The Way Home

by Katherine Spencer

  Ben was an avid fisherman and one of his favorite pastimes was surfcasting. Claire had often seen him on the beach near the inn in the early morning or late afternoon, out in every season.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing my grandchildren,” he added. He took out a hanky and cleaned his glasses. It was warming up outside, even though they sat in the shade of the tall, old trees. “How’s everything at the inn? Are you busy up there yet?”

  “We have been. A full house, two weekends in a row. Liza is very pleased. We even hired a helper. His name is Jamie Carter. He came to church with me this morning. Maybe you noticed him?”

  Ben nodded. “I did. I noticed he left early. Was he feeling all right?”

  “He needed some fresh air. He felt a little queasy. But I suspect it was something more. I think he was upset by the sermon,” she admitted. She wondered if she should tell Reverend Ben the whole story. She didn’t want to keep him if he was trying to get home to his family.

  “My sermon? What did I say?” Reverend Ben seemed concerned.

  “It wasn’t anything you said exactly . . . just the topic, I think. Fathers,” she added quietly. “Jamie has had a very troubled past, a bad family life. I met him when he was nine years old. I haven’t seen him in over ten years. But somehow, he found me and came out to the island two weeks ago. Just appeared one morning when I was weeding the vegetable patch.”

  “Really? What a surprise for you . . . How did you know you each other? Where did you meet?”

  “Oh, it’s a long story. I’m not sure you have the time right now to hear it.”

  “I’m not in any rush.” As if to prove his words, he sat on the bench beside her and slipped off his suit jacket.

  “I’m not sure if you remember, but about ten years ago, you had a guest preacher here from Boston, and I was very moved by his sermon about the work he did in the Crosby Street Center.”

  “I do remember,” Ben assured her. “You moved to Boston to work there. Is that where you met Jamie?”

  “Yes, he came there almost every day, after school. Or wherever he’d been instead of going to school,” she added. “There were a lot of volunteers there and a lot of children who needed attention. But Jamie and I had a special bond. Of course, he was looking for a mother figure. He never really knew his mother. She left the family when he was only two years old. His father was a troubled man who left him with his grandmother. Jamie barely knew him, either, though Mr. Carter would come and go from the family home, visiting every few months.”

  “How sad. It’s hard to see how some children are neglected and emotionally abused.”

  “It was more than emotional abuse. Jamie’s father was an alcoholic who physically abused him. I tried to help him, to intervene, but even though he was taken out of the house, he was eventually sent back.” Claire sighed. “It was very . . . complicated.”

  “These situations always are.”

  “Despite everything, Jamie loved his father. At that time, anyway. He talked about his father a lot and got very excited about his visits. He even begged his father to take him along whenever he left. I could see that he yearned for his father’s love. Jamie would tell me how he was leaving soon, to live with his dad. He always sounded very sure of that. But when the day came, his father always left without him, sometimes slipping out of the house without even saying good-bye. To avoid a painful scene, I suppose. Though no matter how he did it, those partings always left Jamie brokenhearted and deeply upset. I could see his face across a room, and I would know instantly that it had happened again. It would take him weeks to come back to himself. He’s never really gotten over any of it, if you ask me. Now, I would guess that even the word ‘father’ brings up such a toxic mixture of disappointment and pain, it’s no wonder he felt sick this morning.”

  Reverend Ben nodded thoughtfully. Claire could see the sympathy in his blues eyes.

  “What a sad story. So you tried to help him back then, and you’re trying to help him now with the job at the inn. Is that it?”

  “I’m trying,” Claire said. “I was so happy when he found me, Reverend. You can’t imagine. Back then, I considered adopting Jamie, or being his foster parent. But when my father got sick I had to come back home, and I lost touch with the boy. So when he appeared at the inn like that, it seemed as if God had finally answered my prayers and reunited us. But it isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”

  “Of course it isn’t. Life is seldom that simple or easy,” he said knowingly. “Your reunion with him after all this time, that is remarkable.”

  “Isn’t it? There was an article about the inn in the Boston Globe a few weeks ago, and he said he saw me in the photo. It made me think he had come back into my life for a reason. That God was giving me a second chance to help him.”

  She glanced at Reverend Ben to see if he agreed. “Quite possibly,” he said, “though God works in mysterious ways. His will is rarely as simple or straightforward as we would like it to be.”

  Claire knew that was true. “I’ve asked God for guidance, to help Jamie. Aside from giving him a job, I’m not sure I’ve made any difference in his life so far. It isn’t nearly as easy to talk to Jamie these days as it was years ago. I think he’s happy to have the job and earn some money. But he hides so much of himself these days. He thinks I don’t even realize it, but I do. It’s hard to connect, to build trust again.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Claire. I know you’re a patient person, one of the most patient I’ve ever met. And it doesn’t sound as if Jamie has been at the inn very long,”

  “I am patient, Reverend. And he hasn’t even been at the inn two weeks,” she added. “But every night I wonder if I’ll wake up and find he’s gone without a word of warning. Just the way he arrived. I feel as if I’m working against the clock. And I’m not allowed to show it and possibly scare him off.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, suddenly realizing Jamie might be near and listening. She scanned the faces of people walking or sitting nearby but still didn’t see him.

