Carry the Light (16 page)

She smiled, squeezed his hand and held on tight.

O
nly minutes after she'd finished teaching her last class, Ellie picked up her mail in the main office, then hurried down the hall, to escape to the relative peace and quiet of her own office.

When she turned the final corner, eager to slip inside her own space before anyone came out of the faculty room across the hall to delay her, she spied three students who should have been in class gathered around an open locker. She stopped, raised a brow and stared at them.

A red-faced Alicia Conners, a student in Ellie's second-period honors class, nudged the locker closed with her knee. “Mrs. Waters is here,” she croaked, and scurried off with her two girlfriends following on her heels.

“Rank and reputation have their benefits,” Ellie murmured to herself, rather pleased that she'd only had to show her displeasure to get the students moving to class. She turned to enter her office when Meghan Vincent-Douglass, one of the youngest teachers in the school and a Welleswood Wonder, came out of the faculty room.

A first-year mathematics teacher, Meghan had an Ivy League graduate degree, a Barbie doll figure and a condescending attitude that irritated a lot of people.

“Oh, there you are,” Meghan crooned as she clicked her way over to Ellie in stiletto heels more suitable for a formal affair than the classroom. “Bless your heart. Don't you look so professional and so dedicated again today.”

Ellie bristled, but she kept a smile pasted on her face. “Hello, Meghan,” she replied, and reached for the doorknob to make her exit before losing valuable time listening to the young woman's usual prattle about how she wanted to bring Welleswood High School out of the Dark Ages, a term that historians had abandoned years ago.

“I'm just on my way to see Tommy Murphy's guidance counselor, Mr. Grant,” Meghan said in a low voice, forcing Ellie to pause and listen. “That poor sweet boy is bound to be very upset about what happened, and I'd like to make sure he gets all the support we can offer him.”

Ellie had taught Tommy last year. Although she would scarcely have described the teenager as a “poor sweet boy,” she was concerned about what might have happened to him that required the intervention of his guidance counselor. “Why? What happened?”

“Haven't you heard?”

“Obviously not,” Ellie replied.

“I shouldn't be surprised,” Meghan said, patting Ellie's arm. “You're much too busy taking such good care of your students and the members of your department to spend any time at all in the faculty room.”

Sighing, Ellie decided not to argue. “What happened?” she asked again, directing their conversation back to the point.

Meghan's gaze grew troubled. “Poor dear. His grandfather, I mean. He had an automobile accident not half an hour ago, right in the middle of town.”

“Was he badly hurt?” Ellie asked, loath to admit that Meghan was right to get the counselor involved, because Tommy would be very upset if anything had happened to his grandfather.

“From what we understand, he's only shaken up by the whole experience. They took him to the hospital by ambulance, just to be on the safe side.”

“That's good news,” Ellie replied. She had known Tommy's grandfather, the elderly Stanley Murphy, for many years. He and his wife, Margaret, had lived up the street from Ellie's mother until a few years ago, when they had sold their home and moved into the high-rise for senior citizens.

Ellie was surprised, however, that the news about the poor man's accident had spread to the faculty room so quickly, and she worried that Tommy might also have heard about it, since it was hard to enforce the school rule requiring students to keep their cell phones turned off during the school day. “How did you find out about the accident so soon?”

“Actually, I only heard about it just now in the faculty room. Mrs. Anderson was talking about it. Apparently Mr. Elliott's cousin was having a late breakfast at The Diner when the accident happened and sent a text message to him with all the details. He told Mrs. Anderson, since they teach in adjoining classrooms, and she told the rest of us. Naturally, I thought at once about helping Tommy.”

“I'm sure Mr. Grant will appreciate your interest and make sure Tommy knows his grandfather wasn't hurt,” Ellie said.

“I'm more concerned that the other students don't tease Tommy about it,” the younger teacher said. “The latest research tells us that it's better to address all forms of intimidation, including teasing, rather than ignore it.”

“I'm not sure we have to worry about the students teasing Tommy about his grandfather simply because he had an accident on the avenue,” she countered, not bothering to add that there weren't many students in the entire school who would dare to tease Tommy about anything.

