Emerald Windows (26 page)
“Do…do you plan to keep it…for yourself? Or do you plan to sell it?” The question came out as broken and wavering as her heartbeat.
Helena set a gentle hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “I’m keeping it for myself, of course. I’ve been wanting it for years. But if an offer comes along that I can’t refuse…” She took the sculpture and let out a low, long breath. “Oh, but it would have to be
some
offer.” She looked into Brooke’s eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready to part with it, darling?”
Brooke’s mouth went dry, but still she managed to speak. “I’m sure,” she said. “It’s all yours.”
I
can’t believe you did it,” Roxy said two hours later, after Brooke had opened a Hayden bank account for the stained-glass window expenses and deposited the twenty-five thousand.
“I can’t believe it, either,” Brooke whispered as she drove, aware that the color had still not returned completely to her face. She had gone through the transactions that morning in a zombielike daze, doing what she had to do, but refusing to dwell on the pain it caused. “But I have to concentrate on what it will mean in the long run. We’ll have the chance to do the windows. This won’t cover all of it by a long shot, but it’ll get us started until we can think of something else.”
Roxy just looked at her. “And you’ll be around Nick a little longer.”
“Well…honestly…yeah, there may be something to that. But I’m not sure how he feels.”
“The same,” Roxy said. “He feels exactly the same.”
“How do you know?”
“I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you.” The words were uttered without pleasure.
“Well…anyway…it looks like we will be working together for a while.” She breathed a deep sigh and tried to smile. “I’ll drop you off at home before I go to the church.”
Roxy looked out the window, her expression pensive as she chose her words. Finally she looked at her sister. “You know, Brooke, I think this is really unselfish, what you’re doing. And if you still need me, I’d like to keep working at the church. You don’t have to pay me.”
“Really?” Brooke asked, taking her eyes off the road long enough to gape at Roxy. “You’d do that?”
“Yeah. I’m out of school the rest of this week, and then I can help weekends and after school sometimes. I think I’m going to quit my job at City Hall.”
The sweet, forgiving offer was like an injection of positive energy that made Brooke’s smile more genuine. “All right, Roxy. You can work today, if you want.”
For the first time since she could remember, Roxy answered her smile. They drove to the church in silence as a sense of well-being washed over Brooke. She had the money to get a substantial start on the stained-glass windows. Already, in her mind’s eye, she could see the surprise and delight in Nick’s eyes when she told him.
And that, she realized, was worth ten
Infinities.
Y
OU SAID YOU WEREN’T FIRING
US,” Nick reminded the pastor as they sat in the office at St. Mary’s, figures and projected cost estimates spread out on the table. “If we come up with the money ourselves, we can go ahead with it, right?”
Horace rubbed his loose jaw and straightened his heavy glasses. “I don’t like it,” he said gruffly. “It doesn’t seem fair. You and Brooke don’t have that kind of money.”
Nick leaned forward, anxious to get his point across. His eyes were alive with conviction. “Horace, I’m going to get the money. Now, are you with us, or not?”
A grin stole across Horace’s face. “Yes, I’m with you. If you’re willing to put yourself on the line like that, not even Abby Hemphill can stop you.”
Nick took Horace’s hand and shook it heartily. “You’re a good man, Pastor.”
“And you, my friend, are a devoted artist. I really believe God is going to bless your sacrificial spirit.”
A knock sounded on the office door, and Nick leaned over and opened it, laughter still in his voice as he greeted Brooke and Roxy. “Great news,” he sang out before either of them could speak. “Horace gave us the go-ahead.”
“Then we’re in business!” she said. “I just opened an account and made a deposit this morning.”
Nick got up. “What? A deposit?” His smile began to waver as she brandished the bank book she clutched in her hand.
He took it, opened it, and read the amount. “Twenty-five thousand? Brooke!”
Brooke stemmed his questions with an outstretched hand. “Don’t worry,” she said, laughing and winking at Horace. “I didn’t do anything illegal.”
“But Brooke—”
Brooke cut him off and turned back to the pastor. “So, I guess we have enough to get a good start on the windows, anyway.”
Horace let out a boisterous laugh and shook his head. “That ought to quiet Abby.”
Brooke laughed, then looked back at Nick.
“Brooke, I have to know where you got this money,” he said quietly.
Brooke’s smile vanished. “We’ll talk in a minute,” she said, restoring her smile and taking Horace’s arm. “I’ll walk you out, Pastor.”
Nick watched her disappear with Horace, then turned his suspicious eyes on Roxy, who stood mutely just inside the door.
“What did she do, Roxy?” he whispered. “Where did she get it?”
She shook her head and said, “It should come from her. It’s really none of my business.”
The significance of the girl’s evasion hit him boldly in the heart. “She sold it.” His voice was weak, as though the truth had knocked the breath out of him. “She sold
Infinity,
didn’t she?” Roxy stood motionless, but Nick came toward her, forcing her to answer.
