Moments later they were enjoying their meals seated at the counter.
“Mmm, now that’s good steak,” Emma said. “Michael, this dinner is wonderful.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, taking a drink of tap water without ice. “Okay … I’m going to turn the tables on you. How is it you’ve never married?”
Emma nearly choked on a sprig of grilled asparagus.
“Me? I don’t know. It isn’t that I haven’t wanted to.”
“No boyfriends or admirers?”
“There’s one admirer, but I think I’ve been focused on career for so long, it’s hard to find the time to fall in love.”
“Maybe your standards are too high.”
“I don’t know, I keep thinking there should be some way of knowing, something that tells you when you’ve found the right one. I’m waiting for a bell to ring, that says ‘This is the one for you.’”
Michael felt a twinge of compassion for Emma. The beautiful woman eating steak in his kitchen had a weakness that he couldn’t put his finger on. He thought maybe it was only his imagination, but part of her seemed to have been washed up on the shore of his island. Her boat striking a hidden reef under the blue of the ocean, sinking and setting her adrift in the sea. The ship’s bell falling down beneath the blue of the water, coming to rest in silence in the sandy coral below.
“Maybe you’ll hear it one day.”
“I hope so,” Emma smiled. “So you just never found the right one?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Emma’s voice softened.
“I hope you find her, Michael. You’re a good man. You deserve that.”
“Emma,” Michael said. “There are a lot of things in life I don’t control. I came to terms with that a long time ago.”
Emma stared at Michael in the candle’s glow. There was a surprisingly strong bond between them. She’d felt a similar bond yesterday morning with Samantha in her dad’s kitchen despite the passing of so many years. The link was there too with Christina, a connection that transcended their teenage high school antics. Now, as the evening grew long, she found herself staring into the eyes of the only man she’d really ever loved. The man she’d chosen to leave so she could survive.
For an hour after dinner, Emma revealed to Michael her history of the past dozen years. They’d moved to the living room and sat on the sofa, sharing stories filled with purpose and laughter.
“It’s getting late,” she said, finally. “I should probably go.” She stood and went back to the kitchen to carry the dishes to the sink.
“Emma,” Michael said.
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I’m happy to, though. It’s my way of saying thanks to you.”
He watched her rinsing off the dishes in the sink, just like he’d seen Emma do in his mind. It both amazed and overwhelmed him.
“You know when I said I’d come to terms with the things I don’t control?”
Emma shut off the water.
“Yes.”
“The part I control is who I love, not who loves me in return. That gives me a certain amount of peace.”
“So, who do you love?” Emma asked.
“My family, friends, the folks at church. I know a lot of people in this community, so it’s a pretty long list. How about you?”
She thought for a moment, standing in the center of the kitchen, looking into the blue and white ceramic tiles behind the stove without really seeing them.
“Can I tell you a secret? I don’t love anybody, Michael. I only love the idea of love. It all seems so beautiful, but no one ever lives up to its expectations.”
Emma left the room to retrieve her leather jacket. She slipped her arms into it, and turned back to see Michael following her into the entryway.
“I don’t think that’s true, Emma.”
“I left everyone I knew here in Juneberry. How else can you explain someone doing that, other than to say they don’t care?”
“You came back, Emma,” Michael reminded her. “When your dad needed you, you came back. How else can you explain that, except to say you do?”
“His heart attack was a wake-up call, that’s true,” she said, standing at the door. “When I was twenty-two, the only thing I knew was that I wanted to go to law school. I really believed if I could succeed, then success would be like a moat around me. It would protect me. But you know what?” As she spoke, the truth dawned on her for the first time. “That same moat you build for safety can trap you, and keep everybody else shut out.”
Emma put on a brave smile.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know where this is all going,” she continued. “It really is getting late, Michael, and I’m suddenly very tired. Thanks for everything. The dinner was wonderful.”
Emma placed her hand on Michael’s arm, held it there for a moment, then ran it down the length, over the outside of his shirt sleeve, feeling the soft flannel under her fingers, before gently squeezing Michael’s hand.
He watched as she walked through his yard, paused when she came to Old Red, then climbed in as she’d done years before. Even as she drove away, he noticed electricity in the air. Whatever it was, he trusted it because Michael Evans had learned just because he didn’t control everything in his life, it didn’t mean his life wasn’t controlled by Someone.
When the sound of her truck faded into the distance, he heard the distinct sound of wind chimes again, coming from somewhere behind the tall wooden fences of the neighbors’ house. He wondered if she’d noticed them earlier. He wondered if she, too, had thought about how much they sounded like someone ringing a bell.
~ Eleven ~
You may be their pride and joy
But they’ll find another toy
When they take away your crown
Pick me up on your way down
—DAVID BALL
“Pick Me Up on Your Way Down”
“Hey, it’s me. You’re hard to reach these days.”