  Reverend Ben nodded. “I understand. It sounds as if he’s had a difficult time and it’s hard for him to trust anyone—even a nurturing presence from his childhood, like you. I’m sure he doesn’t realize it, but all these years you’ve been in his mind as an idealized figure, a safe haven. He probably expected you to just take care of him, like you did when he was a child. He doesn’t expect—or want—you to ask anything of him. To expect him to change or improve himself.”

  Claire hadn’t seen the situation quite that way, though she did realize that Jamie looked to her for comfort and care and even a kind of unconditional love.

  “All you can do is be there for him,” Reverend Ben continued, “and show him you are still the same consistent, loving presence you were ten years ago. There’s a reason he came all the way here to see you, Claire. Don’t forget that—or discount it.”

  Claire knew this deep inside, but it helped to hear Reverend Ben say it aloud.

  “He did come a long way to find me. He didn’t need the newspaper article. He could have come years ago. He always knew where I lived. But for some reason, the spirit moved him to find me at this point in his life. And I still care about him deeply,” she added. “He wasn’t wrong about that.”

  “You’ve already helped him by being that person, Claire. Don’t doubt it.”

  “Thank you for saying that. It helps me feel a little less frustrated and confused. It’s just that I want to do so much more for him . . .” Claire’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of Jamie walking by the benches that faced the water and heading toward the church. “There he is now.” She stood up and waved. Jamie waved back. “I’d like to introduce you if you have a minute.”

  “Certainly, I’d like to say hello.”

  Jamie walked up to the bench and then stood with his
hands stuck in the front pockets of his jeans. “Hey, Claire. Waiting long?”

  “Not that long. I haven’t seen Reverend Ben in a few weeks. We had a good chat.”

  “Hello, Jamie. Good to meet you.” Reverend Ben rose and shook hands with him.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jamie said, sounding a little shy. He was probably wondering if they’d been talking about him, Claire realized.

  “I was telling Jamie how the church was rebuilt after the fire, but I couldn’t remember the exact year.”

  “Eighteen-oh-four,” Reverend Ben said, glancing at the church now. “I have to confess, it could be more comfortable and convenient, with all-new plumbing and whatnot. But we like it. We try to take good care of it.” He turned to Jamie with a smile. “Claire tells me that you’re working at the inn. How do you like it?”

  “It’s fine for a summer job. There’s always something different to do and new people around.”

  He’s not doing cartwheels but at least he’s honest, Claire thought.

  A few moments later, Reverend Ben said good-bye. Claire and Jamie got into the Jeep, and Claire let Jamie drive again. He seemed to enjoy it so much.

  “Back to the inn?” he asked as he fastened his seatbelt.

  “I guess so.” Claire glanced at her watch. They didn’t serve lunch on Sundays, just a big early dinner. “Are you hungry? Do you want to stop for a bite in town?”

  “I’m okay. I picked up something in town when I was walking around.” He turned to her. “I didn’t mean to leave you waiting there. I wasn’t sure what time church got out.”

  “No problem. It was good to talk to Reverend Ben.” Claire had been watching out her window and turned to him. “I hope you’re feeling better. Did the sermon upset you?”

  “It was just stuffy in there. I couldn’t get any air. I’m not used to sitting still that long.”

  Claire nodded but didn’t reply. She glanced out the side window again. They were crossing the land bridge that connected Cape Light to the island. It was a clear day and the water was relatively calm, small waves lapping against the rocks that were piled up against each side of the two-lane roadway.

  “I have a good idea. We should take a ride out to see the cliffs. You’ve been here almost two weeks and you still haven’t seen them. That’s unforgivable.”

  He looked surprised. “Don’t you have to get back and cook something?”

  “We have some time. Just go left when you come off the bridge, the same way you would go to get to the inn. But go straight through the village center and then turn left again at the crossroads.”

  Jamie was a good driver, she thought. He didn’t drive too fast, at least not with her in the passenger’s seat. He slowed down even more as they drove through the island’s small village, where the General Store, the medical clinic, and Daisy Winkler’s tearoom and library circled a cobblestone square.

  A group of cyclists were gathered on the porch of the store, and a few more stood nearby at a scenic overlook. They took turns taking pictures of each other with the ocean in the background.

  It looked as if Daisy’s shop was open, too. The small, enchanted-looking cottage was set on a postage-stamp bit of property and circled by a rickety picket fence.

  “What a weird little place,” Jamie said as they passed the cottage. “It looks like Snow White and the Seven Dwarves live there.”

  Claire laughed. “I don’t think there would be room for all seven in there, but I know what you mean.”

  They finally left the square and were on the smooth blacktop road again. Jamie picked up speed. “Is it much farther?”

  “A ways,” she answered. “It’s worth it once you get there.”

  They followed the road past more cottages and gracious old houses, some in good condition and some sadly run down. Then past empty areas filled with woods and meadows or stretches of tall marsh grass. They passed places where the view of the coastline would suddenly open up then disappear just as quickly.

