A New Leaf

by Thomas Kinkade

  The construction at Luke’s property was halted by the harsh winter but would start up again soon. Luke had told her it would open sometime in May. More kids from the city would come to stay then, and he’d offered to send more helpers her way. But with Gus sick and all, she hadn’t made arrangements with him.

  The orchard meant so much to so many people in this town. It held so many memories for the friends and family gathered here today, Sophie reflected. Even for total strangers just passing through Cape Light who stopped for a moment and found themselves in a tucked-away corner of paradise.

  It won’t be the same without Gus, Sophie reflected as she took a seat again among her company. She brushed the mournful thoughts aside and tried to focus on her guests. Her daughters, Evelyn and Una, along with Miranda, were taking care of all the kitchen work today so she could simply sit and enjoy herself. Sophie was totally unaccustomed to relaxing at one of her own parties, but she forced herself to stay put, knowing this could be the first and last time she’d have the opportunity.

  Gus started telling a funny story about getting lost in the woods with his Boy Scout troop, way back when their children were all in grade school. Reverend Ben had been along, and he’d suggested they stop and pray for divine guidance.

  “Oh, Ben, you didn’t really?” Carolyn burst into laughter.

  “Yes, I did. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m not much of a woodsman, as you all know.”

  They all agreed, laughing loudly and long.

  “It worked for Moses,” Ben said.

  “We did find our way eventually,” Gus added. “Some ranger came along and took pity on us.”

  “You see? Our prayers were answered,” Ben insisted.

  The rest of the group continued laughing and teasing him. As it should be. This last get-together should be as happy as we can make it, Sophie thought with a determined spirit. We might as well be smiling. There will be time enough for tears.

  A light lunch was served—sandwiches, salads, and cheese—along with Sophie’s famous scones with honey from her own bees and peaches and plums she’d canned the past summer. Everyone praised the meal lavishly, as usual, and just as predictably insisted that she didn’t need to go to so much trouble. But they didn’t leave much on the platters, she noticed with satisfaction.

  After the coffee and Sophie’s famous pies were served, guests began to bid farewell. First they found Gus, still sitting in the living room. It was hard for Sophie to watch them say good-bye to him, everyone acting as if they’d see him again soon, when they all knew that most of them would never see him again. Watching from the doorway, Sophie’s eyes welled up with tears, and she had to turn away. She wandered into the foyer and composed herself, then suddenly found herself facing Emily and Dan.

  “It was wonderful of you to have us all here, Sophie,” Emily said. “And wonderful to see Gus. We don’t want to make him too tired, though.”

  “Yes, of course. He was happy to see everyone. Thank you for coming. Both of you,” Sophie said. Emily hugged her and then so did Dan.

  “You take care of yourself,” Emily added. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, just call me. Okay?”

  Sophie tried to make light of her serious expression. “Well, it’s good to know I have friends in important places. But don’t worry, dear. We’ll be fine. I have my children here now. It will be okay.”

  Dan met her gaze and forced a smile. They knew it would not be okay. Not entirely. But there was nothing more to say.

  They said good-bye again and left. Then others began to drift to the door, and very soon, the guests had gone and only family remained. Evelyn’s husband, Robert, took Gus into the bedroom so he could rest, then returned to sit in the living room with Una’s husband, Ted. Some of the grandchildren wandered about, but most had settled into the family room to watch TV. Sophie’s daughters along with Miranda were still in the kitchen, putting away leftovers and washing dishes.

  Sophie felt alone in the crowd, outside of each circle. A sinking feeling had settled on her spirit now that the party was over. Her children had hinted that they wanted to have a family talk today, and she dreaded the inevitable debate over what she would do once Gus was gone.

  She wandered back into the kitchen seeking some task to get her mind off her worries. “Need a hand in here?” she asked, her tone far brighter than she felt.

  “We’re all done, Mom.” Una glanced at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little tired. That was a nice get-together though.”

