Home Song

by Thomas Kinkade

  “Charlie, I can’t believe you,” she said, shaking her head.

  Lucy turned away from him, her thoughts whirling. A few minutes ago she had felt so much sympathy for him. No matter how bad things had been between them lately, she still felt devastated by his loss. Even now, some rational, objective part of her knew that Charlie was only lashing out because he hurt so much inside. He isn’t thinking straight, she told herself. He’ll feel sorry for saying these things tomorrow.

  But the old Band-Aids that had held their relationship together through so many marital battles just wouldn’t stick tonight. She pressed her hand to her lips, as if to hold back the words that were rising up inside.

  “That’s all you have to say to me—you don’t believe me?” he goaded her. “Well, I don’t believe you, Lucy. This is not what a man expects of a wife. I need support and interest. I need a helpmate, not another kid to put through college.”

  She couldn’t hold it back any longer. “You lost that election because people didn’t vote for you, Charlie. You didn’t lose because it was rigged or because I didn’t help you enough. People didn’t vote for you,” she repeated in a low, harsh tone. “Maybe they didn’t like your opinions or the way you shout people down, but you lost fair and square, and you’re too self-centered to even see the truth.”

  “Lucy, that’s enough!” Charlie shouted, jabbing the air with his finger.

  Lucy felt scared all of a sudden and cold. She rubbed her arms, even though she was wearing a long-sleeved sweater. She had an awful feeling that they had just slid into some dark, terrible place that they might not get out of.

  Charlie stood there staring at her. His face had gone from beet red to a pale, sickly white. He picked up a candy dish. It was one of her favorite pieces of china, and she didn’t have many. He stared at it a moment, as if he’d never seen it before and wasn’t quite sure what it was. Lucy put her hands to her mouth and sucked in a breath. She knew she must have made a sound because he looked up at her, then back at the dish with a grim expression. He threw the piece of china to the floor with all his might. Lucy gave a small sob as it burst into pieces.

  Charlie took his jacket from the chair and pulled open the front door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  “Out. I’m going out,” he said, without turning to look at her. “Thanks for all your help tonight. You’ve been a big comfort to me.”

  Lucy rubbed her forehead as she watched him disappear through the front door. She felt tears pressing at the back of her eyes. Part of her wished him good riddance, but a deeper part of her believed he was right. She hadn’t been any comfort at all on the hardest night of his life.

  I’m not a very good wife, she thought wearily. She went to the kitchen closet and pulled out the broom and dustpan. Then she swept up the broken china, worried that the boys would come down tomorrow barefoot.

  It was hard to be Charlie’s wife lately, she thought. And yet it was equally hard to imagine any other life for herself. She loved raising her boys. She didn’t even mind being a waitress so much, most of the time. But she needed more. She needed school and the way it made her feel more alive, more interesting.

  Chilled, she walked into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. She was surprised to see her hands trembling as she filled the kettle, set it on the stove, and turned on the burner.

  For the first time she truly considered the possibility of leaving Charlie. The practicalities of it, not just a soothing daydream. Where would she live? She and the boys. They’d have to come with her, of course. Rents were so high. Maybe her mother would take them in.

  She would have to give up school and find a new job, but that would be the least of it. The worst part would be the children. It would devastate them, and when she came face-to-face with that ultimate truth, her unhappiness didn’t seem as unbearable.

  She thought of the appointment she’d made to see the Reverend. It was one week from tonight, she realized suddenly. Could she get Charlie to go with her? She hadn’t even told him about it yet. She had been waiting until after the election.

  But now did not seem to be a better time to ask him to start counseling. If anything, it seemed worse. Lucy shuddered as she thought of the scene they just had.

  It would be better to wait a few weeks, she decided. Maybe once Charlie had some time to get over his loss, she could talk to him about it. She would just have to call the Reverend and explain.

  Dear Lord, please help me, Lucy prayed, squeezing her eyes closed. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave Charlie. Please help our marriage be good again. Please show us the way.

