“Should we try to find him?” Liza asked. “Maybe he’s still at the station, waiting for a train. I can run into town and look for him.”
“I think he’s long gone by now. Off to the city. Or wherever. He never mentioned exactly where that apartment was that he shared with friends. Just somewhere in South Boston. He had some savings. He may not have even gone back to Boston.” Claire felt herself about to cry again. She could hardly believe he was gone. It was such a shock. “I don’t think he wants us to look for him,” she said honestly. “I don’t think he wants to see us again.”
Liza sighed and sat down in the chair across from her. She reached out and took Claire’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Claire . . . I don’t know what to say. You can’t blame yourself. You tried so hard to help him. You did everything you possibly could. Maybe he’s just upset, and he’ll come back once he’s had time to think things through.”
Claire knew Liza was trying to help, to hold out some slim hope. But Claire doubted Jamie would return. The note sounded so final.
She tried to calm herself and get her feelings under control. She had tried to help Jamie, as best as she knew how. She made a plan to help him, step by step. But God had another one.
* * *
CLAIRE felt numb as she moved through the rest of the day—and the rest of the week. It was an effort to get out of bed every morning, no matter how much she asked God for strength and help in understanding what had happened. Her heart was in pain, almost as if she were in mourning. Jamie’s departure was a great loss.
She did her work automatically, speaking as little as possible to the guests. Sometimes, she didn’t even hear them when they talked to her. She kept expecting to see Jamie out in the garden or running up and down the stairs. Every time she heard the front door open and slam, she would automatically think, It’s just Jamie coming back in from collecting the mail or driving some guests to the station.
Then she had to catch herself. It wasn’t Jamie. It would never be again.
It took about two days before she noticed. But one morning in the kitchen, her gaze fell upon the bowl of sea glass on the windowsill. She looked for the amber piece Jamie had found at the cliffs but it wasn’t there. She always left it on top of the other pieces, where it could catch the light. She walked over to the bowl and sifted through with her fingers first, then gently dumped the contents on the table and searched more carefully, almost frantically.
But it was gone. No question. Had he taken it with him? Or had it caught the eye of some unthinking guest, who thought no one would miss a little chip of glass from this big bowl?
That was possible, too, Claire realized. Maybe Jamie didn’t take it with him. She felt sad to realize it was gone. It was the only gift he had ever given her. On the other hand, she hoped that he had taken it with him, that the bit of glass did hold some meaning for him—a piece of this place he could look at and reflect on. And remember the safe place he had found for a while, the love and care she tried to give him. Maybe the bit of glass would give him strength when he felt down and needed some encouragement.
On Thursday night, Claire’s good friend Vera Plante encouraged her to come to church. There was a meeting of the social justice committee. They hadn’t met all summer, but the group wanted to get a jump on the fall. Ever since Claire had returned to Cape Light after working at the Crosby Street Center, she’d been an active member of this group. If she couldn’t devote her life to helping those less fortunate, she got some satisfaction giving time as a volunteer or raising money for worthy causes.
The meeting was in the Fellowship Hall. Claire came in late and sat at the back of the room. Emily Warwick, who was also the town’s mayor, was the moderator this year. She was doing a very good job, Claire thought. She was the very epitome of the old saying, “If you need something done, ask a busy person.” Claire didn’t know how Emily managed it all, but somehow she did.
When the meeting was over, coffee and cake were served.
Vera took Claire aside. Vera had come to know Jamie well while tutoring him, and Claire had called her right away to tell her the sad news.
“How are you holding up? Doing any better?” Vera asked kindly.
Claire tried to smile. “I’m coming along, day by day. It’s going to take some time.”
Vera nodded. “Maybe you’ll hear from him once he gets settled somewhere. Maybe he’ll keep studying for the GED. You never know.”
Claire nodded, though she didn’t think either of those things would happen. Vera was just trying to be nice and make her feel better.
Claire left the gathering early. She felt tired and wondered now why she had bothered to come. She had been so distracted, she’d hardly heard a word that anyone said. She walked out of the church but instead of going straight to her car, she sat on a bench in the park and gazed out at the water.
Was this the same place she had been sitting when she took Jamie to church on Father’s Day? She looked around. Maybe, she thought. She couldn’t remember. The thought made her sad. He wouldn’t come loping through the park tonight, looking for her, the way he had that sunny day in June. She doubted she would ever see him again . . . and that made her so sad, she began to cry and couldn’t stop herself.
“Claire . . . what’s the matter? Are you crying?”
Claire looked up and saw Reverend Ben, standing beside her.
She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes with her hand. “Reverend . . . you surprised me. I didn’t even hear you coming.”
“I was walking to my car and saw you here.” He sat down on the bench and leaned toward her. “What’s the matter? What’s troubling you? Is it a problem with that young man who’s living at the inn?”
Claire nodded. “A big problem. He’s gone. He left on Monday morning. He didn’t even say good-bye. He did leave a note though.”
Reverend Ben was surprised. “Why did he go? Did he say?”