  Claire had lived on the island all her life, except for those two years in Boston. She never tired of the island or failed to be amazed at the variety of landscape compressed into such a small parcel of earth. She never failed to be awed by the island’s beauty. She felt blessed to live in this place, still so natural and untamed.

  She glanced over at Jamie and wondered if he was affected at all by the stunning views. He stared straight ahead, concentrating on the road, but seemed more relaxed than she had seen him all day.

  They rounded a bend and the cliffs suddenly came into view straight ahead of them—jagged, golden, at least ten stories high.

  “Wow,” Jamie said quietly.

  Claire felt pleased to see him so impressed. “You can park anywhere on this road. We can walk the rest of the way.”

  They got out of the car and began walking toward the cliffs. She was so happy to be in this place with Jamie, to finally show him the sight she had described so many times when he was young.

  They walked along the sandy shoulder of the road, getting closer for a better view. Jamie walked ahead, seeming mesmerized. He pulled out his phone and took pictures.

  The outline of the cliffs stood in stark contrast to a backdrop of clear blue sky. The legendary wing shape could be seen clearly from this angle, a golden crescent, with a point flaring out at the bottom, like a long feather.

  Finally, Jamie put the phone back in his pocket. “Well, what do you think?” she asked.

  “Pretty awesome. They look just like you told me. But even bigger.”

  It was just past noon and the sun shone brilliantly, making Claire squint as she smiled at him. A breeze blew off the water, chasing away the heat. Claire felt the wind catch at her hair and pull loose a few strands from the pins that held her bun.

  “What is that story about this place again? There were some sick people on the island and angels came to help them?”

  “That’s right, more or less . . . When the first settlers came to Cape Light there was a terrible illness during their second winter. They brought all the sick ones to this island, to quarantine them, and the poor people were stuck here all winter without any help. Do you remember the rest?”

  “Yeah, I think I do. The villagers left all the sick people here and expected them to die. There was so much snow and stuff, no one could get out to help them. But in the spring, the sick people came back on boats by themselves and were, like, totally cured. They told the villagers that these mysterious strangers came to the island and helped them get healthy again.”

  “That’s right.” Claire nodded. He had remembered. She glanced at the cliffs again. “Many believed that the visitors must have been angels and pointed to the cliffs as a sign that the island was a sacred place, a place of help and healing.”

  “I remembered that part, too. About the angels.” Jamie nodded. “Do you believe that?”

  She had a feeling he would ask her that. “Let’s just say I don’t disbelieve it. I’ve seen amazing things in my lifetime, things that seemed totally improbable. The fact that you found me after all these years, I’d call that a miracle.”

  Jamie slowly smiled. “I saw your name in a newspaper article. It’s not like an angel whispered in my ear or something.”

  “Really? How do you know? Maybe an angel pushed that paper in front of you.” Her tone was light and teasing, but she half meant it.

  They walked a little farther. Jamie stopped to pick up a shell and stuck it in his pocket. A few steps later, he stopped again and showed Claire what he had found.

  “Look at this . . . beach glass. I’ve never seen that color before. Have you?”

  He held the piece out on his palm for Claire to see. About an inch long or slightly less, almost a triangle but smooth along the edges, it was golden yellow in hue, almost an amber color.

 
“Yes, it is very rare,” Claire agreed. “I’ve hardly ever seen one that color. You ought to save it.” Claire collected beach glass. She kept her finds in a big glass bowl near the window in the kitchen, where it caught the light at different times of the day.

  Jamie stared at the treasure a moment. “Here, you take it.”

  Claire was surprised. He had seemed pleased at first to find it. “You should save it. To remember this place,” she added.

  He seemed to consider that a moment, then offered it to her again. “I’ll just lose it somewhere. You save it for me.”

  Claire didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to refuse this gift, honestly offered. Small as it was, she knew she would cherish it. “Thank you. I will save it. In my collection, in the kitchen.”

  He nodded. “I knew you’d have a good place for it.”

  They kept walking. Claire saw a man with two small boys standing at the edge of the water, all of them wearing swimming trunks. Their suits were wet, their hair plastered to their heads. The man was in the middle holding the boys’ hands very tightly and walking slowly into the surf. As the bigger waves rolled in, the man showed the boys how to duck and turn to the side, and let the water roll over their shoulders.

  “He’s teaching them how to get into the waves, so they won’t be knocked over,” Claire said.

  “Good thing to know. My dad never even took me to the beach.” Jamie laughed, but Claire could hear the hurt in his voice.

  “When was the last time you saw your father? Are you still in touch with him?” she asked quietly.

  “My dad died. About two years ago.” His voice was flat. He glanced at Claire and then back at the water. “He came back to my grandmother’s house right before. He was pretty sick. I hadn’t seen him for years. He’d been in jail but they let him out. My grandmother kept saying I needed to come see him. To say good-bye. I didn’t really want to but I finally did. I’m not sure he even knew I was there but . . . I saw him that one time.”