  When she opened her eyes, she felt tired, too tired even for a cup of tea. She shut off the burner. It was nearly two A.M. Somebody had to get up soon to open the diner, and it didn’t look as if it was going to be Charlie, Lucy thought as she dragged herself up to bed.

  BETTY INSISTED ON THE PARTY. “I’VE BEEN PLANNING THIS FOR WEEKS. I knew you would win,” she claimed. She held out a guest list for Emily’s approval. It was written on a yellow legal pad and looked to Emily about two feet long.

  “You don’t really have to go to all this trouble,” Emily said again. “Just having you and Harriet and Frank with me last night was plenty.”

  “Oh, please, Emily. Don’t be silly. You have to celebrate what you can celebrate in this life. You won. It’s your day.”

  “You’re a good friend, Betty,” Emily told her. “I want to thank you for all your help during the election. I couldn’t have made it without you.”

  “Of course you would have. I didn’t do much,” Betty replied, brushing off her comment. “Actually, I learned a few things from you, Emily,” she admitted. “When that whole issue about the center came up, I thought you were smart to lay low and avoid getting involved. Then when you did defend it, I thought, Gee, now that’s a dumb move. Why is she doing that? You know how I hate to be on a losing team,” Betty added.

  They’d known each other since high school, and Emily did know how Betty hated to back a loser.

  “Then something you said in one of those meetings changed my mind. I realized this isn’t just a game or even a business deal. There are real principles involved. I never thought I’d admire anyone for making a totally dumb move, twice. But that’s what happened.” Betty shrugged and smiled, as if still surprised at the realization.

  Emily felt a little taken aback by her friend’s admission. “Well, thanks. The truth is, I was floundering there for a while. But it all turned out okay in the end.”

  “Yes, it did, didn’t it? I ran into Warren this morning on the street.” Betty’s smile grew wider. “I know it’s awful to say, but I loved digging it in a bit with him. I invited him to the party, though, and he’ll probably come. I think he wants to stay on your good side.”

  “Good old Warren. We’ll patch things up, I’m sure,” Emily said lightly. “If you want to stay in politics, it helps to have a short memory.”

  “Just about total amnesia, from what I can see,” Betty agreed. She slipped the list in her purse and rose to go. “Well, see you tonight,” she said with a grin. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Emily promised, though they both knew she would probably be late for her own funeral.

  “Oh, be late if you have to.” Betty said from the doorway. “You’re the guest of honor. You ought to make a real entrance.”

  Emily just laughed. She was looking forward to the party. Betty was right. It was time to celebrate. And she had a lot to be thankful for.

  EVEN THOUGH SHE HAD DONE HER BEST, EMILY DIDN’T ARRIVE AT BETTY’S until well after eight. There were so many cars on the street, she had to park nearly a block away.

  The front door was open, and the foyer and living room so filled with guests she could hardly wedge herself into the crowd. It looked as if Betty had invited the entire town—and more than half had shown up. Despite Betty’s plan of Emily making a grand entrance,
hardly anyone noticed Emily slipping through the throng.

  “Emily, when did you get here?” Betty pushed a few guests aside to greet her with a hug. “Here, have a canapé,” she said, and before Emily could answer she handed her a paper plate with what looked like a crabcake. “The very last one. I was saving it for you. In about five minutes there won’t be a scrap of food left. I never expected such a turnout,” she confessed.

  “There are a lot of people here,” Emily agreed.

  “Wait right here. I need to make a call for a delivery. I can’t have a party without any food,” Betty said, looking alarmed.

  Emily nodded and her friend disappeared. She looked at the crabcake and set the dish down on a nearby table.

  She turned to find Warren Oakes regarding her with an ironic expression. “Congratulations, Mayor,” he said.

  “Thanks, Warren,” she said simply.

  Warren shifted nervously, then scratched his head. “I didn’t think you’d do it,” he admitted.

