Thomas Kinkade's Cape Light

by Katherine Spencer

  Sam and Jessica Morgan, along with their family, were there. Even though they had power in their house, Sophie had insisted that they come. Zoey even saw Tim, and Trudy with her husband, though Zoey hardly recognized her coworker out of her waitressing uniform.

  She carried the cake back to the kitchen and found Sophie in the center of a flock of women busily keeping the party running—washing at the sink, putting food in the oven, and taking other dishes out to the many tables set up around the house.

  Sophie suddenly noticed she was there and called out to her. “Zoey, I’m so glad you could come. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” She pulled Zoey close, and Zoey hugged her back.

  “My mom made this cake, orange spice.”

  “Looks delicious.”

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  Sophie shook her head. “Absolutely not. You did more than your share already, young lady. You go enjoy yourself. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Zoey slipped out of the kitchen and looked around for James. There were candles everywhere and fireplaces glowed, shedding a warm, flickering light throughout the house. The amazing decorations that James had arranged had not gone to waste, Zoey realized. It was almost as if James had guessed there would be a spectacular party here, deserving such a grand display.

  Long tables, covered with bright tablecloths, seemed to bend under the weight of all the many platters, with Sophie’s roast goose front and center. There were spicy scented baked hams and roast turkeys, with all possible side dishes, along with an array of casseroles and tempting entrées the many guests had contributed. Even though Zoey had already eaten with her family, she felt her mouth water at the sight. This is the closest thing I’ll ever see to a medieval feast, she thought.

  In one corner of the front parlor, Grace Hegman played Christmas songs on the piano. Other guests, including Emily Warwick and her husband, Dan Forbes, had gathered around to sing along.

  Among the familiar faces of church members and townspeople, Zoey spotted the Potter clan—James’s father, his aunts, and all his cousins. She had never met his older sister, Miranda, but Zoey recognized her from photos. She had come up from North Carolina with her family and stood near the Christmas tree, balancing a baby on her hip.

  Every time Zoey turned around, she saw Santa Claus again. A tall, lean Santa, she noticed, despite the padding under his suit. She caught his eye and realized it was James. The beard and suit had fooled her, but he could never disguise those eyes.

  “Excuse me, Santa, but your reindeer are blocking the driveway,” she said.

  “Thank you, miss. I’d better be going, anyway. But I do have one more present to give out . . .” He searched inside the bag and came up with two small packets. “Do you know anyone named . . . Zoey?”

  Zoey felt herself blush. “I think I do . . . and I think she has a gift for you, too.”

  “For me? How thoughtful. Why don’t you find this Zoey and tell her to meet me outside on the porch?”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll give her the message right away.”

  Zoey grabbed her coat from the pile on a bench in the foyer and found the gift she brought for James, which she had left under the tree. When she stepped out on the porch, it was suddenly quiet. She could still hear the voices and music from inside, but the sounds seemed muffled and distant.

  She watched the party through a window for a moment, as if watching a movie with the sound turned very low. Sophie had emerged from the kitchen, though she still wore her apron. She moved around the parlor, talking a few minutes with each of her guests. She no sooner started one conversation than some other guest walked over and hugged her hello, or thanked her for opening her doors—and heart—in such a grand way. Little children ran up to her, asking permission to attack the cookies and cakes or wondering when the gifts would be opened. Piles of presents sat under the tree. Zoey had left one there for Sophie, a present she had asked for, in a way.

  Even Lillian Warwick, sitting in a high-backed chair by the fire, looked remarkably content, one hand clasping Ezra’s as he stood by her side. Sophie looked happiest of all, absolutely glowing with an inner light of love and contentment. This night was surely all she had hoped for.

  Zoey felt someone standing nearby, and James stepped out of the shadows. The only thing left of his costume was the red gift sack. He had exchanged the red suit and white beard for a fisherman knit sweater and jeans, along with his handsome, beardless face and heart-stopping smile.

  “Santa sent me. He had to go,” he greeted her.

  “It’s getting late. He has a lot of ground to cover,” Zoey replied, remembering James would be leaving for distant points on the globe himself soon. Another thing she didn’t want to think about now.

  “You looked lost in some deep thoughts out here. I bet you missed seeing his sleigh fly off the roof.”

  “I did,” she admitted. “I was looking in at the party. There are so many people here. And your grandmother has some connection to each of them, either family or friends, neighbors or members of our church. She’s like an apple tree,” Zoey decided. “Her roots to this place go so deep. It’s hard to believe she’ll ever leave here.”

  James laughed and brushed her hair from her cheek with his warm hand. “You sound like the writer now. But I know what you mean. I can’t quite get my head around the idea that our family is giving up this place. I’m not sure it’s really hit her, either. I’m just happy she got her wish—to hold this big party for her last Christmas here.”

  “Me, too. But I bet Sophie isn’t surprised by how amazing it is. She’ll just say something like, ‘That’s God’s way. You hand Him your troubles, and He figures things out better than you ever can.’”