“The accident is only the half of it. The poor soul plowed right through the plate-glass window into Sweet Stuff,” Meghan said, shaking her head. “Half the students here stop there on their way home to buy candy, when they would be much better off walking right next door for some unsalted nuts or naturally dried fruit. That's one of the reasons I've been trying to get more active in the PTA,” she explained earnestly. “I honestly think we should make a real effort to convince the candy-store owner to either stop selling candy to the students after school or at least limit what they buy. Sugar causes all sorts of health—”

“I'm sure they'll be glad to have the benefit of your insight,” Ellie said, too worried about Charlene to care if she was being abrupt with Meghan. “If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go inside and make a few calls to make sure the store's owner wasn't hurt in the accident.”

Meghan sniffed. “You don't have to bother. She's fine. At least, that's what Mrs. Anderson said, although there were quite a few teachers concerned about their orders for Easter candy, as much as I was.”

Ellie narrowed her gaze. “You ordered something from Sweet Stuff?”

“Of course not. I ordered some special treats from Natural Wonders for Easter, but Mrs. Callow said she had gotten another text message from her son-in-law, who was having his hair cut at the time. He rushed out of the barber shop when the accident occurred, and sent a text message that Sweet Stuff was pretty damaged, but Natural Wonders seemed to be just fine. So my order should be, too,” she explained. “I'd love to keep chatting, but I really do need to get to Mr. Grant before this period ends,” she said, then turned and clicked her way down the hall.

Ellie opened the door and slipped into her office, convinced that new technology, like cell phones, had added as many troubles as it had offered benefits.

Concerned about Charlene, Ellie was reaching for the phone when she had second thoughts. Charlene was probably preoccupied with more pressing matters than talking to Ellie. She had to be devastated by the damage to her shop. Ellie didn't know if any stock remained to fill the Easter-basket orders now, but she did know that Charlene needed prayers more than she needed a telephone call.

After pausing to pray for Charlene, as well as for poor Stanley Murphy and his family, Ellie started sorting the paperwork from her mailbox. She found a note from her supervisor asking to meet with her tomorrow at one o'clock. She added the appointment to her calendar, hoping Nate Pepperidge might have some news about how soon his position would be posted and interviews might begin.

 

By working straight through lunch, Ellie finished grading all the quizzes half an hour after the end of her official workday. She selected a package of Necco wafers from the candy stash in her bottom drawer, opened it, removed all the chocolate ones—which she set up on her desk like a stack of coins—and put the rest away. She finished one wafer before calling home to check on her mother and ask if she wanted Ellie to pick up anything at the store for supper on the way home. It was a sincere effort on her part to consider her mother's wishes for the menu.

Her mother answered the telephone on the first ring.

“Mother?”

“Ellie, I'm glad you called. I was just writing you a note. Phyllis Kennedy is here, and she's taking me with her to visit with Stanley Murphy. He's just back from the hospital. Poor dear. He and Margaret are both very upset, as you might expect. Phyllis made a tuna casserole for them to have for supper. She thought it would be nice if I went along with her, so she was kind enough to pick up dessert from McAllister's for me to take to them. We were neighbors with the Murphys for years, if you recall. I suppose you heard what happened today on the avenue.”

“I did,” Ellie replied, swallowing her concerns that her mother was going out on a social call for the first time since taking ill. “I'm sure they'll both be happy to see you. Will you be back in time for supper?”

“Probably not. Phyllis made a huge casserole. She seems to think we'll be staying to eat with them, but I'm sure I'll be home by seven. If that changes, I'll call you, but don't wait on my account. If you're hungry, go ahead and make something for yourself to eat. Something nutritious. Not a handful of candy,” she added and hung up.

Ellie stared at the receiver for a moment before placing it back in the cradle. “Not bad. Not bad at all,” she murmured, easily dismissing the barb at the end of her conversation in favor of appreciating how she and her mother had talked to one another civilly. Inspired by her mother's plans to visit her friend, Ellie made a few quick calls before leaving work, on behalf of a friend of her own.

