coffee, then sat back and sighed. “I didn’t sleep well. Too much thinking . . . and praying. But when I woke up, I knew what I had to do.”

  “Do about what?”

  She looked at him squarely. “About selling this place, moving out. The way your father and aunts have been after me to do. I’m going to do it. I want to stay, God knows. I’d like to pass away right upstairs in my bed, with Mac at my feet,” she admitted boldly. “But I’ve come to see that’s selfish of me. There will be no peace in the family until I agree to give up the orchard.”

  James felt the bottom of his stomach drop, as if he were in an elevator that had missed a floor. There had been so much talk, back and forth, in his family about this question that part of him never expected it to be resolved.

  “I’m sorry, Grandma . . . This must be so hard for you. I wish you could stay here forever.”

  “Me, too, sweetheart.” She glanced at him, her eyes glassy with tears. She forced a smile and reached over to pat his hand. “But my mind is made up, finally. That’s a relief, too. It isn’t what I want, but it’s the right thing to do.”

  That was his grandmother—a woman of incredibly strong character and conscience. The quintessential mother, still making sacrifices for her children, still putting their happiness and comfort above her own. James knew if he could ever create a character on paper that was half the woman his grandmother was in real life, he’d really be doing something.

  “When will you tell them?” he asked quietly.

  “I’m going to tell Evelyn today. I’ll take her up on her offer to have me live there. See how that works out.” She glanced at him, a twinkle in her eye. James knew his grandmother and aunt did not get along all that well, and wondered what would come of that arrangement.

  “Why don’t you wait a few days, sit with it awhile? There’s no rush, Grandma. You might change your mind,” he said, knowing that was what he hoped would happen.

  She laughed. “I will change my mind. That’s the problem, honey. I’ve got to strike while the iron is hot. It’s not just a whim. I know it in my heart—it’s what I have to do. What the Lord has called me to do now, in my journey,” she added. “That’s what love is, dear. You need to see your loved ones happy and safe more than you care about yourself. Because their well-being is your happiness,” she added. “When you feel that way about someone, you’ll know you truly love them.”

  James nodded, but didn’t reply. He had fallen head over heels with a few girls so far and had even thought he was in love once or twice. But he knew now that those relationships weren’t real love. Certainly not the deep and lasting kind his grandmother was talking about.

  “I promised your father and your aunts at Thanksgiving that I would think this question through. And I’ve kept my promise,” she added. “So I expect, sprained wrist and all, they will let me have my last Christmas gathering here. That was the deal.”

  “I remember. I was sitting right there. If they argue, I’ll stick up for you, Grandma.”

  She smiled. “I know you will. But I don’t think I’ll get much of a fuss once they get what they want. We don’t get everything in life that we want, honey. But God knows what is best for us, and what is best for all involved, in our struggles. He has a way of working things out, if you get out of the way and let Him do His job. We usually see that later,” she added. “I’m truly thankful for the years He gave me living under this roof, within these four walls. I’ve been truly blessed, James, since the day I arrived on this Earth, squalling my head off in that back room you’re about to paint. So please, dear, don’t feel sad for me.” She patted his hand again. “I pray that when you reach my age and you look back, you’ll feel the same peace and gratitude for your days.”

  His grandmother’s certainty made him feel better. She did seem at peace with her decision, and he knew he had no right to talk her out of it, or even advise her to wait.

  “I hope by then I have your way of understanding the world,” he said. “It would sure help my writing.”

  Everything changes. Nothing stays the same. That was the only thing you could be certain of. His parents’ divorce, growing up, and leaving home and trying to make his way in the world had taught him that already.

  Still, his grandparents’ house and orchard was a place that seemed eternal and unchanging, a safe haven. He had always assumed he could return to it and it would always be the same, no matter what. There were so many memories here for his entire family. So much family history, it seemed the Potter DNA had seeped into the wooden floors, and even into the apples that fell from the trees outside the kitchen window.

  It would be so hard to think of this place and know it belonged to someone else. Or even worse, to know it had been knocked down and torn up, the land filled with new houses or something even more awful.

  He gazed at his grandmother, feeding bits of muffin to Mac, who sat alertly at her feet. James didn’t have the heart to ask questions that probed into the future.

  What did his grandmother always say? “The answers are revealed in God’s time, not our own.” James wasn’t a big churchgoer, but he decided he would leave all of his questions and the answers to Heaven for now.

  * * *

  Emily should have expected the county supervisor would make them wait. She shifted in her seat in the outer office and checked her watch again. Martin sat next to her, answering emails on his phone. Marion Ross and the group’s attorney, Jack Rowland, had gotten restless and left the office in search of a drink machine.

  “Does it always take this long to see him?” Martin asked.

  “Yes and no. We’re sort of small potatoes,” she said honestly.

  Twenty minutes later, an administrative assistant came out of the inner office. “Supervisor Thatcher will see you now.”

