The Way Home

by Katherine Spencer

  If the car had broken down or he’d been in an accident, wouldn’t he have called? Even if his own phone didn’t work for some reason, wouldn’t he have found a phone and called her?

  The phone rang then. It was half past five. Claire picked it up, trying to make her voice sound normal when she saw the caller ID. “Hello, Liza,” she said smoothly.

  “Just checking in. How is everything going?”

  “Fine . . . just fine.” Claire felt bad lying to Liza, but she didn’t want to worry her, either. Especially when there might be some perfectly reasonable explanation for Jamie’s lateness. Though what that might be, she couldn’t begin to guess.

  “Claire . . . are you there?” Liza’s voice broke into her thoughts. She wondered again if she should tell Liza what was going on. “We’re staying in town for dinner, so I probably won’t be back until ten or so. You must be tired from cleaning all day. Did Jamie help?”

  “Yes, he did every well. We were done quickly.” That much was true. He had worked hard at that job.

  “Oh, good. Glad to hear it. Where is he now?”

  Claire took a breath, preparing to explain what was going on. What was the use of withholding the information? If something bad had happened to Jamie, or the Jeep, it would only look worse later.

  “He took the Jeep and went into town. To get some paint for the fence, mainly . . . The thing is . . .”

  “Claire? I’m sorry . . . I can’t hear you that well. My connection is breaking up. I’ll try you back later, okay?”

  “That’s fine,” Claire nearly shouted. But the connection had already been lost.

  Claire wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or frustrated. She knew she felt torn between her loyalty to Liza—their deep friendship and her respect for Liza as her employer—and her feelings for Jamie, her vow to help him all she could, given this extraordinary second chance.

  For not the first time that day, Claire considered taking Liza’s SUV to go out looking for him. But that would be too extreme, and how likely would she be to find him? He would probably come back while she was out. That was the kind of luck she had been running today.

  She returned to the dining room, where she was ironing and folding the clean linens, then setting them in piles on the long table to be put away. At least the work gave her some outlet for her stress and some distraction.

  Finally she heard the front door of the inn open.

  “Claire? I’m back,” she heard him call out.

  She walked to the foyer to meet him, practically shaking with anger and worry.

  Jamie gave her a quick, nervous grin. She could tell he knew that he had done wrong, that he had deliberately taken advantage of the situation. But he was going to see what she would say first before he explained himself.

  Did he think she would just let this go without saying anything? That she was afraid to confront him? Well, she wasn’t.

  “Where have you been? You left here more than four hours ago. You should have been back by three thirty, or maybe four o’clock. It’s past six now.”

  He nodded. “I know. I lost track of time. I got a little lost finding the stores on the list, and I needed a few more things than I thought—”

  “What happened to your phone? I called several times and it went straight to the messages. Did you turn it off?”

  “My phone? Gee, I didn’t see any messages.” He took his phone out and stared at it. “Maybe it needs a charge. It’s one of those cheap phones, pay as you go? Doesn’t work so good,” he added.

  Claire didn’t believe that. “Are you sure you just went to Cape Light, Jamie? Or did you drive into Boston to see your friends?”

  “Of course not. I went to the stores, like you told me. I stopped to have some ice cream . . . Hey, what’s the big deal? Did you think I stole your car or something?” he flared back at her, losing his contrite manner.

  Claire felt shocked and hurt by his angry tone. Was he trying to scare her with this outburst? She would not be shouted down or cowed. He hadn’t even said he was sorry or given any logical explanation for his disappearance.

  “You have no right to use that tone. So far, I’ve heard a lot of excuses and no real explanation for why you disappeared all day on a simple errand into town. What is the real story, Jamie? I’ll find out sooner or later.”

  He took a breath and stared at her. When he finally replied, he seemed to have his temper under control. “There aren’t any guests around, so I thought I could chill awhile. All I did was drive around a little and get a look at the town . . . I should have called you. I’m sorry.”

  His tone was forced and annoyed, but at least he had apologized. Halfheartedly, but it was something.

  “If you’re sent to town on an errand, you need to come right back. You need to make sure your phone is charged and stay in touch.” Her tone was controlled but stern. “Liza and I will work out a schedule, so you’ll know when you have time off. I suppose that might have been unclear,” she added, giving him a slim out.

  He nodded, his expression blank, an unreadable mask. She had seen that face before—when he was a boy and wanted to detach, to go off by himself into a dark, angry world.

  “Okay. I didn’t know. I guess it’s better to know the rules straight off,” he added somewhat reluctantly.

  “I can see we need to be clearer with you.” She was still angry with him but didn’t see the point of belaboring this. They both had to cool down before they could talk about it in a reasonable manner. “If you want to wash up, I’ve made dinner.”

  “No thanks. I’m not hungry. I’ll just empty the Jeep and go up to my room. Unless you have more work for me to do?”

  “No, that’s all right. There’s nothing more to do today.”

  Claire was annoyed that he had gone off with her Jeep all afternoon and hadn’t called, leaving her to imagine the worst.

