The Red Gloves Collection

by Karen Kingsbury

  Either way, their conversation had done nothing to ease Brianna’s mood. The carefree child with bright eyes and bouncing pigtails had disappeared, and in her place was a little girl both moody and melancholy.

  Beth kept the morning routine at a fast pace, and managed to get Brianna in the car eight minutes earlier than usual. Sure enough, the commute was stop and go, with an occasional car sliding off the road and others spinning into oncoming traffic. The speed was slow, so none of the mishaps was serious, and Beth pulled up in front of Brianna’s day care just a few minutes later than usual.

  Dana Goode—one of Beth’s friends from high school—ran the day care from her house. Beth felt good leaving Brianna with her, and sometimes, if she was early, she and Dana would talk about the old days, high school and dating and how Bobby was always the only one for Beth.

  “Everyone always said it,” Dana would say as she punished a piece of gum, “Bobby Baldwin only had eyes for you, Beth. As far back as time he only had eyes for you.”

  Beth had still not told Dana about her decision to leave; she was sure the idea wouldn’t go over well.

  Just as well she had no time to talk that morning. She led Brianna up the walk, careful not to slip in the snow, and shouldered her way into the house. She was about to kiss Brianna good-bye when she looked up and saw Dana standing there, both eyebrows raised halfway up her forehead.

  Beth went ahead with her kiss and patted Brianna’s back. “Go on, honey, the kids are waiting for you.”

  Brianna looked from her mother to Dana and back again. “Bye.” She shuffled off, a blank look on her face.

  The moment she was out of earshot, Dana leaned in and hissed at Beth. “You and Bobby are splitting up? What, Beth, are you crazy?”

  Beth refused to react. She put her hands on her hips and gave a slight roll of her eyes. “Who told you?”

  “Who do you think?” She huffed hard and paced two steps away, then two steps back. “Bobby called, asked me to pray for you guys.”

  “He what?” Beth was amused at the idea. Bobby hadn’t talked about prayer in years, other than an occasional dinner when he remembered to pray over the meal. They went to church once in a rare while, but that was the extent of it. “Now I know you’re making it up. Come on, who told you? Really … ”

  Dana stopped, her mouth open. “I can’t believe you, Beth. What’s happened?” She straightened, the shock wearing off. “Wasn’t that you driving me to church every Sunday during our college years? Weren’t you the one telling me to trust God, that someone right would come along if I put God first?”

  Beth’s gaze fell. “That was a long time ago.” She looked up. “For all of us.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning Bobby and I haven’t prayed together in years. Don’t tell me he asked you to pray for our marriage.”

  “Well.” Another huff. “That’s exactly what he did. Now listen, Beth. It’s my job as a friend to tell you this.” Dana was a fast talker; she paused only long enough to snatch another breath. “No one will ever love you the way Bobby loves you. He might’ve slipped lately, forgotten what was important, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

  “Slipped?” Beth looked at her watch and gave a chuckle that sounded more sarcastic than humorous. “I haven’t seen a yellow rose in three years, Dana. When Bobby and I were dating, he brought me yellow roses every week. Yellow roses and homemade key lime pie— the only thing he knew how to cook.”

  “So you grew up. So what?”

  “So?” Beth tossed her hands up. “So now I’m old hat, and you know what?” She lowered her voice so Brianna wouldn’t hear her in the next room. “I’m sick of it. Sick of coming home each afternoon to a husband parked in front of the television. Sick of competing with Sports Center for my husband’s attention. If he had to choose between me and the TV remote, he’d take the remote. Hands down.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, fuming. “I’m sick of not mattering, Dana, sick of wishing he’d bring me roses or look at me the way he used to. I don’t love him anymore. I don’t.” She straightened her sweater, grabbing at her composure. “I’m getting out before I forget how living feels.”

  A mix of emotions worked their way into Dana’s expression. Shock became horror, and that became hurt and disappointment. Finally she shook her head. “Love’s about more than yellow roses and key lime pie.”

  “Yeah.” Beth took a few backward steps toward the door. “It’s about more than the sports channel, too.”

  She was out the door and halfway to work before she realized how terrible she’d acted. Dana was only trying to help, trying to influence Beth not to leave.

  But what about Bobby? What right did he have calling her friend and asking for prayer? He might as well have come right out and asked her to intervene.

  Beth tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

  It didn’t matter; the ordeal would be over soon enough, as soon as Christmas was behind them. Bobby could say whatever he wanted, he could ask people to pray and tell her he still loved her. The truth was he wanted her to leave as badly as she wanted to go. Otherwise he would’ve spent more time with her, talked to her more often. Turned off the television once in a while.

  No, it was over, and nothing would change the fact now.

  She pulled into the parking lot of the Greer Retirement Village and headed to the third floor. That’s when she remembered. It was Day Nine. She’d missed days seven and eight because they were her days off. But Day Nine was the big day, wasn’t it? The day the sweet old woman would add words to her ritual?

  For a moment she considered working the opposite side of the floor. The drawn-out story couldn’t possibly help her, so why was she listening to it? Then it dawned on her: Because this was Christmas, and even if her entire life was falling apart, spending time with Sarah Lindeman was the least she could do—her way of giving something back to a lonely old lady.

