A New Leaf

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A New Leaf Page 28

by Thomas Kinkade


  Sam was caught off balance by his wife’s defensive tone. “Well, that’s too bad. The hazards of dating a doctor, I guess. Want to hang out with us tonight? We rented a movie.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll just take the girls and go. You’ve been helping me out so much with the kids lately. You guys deserve a Saturday night alone,” Molly said sincerely.

  Jessica smiled at her. “You know I never mind having them here but thanks.”

  A few minutes later, Molly had Jill and Lauren back in the car, and they headed toward the village.

  “Are we going home already?” Jill asked.

  “What happened to your date with Matthew?” Lauren asked bluntly.

  Molly didn’t answer right away. “I guess you guys didn’t have dinner yet, right?”

  “No, and I’m starving I might add,” Lauren answered.

  “I might add that, too,” Jill said in a serious tone.

  “I might add that three,” Molly replied, starting to smile again. “Tell me what you think. The barbeque chicken place on the turnpike and then we try out that new tropical mini-golf with the waterfalls?”

  “Yes!” Jill answered.

  “I’m getting a little old for mini-golf, Mom, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Molly met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I hear you, honey. It’s not my first choice, either, to be perfectly honest. But the palm trees and waterfalls sound like fun.”

  Lauren sighed, sparing a small smile. “Okay, if you guys really want to.”

  “I want to,” Jill said.

  “I do, too.” Molly summoned up a burst of enthusiasm she didn’t know was in her. It was the old “making lemonade from life’s lemons” trick. I’ve had a lot of practice at that one, she realized.

  “Let’s go,” she said. She turned the car around and headed for the turnpike, trying not to think of how her feet would feel in her fancy shoes at the end of a night of mini-golf. Or how her new outfit would look after the barbeque. At least Lauren and Jill thought she was a great Saturday night date.

  As for Matthew’s opinion, it didn’t look like she was ever going to find out.

  THE NEXT MORNING, MOLLY WOKE TO THE SOUND OF RAIN SPATTERING against the windows. The change in the weather seemed to mirror her dark mood. She rose and made the girls’ breakfast, then got them ready for a day out with Phil.

  It was a relief to have the apartment to herself. Still, facing a full day’s worth of baking left her feeling depleted and depressed. A new helper, whom she had found through the high school, was due to start today but had left a message last night canceling on her. It seems to be my weekend to be stood up, Molly thought, as she put on her apron.

  She worked through the morning, focusing on her orders and trying not to think about Matthew. He would call, right? It was hard to guess. Maybe he would wait a day or two. Maybe he didn’t want to ask her out again and wouldn’t call at all.

  After pushing herself through several hours of baking, Molly needed a break. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept well and even an entire pot of coffee hadn’t burned through the dense fog in her head.

  She went inside and allowed herself to lie down on her unmade bed. I never do this, she told herself as her head hit the pillow. What’s wrong with me today? Maybe I’m coming down with something.

  Right, that little bug women get when they’ve been rejected by a man.

  The steady patter of rain quieted her scattered thoughts as she drifted off to sleep.

  BART POTTER SAT AT THE END OF THE WORN KITCHEN TABLE. HE HAD his father’s build, tall and broad shouldered, though he was carrying some extra weight around the middle as he moved into middle age. In his fancy sport clothes, her son still looked every inch a corporate lawyer, Sophie thought, as if he were sitting at the head of a boardroom table instead of in her old homey kitchen. He frowned at his daughter.

  “I’m surprised at you, Miranda. If you’re disappointed with your career, that’s one thing. But you can’t hide out here. Your grandmother has to move. You have no right to talk her into staying.”

  “She didn’t talk me into anything. You sound like I was hypnotized or something,” Sophie grumbled.

  “What I said was that I’m done with acting and I like it here and I’ll stay if Grandma wants us to run the orchard together,” Miranda explained.

  “But you can’t stay. Neither of you can. That’s just my point,” Bart said firmly.