The meal she ordered from The Diner to be delivered to her home later was not homemade, like Phyllis Kennedy's tuna casserole, but she ordered a dessert from McAllister's to be delivered, as well—a German chocolate cake—and her intentions were just as well-founded. She suspected she might find Charlene at Sweet Stuff, trying to find a way to fill her Easter-basket orders, in spite of the setback she had suffered—and she was unlikely to be thinking about supper. If she wasn't there, Ellie would deliver the meal to Charlene's aunt's house with an offer to help however she could, because that's what friends did for each other.

And that was one lesson Ellie had learned long ago from the most important person in her life: her mother.

E
llie finally arrived near the scene of this morning's accident shortly after four o'clock, wearing old jeans and heavy shoes, with a pair of thick work gloves in the pocket of her jacket. She was ready to help Charlene, whether that meant working to clean up the shop or simply sitting and listening to a friend who must be at her wit's end, if not completely devastated, by what had happened.

With dinner in one shopping bag and dessert in another, Ellie walked along the brick sidewalk. The moment she saw the plywood across the window of the candy store she caught her breath.

Although she had expected to find the storefront boarded up, she had not anticipated the degree of sadness she would feel or the heaviness that filled her heart when she got close enough to see Sweet Stuff awkwardly spray-painted in large pink-and-white letters on the rough wood. She paused to read the brief and soulful message painted under the name:
Trust and Believe.

Moved by her friend's faith, Ellie swallowed hard. She tried not to question why Mr. Murphy had accidentally driven into Sweet Stuff, out of all the shops on the avenue. This tiny store offered so much more than scrumptious chocolates or nostalgic candy. It inspired memories of long ago and created new memories for the children who stopped here on their way home from school.

Sweet Stuff was the one place on the avenue where you could stop, without a penny in your pocket or with your spirits low, and leave minutes later with a handful of candy and a smile in your heart. Even now, the store continued to inspire and touch anyone who drove by, with the simple message of hope, courage and faith painted on the plywood.

When Sweet Stuff had first opened, many residents of the small town had been quick to criticize Charlene for abruptly closing the store in the middle of the day for a “chocolate emergency,” which meant she had left to deliver a sweet treat to someone who needed a friendly ear or a hug of encouragement. Everyone had quickly learned, however, that if they waited for a bit or came back later, Charlene would reward their patience by adding a little bit extra to their order, free of charge.

Ellie tightened her hold on the shopping bags and approached the entry to the store. Surprisingly, she found the glass door intact. Unfortunately, her view inside was blocked by a pink-and-white gingham curtain. The Closed sign was hanging inside the door, but the sign listing Charlene's hours was missing.

Stymied for a moment, Ellie set down one of her shopping bags and knocked. If Charlene was here, she would answer. Ellie knew her well enough to be sure Charlene would not turn anyone away, even now, although Ellie had no idea how much stock had been ruined by Mr. Murphy's mishap.

After waiting for a few moments, she reached out to knock a second time, when the door opened.

“Ellie! I knew you'd come,” Charlene said, glancing at the bag on her stoop and the bag in Ellie's hand. She swung the door open wider. “I sure hope you have something in one of those bags for supper. I'm so hungry I could eat my way through three pounds of chocolate-covered pretzels, which I don't have at the moment.”

Though her words were typical Charlene, upbeat and humorous, Ellie detected the sorrow and strain in her friend's voice. She could also tell by the puffiness around Charlene's eyes that her friend had done a fair bit of crying today.

Ellie picked up the bag on the stoop and handed it over. “I had a feeling you'd be too busy to stop and eat, and too tired and upset to cook when you got home. Since today is Wednesday, the special at The Diner is stuffed pork chops, so I got a couple of orders for you and your aunt. I wasn't sure if either of you liked them, so I asked for a meatloaf platter and a chicken pot pie, as well. You probably have enough food to last for a couple of dinners, even if your husband is here, too,” she said, assuming that Charlene's husband would want to be here, under the circumstances.

“Daniel is here. He decided to surprise Aunt Dorothy and me by taking a few vacation days so he could finish up clearing out her yard. He got here early this morning, which turned out to be both a surprise and a blessing, considering what happened,” she replied as she took hold of the bag.