  She entered Sarah’s room and found the woman sitting up, smiling at her. “You came.”

  “Yes.” Beth stepped inside, not sure what she was feeling. “I want to hear the words to the song.”

  Last time she was here, listening to the story, the details had made her cry. But now—in light of the events that morning—she didn’t feel a bit tenderhearted. She wanted to put in a mindless eight hours and move one day closer to December 26. For a beat, she considered turning around, but then she changed her mind. She returned Sarah’s smile and set about finding fresh clothes for the woman. Over the next hour she prepared Sarah’s bath and made sure she got her meal down.

  When they were finished, Beth took her place in the familiar chair. “I’ve missed a few days.”

  “You weren’t at work.” Sarah shot her a thoughtful look. “Home with your family, no doubt.”

  “Yes.” Beth couldn’t force a smile. Enough about her family. She leaned forward in her seat. “Okay, catch me up.

  “You have to promise something.”

  Promise something? Beth bit her lip. She barely knew the old woman. “What?”

  “Promise you’ll be here for the last three days.”

  Beth calculated the dates in her head. The twelfth day would take place on Friday, her last day of work before Christmas. She nodded at Sarah. “I promise.” But the words felt hollow, even to her. She was about to walk away from her husband, after all. If she couldn’t keep the most important promise she’d ever made, how could she expect to keep this one?

  Still, Sarah seemed satisfied. She pulled herself up some and settled into a stack of pillows propped against the headboard. “You remember where we were?”

  “The dance.” Beth felt herself relax. Her time with Sarah did that to her. Now that she was back again, the story drew her, made her anxious for the next piece. And not only the next piece, but also for the special meaning Sarah had spoken about. Because in the midst of this crazy, hectic, hurtful Christmas season, between divorce plans and arguing with Bobby, Beth had an almost desperate need to unde
rstand the bigger picture.

  It was possible Sarah knew what she was talking about, right? If she did, then in just a few days Beth might actually learn something she’d wanted to know for the past several years.

  The secret of love.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SARAH TUCKED THE COVERS IN tight around her waist. Her heart glowed at the return of Beth Baldwin. The miracle was coming; Sarah could feel it.

  “Yes, dear. That’s where we were. The dance.”

  “You were at the church when we finished Day Six.”

  “Right. After stopping at the church I went straight home, to my parents’ house.” Sarah smiled, and her eyes grew watery. “My parents were great people; such love for God and me.”

  Sarah didn’t comment on the irony, but it was there. In less than a week, Beth also was going back to her parents’ house; Sarah had heard one of the nurses talking about it. She found her place in time.

  “It was summer by then.” Her eyes found the window, the place where she looked when her memories were the strongest. “Late July. The summer of forty-one.”

  Sarah’s parents were at the doorstep the moment they saw her pull up. Without a single question, they took her in their arms and welcomed her inside. For the next hour—sparing them any of the shocking details—she told them how she had trusted Mitch Mullins, how he’d led her to believe he was interested in her music, and how he’d betrayed her in the end.

  “I thought he loved me, Daddy.” She lifted her eyes to her father, glad she hadn’t told him how serious her mistakes had been. He was a kind, gentle man. The detailed truth would be more than he could handle.

  “And now?” Sarah’s mother was quiet, probably afraid of her answer. “How do you feel about him now?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I never knew him. I made … ” She hung her head. “I made a fool of myself.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Her father was on his feet, his arms outstretched. “You’re here, aren’t you? You had the sense to come home, to know that we were waiting for you.” He gave her a hug. “Nothing foolish about that.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.” Sarah held her breath. She’d been dying to ask the question since the night she found out about Mitch, but now the moment had come. “Have you heard from Sam?”

  Her parents exchanged a look, and then her father sat back down in his chair, his elbows planted on his knees. “Sam left, sweetheart. Took a job somewhere up north. New York, maybe, or New Jersey.”

  Sarah’s mouth went dry. What? Sam left? He took a job and didn’t tell her parents whether it was in New York or New Jersey? Her head began to spin and she sat in the nearest chair, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hand in order to concentrate. “What … sort of job?”

  “He’s a principal, honey.” Sarah’s mother gave her a sad smile. “The last time we saw him, he said something about getting on with his life.” She dropped her chin, her gaze gentle but unwavering. “I think he was referring to you, dear.”

  Sarah was drowning. As if she had a steel cable around her waist and no matter how hard she kicked and swam she couldn’t get to the surface, couldn’t grab another mouthful of air. “Where … ” She gave a few short exhales and rubbed her fingers into her brow. “Where did he apply? Do you know?”

  “To tell you the truth, honey, I don’t think he wanted us to know. His parents moved away a few years ago— you know that. And when he came by the house his visit had a sense of finality to it.” He looked at Sarah’s mother. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

  “Yes.” She bit her lower lip and gave a sad shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I somehow guessed you’d come looking for him one day.”

  Sarah didn’t have to finish the thought. The truth hung out there in the open for all three of them to gawk at. She’d waited too long for Sam Lindeman. He’d given years of his life to courting Sarah, and now he’d moved away, given up. The way he should’ve given up a long time ago.

