Lakeside Reunion (9 page)

And any follow-up questions can wait until you're twelve.

He was so blowing this. Bethany had bought a special book and made Stephen promise he'd have “the talk” when the time was right. The kid was smart, but seriously? In the middle of Target?

“Could we talk more about this at home?”

Ty shrugged. “If you want. Ethan in my class told me the stork brought babies, but I said he was wrong. I told him they came from the hospital. I guess we were both wrong.”

Stephen swallowed a laugh. He dropped to his knees in front of Ty and gave him a hug. “Most babies are born in the hospital, kiddo, so you were partially right.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Was I a gift?”

“Most definitely.”

“Then how come you didn't want me when I was born?” Ty gnawed on the corner of his lip.

Stephen frowned. “Not want you? Impossible. Where did you get such a crazy thought?”

Ty shrugged. “Remember how we had to take baby pictures into school? You're not in them. Only Mom is. Ethan said maybe you didn't like me when I was born.”

“Ethan doesn't know what he's talking about. Sometimes grown-ups make bad choices. When I was younger, I made a bad choice. I didn't mean to, but I hurt your mom's feelings. Mommy had you, but I didn't know about you until you were two. But I promise, the minute I laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted to keep you forever. You're stuck with me, kid.” Stephen hugged his son.

“Was I a bad choice?” Ty mumbled in Stephen's shoulder.

Stephen held Ty at arm's length and looked into his eyes. “No. Never. Not once. You were the best gift. I love you tons. Nothing will ever change that. I promise. Understand?”

Ty nodded. “Will Grandma and Papa still love me after Aunt Melissa's baby is born?”

“Oh, for sure. You see, love is magical. The more you have and give away, the more it grows. Our hearts get bigger to make room for the special people in our lives. So, yes, Grandma and Papa will still love you just as much, if not more, when the new baby comes.”

“I want a baby brother. Or sister, I guess.”

“Ty, my man. I don't see that happening for a while.”

“How about a puppy?”

Stephen laughed and ruffled Ty's hair. “We'll see.” He
straightened and grabbed feeding spoons, sippy cups, a teether, a tube of baby teething gel, tossing them into the cart. He rounded the corner and ran into someone else's cart parked at the end of the next aisle near the bedding. “Oh, excuse me. Sorry about that.”

He looked up and about swallowed his tongue. Lindsey leaned one shoulder against the shelf and held a baby blanket in each hand.

He hadn't seen her in a week. Not since the incident in her mother's kitchen with the Tea Grannies. Each night he drove by Grace's house, but Lindsey's car wasn't in the drive. In the mornings, on his way to work, he checked again, but it wasn't there. His sister told him Lindsey had been keeping long hours all week.

Seeing him, she dropped both blankets in her cart. She did kind of a half turn and not so subtly brushed her shoulder over her cheek. She flashed him an overly bright smile. “Oh. Hi. I, uh, was just…I…well, your mom called this morning. A last-minute invite to the shower. Didn't expect me to be in town, you know. But now I am. And I needed a gift.” She glanced at her watch. “Look at the time. I guess I'd better check out so I don't miss the games. Fun, you know.”

“Lindsey.”

“What?”

“Breathe.”

“I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

She lowered her eyes and toyed with her purse strap, but not before he caught sight of the dark shadows under her eyes. “For eavesdropping. I wanted to walk away, but when Ty asked his question, my feet ignored my brain and decided to stay put.” She looked at him, eyes shimmering like new marbles. “You are a terrific father. Ty's lucky to have you.” Her voice choked on the last word.

But before he could say anything, she maneuvered her cart around his and half walked, half jogged down the aisle, around the corner and out of sight.

 

An hour later, Stephen slid the large box covered in cartoon-animal-printed wrapping paper out of the back of the SUV and hefted it on his shoulder. The rich scents of oak and stain permeated the cardboard and paper.

He strode up the sidewalk. Laughter filtered into the foyer as he opened the front door and followed the sound to the living room.

Setting the box on the floor near the staircase, he gazed toward the front door, wishing he could be at the movies with his dad and son. Ma insisted he bring it to the shower this afternoon. Something about the other women wanting to see it.