  Evelyn and Una sat together on one long side of the table, opposite Miranda. The two sisters glanced at each other and then at their brother.

  “Calm down, Bart. Let’s not lose our tempers,” Evelyn said. “Miranda’s been here with Mother through the worst of it. I’m sure she’s feeling some strain after the last few weeks, too. We all know how distressed Mom is about leaving.”

  “I’m sure Miranda feels badly for her grandmother and just wants to help,” Una added. She gave Miranda a sad smile. “We all feel badly about Grandma having to leave here, honey.”

  “We grew up here. We have so many memories. It’s hard for everyone in the family to give up this place,” Evelyn agreed.

  Bart shook his head and exhaled noisily. Snorting like a horse, Sophie thought. Normally, she was proud of the way he had turned out. But this was one argument he wasn’t going to win.

  “All right. She just wanted to help. It was a nice gesture. And we all feel badly about giving up the orchard. But these matters have been discussed and decided,” Bart pointed out. “I don’t see any purpose in backtracking again. It’s been hard enough to get Mom this far.” He stared around the table. Una and Evelyn avoided his gaze, Sophie noticed, but she met it head on, unflinchingly. He finally looked away.

  He sat back and cleared his throat. “I thought we were going to talk about how and when we’ll put this place up for sale.”

  Sophie sat up straight and folded her hands in front of her on the table. She took a breath and was surprised to feel a small smile forming on her lips. “I’m not selling.”

  “Oh, Mom . . .” Una shook her head and glanced at Evelyn.

  “Mother, please. Be reasonable now.” Evelyn’s tone was coaxing.

  “Of course you are,” Bart said flatly. He frowned at Sophie, a cold blue-eyed stare. “This has already been decided.”

  She remembered that look from when he was a little boy and didn’t want to clean up his room or finish his homework before he could go outside and play.

  It was suddenly very quiet while Sophie met Bart’s gaze and held it. Outside, the wind picked up, spattering raindrops against the kitchen windowpane. Finally, Sophie answered her son. “No, I’m not. And you can’t make me.”

  Sophie noticed Miranda smile and duck her head. Yes, Grandma sounds like a rebellious child, she thought, enjoying the irony. She kept a straight face, though, and went on in a measured tone, “This property is still in my name. While I’m still alive and sane, I decide when and if it goes on the market. Not you three.”

  Una tilted her head in Sophie’s direction. “But, Mom, you know that we’re just concerned for you—”

  “It seems to me that if you’re that worried about me, you would see that I can’t leave. Not yet. It would break my heart, even worse than it’s already been broken by losing your father.”

  Sophie reached over to pat her granddaughter’s hand. “There’s only one person who understood that—and who offered real help to me. Why, we’ve been taking care of the place together for the past few weeks now and doing just fine. She wants to stay, and I’m glad to hear it. I’m taking this girl up on her offer no matter what the rest of you think about it.”

  Her children looked at each other nervously, feeling shamed perhaps by her words. She could see that they were giving up on changing her mind, even Bart. She could tell by the way he sat back from the table and took a deep breath.

  “Frankly, I don’t see how you’re going to make this work.” He fixed his daughter with a stern glare. “I told you the same thing
when you said you wanted to go to New York and be an actress. Maybe you always need to find out the hard way.”

  “Maybe we do,” Miranda shot back. “If we fail, it won’t be for lack of trying, right Grandma?”

  “That’s right.” Sophie nodded emphatically. “ ‘Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do with thy might. . . .’ I’m not afraid of this not working out. All things are possible with God’s help.”

  Bart laughed nervously. “Oh, dear. She’s starting to quote the Bible at me. I guess it’s time to give up.”

  “You ought to try it in court sometime, son. It will definitely get people’s attention,” Sophie advised.

  “Well, Mom, looks like you got your way.” Evelyn smiled ruefully and shook her head. “You know we’re nearby if you need anything,” she said to Miranda.