  In the next few days, Sarah tried everything to find him. She called the principal at his previous school, but the man was adamant. “We don’t discuss former employees,” he told her. “The files of our teachers—past and present—are highly confidential.”

  Sarah had another idea. She called the operator in the town where his parents had moved and asked for their number. After nearly a minute of checking, the operator came back on the line and apologized. “Apparently they’ve moved. There’s no one in that town by the name Lindeman—listed or unlisted.”

  At the end of the week, she had to admit her situation. Sam was gone, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  Sarah broke her stare at the window, peered at Beth Baldwin, and nodded her chin toward the little Christmas tree. “That’s why the seventh ornament says Gone.” She kept her eyes on the tree. “And number eight, see it there?”

  Beth slid to the edge of the padded chair and looked on the backside of the tree. “Longing? Is that the one?”

  “It is.” Sarah relaxed her neck and allowed herself a view of the window once more. She would’ve liked to tell the whole story perched along her walker, staring down at the bench. But this would have to do, this knowing that the bench was there, just outside the window.

  She drew a full breath and continued.

  When her efforts turned up nothing, she had to admit the truth. Sam was gone. With every hour that passed, Sarah longed for him, and became more certain that he had been exactly right for her, the man she’d always wanted. She’d left him to chase paper dreams and lost more than her high hopes along the way. Yes, Sam was gone, but she could no more stop longing for him than she could stop the sun from rising.

  Not that Sarah expected much to come of her feelings.

  Sam deserved someone whole and pure; he was too good for a girl like her. She was yesterday’s news, dead broke without a plan in the world, her singing career over almost as soon as it had started.

  For the next month she held that opinion, certain that though God had forgiven her, it must’ve been a struggle for Him to do so. And Sam—if she ever saw him again—couldn’t possibly see her the same as before. Not if he knew the truth.

  But something changed at the end of that month.” Sarah’s voice sounded distant, dreamy, even. “People kept seeing me and asking about Sam, and finally one Sunday I took the situation to God.”

  Beth’s eyes were wide; she looked like she wouldn’t have moved from her chair for anything in the world. “And?”

  Sarah smiled, slow and full. “He gave me my song.”

  “And that’s Number Nine?”

  “Yes, dear.” She pointed at the four envelopes remaining. “Could you hand me the one with the nine, Beth. Please?”

  The envelopes looked ancient, cracked and faded. Beth took Number Nine and handed it to her. “I’m dying to know what happened.”

  “The most amazing thing, really.” Sarah paused. “Sit back, Beth. You won’t want to miss it. Not the story … or the part that comes afterwards. Remember, I told you?”

  Beth grinned, and her eyes didn’t look as pained as before. “The secret to love?”

  “Exactly.” Sarah pointed her finger in the air to make her point. “The secret to love.”

  Sarah took the ornament from the envelope and said the word out loud. “The word is Opportunity.” She placed it on the tree. “Let me explain.”

  The more time passed that summer, the more Sarah had longed for Sam. All she needed was a way to find him, to let him know she was thinking about him. An opportunity.

  “And so I did the only thing I could think to do.” She angled her head, her eyes on the window once more. “I wrote a song.”

  “The one you’ve been humming?”

  “That very one.”

  Every day Sarah would walk to Greer Park and sit on the bench at the edge of the grassy field, allowing God to mold the words and lyrics to her song. That fall, sitting on the bench, she finally finished it. And then she begged God for a miracle, for His
help in finding Sam. Even if only for a few minutes, so he could hear her song.

  Another month went by. Then, one Monday morning in late September, Mr. Hamilton, her boss from Trail-way Records, called. Someone had fallen for her voice. Not a Mitch Mullins. This time the person interested was the head of the company. The president of Trailway Records.

  Sarah couldn’t believe it, not even as she waited for Mr. Hamilton’s explanation. While working in Nashville, she’d never met the president of the recording company, and now—now that she’d given up her dream and crawled home with her tail between her legs—now her voice had caught the attention of someone at the top of the industry.

  “We’d like to bring you back out, Sarah.” Mr. Hamilton’s voice was brimming with excitement. “You can sing some of your other songs, and maybe something new. Would that be a problem?”

  Sarah was thrilled, but not at the idea of living in Nashville. “I can come out, but I won’t stay. My home is here in Greer.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll only need you for a week or so.”

  She thought of something. “I’m … I’m not sure I have the money to get there.”

  Mr. Hamilton gave a soft laugh. “Sarah, we’ll pay for the train ticket, your meals, and your hotel. You’ll be staying in the Trailway Records suite at the big hotel just down the street from our offices.”

  Sarah had to stifle a scream. She was getting her break after all! And without compromising anything! Her excitement was dimmed only by the fact that Sam would never know. He had prayed for her, wished her well, and let her go. But now he wouldn’t be a part of whatever God was about to do. And she knew it was God, as surely as she knew what day it was. She’d given all of it—her life, her singing, her heart—back to God. And now, in all His mercy, He was giving her the chance to sing her own songs on her own terms, living at her own address.