“Didn’t she?”
“She had to.”
“I knew it!” he shouted. “How could she do that? How
could
she when I told her that I would get the money?”
He threw down the bank book and pushed past Roxy, out into the hall and past the construction crews working inside the church. He paced back and forth in front of the door, watching through the window until the pastor drove away. The moment Brooke was alone, he rushed into the parking lot.
“You sold it!” he shouted, bolting toward her. “How could you do that?”
Her face filled with confusion. “Nick, wait a minute,” she said, stepping toward him. “I did what I had to do! We needed the money, and now we’ve got some!”
“I told you that I could come up with the money. You didn’t have to do something so drastic.” Angrily, he strode toward his old Buick and opened his car door.
Brooke yelled, “Nick, where are you going?”
He closed the door and started the car. Before she could stop him, he was out of the parking lot.
B
ROOKE WAITED AT ST. MARY’S
for the rest of the day, hoping Nick would come back, but when darkness finally swallowed the old church, intruding in the workroom and making her feel more isolated, she realized that he didn’t plan to return.
Where had he gone?
She thought of going home, but couldn’t bear the thought of facing her parents and opening herself up to their scrutiny and probing questions. She had called Nick’s house so many times today, but he wasn’t home. He was somewhere nursing his anger, his pain…but why selling the sculpture had caused him such anger, she wasn’t sure…
Everything always came back to that sculpture. Like a magnet, it drew the two of them together but also had the power to repel them. How could something so sweet create such bitterness?
Quietly she walked through the church, wishing, praying, that Nick would appear before she left and tell
her that he understood what she had done, that he appreciated the sacrifice.
“Why don’t you just go buy it back?”
She turned and saw Roxy standing in the doorway, watching her pace. “I can’t,” she said. “We do need the money for the windows.”
“There must be another way to get it,” she said. “Nick must know of one.”
“Another way,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I wish I knew what it could be.” She thought of last night, when they had agreed to finish the windows without pay and he had told her that he could get the money. Today, her failure to wait seemed to have hurt him worse than her selling the sculpture. Was that what this was about?
“Buy it back,” she muttered again, a smile slowly curving her lips as she brought her weary eyes back to Roxy. “That’s what I’ll do.”
N
ICK LEANED BACK AGAINST HIS
Duesenberg and let the river wind whip through his hair.
As if he sat beside him, Nick heard his grandfather’s laughter.
“That’s the thing about women,”
he had told him once.
“Just-a when you think you got ‘em figured, they change all the rules.”
Nick shook the voice out of his head and looked at the car that had been his main source of pride for as long as he’d been able to drive. He could see his grandfather in every detail, from the gold-plated wheel covers to the leather seats. His grandpa, who had believed in him and shown him what was real, despite the pain it cost. His grandpa, who had planted the seeds of faith.
Nick’s eyes misted over, and he realized he’d give every day he’d had as an artist for one more day with his grandfather. He could use a little advice right now. He could use some help.
The night grew more opaque as clouds billowed overhead, and a chill wind crept around him, reminding
him that he was a couple of hours from home. But he had no intention of going back there tonight. Not until he had sorted some things out. Not until he had set some things right.
It was clear in his mind what he had to do. He only wished it had been as clear in Brooke’s.
B
rooke was up at dawn the next morning, pacing in front of the telephone until a decent hour when she could call the gallery and plead with Helena to let her buy back the sculpture. Her parents came in for breakfast, looked at her with concern, and asked what was wrong. She explained as briefly as possible, giving no details.
Before long, Roxy came in as well, and all of them sat quietly as Brooke dialed the gallery. She let the phone ring ten or twelve times and finally gave up until she could try again.
“What is it with that statue?” her father asked, irritated by her persistence.
“It’s important, Daddy,” Brooke said, not in the mood to go into her relationship with Nick. “It was a mistake to sell it.”
“If you ask me, you made a mistake holding onto it all this time,” he said, picking up the paper and flipping to the sports section. “How much did they give you for it, anyway? Fifty, sixty?”
“Twenty-five,” Brooke said absently, flipping through the phone book for Helena’s last name as it had appeared on her check, desperately hoping to catch her at home.
“Then what’s the big deal?” her father asked. “I could have loaned you twenty-five bucks.”
Roxy’s sudden burst of laughter surprised both parents. “Thousand, Daddy. Twenty-five thousand.”
George dropped the newspaper with a sharp intake of breath.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars’.”
he bellowed. “They paid you twenty-five thousand for that, and you think you made a mistake?”
Oblivious to her parents’ shock, Brooke eyed the clock on the wall, and saw that it wasn’t yet eight. “Maybe they open at eight,” she muttered. “Maybe I ought to just go there.” She turned
back to Roxy, ignoring her father’s and mother’s shock. “Roxy, do you think I should just go there?”