Emma pulled herself upright in bed, knocking a pillow sham to the floor.
“Colin? Hi, what time is it?” Emma looked at the bedside clock with one eye partly open, and the other completely shut.
The clock read 7:59 a.m.
“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d wake you. You’re usually up and running at full speed by this time,” he laughed. “You must be getting a little too used to having time off.”
“Is something up?”
“Oh, no. I just called to check in on you. Last night, I tried calling, but couldn’t reach you. I was worried … a little, anyway.”
Emma ran a hand over her face and through rumpled hair, trying to rouse herself.
“I had dinner with a friend and left my cell phone in the truck. Where are you?”
“On east 90 heading through Boston. It’s snowing. Almost looks like Christmas already. Did you say truck?” Colin asked. “I have a hard time picturing Emma Madison behind the wheel of a truck. Well, listen, I’m not going to keep you. I just wanted to see if you thought you’d be back by this weekend.”
Colin’s heavy Boston accent wrapped around his words like wire around a pencil.
“It’s looking more like next week. Wednesday, I guess.”
“Really?” Colin said, surprise contorting the word. “What did Robert have to say about that? I’m just curious.”
Emma climbed out of bed, finding the robe she’d borrowed from her dad over the back of her vanity chair. She stretched her arms through the sleeves.
“It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it’s workable.”
“Huh,” Colin said, sounding more like a lawyer and less like a kid from South Boston. “I’m just trying to see your situation as a strategist, Em. Four days ago, you win the
biggest trial of your career. Then you’re called out of town on a family emergency, which you have to attend to, of course. But you’re taking another week off?”
“Well, Colin, things still are unsettled here. We’re renovating a downstairs bedroom into an office for my dad. That project only started yester—”
“That’s fine, that’s a great idea,” Colin broke in. “But do you really need to supervise that? I mean, look, taking a few days off before a weekend is one thing, but a law partner is irreplaceable, especially if you’ve got new clients knocking at your door.”
“How do you know about that?” Emma asked.
“Robert may have mentioned it. We met this week to talk about some things, and I …”
“Colin, I appreciate your concern, and believe me, as a partner I’m completely invested in the firm’s acquisition of new clients, but Robert and I have talked about it. This will hold until Wednesday, then I’ll be back.”
“All right, you know what you’re doing. I just thought I’d be a sounding board for you. I’m at the office again pulling into another parking garage, so I’m about to lose signal.”
“Well, at least say good-bye this time.”
“Thought I did last time, I …”
The cell phone went dead. Emma closed the lid and tossed the phone onto her bed. Was it selfish to take all this time with her father? Robert and Colin seemed to think so, maybe Lara, too. She fought the temptation to rethink everything.
Emma heard the muffled sounds of two men talking downstairs. She found the last pair of clean pants she’d packed, an old pair of indigo blue jeans and slipped them on. Then she picked out a cream turtleneck and put on a flowered button-up to wear over it.
Emma stepped across the hall to the upstairs bathroom. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, washed her face with the special soap she’d remembered to bring from Boston, and dried off with the clean towels her father had left for her by the sink.
She came downstairs with only her white cotton socks on her feet, her presence announced by the creaking boards. Emma stopped halfway down the stairs and leaned over the railing.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Will said. “I was afraid we’d wake you with all our banging around down here.”
“Banging around down here first thing in the morning is a good thing. Anyone else in the mood for pancakes?”
Will looked like a contractor in work jeans and T-shirt. Michael stepped around the corner holding a white Styrofoam cup of coffee.
“Morning, Michael,” she said, her eyes remembering the night before.
“Morning, Emma,” he said, tipping his head like a cowboy wearing a hat.
“So, are we to understand you’re volunteering to make pancakes?” Will asked.
“Well, I want to make some contribution. Besides, pancakes, bacon, and coffee just sound so good.” She breezed by Michael. “So what’s up with Bo this morning? Aren’t you both supposed to be doing some roofing project?”
“We’re dividing the work. He’s continuing with the Macintosh place. Depending on how quickly things go here, I’ll probably help him wrap up roofing first part of next week. But today? It’s all about the home office. This is where it starts to get fun.”
“Well, you know where you can find me when you need a woman’s opinion.”
Emma walked into the kitchen. Will had started a fresh pot of coffee, and she could smell it as soon as she walked in.
o o o
In a kitchen on the other side of Juneberry, Samantha Connor placed her hand on her stomach, feeling the baby kick inside her womb.
Two more weeks, Samantha thought to herself while she unloaded warm clothes from the dryer. Samantha found the portable phone they’d lost track of the night before sitting on the washing machine, then silently chastised herself for her absentmindedness. Pregnancy, she told Jim, had numbed her mind. She dialed Jim’s number.
“It’s me. Sorry to bug you, but I just wanted to call and see how your day is going.”