“No, but I think I know. There was a problem at the inn on Sunday. A guest accused Jamie of stealing an expensive watch. We couldn’t find it anywhere. The guest even called the police and filed a report at the station. Liza and I didn’t think Jamie took it. We both believed him. That night, though, when Jamie was bundling the newspapers for the recycle truck, he found the watch. He said it slipped out from between a stack of papers and just fell at his feet.”
Reverend Ben listened with a serious expression. “Did you believe him?”
“I did,” Claire insisted. “Though thoughts do cross your mind. It’s only human to . . . to wonder. And Jamie has made some missteps in his past. When he was a boy, he had little run-ins with the law—shoplifting small things, painting graffiti. I thought he had gotten past all that, especially these last few weeks. He was working so hard at the inn and studying for his GED. I thought he had really turned a corner.”
“It sounds as if he did. But I still don’t understand why he left,” said the reverend. “The watch was found, the police and owner informed, I assume?”
“Liza took care of all that. But she did say, just before she called Tucker Tully, that she didn’t want to speak to the guest directly because he would probably say Jamie found the watch awfully conveniently. Or something like that. Well . . . Jamie misunderstood what she meant and thought she was doubting him. I knew he was very hurt, but in the moment all I could think of was how happy I was that the watch was found, and Jamie would be all right. I was planning to talk to him the next day, and so was Liza . . . but by the time I got up, he was gone. I never had the chance.”
The reverend nodded. “I see. He was hurt. He felt . . . ashamed. Humiliated. Angry. Being unfairly accused is an awful experience. And it sounds as if this young man is rather fragile emotionally, doesn’t have much confidence or sense of self to draw on.”
“Yes, that’s it. That’s the trouble. He was just starting to feel better about himself and more hopeful
about his future. Reverend Ben, it seems so unfair. Things were going so well. Why did God let this happen? I thought God wanted me to help Jamie. Why else would he have brought us back together again, after all this time?”
“You know,” Reverend Ben said, “when people are trying to change their lives for the better, the road to becoming whole isn’t always a straight one. People tend to fall off the path now and then, or take wrong turns. Especially if they’ve been damaged, they can’t always make all the right choices.”
“I do know that,” Claire said heavily. “I suppose I just want a straight, easy road for Jamie.”
“Of course you do. But, Claire, you have to remember that it’s Jamie who’s got to find that road and the way to stay on it. All you can do is love him and remember that we are asked to trust God. No matter what. Even when we don’t understand why something like this has happened. Especially then,” he added.
“‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart. And lean not on your own understanding.’” Claire recited the scripture she knew by heart. “Proverbs, 3:5.”
“That’s right. God’s ways are often mysterious to us, even unfathomable. But try to trust that it’s all for a purpose,” he advised her. “I still believe that God brought you together with Jamie for a reason, Claire. You did help him. If he’s truly grown and learned some lessons here, then perhaps he’ll move forward in the right direction, using the tools you’ve given him so far. Maybe someday, you’ll even see him again.”
Claire nodded. “I dearly hope so. In the meantime, I can still pray for him. I pray for him all the time.”
Reverend Ben nodded and softly smiled. “He needs your prayers now, more than ever. I’ll pray for him, too,” he promised.
“Thank you, Reverend,” Claire said. “That is a comfort to me.”
Reverend Ben soon walked her to her car and they said good night. On the way home she considered his words. She did think Jamie had grown and developed some real character. She hoped it would serve him in the world, wherever he wandered, and she clung to the slim hope she would see him again.
She considered herself a person of strong faith, who drew her strength from the lessons of the scripture. But at a moment like this she realized that you just didn’t learn it one time, and that was the end. One had to learn these lessons again and again. To be battered and worn down by these spiritual trials, the way the wind and sea carved the angel wing cliffs. The way the waves and sand smoothed bits of sea glass.
Dear God, I don’t understand why this has happened, but I must trust you, she prayed. Please let your grace work in my heart and help me learn how to accept even what I can’t understand. I’m trying very hard. And please protect Jamie as he tries to find his way.
* * *
AVERY kept a lookout for Mike, who usually passed the café at the same time each day on his way to the Tuna. She wanted to catch up with him and find some way to clear up any misconceptions he had about her relationship with Paul. But that plan was not easily accomplished. The few times she had spotted him, she was either in the middle of a rush of customers, or he marched past her café at an aerobics-level pace; all he needed was a water bottle and hand weights to blend in with the fitness buffs on the beach. He looked so unapproachable, she practically felt a chill as he swept by. Talk about giving a cold shoulder. Now she knew the true meaning of that expression. She had called him twice on the phone, but each time he politely—but coolly—told her he couldn’t talk. He never called back.
One sunny afternoon in late August, Mike’s mother, Victoria Rossi, made good on her promise to visit the café. She arrived at lunchtime with Emily, whom Avery was especially delighted to see.
Victoria was on foot, of course, with Emily scooting alongside.
Avery met them at the entrance with a cheerful welcome. “Would you like to sit inside or out?”
“Outside’s better. We can park the scooter next to the table . . . if you don’t mind,” Victoria replied.
“No problem at all.” Avery brought them over to the table with the best view.
Emily hopped off her ride and stowed it to one side. “This is perfect, thank you,” she replied in a very mature fashion.