Leaning against the doorjamb, he resisted rolling his eyes as he took in the activities. A guy could lose his man card if he stayed here too long. It looked like Babies “R” Us had exploded in Ma's living room.

Pastel pink and blue balloons floated in the air like silent guests, their matching ribbons swaying in the breeze from the open windows.

Mel sat in Dad's overstuffed recliner with wrapped packages sitting at her feet. She dug through yellow tissue paper and pulled out a stuffed giraffe and a matching outfit. Oohs and aahs filled his ears as she passed the gift to the person next to her.

He recognized many of the guests seated around the perimeter of the room. Women from church. Mel's morning Bible study. Coworkers from the elementary school where she worked as a substitute teacher. And, of course, the Tea Grannies with their lacy sweaters and orthopedic shoes. And Lindsey.

Sure enough. She sat in the corner of the room with her
legs crossed and a hand wrapped around a yellow paper cup. Her lips curved into a smile, but her eyes looked like someone had snuffed out her inner joy. Discreetly, she slid back the sleeve of her light purple sweater and glanced at her watch. She sighed, took a sip from her cup and lifted her eyes.

Her gaze tangled with his. For a moment, he didn't hear the laughter. Or the rustle of wrapping paper. All he noticed was the way her hair bowed delicately around her chin. The way she touched the diamond stud in her left ear. The way her gold chain rested in the hollow of her neck. He envied that necklace.

“Earth to Stephen.” His mother snapped her fingers in front of her face, bringing his attention back to the present. “How long have you been standing there? You should have said something.”

He forced his eyes away from Lindsey and focused on Ma. “Seriously, Ma, what guy wants to draw attention to himself during a baby shower? As soon as Mel opens her present, I'm out of here. Dad was smart for taking Ty to the movies.”

She gave him a gentle swat on the chest. “Oh, you. Every new mother deserves a baby shower. And you know it.”

Except, because of him, Bethany didn't get one. From what she told him, she missed out on a lot of the expectant-mother joy. Ma and Melissa made it up to them by throwing a family shower that included stuff for Ty, but it wasn't the same.

Ma stood on tiptoe and looked over his shoulder. Bringing her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “Did you bring it?”

“I told you I would.”

“You're such a good boy.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek and turned around. “She's almost done with the other gifts and then we'll bring in yours.”

About ten minutes later, the wrapped gifts at Mel's feet were replaced with outfits, baby blankets and all the other stuff babies required.

His mother clapped her hands. “We have one more gift.” She turned and nodded to Stephen.

Stephen fought back an eye roll and grabbed the large box. He lifted it over his head and squeezed between chairs to make his way to his sister. “A little something Ty and I put together for you.”

Melissa eased her way out of the chair and kneeled in front of the box. “A little something in a pretty big box.” She ripped off the paper, pulled back the strip of packing tape and threw open the flaps.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Just do it.”

Melissa did what she was told for once and covered her eyes. Stephen lifted the cradle from the box, pushing the box toward the fireplace with his foot. He set the cradle on the floor in front of her.

“Okay. Open.”

She opened her eyes. For a second she didn't do anything but blink rapidly. Slowly she stretched out a finger and traced the curve of the wood, almost as if she were afraid to touch it. She covered her mouth and then slid her hand down to cover her heart. Her gaze lifted and stared at him with blue eyes that mirrored his own. “You made this? For me?” Her voice squeaked like one of those baby toys she opened a few minutes ago.

“Well, you're a little big, don't you think?”

She buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook. Then she sniffed. Was she crying?

Did she hate it? Or just being an emotional, hormonal female?

He prayed it was the latter—all those hours picking out the perfect piece of wood, cutting out the pattern, sanding, polishing.

Placing his hands on his thighs, he rolled back on the balls of his feet and stood. Heat slithered up his neck and crept across his cheeks. Nothing like having an audience of women to watch his humiliation.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Listen, Mel, if you don't like it, you can pick out a different one and I'll buy it for you.”

She looked up with puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks. “Not like it? Are you kidding me? Stephen, it's beautiful. It's the most incredible gift I've ever received. I love it.” Tears spilled down her face again.