  William Thatcher rose from behind his desk and extended a hand. “Emily, good to see you. I read your group’s letter. I understand your concern, but I don’t know how the county can help. Cape Light is an incorporated village with its own laws and charter.”

  Pitch one, fastball, at least ninety-five miles per hour. Emily wasn’t surprised. She had never met a politician willing to stick their neck out in a matter that didn’t directly involve them. It was the first rule of staying electable. The group turned to her, obviously assuming she would plead their case.

  “But you can, Bill. Once we explain how, I think you’ll agree that the county is well within its rights to step in.” She turned to introduce the others, hoping to pass the conversation to Martin and Marion. But Bill Thatcher seemed most interested and comfortable talking to her. The truth was, she was the only one able to field his questions with clear, succinct answers that pounded in the point that the county could and should step in and support their appeal.

  Despite her expectation that Thatcher would not keep them long or be interested in the documents they prepared, he ended up calling in his expert on environmental impact and his zoning supervisor. Martin, Marion, and Jack looked pleased and very encouraged, but Emily watched the time pass with dread.

  She closed the binder in her lap and picked up her purse. “I’m sorry, everyone. I have to go. My daughter is in a debate at the middle school. It’s a big school assembly, and I have to get a good seat.”

  Bill Thatcher laughed. “I wonder where she gets that talent from.”

  Martin turned to her with an anxious look. “Can’t you stay a few minutes more? I think it would be very helpful, Emily, especially if the zoning supervisor has questions.”

  Marion looked worried, too. “Can’t you call
and say you’ll be a few minutes late?”

  Emily knew she couldn’t do that, and she had no intention of being late. But she could see that they were both worried about saying the wrong thing and obviously intimidated by the other officials coming in. Winning the environmental and zoning departments to their side today would be a huge boost.

  She checked her watch again. “I guess I can stay a few more minutes. But I really need to go soon.” Her group looked weak with relief.

  Moments later, the environmental and zoning experts joined them. It took time to explain the situation again and more time to answer more questions. Emily stretched the five minutes she had to spare to seven and then rose from her seat.

  “Sorry, I have to go. If you have any more questions for me, please get in touch. You have my phone and email, Bill.” She said this quickly while backing up to the door. Her group stared back at her. Like children left with a strange babysitter, she thought. But she couldn’t help that. They’ll be okay. You really don’t have to take the world on your shoulders, Napoleon, she told herself. They can and will manage without you. Besides, this will be good experience for them. And a good lesson for you, too.

  She felt happy and relieved as she drove toward the middle school. She had done her part and, starting now, would concentrate on her family and the holidays. She was looking forward to picking out their Christmas tree after the debate. She had meant to take the boxes of ornaments down from the attic this morning, but that was no trouble. It was actually part of the fun, to make a human chain and hand them down and down again.

  A light snow had begun to fall, and she thought how nice it would be at Sawyers’ Tree Farm that night. Christmas carols would be playing, and colorful lights would be strung everywhere. The Sawyers served hot cocoa and even gave pony rides, which Jane was much too big for now, of course. But a trip to Sawyers’ was a family tradition and would definitely get them all into a holiday mood.

  The ride to the middle school from the Essex County offices was not long. Emily had timed it perfectly. Until she hit roadwork on the Beach Road.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she gasped, then followed the signs steering everyone around side streets in an endless detour. She checked the time on her watch. Now she was cutting it too close and was so annoyed with herself, she thought she might scream. Or cry.

  Calm down. Take a breath. You’re almost there. These school events never start on time. And Jane isn’t the first to speak on her team. She’s after Maddie and Lauren. Focus on the road and get there.

  Repeating those words again and again, she soon pulled into the school lot and parked in one of the only spaces left, way at the back. She ran all the way to the building and then down the hallway. The school seemed quiet and empty. Not a good sign. She pulled open the auditorium door. The debate had already started.

  Jane and her team sat on one side of the stage, behind a long table. Jane stared down at her notes. A boy from the other team stood at the podium, giving a statement. Emily was too distracted to hear what he said.

  She spotted Dan in a middle row, right on the aisle. She was grateful for that and soon landed in the empty seat next to him.

  “I got stuck at the meeting and hit construction on the Beach Road,” she whispered. “I left myself plenty of time.”

  Dan didn’t answer her; his gaze was fixed on the stage. Was he angry about something? She couldn’t tell.

  “Did I miss much?”

  “You missed Jane. She just finished.”

  Emily sat back in shock. She wondered for a moment if she had heard him correctly. “How could that be? She was last on her team.”

  “They changed the order. I don’t know why. You missed her. I thought she was going to cry when she didn’t see you here.”

  Dan was definitely angry, and Emily didn’t blame him. She sat back, feeling like she might start crying herself. She bit down on her lip, feeling two inches tall.