  “Yes, it was very nice. Dad really enjoyed it.” Una set a china saucer in a stack on the countertop, then looked at Evelyn.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Grandma?” Miranda asked her.

  “Thanks, dear. That would be nice.”

  “Here, Mom. Sit down. I’ll fix it for you.” Una came up beside her and guided her to a chair at the table. Then Una and Evelyn sat down, too.

  Evelyn was her oldest and the one who most resembled her mother. She wore one of Sophie’s favorite aprons, and as Sophie looked across the table at her daughter, she almost felt as if she were looking in a mirror at herself . . . herself twenty-five years ago when everything had been ahead of her, so much life still to live, so much to look forward to.

  “Mom, we thought we should have a talk,” Evelyn began slowly. “We know it’s hard to discuss it, but Dad . . . Dad is near the end. It won’t be long now before you’re on your own.”

  “Yes. . . yes I know.” Sophie looked down at the table. Miranda brought over the tea and set it before her without a word.

  “You’ll be alone here. It will be very hard for you,” Una said.

  “We know how you love this place. We all do,” Evelyn added. “We’ve been trying hard to figure out some way around it . . . but we don’t think you can stay here all alone, Mom. Una and I have talked with Bart,” she went on. “We’d all be too worried about you.”

  “We know it’s hard to face it. But you can’t run the orchard on your own. These last few years, you and Dad could hardly manage it together,” Una said.

  Sophie didn’t answer. She sighed and stirred her tea. “I think I could manage. I could hire some help. . . .”

  “Oh, Mom. Even if you found good help, it would still be a lot of work for you. A lot of responsibility.” Evelyn glanced at her sister. “Poor Dad, he worked so hard on this land all his life. We don’t want to see you run yourself down out here, too.”

  “It’s just not practical, Mom. Please be reasonable about this,” Una implored her.

  “I’ve lived here since the day I was born. That was a long, long time ago,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “It seems very unreasonable to me to pick up and make a change at this late date. Impractical, too, come to think about it.”

  The two sisters shared a look. Sophie felt her eyes blur with tears, and she blew her nose on a paper napkin. Miranda reached over and patted her hand. She glanced at her aunts. “What about if Grandma leases out the land to someone who will work the orchard and let her live here?”

  Una sighed. “That’s a thought, dear. But she’ll still really be alone in this big house. Anything can happen.”

  “Besides, bringing someone else into the business would be a big headache,” Evelyn pointed out. “How would we even find someone to do it? It’s almost spring. We’d have to sort it all out right away.”

  Sophie glanced at Miranda. “I’ve thought of that myself, honey. But it gets too complicated. It would be hard for me to see someone out in the trees who wasn’t family. I’ve been here too long. Those trees are like my friends. I might not like the way someone else handled them,” she offered with a weak smile.

  “The thing to do is sell the place and then you can come live with me. Or Una. Or get a little apartment in town,” Evelyn suggested.

  “In town? Me?” Sophie scoffed as if Evelyn had suggested she move to Paris. “I’m just not a town-type person, honey. You know that. I need to be out in the open. I don
’t like houses and buildings blocking my view.”

  “I know it’s hard, Mom,” Evelyn persisted. “But try to be a little open-minded about what you might do.”

  Sophie pushed her empty teacup away and pressed her hands flat to the table. “I know you’re only trying to take care of me. I know that, girls,” she told her daughters. “And I appreciate it, truly. But I can’t leave here. I’m just like . . . like a fish out of water away from this place. It’s hard enough losing your father. I can’t lose this place, too,” she beseeched them.

  She was trying not to cry but could feel the teardrops squeezing out from the corners of her eyes. “I really don’t think I could survive away from here. Not for too long, anyway. I’d rather live on here for a month or a week or even a day than move away and live another ten years somewhere else. I’d rather the good Lord would just take me now. Can either of you understand that?”