Her eyes filled with tears, which she blinked away. Smiling, she lifted up the bag to inhale the delicious aromas. “Ah, this smells great, great, great. Daniel should probably be finishing up in about an hour, so I'll try to hold off eating all of this before I meet him back at Aunt Dorothy's. He had a few errands to run, including meeting with our insurance agent, Jack Meloni, to take care of all the paperwork, so all I'll have to do is sign,” she said, eyeing the bag Ellie was carrying. “Come on in.”

Ellie handed the second bag to Charlene as she entered the store, and laughed when she saw her friend's eyes widen. “Yes, it's a McAllister's bag. No, it's not donuts, which probably won't make your aunt very happy, but yes, what's inside is luscious and decadent and loaded with enough sugar and chocolate to satisfy both of you,” she teased.

Ellie sobered the moment she saw that the store was empty, totally, the stock gone and the display cases nowhere in sight.

The counter was gone, too, along with the cash register. Even a few of the antique tin ceiling tiles were missing, and the planked floorboards had been swept so clean of all debris, Ellie could not see a single dust ball.

If Charlene hadn't been standing right there, Ellie might have suspected she had entered the wrong store. She looked at Charlene and cocked her head. “What happened to all your…your stuff?” she asked.

Charlene's bottom lip trembled. “I—I think I've asked myself the same question a hundred times today. What's happened to my store and my candy and my cases and my…my stuff?” she whispered, sniffling back a tear. “It's gone, Ellie. All of it. Gone.”

“Gone? You mean stored away somewhere?”

“I wish I did,” Charlene replied. “When Daniel and I got here this morning, right after the accident, we weren't allowed inside because the authorities had to make sure the structure of the building hadn't been compromised and the gas line wasn't raptured. I'd seen enough to suspect that I might have to close down for a few days to clear away the debris, but I was more worried that Daniel would get the window boarded up before it started to rain.”

She paused, looked around the empty store again and sighed. “As it turned out, the rain didn't amount to much more than a drizzle, and we got a call within an hour or so that we could come back. But…but once I was inside again, I realized that the glass from the storefront window had shattered and sent splinters flying everywhere. I found bits of glass in the fur of the stuffed animals and in the weave of the gift baskets.”

She glanced up at the ceiling for a moment and shook her head. “When a couple of the tin ceiling tiles fell, the glass in the display cases broke and shards rained down on every bit of candy inside. At least the storeroom survived,” she said, brightening a bit. “Come on back. I unplugged the telephone so I wouldn't be constantly interrupted. I needed to make a list of what I had stored in the basement so I could try to figure out a thing or two,” she said, and started walking toward the back of the store.

Ellie followed along behind her friend, their footsteps echoing across the wooden floor. “Now that I've seen it, I'm afraid I still don't believe it,” she said, amazed at how quickly the store had reverted back to the empty space that had languished here for a number of months after the pet store had closed.

“I don't think I quite believe it yet myself,” Charlene replied, and placed the two shopping bags on the worktable.

“What did you do with everything, and how on earth did you get it all cleared away?” Ellie asked as she removed her jacket. The workroom itself, which was protected by a wall that separated it from the main store, was intact and looked much the same as it had the last time Ellie had been here. Even the two boxes of stuffed animals she'd helped Charlene carry up from the basement were still in the corner.

Charlene walked over to the small kitchen, past the machine that melted the chocolate, and opened a cabinet. “I turned into an octopus, or at least that's how it felt,” she said as she took some paper plates from the cabinet.

“You had lots of help?” Ellie asked, finding it impossible to believe that in the space of five or six hours, her friend had gotten enough help to clean out the entire store.

Charlene carried the plates back to the worktable, along with a knife and a couple of plastic forks. “If I ever, ever doubted the wisdom of opening my store in a small town, where the only person I knew was my Aunt Dorothy, I found out today that this is the best place in the whole world I could have chosen,” she murmured. “Sam Watkins, the president of the Welleswood Business Association, galvanized an entire crew of people, who had this store cleaned out in a matter of hours. Even the mayor helped, sending over some municipal workers, who showed up with trucks and hauled everything away. Ginger King, bless her heart, called her friend, Lisa Williams, the head of the Women's Auxiliary, who called some of the other members, and showed up with lunch for everyone. I think there might have been twenty or thirty people here to help me at one time or another, including some men who helped Daniel board up the window. Aunt Dorothy's friends, Annie Parker and Madeline O'Rourke, even went over to the house to spend the day so I wouldn't worry about her.”