  Emily forced herself to focus on the stage and the students speaking. But it was hard to settle her emotions and get her bearings again. Jane spoke several times in rebuttal, giving excellent answers that were unrehearsed and unscripted. Emily was very proud of her, though when she glanced at Dan to share her excitement, he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  When the debate ended, Jane’s team was voted the winner. Emily was glad for them but could barely enjoy the victory, she felt so guilty. She and Dan filed out of the auditorium and waited in the crowded school lobby for Jane to appear.

  Maddie’s mother came up to them, beaming. “The girls were wonderful, weren’t they?”

  “They were terrific,” Dan agreed. “They worked hard.”

  “Yes,” Emily added, forcing a smile. She was relieved when Maddie’s mother walked off. Dan hadn’t said a word to her since telling her that she had missed Jane’s argument. She could almost feel the cold waves of anger coming off him.

  Finally, Jane made her way to them, through the crowded lobby.

  “You were great up there, honey. We’re so proud of you,” Emily began. “And I’m so—”

  “Good job, Janie.” Dan cut her off, something he almost never did. But he was smiling at his daughter. “You spoke very well. Your whole team was very sharp.”

  “Thanks.” Jane didn’t seem that pleased. She looked angry. Actually, Emily realized, she was seething.

  Of course, she’s mad at me. She has every right to be. Emily felt awful and cast around for something positive to say. “You had some great rebuttals, honey. That’s even harder than giving a statement.”

  Jane finally looked up at her. “Which you missed, Mom.”

  Emily winced, feeling like the worst mother ever. “Yes, I know, honey. I’m sorry. I left plenty of time to get here, but I . . .” She sighed, her voice trailing off. “I’m so sorry. Honestly.”

  Jane didn’t answer. She wouldn’t even meet Emily’s eye. Emily felt as if she might cry, but didn’t want to make it about herself. At that moment, she would have given anything to turn back the clock and make everyone at the meeting mad at her by leaving early instead of having Jane mad at her now.

  “I know I messed up, but I really didn’t mean to. And I did see most of it. You should be very proud,” Emily added. “I bet you’re hungry. Where should we eat? You pick the place. Then we’ll get our tree.”

  Jane didn’t answer. Emily could tell she was still upset and was not forgiving her so easily. At last Jane said, “Can we do the tree another night? Maddie is having the rest of the girls over to her house. Can I go there instead?”

  “Sure, you can,” Dan said before Emily even had a chance to respond. “We have the whole weekend to get the tree. You go have some fun.”

  “Great. Can you guys drop me off there on your way home?”

  “Sure,” Emily said weakly. She knew that Jane’s eagerness to be with her friends instead of putting up the Christmas tree with them was her fault. And that Dan, who had been so set on the three of them getting ready for Christmas together, agreed to it that way felt like some kind of blow, though she suspected that he wanted Janie to have a good time with her friends instead of wading into her parents’ deep-freeze zone.

  * * *

  At home, without a word, Dan started cooking dinner—a mushroom and cheese omelet and a green salad. He put the news on while they ate, which he didn’t usually do. Emily hated to eat with the TV on, but was grateful tonight for the distraction, especially since Dan barely spoke except to ask her to pass the pepper. After dinner, Emily offered to clean up.

  “Fine with me,” Dan said. “I have to work on my book. I have a chapter to finish.”

  Dan had another book coming out in the spring, this one about a town, not far from Cape Light, where colonial residents had disappeared quite mysteriously. People claimed the area was still haunted, and he had researched the question thoroughly.

 
“I can pick up Jane later. I’ll text her and tell her to let me know when she’s ready. I hope she has a good time with her friends,” Emily added. “She needs to blow off a little steam.”

  Dan met her gaze. “Don’t we all.”

  Before she could reply, he had turned and left the room.

  * * *

  It was about eleven when Emily drove over to Maddie’s house to pick up Jane. She sent a text and waited in the driveway. Her daughter soon appeared at the door. She waved to her friends and ran down to the car, then jumped in the front seat and fastened her seat belt.

  “How was the party? Did you have fun?”

  Jane shrugged. “It was all right.”

  “What did you do? Just hang out?”

  “We had this giant hero to eat, and we played a video game. Maddie’s family has a humongous TV.”

  Jane often complained their family had the smallest TV in the universe. “I’m not sure about that, honey. But it’s the smallest one we could find,” Emily would always reply.

  “Sounds like fun. Any boys there?” she asked in a teasing tone. She had spotted a few on the opposing team and wondered if they had been invited.

  “One or two.” Jane shrugged. “The girls totally outnumbered them. I don’t even know why they stayed.”

  Emily smiled again but didn’t offer any theories. “I bet you were all worn out tonight. You did a great job. Dad and I were very proud of you,” she said again.

  Jane glanced at her and then looked out her window. “Thanks . . . even though you missed half of it.”

  Emily felt a pang. “It wasn’t half, not nearly. But a very important part of your presentation. I know that, honey. And there’s no excuse. I did get more caught up at the meeting than I expected, and then I hit construction on the Beach Road. The detour went on forever and—I ended up being late.”

  Her voice trailed off. Jane was still staring out her window. Emily wondered if she was even listening.