  “You nailed it. That’s exactly what she said, just this afternoon, when we were setting up the tables and chairs.”

  Zoey laughed with him but also felt a twinge of envy. Sophie’s faith was so strong. Zoey did pray from time to time, and did have faith, but not nearly as much.

  James pulled a paper gift bag out from Santa’s red sack. “Getting back to Santa, I promised him I would give you these.” He handed her the two tissue-covered packets, and Zoey felt suddenly shy, handing over his box.

  “What is this?” He shook it and listened, reminding Zoey of Jamie. “You open yours first,” he said.

  “All right.” Zoey took a breath and opened the smaller packet first. Inside, she found a slim silver bracelet. It had some writing on it and she brought it closer to the window in order to read the inscription. She believed she could, so she did. The words touched her heart. She looked back at him, feeling tongue-tied.

  “I saw it in a shop in town. It reminded me of you. Even if you don’t get that internship this winter, I know you’re going to do great things in your life, Zoey. You’re just that kind of person.”

  “Thank you . . . that means a lot to me. That you would say that,” she said quietly.

  “Open the other one,” he coaxed her.

  Zoey had forgotten there even was another gift. This packet was about the same size but a bit lighter. She pulled off the paper and found what looked like a leather wallet. Not a wallet exactly, more of a small black leather book cover, stamped with gold writing. She opened it, but didn’t see anything inside.

  “It’s a cover.” He seemed amused at her confusion. “For your passport.”

  “Thanks,” she said politely. “I don’t have a passport, but I guess I should get one someday.”

  “I think you should get one right away. You’ll need it to visit me. Maybe over spring break?”

  The reassurance that he wanted to continue their relationship after he left should have made her happy. But Zoey’s heart fell with the sudden reminder of his departure. Soon, James would be thousands of miles away. “Spring break? Maybe . . .”

  If I quit school and manage the diner full-time. A
nd if my parents both get head injuries. Even if I had the airfare, does James really think my dad will let me go to South America to see him?

  But she knew he meant well and didn’t want to sound snide. Especially not tonight. She forced a smile. “I should have a passport. You’re right. I’ll get one right after Christmas,” she promised. “Want to open your present now?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” His package was a bit bigger and heavier. He tore off the paper and uncovered two books. One was a novel, the other a blank book with a black leather cover for his writing.

  He picked up the blank book first and smoothed his hand over the cover. “This is beautiful. It’s almost too good to write in. I’m used to the shabby notebooks I pick up in the market.”

  “I thought you could use something special for your trip.”

  “This is special, all right. Thank you.” He picked up the novel next and read the title with reverence, “On the Road. This is great. I love this book. How did you know I love Jack Kerouac?”

  Zoey shrugged. “Maybe because you carry the paperback around with you constantly and study it the way Sophie reads her Bible? The guy in the bookstore said this is a new edition. It’s got a copy of his original manuscript. He typed it on long strips of paper and taped it together?”

  She didn’t totally understand, but when the book had caught her eye, the bookseller explained that Kerouac had typed the novel on eight strips of tracing paper and taped it together to make a scroll. This new edition reproduced the first, unedited manuscript.

  “Wow . . . I really wanted this. I heard about it, but I didn’t realize it was out yet.” James eagerly flipped through the pages, then stopped to read her inscription.

  Zoey knew it by heart.

  To James—

  I know this is a writer you admire. I’m sure that one day, I’ll be seeing your books in a big display just like this one. I hope you find a lot of interesting stories to tell in your travels. Good luck and happy landings!

  —Zoey

  He looked up at her, his eyes glowing with emotion. “Thank you, Zoey. These are the best Christmas gifts I’ve gotten in a long time. Since . . . I can’t remember when.”

  Zoey smiled. She was so pleased that he liked the presents she had chosen. Before she could say a word, he pulled her close and gave her a long, tight hug. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered in her hair.

  “Merry Christmas, James,” she whispered back.

  He pulled back a bit and kissed her. A long, sweet kiss that made her rise on tiptoe and hold him close again. Their embrace felt as though they were moving to a new place in their relationship, even closer and more trusting. But at the same time, Zoey sensed a note in their kiss that was bittersweet, the beginning of a farewell that was certain to come.

  James stepped back but still held her hands. “I really hope you come and visit me. I’m definitely going to Peru. I got an email back from the organization and the farm owner there yesterday. He offered me a job and I accepted.”

  Zoey felt stunned, even though she had expected this news almost from the first day they met. “Great. Congrats.” She tried to sound cheerful and wondered if she was pulling it off. “When do you leave?”

  “That’s the bad part. Very soon. The day after New Year’s.”

  “Monday, January second,” she said. She felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of her—hollow and aching inside.

  “That’s right.” He nodded, looking as if he wondered how she knew the calendar so well.

  Zoey knew the date because that was the same day her internship was supposed to start. “That’s soon,” she said. Nine days away.