After more than twenty years of marriage, Samantha knew Jim would hear the feelings behind the words. He knew all of the reasons she might be calling. He knew about her insecurities, her fear of spiders, that she’d never learned to swim, that she cried sometimes while watching greeting-card commercials on TV.
“Things are fine here, honey. How’s everything at home?”
“Oh fine, Noel’s upstairs playing his guitar and Beth’s already left for school. I’m downstairs folding laundry.”
“Anything on your mind?”
“No, I’m just thinking I’d give Emma a call this morning to see how she’s doing. I’m so glad we got a chance to talk this week, and Christina says they had a good time yesterday. I was considering inviting all the ladies over here on Sunday afternoon. What do you think about that?”
“Sounds fine as long as you feel up to it.”
Samantha opened the lid to the washing machine and tumbled in a new load of laundry.
“I’m just thinking about a small ladies’ tea. Nothing fancy. Just some sandwiches on the deck if it’s warm enough. Otherwise, we’ll have it indoors.”
“Sure, I think that’s a great idea. I’d just make sure Beth helps you with the cleaning. Noel and I can pitch in too, then bug out so you have the place to yourselves. You just don’t want to take it all on yourself.”
Samantha shut the top of the washing machine and picked up a powder blue laundry basket filled with warm clothing. She carried it into the living room cradling the portable phone against her shoulder.
“I won’t do too much, but I want it to be nice. I’ll have to check the weather and see what’s it’s going to do that day.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.”
Samantha set the basket on the sofa and sat down next to it. She wore an old pink robe and slippers, the only things in her closet she could really feel comfortable in. She backed her feet out of the heelless slippers and felt the coarseness of the carpet against her toes.
“Jim?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you still glad you married me?”
“Yes, of course I am. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. When I compare myself to Emma and Christina, I just feel like I haven’t done very much with myself.”
Samantha scooted back, letting herself sink a little deeper into the cushions of the old couch. She felt as big as a house, unattractive, and unlovable.
“Why is it women always compare themselves to each other? Sam, we have a wonderful marriage, two nearly grown children, and a new baby on the way. Instead of asking whether you’ve done enough, why don’t you ask yourself if you’re happy and if you enjoy your life?”
“I’m grateful for all that, I am, but they just lead such adventurous lives. Emma’s a successful lawyer, Christina writes books and gets to travel around the country. I feel like all I ever get to do is fold clothes and make babies.”
“Samantha, that’s not true. You’ve stayed at home so our kids can have a full-time mom. You make the house a pleasure for all of us who live there, and your cinnamon coffee cake is the envy of the office here. Our family wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t there doing everything you do.”
“I know, but I want to do something special with my life too. I want to make a difference.”
“Noel and Beth are something special. In just a few weeks, we’ll have another special creation in our home to love and enjoy. You get the privilege of helping grow that new baby into all God wants him to be.”
Samantha let out a long, exasperated sigh. She propped her arm on the basket like an armrest, feeling its warmth against her skin.
“Then why am I so down on myself? I love our family and I really do like being a mom.”
Samantha laid her head against the back of the sofa wishing it was Jim’s shoulder.
“Do you ever dream that? About going somewhere away from the pressure?”
“Heck yeah! But the difference is I get to escape from my pressures at a place called home. It’s what you do for me and everyone in our family that makes that possible.”
A smile appeared on Samantha’s face. Jim’s words had worked their wonder, renewing Samantha’s spirit just like the time he’d brought her a bouquet of yellow jessamine, her favorite flower, that day in July. He always seemed to know just what words to say and it startled her to think where she’d be without him.
“I love you,” she told him simply, because it was never easy for Samantha to find the right words. Not the way Jim could.
“I love you, too, hon. We’re still going to the Whitfields’ barn dance on Saturday night, right?”
“Oh my gosh, I’d completely forgotten about that.”
“Well, there’s your fun and excitement, Sam. Country music, hayride, apple cider. Some of your favorite things. Sounds pretty wild and crazy to me.”
“I wonder if Emma knows about the dance. It sort of snuck up on us with everything going on this week. I know Christina and Bo are going.”
“There’s another reason to call Emma.”
“Yes, it is,” Samantha laughed. It wasn’t a cruise down the Riviera, but she knew she loved her life.
“Okay, I feel much better. Gotta go.”
“What a second! Now that you’re back to normal and don’t need me anymore, you’re just going to throw me aside?”
Samantha got up from the sofa and peered around the corner, taking the phone with her, making sure Noel hadn’t come downstairs.
“No, I’m going to cook you pork tenderloin tonight,” she said in a whisper, “and think up some other ways to show you how much I love you.”
“Right back atcha.”
o o o
Emma tunneled through the stacks of canned and dried goods, boxes of Wheat and Corn Chex that had been carried in from the pantry. She carved out a space to cook breakfast and a place at the table for the three of them to eat.
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