Stephen shook his head. “You women should come with an instruction manual.”

“Those were happy tears, you idiot.” She pushed herself awkwardly to a standing position and wrapped her arms around his neck. She whispered into his ear. “I'll treasure it always. I love you.”

Stephen's nose prickled. He swallowed a lump the size of those bobbing pastel balloons and squeezed his eyes shut. No need to add to the ultimate humiliation by bawling like a baby. He returned the hug and kissed the top of her head. “Love you, too.” Over the top of her head, he glanced at Lindsey.

Her chair was empty.

H
ome from the hospital for less than two weeks and Mom was already disobeying doctor's orders. Lindsey—dog-tired from waking up at 4:00 a.m. for the past week and driving two hours one way to the inn to fix breakfast for the guests—fumed as she raced up the steps to the Shelby Lake Community Church. The stiletto heels of her new black ankle boots clicked against the concrete.

When she'd called this morning to check on Mom and didn't receive an answer, she'd panicked. What if Mom, being stubborn, had tried to get out of bed without help? What if she had fallen in the bathroom? What if she was in pain and couldn't reach her medicine?

Unable to stand it any longer, Lindsey hopped in her car and broke speed limits, making the return trip in ninety minutes. She burst into the house, calling for Mom and didn't receive an answer. About to call the hospital—thinking maybe someone else found Mom and called 911—Lindsey found a note propped up against the pitcher of sunflowers in the middle of the kitchen table. Would a phone call have been too much of an effort?

She had read it, crumbled it into a tight ball and bounced it off the window overlooking the backyard. She hoped her
mother enjoyed the time she spent with Max because Lindsey was about to rip him from limb to limb. How could he allow Mom to talk him into taking her to church? What was the man thinking?

Now on the church steps, she reached for the door handle, but snapped her hand back. She couldn't charge in there like an estrogen-fueled rhino. Maybe she could wait in the parking lot until the service ended, but what would she do for an hour? Or longer if Mom gabbed with her friends.

She plopped down on the steps and drew her burgundy cardigan tighter around her middle. She dropped her head to her knees. The cold concrete seeped through her black wool trousers, sending a shiver through her body.

“Lindsey? Are you okay?”

She jerked her head up.

Stephen stood a few steps below her. A frown sliced a V between his eyebrows.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Lindsey exhaled loudly. “No offense, Stephen, but I'm contemplating a murder, and you're the last person I should be talking to right now.”

“Contemplating a murder on the steps of a church. Interesting. Not the wisest thing to tell a cop. I could be made an accessory. Care to tell me who you're thinking of killing?” His breath drifted around his face like a vapor as he sat next to her.

“My mother, for one. And her half-witted boyfriend.”

“So we're talking a double homicide here.”

“Apparently so.”

“What brought on this sudden violent streak?”

Lindsey explained about the note. “Mom needs around-the-clock care until she can move on her own. Grandma spent the night, but had to teach Sunday school, so Max agreed to stay with Mom until I could come back at lunch. I didn't expect him to give in to something so crazy.”

“Why is it crazy that she wants to be in church?”

“Normally I wouldn't freak out about it, but she had surgery less than two week ago.”

“She's already in there. You can't exactly drag her home like a naughty kid. She's a grown woman, Linds.” He pulled himself to his feet and held out a hand. “Come on. Let's go inside.

She stared at his hand but didn't take it. She wasn't trying to be a pain. Really, she wasn't.

Having attended since birth until her father's death, she wasn't a stranger to this church. As soon as she opened doors, she'd be forced to remember—the scents of the funeral flowers, Granddad singing “Precious Memories,” hearing Mom's sobs as the pallbearers carried out the casket, feeling a huge piece of heart being ripped out of her chest and going with it.

But it wasn't just her dad's funeral. From the moment she and Stephen had announced their engagement, she and Mom had pored over bridal magazines and wedding organizers. She was supposed to have been married in this church as her parents and grandparents had been.

Stephen continued holding out his hand, waiting. “You can't run from every place that reminds you of your dad, Linds. Is that what he would have wanted? For you to hide from the memories?”

Knowing he was right, she allowed Stephen to pull her up, but released his hand as soon as he opened the door for her.