  “Yes, it is.” He sighed. “But I don’t want to turn it down or ask for a delay. It’s a good spot and I might lose it.”

  “Sure. You need to take it. That was your plan. It’s all worked out.” He looked grateful for her understanding. Zoey did understand, and yet she suddenly felt distant from him. She knew that he cared for her—but apparently not that much if he could leave here so easily.

  Lucy had been right, after all. Zoey had been foolish to get so involved with him. To think it was fine to fall for him, knowing this was only a brief stopover in his travels.

  “I had some news this week, too,” she said suddenly. “I got the internship.”

  She hadn’t told anyone and hadn’t even planned to tell James. But it had suddenly spurted out. Maybe she wanted him to know interesting things were happening in her life, too?

  “Wow, that’s great. I knew they would pick you.” He hugged her close a moment and stepped back. “When do you start?”

  Zoey slid her glance away from his. “I don’t start, actually. I still can’t take it.”

  “Did your parents say that?” His tone was protective, as if he wanted to argue with her parents on her behalf.

  “You’re the only one who knows. I don’t want to put them in that spot right now. My father just had the worst week of his life.” Somewhat of an exaggeration, but not much. “I know he still needs me to manage the diner, and I don’t mind so much now. It’s only a few weeks. I can stick it out.”

  James sighed. “You’re very noble, on top of all your other wonderful qualities. I don’t think I’d be nearly as selfless.”

  Zoey didn’t bother to debate. She didn’t think so, either.

  “I think it’s wonderful that you love your family so much. I really do,” James continued. “But what about your own life—your own goals? You’re not a child anymore. You don’t have to do what they say. The sooner you realize that, the better for you. Honestly, I’m just telling you from experience.”

  His well-meaning advice made her angry. She didn’t need James Potter to tell her that she had her own life. What did he know about her life, anyway?

  “I’m not doing this because my parents say I have to. Or even because I’m afraid they’ll be angry and we’ll argue. I’m doing it because I love them, James. I want to help my father. He worked very hard to be mayor. That’s all he’s ever wanted. You don’t live here, so you don’t get that part. He has this one chance to do it right. I want to give that to him, if I can. I certainly don’t want to make it harder for him.”

  James stepped back, his expression serious. “You’re right. I don’t live here. I probably shouldn’t butt in. But maybe I see things clearer because I don’t have all that baggage in the way. It’s a waste that you got this opportunity and you can’t take it. What would your father do if you broke your leg or something? He would have to figure it out. I think you should go for it, Zoey, and not worry about what your parents say.”

  Zoey sighed and stared back at him. “Easy for you to say. You do whatever you like. You say you want to travel and write, but I think you just want to get away from your father. Run off to Peru. Good idea. Good for you,” she nearly shouted. “I really don’t need your advice. You don’t understand my life at all.”

  James looked upset, and Zoey knew she had probably gone too far. But she couldn’t help it. James suddenly seemed different to her. Not the caring, sensitive guy she had thought he was.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t know how we got into this.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away and headed for the door, suddenly chilled.

  She turned and met his glance one last time, her heart feeling as if it had just cracked open. “I’m sorry, James. I . . . can’t do this. I don’t do good-bye very well. I guess that’s something else you don’t really know about me.”

  She felt bad for unloading on him. And sorry now that she let herself get so involved with him in the first place. What she said was true. She didn’t do good-bye very well, though she’d had more practice than most people.

  She walked into the house through the side door, leaving James out on the porch with his thoughts. The party was thinning, but everyone was still so distracted, no
one noticed her slip back in. She left her coat in the mudroom and took a moment to compose herself. Was she crying? She hoped not. She ran a tissue under her eyes and dabbed her nose.

  She pulled off the bracelet James had given her and tucked it in her pocket. She would stick it in the back of a drawer when she got home. Maybe take it out someday, when thinking about James didn’t hurt anymore.

  Maybe when I’m old as Sophie, she decided.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  You’re up early, Grandma. I thought you’d be tired from the party.”

  “I’m fine. Never felt better.” Sophie turned from the sink to find James in the kitchen doorway, with bedhead and a day’s growth of beard shadowing his lean cheeks. He sure looked tired—and not in a very good mood for Christmas Day.

  “Merry Christmas, James.”

  “Merry Christmas, Grandma. I’m glad you got your Christmas wish,” he added. “Was the party all you’d hoped for?”

  “Was it ever. And then some.” She shook her head in disbelief. “There’s not even much cleaning up to do. Everyone pitched in before they left. But I do want to get a few things in order. A few more folks from church are coming by soon to help and take away all those folding chairs and tables we borrowed from Fellowship Hall.”

  “I can help with that.” James sipped his coffee, staring into space again.

  Sophie had rarely seen anyone so glum on Christmas and wondered what was going on. “There are still a few gifts to open. Why don’t we do that later?” she suggested.

  “Sure. Whenever you like.”

  “I already opened the gift Zoey left for me. A large-print Bible. Just what I wanted. Remember when I fell on the steps and was going on about it?”