Victoria helped Emily open her napkin and spread it on her lap. “Isn’t this a lovely place? I love the decor and those photographs of the island. The Tuna has its charms, but it’s high time a café with a little more style moved into the neighborhood.”
Victoria glanced at her menu with interest. “I bet you gave up on me ever showing up. Sorry it’s taken so long to come here.”
“I’m just glad you finally did. I’m sure you’re very busy with Emily and Noah. When does school start? It must be soon.”
Emily made an awful face. “Ugh! Did you have to remind me?”
Avery laughed. “Sorry. You have a little time left, don’t you?”
“Ten measly days. We go back the day after Labor Day.” Emily’s expression was sullen, her chin on her chest. She still wore her pink helmet, and it dipped down over her eyes.
“I’ve started a countdown,” Victoria confessed. She leaned over and helped Emily take the helmet off. “We just did some school shopping. New sneakers and jeans and plenty of pink T-shirts. Now we’re out for one last fling.”
“Oh, I see. This is a special lunch.” Avery finally caught Emily’s eye and got her to smile again. “I’ll see what I can cook up for you. Maybe a special back-to-school dessert is in order.”
The prospect instantly perked up Emily’s spirits. She suddenly sat up again, looking quite cheerful.
Avery wasn’t able to leave the kitchen again until it was time to serve her special customers their dessert. She hadn’t been sure what she would pull together, but she took a wild guess that Emily liked chocolate and obviously loved the color pink. She set up the basic Chocolate Barge—a perennial favorite—and added some strawberry ice cream, sliced berries, and a pink berry-based sauce. Then she surrounded the dessert with pink rose petals, picked off one of the table decorations. Finally, she topped the extravaganza with mounds of whipped cream and sparklers. A little pink Post-it on a toothpick read, “Have a Great Year at School!”
Did it qualify for the cover of Bon Appétit? More like the cover of a Dr. Seuss book, Avery thought. The mile-high confection looked like something the Cat in the Hat would cook up for a snack.
She carried the masterpiece to the table personally and was totally rewarded for her efforts by Emily’s surprise and delight. The little girl knelt on her chair, clapping her hands as Avery set the dessert down between her and her grandmother.
“Nana, look at the rose petals. It’s so pretty!”
“It is that . . . and more.” Victoria looked up at Avery with new regard, a fondness in her expression. “Thank you, Avery. You didn’t have to make such a fuss, but it’s very nice of you.”
Avery shrugged. “No big deal. I like to go a little wild from time to time. Cooking outside the lines,” she joked.
“You went totally native with that one,” a familiar voice agreed.
Avery turned to see Mike standing nearby. How long had he been watching them? She wasn’t sure. He was trying hard not to smile, but his cheek muscles were losing the battle.
He finally gave in when Emily called out to him, “Want a bite, Daddy? It’s awesome.”
Victoria turned to her son. “Come around, don’t be shy. There’s plenty for the whole family.”
Mike reluctantly slipped under the thin rope barrier that marked the café’s outdoor seating and came up to the table. “Did you tell Avery it was your birthday or something?” he asked his daughter. “You know it isn’t until October.”
“It’s a back-to-school treat. To cheer her up,” Avery explained.
“You should make this at the Tuna, Daddy. It’s divine.”
“Divine, huh? Wher
e did you learn that word?” He reluctantly took a spoonful, tasting with professional flair. Avery could tell he liked it and hoped the confection would sweeten his gruff mood a bit. “Good job. Nice reduction with the sauce . . . This should hold her until middle school. Are those real rose petals on the plate?”
Avery nodded. “Totally edible.”
“I know. I was just asking. They look . . . pretty.” He glanced at her, finally meeting her eyes.
His expression changed for just a moment, as if he had been hungry for the sight of her and was now taking in his fill. Then just as quickly, a bland, detached look returned.
“Hard to believe the summer is over,” she said, trying to make some harmless conversation so he wouldn’t race walk away from them.
“I’m glad it’s over. It felt long this year, longer than usual.”
For Avery, the summer had flown by, and each and every day had been about the Peregrine. She had not really made time for anything—or anyone—else. How she wished now she could turn the calendar back to July. She would definitely make time for Mike.
Instead she said, “Emily says she isn’t looking forward to school starting. Are you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s a juggling act the first few weeks. The Tuna is open on weekends until Columbus Day.”
“Yes, I remember. You told me that once,” she replied. She knew she had to find some moment to clear the air about Paul. He might keep avoiding her until Labor Day, but at least she had a little time after that when the beachfront would slow down and they could talk. She hoped so anyway.
“What are you going to do after the summer? Does the Peregrine turn into a snowbird?”
Avery knew what he meant. Quite a few cooks in the Northeast went down to warmer climates in the winter—Florida and the Caribbean—or they took jobs on cruise lines that roamed sun-filled tourist spots.
“That’s not my style. I’m not really sure what I’ll do.”
She had been wondering what to do once the cold weather set in. The café had to be closed, mid-October at the latest. The area would be deserted by then. But a winter job in Boston felt like a step backward. She had considered spending the winter in Connecticut, near her family. Or in New York City or even in the south of France, where she had studied cooking.
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