“Well,” Ellie said. “I would imagine that most of those people have either been at the receiving end of one of your ‘chocolate emergencies,' or know someone who has. Small-town life has its quirks and its problems, for sure, but when trouble hits, there isn't a better place to be than right here in Welleswood.”

“True,” Charlene agreed firmly. She opened the bag from McAllister's and set the cake box at the end of the worktable. She glanced at Ellie as she cut the string. “Don't even bother telling me I should eat my dinner first. I've got to have a piece of this cake, and you do, too.”

Ellie chuckled. “I do?”

“Never eat chocolate alone. That's one of my rules, so I can't have a piece of this unless you do,” Charlene insisted.

“I'm not sure I like that rule, since I usually eat alone. Or I used to, before my mother came to live with me. And she doesn't favor chocolate or sweets as much as I do.”

“Then you fall under rule number two, which is never, ever let a friend eat chocolate alone,” she quipped, then opened the box, lifted out the cake and placed it on the table.

The two friends looked at the cake for a moment as if it were a work of art. A full three layers high, the top of the cake was smothered in caramel-colored custard thick with coconut, which oozed and drizzled down the dark-chocolate icing covering the cake on all sides. Inside, as Ellie knew from experience, each layer contained more of the same custard and coconut.

Judging by the look on Charlene's face, Ellie was quite certain her friend's mouth was watering as much as hers was. She grinned and handed Charlene the knife, “When my mother told me she wouldn't be home for dinner tonight, she told me to fix something nutritious, and not to eat a handful of candy for dinner. I didn't exactly tell her I would, but I don't think she'd be very pleased if she found out I decided to eat a piece of McAllister's German chocolate cake for dinner instead.”

“This isn't dinner. It's a snack,” Charlene argued. She cut a piece of cake thick enough to serve three people, put it on a plate and handed it to Ellie. “Did you say your mother went out for dinner? So soon?”

Ellie shrugged. “The doctor said she could do whatever she felt up to,” she replied. She felt awkward telling Charlene where her mother had gone, but she didn't want to hide the fact that her mother was visiting Mr. Murphy. “Actually, she's in good hands. She's with her friend, Phyllis Kennedy. They took dinner to the Murphys, but I don't expect she'll be there much past seven.” She watched Charlene closely to see how she would react.

Charlene paused, holding her knife in the air above the cake, and let out a sigh. “Poor Mr. Murphy,” she said softly. “I wasn't thinking very kind thoughts about him earlier today. I think I was numb at first, and once I got back to Aunt Dorothy's house and reality set in, I got angry, because no one had made Mr. Murphy, a man well into his eighties, turn in his driver's license. And I got angrier still because it was my shop he rammed, when it could very well have been any of the others. Not exactly thoughts worthy of a woman who claims to be a good Christian, were they?” she asked, and cut an equally thick slice of cake for herself.

“They sound like a very normal reaction to a very stressful situation,” Ellie reassured her friend.

“Fortunately, I didn't stay angry for very long,” Charlene went on. “I got depressed, instead, thinking about the people who will be disappointed because I won't be able to fill all their Easter orders. Then I got more depressed, when I realized I was only being selfish.”

She paused and shook her head. “When I really thought about how many people could have been hurt if Mr. Murphy had plowed into The Diner, or one of the other businesses, I realized that I had to trust God to be in control, and believe that He would use this whole event for His own purpose.” She glanced away. “I'm not sure yet what that purpose might be. I am certain I'll backslide a bit, and get frustrated dealing with the insurance company and with all the calls I'll have to make to my customers, canceling their orders, but I'll try hard not to do that for very long. That's why I had Daniel paint that message on the plywood. It's mostly for me,” she admitted.