  “So I noticed,” she replied with a slight smile.

  “Well, you showed me,” he said in a good-sport kind of voice. “I know you’ll do a very fine job, as you’ve done the last three years. No doubt in my mind about that. If you need my help at any time, I hope you’ll call on me.”

  He held out his hand for a conciliatory shake, and Emily met his gaze. She had thought she would feel bitter toward him, but she really didn’t. They just had different views of the world, and he was still a valuable ally in town. Betty had been right about the amnesia. She could feel it setting in.

  “Yes, I will,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Thanks for the offer.”

  Emily mingled, wandering through the crowd and receiving hugs, handshakes, and even kisses at every turn. Jessica had already stopped by her office to congratulate her that morning, but she was there tonight with Sam, who greeted Emily with a huge hug.

  “You did it,” Sam said. “We knew you would.”

  “Of course she did. That’s my big sister you’re talking about,” Jessica said, smiling widely at Emily.

  “She had some dirty weather there,” Digger acknowledged, nodding at her. “But she kept her balance, stayed the course. She’s worthy, all right.”

  “Thank you, Digger,” Emily said, realizing she had just been compared to a boat. “How are you feeling?” she asked, thinking again about the fire.

  “I never felt better,” Digger insisted. “I’m working again for Luke McAllister down at the construction site. Good of him to have me back, all things considered. Harry wants me at the boatyard, too,” he said, nodding at his friend, who stood nearby with Digger’s daughter, Grace. “I’ve got more work than I can handle. I’m in demand,” he boasted.

  “Good for you.” Emily felt relieved to see Digger so lively and obviously in good health.

  All of a sudden she spotted Sara entering the room. Sara smiled and waved at her. She wasn’t very far away, but there were so many people between them, Emily felt frustrated trying to make her way through the crowd.

  Finally they reached each other. Sara gave Emily a hug, then pulled back and handed her a bouquet of roses.

  “These are for you, Emily. I wanted to get you something . . . but I didn’t know what.”

  “Sara, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much,” Emily said, gazing down at the flowers. The gift meant a lot to her, more than Sara would ever realize.

  She looked up at her daughter, smiling. “I’m glad you came. It’s so crowded. Can you believe it?”

  “Everyone wants to wish you well. They’re happy for you.”

  Emily glanced around. After the last few weeks, it was hard to believe, but yes, they really were happy for her.

  “Hello, Emily. I just wanted to congratulate you,” a voice behind her said. Emily turned to see George Parker, the principal of the high school. “Is this your daughter?” he asked, smiling at Sara.

  “Yes, this is Sara Franklin,” Emily said, feeling proud to introduce her. “Sara, this is George Parker. He’s the principal at the high school.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sara.” George Parker glanced from daughter to mother and back again. “She has your eyes,” he told Emily.

  “Do you think so?” Emily said, feeling pleased by the compliment. She met Sara’s gaze and smiled.

  “Maybe,” Sara agreed with a laugh.

  Once George had left them, Emily felt suddenly awkward. She wasn’t sure if Sara was comfortable hearing someone say they looked alike. Emily thought Sara looked more like her father, but there was something about Sara’s eyes that resembled her own.

  “I’m going to look for some water for these roses. I’ll be right back,” she told Sara.

  “Okay, see you later. Oh, there’s Jessica and Sam. I think I’ll go over and say hello,” Sara said as she drifted away.

  Emily made her way to the kitchen, clutching the roses close to her body, like a fullback pushing toward the goal line.

  Betty’s kitchen was empty. Emily breathed a long sigh of relief in the open space, then looked around, wondering where she would find a vase or container. She pulled open a few cupboards and found a large plastic pitcher. Perfect, she said to herself as she filled it with water. She stood at the counter and placed the flowers in the vase, then wondered if she should add a teaspoon of sugar. Isn’t that what people said to do with roses? Or maybe she ought to wait until she got them home.