Melodious sounds of the organ greeted them as they entered the church foyer. Stephen paused to hang up his leather jacket. Lindsey walked through the vestibule to the sanctuary and then hesitated in the doorway. Nearly every pew was filled.

Sunlight shining through the stained-glass windows sent prisms of color dancing across the ruby-colored carpet. The pulpit centered at the front of the three sections of wooden
pews. A picture of Jesus knocking on a door hung behind the pulpit. Off to the side, a board listed the attendance. A piano and an organ flanked either side of the pulpit.

Scattered memories of youth shut-ins, church potlucks and Advent celebrations—memories of happier times.

“Goodness gracious, are my feeble eyes deceiving me or is that young Lindsey Porter standing over there?” a male voice behind her asked.

Lindsey turned to see an elderly man hunched over his cane hobble toward her. Dressed in a dove-gray suit and carrying a sheaf of church bulletins in his left hand, he took slow steps until he crossed the distance to where Lindsey stood.

“Good morning, Mr. Murphy. It's so good to see a familiar face.” Lindsey hugged him.

“How are you, my dear?”

“Late this morning.” Lindsey smiled. Catching sight of the very familiar wheelchair positioned next to the coatrack, she leaned over and whispered, “Does my mother still sit in the same spot?”

Mr. Murphy nodded and pointed a shaky finger, gnarled as a tree limb, to the middle of the sanctuary. “Right there, third pew from the front. Same place for as long as I can remember.”

“Thank you.”

She hurried up the aisle, but stopped behind her mother's pew. Seeing Mom sitting in the familiar spot wasn't surprising, but Max sitting next to her—in her father's spot—with his arm wrapped around Mom's shoulders—well, that hit her square in the heart.

The organ stopped playing.

Someone coughed. She heard the rustle of a bulletin. Whispers.

Her skin prickled. She needed to move. Either sit with Mom or find an empty seat. She couldn't stand in the aisle.
Yet, her feet stuck to the carpet like Velcro as she stared at the back of Max's head.

A hand curved around her elbow and guided her gently across the aisle. An arm brushed hers. Without looking, she knew Stephen had rescued her. Again.

He handed her a hymnal. Her fingers gripped the open songbook. The notes and words swam on the page.

Beside her, Stephen sang the refrain to “'Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus.” His deep bass reminded her so much of her dad's. She used to love standing between her parents on Sunday mornings, listening to Dad's deep voice harmonizing with Mom's alto.

She glanced at the back of her mother's head as she sat to sing. Max's hand rested on Mom's shoulder.

Lindsey feared if she moved, she'd fall to pieces. She squeezed her eyes shut, but a tear managed to slide down her face and blot the page.

Stephen pried the hymnal from Lindsey's stiff fingers, closed it and slid it into the holder. Placing a hand at the small of her back, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Let's get out of here.”

She kept her gaze on the carpet so she wouldn't have to see the raised eyebrows coupled with looks of pity. She tuned out the whispers and allowed Stephen to usher her down the aisle.

In the foyer, he paused to grab his jacket. They slipped out the front door.

 

Hand still at Lindsey's back, Stephen guided her past the church, up Center Street, toward Triangle Park. Vehicles lined both sides of the street. Wood smoke from one of the houses they passed fragranced the air. They sidestepped two giggling girls playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. A car drove by and honked. Stephen raised his hand in acknowledgment.

Their path snaked along the river. Stephen spied a nearby bench that overlooked the water. A nearby weeping willow swept low, grazing the grass with the tips of its cascading branches and canopying the bench with privacy. He steered her off the sidewalk, through the grass and to the bench. Two ducks waddled up the bank, passed them and pecked the ground.

Lindsey sat. She stared at the water while her neatly polished fingers opened and closed the clasp on her gold watch.

Stephen glanced at it. Then looked again. Yep. That was the watch he had given her for her twenty-second birthday. Either she really liked it— No, he wasn't going to let his imagination run wild. Reality was crazy enough to deal with. He didn't need to create a fantasy world where he imagined Lindsey was still in love with him. She'd made her feelings pretty clear.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, jingling coins. He pulled out a shiny penny and handed it to her.