  Then he tried to convince her it was all a miscommunication, that he didn’t know he was expected to come back right away. Clearly, he was testing her, trying to see how much he could get away with here. And with her. Claire couldn’t help feeling a deep disappointment. She thought Jamie knew better than that. She had trusted him, and he had let her down.

  She remembered now how she questioned so many of his stories when he was younger. When he would “find” fistfuls of money or take the “wrong” jacket home “by mistake.” They were forgivable transgressions for a little boy fighting for his survival, but not for a young man. Claire thought he had outgrown those testing behaviors. But maybe not.

  She remembered when he was young, how he would disappear for days at a time. A week, sometimes two. She would be frantic with worry, but even a call to his grandmother’s house would yield little information or honesty. “Jamie is down with a bug,” his grandmother might say, or, “He has a case of the sniffles.” But Claire sensed his grandmother didn’t know where he was either.

  When he returned to the center, there would often be bruises or a black eye. Jamie always had a ready explanation. “Some kid tripped me.” “I fell down the stairs at school.” Or, “I got into a fight. No big deal,” he would assure her if she questioned him.

  Claire knew those stories weren’t true either. He had run because he was scared or angry or both. But her attempts to press the issue, to get him help, were fended off by his grandmother. And even by Jamie. She had walked a fine line back then and realized she was walking it again, right now.

  She felt caught. She didn’t want to come down too hard and alienate him or see him quit. He would disappear into thin air again, and her chance to help him would slip through her fingers.

  It seemed that fond memories had brought him here, but that was not nearly enough to move forward. Their old relationship was a leaky boat that would not get them very far across these rough waters. They would have to build somethi
ng new, based on mutual respect. No matter how much good she wished to do for him, she couldn’t let him take advantage of her or Liza.

  Claire had never known the joys of motherhood. She had wanted a child so very much at one point in her life, but that blessing was not to be. This situation with Jamie today is just a taste of that awesome responsibility, she realized. He had come to her, looking for maternal care and nurturing, she was sure, even if he didn’t realize that consciously. But a good mother teaches limits and self-control. Which is not always easy, not easy at all.

  She heard Jamie go up to his room after he unloaded the Jeep. He did not appear again until much later that night. She was on the porch knitting when she heard him come down the stairs and then rattle around the kitchen.

  She was tempted to go inside and fix him something then decided to let him fend for himself. He’s survived a long time without me taking care of him, she reminded herself.

  After a few minutes, he opened the screen door and stuck his head out. She stopped knitting and looked up at him.

  “I wanted to say good night,” he said simply. “I’m sorry about what happened . . . about staying out too long.”

  “Thank you for the apology. I appreciate it,” she said sincerely. “We’ll talk about this more some other time, okay?”

  He nodded then went inside.

  Well, that was something, she thought. She sat with her knitting in her lap and tipped her head back to look up at the stars.

  It was a moonless night, and the sky looked like a blue-black scrap of silk, unfurled across the universe, covered with clouds of sparkling white. Millions upon millions of stars. Were there enough numbers in the language to count them all?

  She felt so small and insignificant but at the same time part of something so great and magnificent.

  If God could make all those stars and distant planets, and this perfect, blue jewel of a world, surely he can help me. Surely he can show me the right way to help Jamie.

  This is going to be hard, God. Much harder than I thought.

  She bowed her head a moment and prayed, sending her intentions off into the heavens, hoping with all her heart they would be heard.

  Chapter Six

  LIZA returned late on Monday night. Claire had already gone up to bed and had no chance to tell her about Jamie’s disappearance with the Jeep. On Tuesday there was more catching up and cleaning up from the weekend, and the two women didn’t have a minute alone together.

  The longer Claire waited to tell Liza what had happened, the harder it got. She hadn’t really lied to Liza, but she had withheld the whole story, which was actually the same thing in her book—and in the Lord’s book as well, she had no doubt.

  She noticed the way Jamie glanced at her from time to time. She knew he was wondering if she had told on him. Or wondering if she was going to bring the topic up again. Though she had told him they would talk about it more, she hadn’t been able to initiate that conversation either.

  She didn’t like the feeling of keeping a secret, especially where Liza was concerned. She didn’t like it at all.

  I’m too protective of him, that’s the problem. I don’t want Liza to think she’s made the wrong decision hiring him.

  You can’t control what other people think, Claire. Or what they do, she reminded herself. And you can’t cover up for Jamie and be anything less than truthful with Liza. That will not do, she scolded herself.

  Claire promised herself she would talk to Liza that night. But Liza went out right after dinner with Daniel. It wasn’t until Wednesday night that they finally had a quiet moment.

  Liza came to sit out on the porch with her. She carried a book she had been reading but didn’t open it. “I think Jamie is doing well so far, don’t you?”

  Jamie was in the sitting room, watching a police drama that was very noisy, the sounds of sirens and screeching cars carried through the open windows. The volume was up, and Claire felt certain he couldn’t hear them talk.