  “And I thought I was being so original,” a voice said behind her. “You must have gotten about ten bunches of these so far.”

  She turned to see Dan standing just inches away, holding out another bouquet of roses. His was yellow.

  “Not quite, only this one and yours,” she replied, smiling at him. “And I do think that yellow is original,” she added.

  “Just the right thing to say. You ought to be in politics.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled again, feeling suddenly self-conscious with him. “I think these will fit together. I don’t want to forget them,” she said, putting the second bouquet into the pitcher alongside the first. “Sara gave me the red ones.”

  “She did? How thoughtful.” His expression brightened slightly. Did he look—relieved somehow? she wondered. No, that was silly, Emily told herself. He didn’t think that much about her. He was just being nice.

  “Has it sunk in yet? You looked pretty shocked when I saw you last.”

  “Yes, I was.” Emily laughed and shook her head. She remembered how he had taken her arm and walked with her. Kept her from strolling right into the traffic, probably. He was standing very close, and she had to tip her head back to look up at him. “I was a real mess, wasn’t I? Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be silly. I sort of like you like that,” he admitted. “I know I’m getting the real deal. Not everybody around here does, I imagine.”

  “They don’t see me falling apart at the seams every twenty minutes, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “But you seem to catch me at it pretty often lately.”

  He smiled at her, as if they shared a secret. “Well, that just shows you’re comfortable around me, Emily. I take it as a compliment.”

  She sighed. “You’re a very nice man, do you know that?”

  It seemed so silly to say, but she really meant it. Dan looked uncomfortable a moment and gave a nervous laugh. “I have my moments. Don’t let it get around, though. It will ruin my image.”

  “I never really thanked you for that article,” she added quietly. “I don’t think I’d have won without it.”

  “Of course you would have.” His expression turned serious for a moment. “I wasn’t sure at the time it was the right thing to do, but I couldn’t quite resist.”

  “And what do you think now? Any regrets?”

  “No, none. I guess I let my impartial, all-too-human side take over . . . but maybe I just feel comfortable around you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied, smiling up him.

  He smiled back, then r
eached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. When he moved toward her, she closed her eyes and her hand moved up to rest on his hard shoulder. His mouth met hers in a tender, lingering kiss that was different from the last time. This one was slower, less urgent and surprising, but still amazingly exciting.

  Emily felt his arms around her, pulling her even closer for a long, deep moment. Then suddenly he lifted his head and looked down at her. “I’m not sure why I keep doing this,” he said slowly. “I mean . . . I know why . . . but . . .” He touched her face again and smiled briefly.

  She saw the regret in his eyes. He didn’t really need to say more.

  He sighed and stepped back, his hand falling to his side. “You know, my son, Wyatt, is coming soon. Next weekend. I’ll be leaving a few weeks after that.”

  “Yes, I know. Your sailing trip,” she said, managing to keep her voice smooth and even.

  He stared at her, as if he didn’t know what to say.

  “Listen, Emily . . . I think you’re great. You might be the greatest woman I ever met. But the timing is just all wrong here.”

  “I know.” She forced a smile. “It’s all right. Really,” she assured him. “We’ll always be friends, Dan. That’s good, too. Right?”

  “That’s very good.” His gaze still looked serious, but the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile.

  He reached out and took her hand and gently pressed it between both of his own. She gazed up at him, feeling sad and wistful, yet resigned. She had feelings for Dan. More than she wanted to admit. But if this wasn’t meant to be, she could accept it, Emily thought. She had made a new resolution not to sit staring at closed doors. She had to have faith in what the Lord had in store for her.

  EMILY THOUGHT OF DAN OFTEN DURING THE NEXT FEW DAYS, BUT TRIED not to let the situation get her down. Jogging past his house on Saturday afternoon, she saw an unfamiliar car in the driveway. California license plates, she noticed. His son, Wyatt, had finally come. So, that was the end of that.