Frowning, Lindsey reached for it. “What's that for?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I doubt they'd be worth that much.” She placed it back in his hand and curled his fingers around it.

“Try me. It can't be that bad.”

Her nostrils flared as she clenched her jaw. “Your penny. Don't ask for a refund.” Her back as stiff as the iron armrest, Lindsey drew her sweater tighter around her middle. Legs crossed at the knees, she swung her booted foot back and forth quickly.

“You've never been a drama queen, Linds. What happened at church?” He hoped his questions came off as casual instead of accusatory.

“He's gone. And he's not coming back.” She reached down and brushed dried mud off the toe of her boot. A slight breeze waltzed with a lock of her honey-blond hair.

Tired of playing by the rules, Stephen twirled the hair loosely around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. He wanted to rest her head on his shoulder so he could weave the rest of her silky strands through his fingers. Instead, he cupped her shoulder and squeezed gently. “No, honey, he's not.”

“I know that. I'm not crazy, you know.” She gave him a sharp look, then returned her gaze to the water. Her foot stopped moving. Her shoulders sagged. “It's not like I talk to him, expecting him to show up or anything. But…” Her voice hitched as her chest shuddered. “I miss him. I miss him so much that my heart feels like it's being scraped with a carrot peeler.” A tear slid down her cheek.

Stephen thumbed the wetness from her face. “I know. I do, too.”

Lindsey flicked off a small leaf that had settled on the razor-edged crease of her trousers. “Mom has her second chance with Max. I'm happy for her, for both of them. It's just, when I saw him sitting next to her—in Dad's place—well, I realized everyone else has moved on.” Her voice choked. “I'm the only one clinging to his memory.”

“Why do you think that is, Linds?”

Brushing the back of her hand across her cheek, she shrugged. “I don't know. It's almost as if—”

“What?”

“If I let him go, he's gone. Forever.”

Stephen slid an arm around her and pulled her against him. He rested his cheek against her hair, inhaling the fruity fragrance of her shampoo. “You're only human. God never placed the responsibility of clinging to his memory on your shoulders. You took that on all by yourself. By holding on to your grief, you're allowing your father's memory to have power over you.”

He turned and tilted her chin up so she would meet his
eyes. “When you're ready to give it back to God, His hands are open. Our time on Earth is temporary, Linds. You'll have eternity with your dad in Heaven. Let it go. Give it up to God. But the choice has to be yours.”

She pulled out of his embrace and slid over to the edge of the bench—as far away from him as she could possibly get. “It's not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“God let me down. He could have saved Dad. Instead He let him die.”

“So you're angry at God?”

“Aren't you?”

Stephen shook his head. “When your dad died, I lost a mentor and a close friend. My heart ached, but I didn't blame it on God. He didn't kill your dad. Hank Earle did.”

Her head jerked up. “What? You know who killed him?”

Stephen could have kicked himself for the slip. He didn't want her finding out this way. Rubbing a hand over his face, he told Lindsey what he knew. “I promise you, we're doing everything we can to find him. He will pay for his crime.”

“God could have stopped it. Then none of this would have happened.” She jumped up and stomped to the edge of the bank.

“But He chose not to.” Stephen moved to his feet. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he joined her, but kept a couple of feet between them. “I don't have the answers, Linds. God is a whole lot smarter than me. Everything He does or doesn't do has a purpose. If you allow your grief, your bitterness, to consume you, you'll miss out on many blessings and seeing God's riches.”

Lindsey snorted. The unladylike sound tugged up the corners of Stephen's lips. “God doesn't want to use me. He tuned me out years ago.”

“Is that what you really think? Or is it a cop-out for something deeper.”

“Don't you get it? I prayed, Stephen. The entire time Dad was on the operating table, I prayed. And God ignored me. He ignored Mom. He turned His back on us.”

Stephen snapped off a willow leaf and ran it through his fingers. “Growing up, did your father ever tell you no?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” She scowled at him.

“Did he?”

Shrugging, Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, yeah, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. He was my dad. He didn't always give me a reason. I guess he wanted to protect me. He knew what was best for me.”

“Exactly. God's the same way. His word is flawless. He is our shield when we take refuge in Him.”