  “Me, too, dear,” Una said to her niece. “I can’t say that I’m entirely in favor of this plan, Mom, but I am glad you’re not leaving here yet.” She glanced at her older sister and brother. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Thank you, Una. Thank you, Evelyn and Bart. I know you all have my best interest at heart. But this is best for me. Miranda and I will make it work. I know it in my heart.”

  Sophie sat back in her chair, smiling with satisfaction. She felt as if she’d just come home after a long exhausting trip. She was back where she belonged, finally, and didn’t plan to leave any time soon.

  THE SOUND OF THE DOOR BUZZER WOKE MOLLY FROM A DEEP, DREAMLESS sleep. She opened her eyes to find the room steeped in shadows. She turned and picked up the clock. Half past four? How could that be?

  She sat up and rubbed her forehead, then launched herself toward the front door. “Be right there,” she shouted.

  Phil and the girls, back early. She hated for anyone to see her looking such a mess, rumpled and wrinkled, as if she had just rolled out of bed, which, come to think of it, she had. It was only Phil, though. It didn’t matter.

  But Molly pulled opened the door to find Matthew instead. Dressed in a yellow slicker, he stood with his face and hair wet from the rain. He held a bunch of daffodils wrapped in paper in his hand, their droopy yellow heads looking half-drowned.

  “Matthew . . . hi.” She tucked a thick lock of hair behind her ear, wondering now why she hadn’t even bothered to stop and splash her face.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you. I knew you were probably home working today. . . . I just wanted to say hello.”

  Molly was sure her shock at his unexpected appearance showed all over her face. She ducked her head and stepped aside to let him in.

  “Come on in. I was just taking a break.” Sleeping away the afternoon, if the truth be told, she silently added.

  He handed her the bouquet. “These are for you. A little soggy though, sorry.”

  “Thanks, they’re very pretty. I love daffodils. They always look so optimistic.”

  “Yes, they do seem that way, now that you mention it.”

  He hung his slicker on a row of hooks near the door and followed her into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, watching her place the flowers in a vase. The expression on his face made her uneasy. It was a sad, thoughtful look that didn’t bode well.

  “Can I make you some coffee or tea?” She carried the small vase to the table. “I have loads of muffins and stuff,” she added, pointing to the trays she had already baked.

  “Um, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “I think I’d better have some coffee to wake up again,” she said honestly. “I don’t know why I’m so sleepy today.”

  “It must be the rain.”

  “I suppose.” More likely feeling blue over you, she wanted to add. She poured out a cup of coffee from what was still in the carafe from that morning and stuck it in the microwave.

  “Did you get over to Newburyport to hear the music last night?”

  “Um, no, I didn’t after all.” The microwave beeped, saving her from facing him. She carefully took out the hot cup and blew on it. She was about to tell him what she did end up doing, but she caught herself. Tropical paradise mini-golf with her kids sounded so pathetic.

  Matthew nodded politely. “Well, it’s too bad you couldn’t go. I’m sorry again I had to cancel on you like that.”

  “That’s okay. I understand, honestly.” Molly pulled out a chair and sat down at the table with him. “How is your patient doing?”

  “Oh, not too bad. It was an older woman, lives alone, not taking care of herself properly. She came in complaining of stomach pains. It turned out to be her gall bladder. She needed surgery right away. I went down to the hospital today to look in on her. She seems to be feeling a little better.”

  “Well, that’s some good news,” Molly said sympathetically.

  She knew that he hadn’t been lying to her last night. She’d never suspected that. Yet, something about his mood right now made her uneasy. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  Maybe he’s just tired, she thought. He handled an emergency last night and drove to Southport and back today. But that didn’t seem to be it, either. She felt herself sitting there, sensing she wasn’t going to like whatever he had to say next.

  Matthew cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. Here it comes, Molly thought. She tried but couldn’t stop herself from filling in the heavy silence, just to change the subject and forestall the inevitable.

  “Where’s Amanda today?”

  Matthew looked up suddenly. She could tell his thoughts had been wandering. “She’s visiting her grandparents, Sharon’s folks, in Amherst. I was supposed to drive out there today actually, but I decided not to.”