  “He puts a good effort into his work and seems to be getting into a routine with his daily chores.” Claire paused and put down her knitting. “But something did come up on Monday while you were in the city. I had to be very stern with him . . . I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it. I just couldn’t find a time these last few days when Jamie wasn’t around.”

  “What is it, Claire? What happened?”

  “He suggested that I let him take the Jeep to town on his own, to do a few errands. I think he had . . . oh, three stops to make. The hardware store, the drugstore, and the market. I thought it would be all right. Doing errands in town or picking up guests at the station should be part of his job. I think we talked about that.”

  “Yes, we did . . . Go on.”

  “He left at two and I expected him back in an hour and a half, maybe two. But when he didn’t return by half past four, I started to worry,” she confessed. “I called his cell phone a few times. It went straight to voicemail. I couldn’t imagine what had happened to him—”

  “You started to worry. I understand.” So far Liza didn’t seem upset or disturbed by the story. She was such a reasonable person; Claire was thankful for that. “What time did he finally get back?”

  “After you called. Around six o’clock. I asked where he had been, why he’d taken so long. He didn’t have much of an explanation. He said he thought with the inn empty, it was all right to take some time off and look around the town, have an ice cream . . . Oh, it was a lot of trumped-up excuses.”

  “I see.” Liza pressed her hands on the book that she held in her lap. “Did you two have words?”

  “I suppose you could say that . . .” Claire paused. She wanted to tell Liza the whole story, including the fact that Jamie shouted at her. But the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. “He got mad at me for asking so many questions. He thought it was all ‘no big deal.’ He lost his temper. And I did, too,” she added quickly.

  Liza looked surprised. “My, my . . . I would have liked to have seen that. I’ve never even seen your feathers ruffled, Claire.”

  “I was quite ruffled. But I did my best to speak in a reasonable tone with him.”

  “I’m sure you did. What did you say?”

  “That when we send him out on an errand, we expect him to come right back, not go gallivanting around . . . Well, I didn’t say it quite like that.” She paused and took a breath. “I told him that he would, of course, get some time off and you would talk to him about his schedule.”

  Liza nodded. “I think you handled it very well. I will talk to him. I told him he would have one day off a week, but I never told him when that would be. Maybe he just . . . misunderstood me.”

  Liza was letting Jamie off easily, Claire thought. But then again, she hadn’t been the one waiting and waiting for him. Or the one at whom he’d shouted.

  She had tried to tell the story as objectively and completely as she could, but maybe she had downplayed it? Or maybe it was not that egregious a situation and she had overreacted.

  “I’ll talk to him tomorrow about this. He’s bound to need some feedback from us. Nobody’s perfect.” Liza leaned back and opened her book.

  Claire took up her knitting once more, trying to remember what stitch she’d been up to in the pattern. “Thank you for being so reasonable about this, Liza.”

  Liza just smiled and shook her head. She had started reading and seemed to think enough had been said.

  Claire felt relieved. She had been carrying this for two days and now felt a load had been lifted. To think how she had dreaded telling Liza the story. Wasn’t that usually the way? Anticipation of the things we fear most is so often far worse than simply facing them. It was lesson one learned again and again.

  When the right moment arrived, she would have another conversation with Jamie. It would be uncomfortabl
e. But if you really want to help him, she reminded herself, it doesn’t help at all to sweep this sort of thing under the rug.

  * * *

  AVERY felt lucky to get a new advertisement into the local newspapers by Wednesday. It appeared again on Friday, in time for the weekend. She had worked with a graphic designer at What’s Happening in Cape Light? and thought the new ad looked bold and eye-catching.

  Once the new ad appeared, Avery watched anxiously. A few customers wandered into the café each weeknight. Avery felt disappointed, but it was still early in the summer and during the week. People weren’t on vacation yet, she reminded herself.

  Her reasoning seemed logical, though it didn’t explain why the Tuna was crowded every single night. She and her staff watched the crowds come and go. Her crew never complained and carried on bravely, giving their best service to their few customers. But Avery knew it had to be frustrating for them, and demoralizing.

  The real test is the weekend, she reminded herself. Maybe we’ll give the Tuna a run for its money.

  On Friday and Saturday nights Avery saw some improvement. The café was at least half full from eight o’clock to ten, and she prepared many more entrees than she had during the grand opening nights. But if this was as good as it would get, it still wasn’t enough to keep the doors open all summer. She didn’t need to spend hours with her calculator to figure that out.

  On Saturday night, as the staff cleaned up, Serena approached Avery. “I’m sorry, Avery. I think this place is really cute and your food is awesome, but I need to earn a certain amount of money this summer. I really want to buy a car and . . . Well, I found another job. I need better tips. I’m sorry,” she apologized.

  Avery felt sorry, too. Sorry and embarrassed.

  “That’s all right, Serena. I understand. I know it’s been slow here. Good luck with your new job. Come back and see us sometime, okay?”

  If we’re still open, she silently added.