  “Oh, Mom . . .” Evelyn rose and stepped beside her mother to give her a hug. Una did the same.

  “We didn’t mean to make you so upset,” Una said.

  “Don’t cry, Mom, please. We don’t have to decide any of this now,” Evelyn added.

  They stood beside her for a second, comforting her while Miranda held her hand. “I’m sorry, Grandma,” Miranda said simply. Sophie squeezed her fingers in reply.

  Finally, Sophie sat up in her chair and wiped her eyes. “I’m going to look in on your father.”

  The bedroom she had always shared with Gus was on the second floor. But this time when he came home from the hospital, she had set him up in a hospital bed in the guest room on the first floor and moved in a twin bed from upstairs so she could be near him when he slept. The room was nearly dark, illuminated by a small night-light on a bed stand and the shine of a half moon.

  Gus breathed heavily in his sleep with the aid of oxygen. Sophie sat in a chair near him and leaned over to touch the hand that rested outside the covers. He’d had a good day today, a happy day, with long moments of distraction, of being able to forget that he was so sick, so near death. As if he were ever able to forget that entirely.

  She stared out the window at the orchard, the stark bare trees outlined in the moonlight. Such a sight, it nearly made her heart break. She had the urge to wake Gus up, just to show him, then thought that wouldn’t be right.

  Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, still holding Gus’s hand. Dear Lord, I know this is a lot to ask, but please help me. Please find some way for me to stay on this land. I know my children are loving and that’s a blessing. They only want to take care of me. But you know my heart, Lord. You know why I can’t leave here. People say that You won’t send more our way than we can handle. I don’t think I can face losing Gus and my orchard, too. . . .

  When she opened her eyes, Gus’s eyes were open, too. “Sophie. How long have you been sitting here?”

  “Oh, not long. Do you need anything?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know why I woke up. Maybe it’s the moonlight.” He turned to the window, and she pushed aside the curtain so they could look outside.

  “Isn’t it beautiful,” she said quietly. “I wanted to wake you up to see it with me.”

  “Maybe the Lord heard your thoughts, and he shook my shoulder, just to please you,” Gus suggested with a smile.

  Sophie felt her heart catch. “Maybe . . .” she agreed slowly. “I do hope He was really listening tonight.”

  She took his hand again, and together they watched out the window the fragile branches of the apple trees, waving against the star-filled sky.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TUCKER SMOOTHED HIS UNIFORM JACKET, THEN KNOCKED sharply on the chief’s door. He’d no sooner walked in the station house than he had been told that Sanborn wanted to see him.

  “Come in,” Sanborn called.

  Tucker stepped inside and stood in front of the large wooden desk. The police chief was reading through some papers in a file and didn’t look up right away.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  “Yes, shut the door, will you?” Chief Sanborn sat back. The expression on his face made Tucker nervous. “Have a seat.”

  Tucker took the chair in front of the desk, the “hot seat” as his fellow officers called it. He wondered what this was all about. He’d taken a lot of personal time since Carl came to town. He suspected that his boss wasn’t happy about that.

  “How’s it going, Tucker?”

  “All right.” Tucker shrugged, the chief’s forced friendly tone making him even more uncomfortable.

  “I know I’ve been taking a lot of personal time, Chief—” he began.

  Sanborn held up a hand, and Tucker stopped talking. “Yes, you have. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Well, not exactly.” He shifted in his seat. “I know you have your brother at home now. That’s quite a responsibility.”

  “I suppose. He’s not much trouble. Stays in his room, watches TV. I do need to bring him to the doctor for checkups.”

  His boss nodded. “How is he coming along? Is his health improving?”

  “He’s making progress. Slowly but steady.” Tucker paused, still unsure of the chief’s motives for this private meeting. Was it to ask after Carl’s health? That didn’t make sense.

  “So, what are his plans? Will he be staying around here long, do you think?”

  Tucker blinked. Now he got it. “I don’t think so. He talks about going up to Maine to live with a friend in Portland.”