  “To pick her up, you mean?”

  “Yes. And to visit Sharon’s grave. It’s three years this week since she passed away.”

  Molly felt a sudden jolt. She suddenly had some clue to his strange withdrawn mood. She didn’t quite know what to say to him, though. “I’m sorry. It must be a hard day for you.”

  “It is. I feel sad, of course, thinking about the past. But it stirs up a lot of questions for me.” He paused and met her gaze. “About starting a relationship again, for one thing.”

  Molly swallowed hard.

  He sat silently again, but Molly couldn’t stand the suspense.

  “Like . . . with me for instance, you mean?”

  He nodded and forced a small smile. “Yes, exactly. Who else would I be talking about?” He reached across the table and took her hand.

  “Oh.” That was all she could manage to say. She felt the warm pressure of his hand on hers and squeezed back.

  “The problem is, it’s hard for me, Molly. Thinking about the past makes me remember that I wasn’t very good at being in a relationship.”

  Molly waited, but he didn’t say more. She felt uneasy about pushing him, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “When you say you weren’t good at it, what do you mean?” she asked gently.

  He glanced at her and then looked away. “I mean I didn’t have a happy marriage. My wife felt neglected. She felt I worked too hard and gave my best to my patients. I tried to work things out with her, but I don’t think I ever really pleased her.” He shrugged. Molly could see it was hard for him to continue, and she willed herself not to interrupt him.

  “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Maybe Sharon was right. Maybe I’m not really cut out for marriage, for giving another person all they need. Maybe I do give my all to my work. In all this time, I haven’t been able to figure that out. To get past it, I guess you’d say.”

  “Oh. I see.” Molly continued to hold onto his hand, but suddenly his touch meant something else entirely to her, not a hint of things to come but a bittersweet ending to something that had never quite begun.

  Matthew shook his head, looking frustrated with himself. “I’m saying this all wrong. The thing is, I wasn’t lying last night when I had to break our date—”

  “I know that,” Molly cut in.

  “Well, okay then. But a
fterward and today, I’ve had a lot of time to think about this . . . you and me dating, I mean. It’s hard to say this to you, but I know I’m just not ready to start seeing someone again. Not even you. Especially you, in some way. There’s so much that’s good between us now, just the way it is. I don’t want to lose that.”

  “Being friends, you mean,” she said abruptly. Oh, so this is the “let’s just be friends” speech, she realized. She felt she might cry and slipped her hand from his grasp.

  He stared at her a moment. “Sure, I think of you as a friend. But I really care for you, Molly. I think you’re amazing. Absolutely great in every possible way. The problem is, I’ve been through a lot the last few years. Moving has been another big upheaval. I need to focus now on the new practice and on Amanda, making a home for her here. I don’t want to start something with you and end up disappointing you or leading you on. When I look into the future, I really don’t see myself getting married again.”

  He’d been staring down at the table, delivering his words slowly and carefully. Molly took them in, one by one, feeling her heart drop by degrees. She felt too sad and stunned to speak.

  Finally Matthew looked up at her, his dark eyes shining with emotion. Molly realized she didn’t feel mad at him. She felt embarrassed. Had she been so obvious? It made her cringe now to see herself that way.

  “Matthew, it’s okay.” She forced her voice to sound even and light. “It was just a date. I wasn’t expecting a marriage proposal. Maybe on the third date or so. But not on the first one.”

  He looked at her, trying to smile, but not quite managing it. He ran his hand nervously over his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “I guess I really meant you’re not the kind of woman I could take lightly. If we ever did get involved, I know it would be serious for me.”

  His honesty was startling. It gave her hope and at the same time, made her feel even sadder and more frustrated.

  “Well, that’s nice of you to say.”

  “I’m not just saying it. It’s true.” His voice was quiet but emphatic.

  But the other part—the more important part—was also true. He didn’t have to repeat those words again. They still hung in the air between them, changing everything.

 

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