  “I see.” Chief Sanborn nodded. “I wanted you to know I’ll be looking into Carl’s records, his release records from prison and his parole, any recent arrests and so forth.”

  “Carl finished his parole without a problem, Chief. It’s been a few years now.”

  Chief Sanborn didn’t say anything at first. The look on his face made Tucker feel like a fool for taking Carl’s word so easily.

  “Well, I’m sure that’s what he told you. What else would he say? But I do need to look into it officially. I know Carl is sick and not much of a danger to anyone except himself. But people get upset when they hear somebody with his history is back in town. I’m sure you’ve heard some of that already.”

  Tucker nodded. He’d heard it all right. Right under his own roof, although Fran had calmed down considerably, and she seemed resigned to Carl’s presence—for now, anyway. Why did people have to be like that? Didn’t they have better things to worry about?

  “I understand. Is that all you wanted to tell me?” he asked curtly. “I’m due on patrol in five minutes.”

  “That’s it. I’ll let you know what I find out,” the chief added, dismissing him.

  “Fine.” Tucker came to his feet, turned on his heel, and left the office, feeling as if smoke were pouring out of his ears. As he went to the locker room, he could feel his fellow officers staring at him, speculating on his visit with the boss; all of them probably knew about Carl and felt the way the chief did.

  I’m just imagining things now, he told himself. He picked up his hat and jacket and headed out the door to his squad car. Walking through the parking lot, Tucker passed two other officers and said hello. He saw them glance at each other, then one nodded, the greeting noticeably chilly.

  Tucker tried not to show a reaction. He got in his car and drove out of the lot. An old saying came to him, one he’d never quite understood until now: “Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.”

  Were people turning against him now because of Carl? It was sure starting to feel like it. Even his boss seemed to think he was a fool for accepting Carl’s story about his record. If Carl was violating parole, he could be sent back to prison. In his condition, that would most likely finish him off, Tucker thought.

  Now he would have to wait to find out if Carl had lied to him. As if he needed something else to worry about right now.

  “MOLLY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? ILEFT TWO MESSAGES ON YOUR VOICE mail,” Betty said in greeting to her.

  “R
acing around like a maniac, as usual. I had a lot of deliveries to make. It’s Monday, remember?”

  “Oh, right.” Betty nodded. “No wonder you’re so cranky.”

  Molly just grinned at her. Betty stood next to Fran Tulley’s desk, peering down at two photos in her hand. It looked as if the women were trying to decide which photo to stick on the “House of the Week” poster that now sat on Fran’s desk.

  “Which do you like?” Betty asked. “This charming Cape? A steal at this asking price, believe me. Or this lovely Victorian? Needs a little TLC but could be a show place for a buyer with imagination.”

  Molly glanced at the photos. Neither of the houses looked very appealing, but Betty was a born salesperson.

  “Whichever. You’ll sell both in about twenty minutes,” Molly predicted.

  “Why, thanks. I think they will move quickly.” Betty looked back at the photos. “I think we should go with the Cape. We did a Victorian last week.” She handed the chosen photo to Fran, then turned to Molly again. “So how did it go on Saturday night? I’m dying to hear everything.”

  Molly was dying to tell everything, too, but didn’t feel comfortable talking about Matthew in front of Fran.

  “It was a very nice evening. The girls sang beautifully.” She smiled at Fran. “I thought Mary Ellen did a nice job up there, Fran. I didn’t get to tell you.”

  Fran looked up from the poster. “Thanks, Molly. Lauren sounded great, too. But Dr. Harding’s daughter, she really brought down the house. I bet he was very proud,” she added with a meaningful look.

  “Yes, he was.” Molly turned to Betty, who now looked about to burst from curiosity. “Amanda Harding sang a solo. She was amazing.”

  “Really? How nice.” Betty clutched Molly’s arm. “Come into my office. I want to show you something. Excuse us a minute, will you, Fran?”