Love Shadows (11 page)

Father Michael nodded in agreement. “Smart thinking. I see here there’s a Ferris wheel. How are we going to get a Ferris wheel?”

“I found a carnival company in downstate Illinois that will come here. They only have three rides. Ferris wheel, carousel and a little train ride for toddlers. They’ll provide a ring toss, milk bottle pitch and a pick-up-the-duck game. I contacted them by email last night, and they had a cancellation for the Fourth. I’ll put up their advance fee, and they will give thirty-five percent of their revenues back to the church. The rest of the booths, we provide ourselves. We have lots of parishioners who would help build the booths and who would want to sell their crafts, artworks and baked goods.”

“These booths are beautiful, but how can you get them constructed that fast?”

“First of all, we use folding tables as the basic foundation. I’ll have a carpenter build the high framework. Then Mary Catherine and I will paint the booths to look like faux storefronts. I’ve called the art galleries downtown, and since they’re closed on the Fourth, they all told me they’d each buy a booth and stock it with artwork. I think Scott Abbott will put some books in a booth and sell his bags of coffee. He’ll work the booth himself. The church volunteers could serve barbecue, hot dogs, fried chicken, corn on the cob and homemade blueberry pies. In the booths we would sell baked goods and Louise Railton’s ice cream. There would be handmade items, like the quilts from Mrs. Beabots’s quilting group, The Bee. I want unique, one-of-a-kind items. Local artists could sell their paintings and pottery.

“I’ll charge the merchants for the cost of a booth. Then a percentage of what they sold would go to the church.”

“Do you really think we can raise enough money for the renovations?”

“Not all of it. But this would give us a jump-start. Once we raise this money, we’ll build fervor among the parishioners. Hopefully, there will be some who will donate large amounts. If we raise enough money, we might be able to get a loan from the Indian Lake Savings Bank.”

He rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. “I don’t know. This is so much work. You have to advertise...”

“Here are the fliers. Here’s an ad for the newspaper. And I’ve also decided the church needs a website.”

“Website?”

She waved her hands in front of her face. “Don’t think about it. Just trust me. I know how to do this.”

“It just looks so overwhelming to me.”

“That’s because you don’t feel well,” she offered politely.

He glared at her. “It’s because I’m old and don’t care anymore. That’s what you really want to say now, isn’t it, Sarah?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Well, then. That’s cleared up. What would you do if I refused to give my permission?”

She lifted her chin confidently and smiled. “I’d do it, anyway.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
RTS
IN
THE
P
ARK
was considered by Indian Lake townsfolk to be the kick-off of the summer tourist season. Every Thursday night during the summer, bands from around the county performed free of charge in the band shell at Lily Park. This tradition began a hundred years ago, when there was only a large, white gazebo down by the water’s edge, and the band consisted of only fifteen musicians. During World War II, the city shored up the aging gazebo’s foundation and gave it a new roof and shingles, but at the end of the Vietnam War era, the poor thing collapsed. The very wealthy McCreary family donated money to the city for an acoustically designed band shell with a state-of-the-art sound system to be erected across Lily Lake Drive. The band shell would be built on a hill where there was no threat of rising lake waters to destroy the foundation.

It was still chilly this early evening in June when Sarah drove Mrs. Beabots, Maddie, Liz and Isabelle to the park. Each brought her own folding chair, a sweatshirt or jacket, and plenty of bug spray, just in case. Sarah packed an extra cotton throw for Mrs. Beabots—the cold night air seemed to bother her more these past few years.

On this night, easels displayed local artists’ works. The Tom Milo Big Band was warming up and testing the speakers. Sarah and her group walked down the pavestone path toward the sloping hills where people were already sitting on benches, blankets, tarps and folding lawn chairs, munching on popcorn that was sold from a red cart. One of the local women’s sororities sold homemade cookies, lemonade, iced tea and bottles of water. Another men’s club sold saltwater taffy by the bag and chocolate-covered peanut brittle, which everyone knew was handmade by Louise Railton, the owner of the Louise House Sweet Shoppe. The Indian Lake Middle School Art Club kids were going around from group to group selling everything from car wash tickets to slices of pound cake.

As they unfolded their chairs, Sarah offered to treat everyone to popcorn, lemonade and cookies. Maddie bought three bags of saltwater taffy and passed them to her friends.

The sun hung low on the horizon and shot the earth with ribbons of pink, red and purple, and a gentle spring breeze lifted the newly leafed out branches of the maple, walnut and oak trees. Sarah closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh air and listened to the sound of her friends chatting amongst themselves. She had only missed six or seven opening nights in the park in her lifetime, and most of them had been when she was away at college. Her parents told her they had brought her to the park every week for the concerts even when she was an infant. Back then, some of the concerts were pretty amateur, usually due to high school quartets or small bands using the concerts more for practice than performance. There were other bands and even orchestras that had knocked her socks off and made her skin tingle.

Sarah had always loved music, and learned to play the piano when she was six. She was a natural, her mother had told her, but there was more to music than just following notes on a page. She remembered her mother saying, “Sarah, listen while the musicians find their groove. Close your eyes and listen while they step to their path. You can do that, too. Each of us has music of a kind to give to the world. You will find your song someday.”

In that moment of memory, Sarah missed her mother so much, her heart ripped just a little bit more.

Only Mrs. Beabots saw her tiny tear. She reached out her hand while still talking with Maddie and patted Sarah’s knee. Mrs. Beabots gave Sarah a side glance and a nearly imperceptible nod, letting her know she knew quite well that Sarah was missing her mother.

Maddie was also aware of Sarah’s mood. Always the one to bring things back around to the present, Maddie said, “Hey! I think that’s Luke Bosworth over there.”

At the thought of Luke, Sarah snapped to attention. “Where?”

Mrs. Beabots watched Sarah. She didn’t scan the crowd for Luke as the others did. Mrs. Beabots already knew Luke would attend the concert. She had been the one to give him directions and the other details. She suggested it would be great fun not only for him, but also for his children.

Mrs. Beabots smiled to herself. Things were working out quite satisfactorily.

* * *

L
UKE
, A
NNIE
AND
T
IMMY
entered the park and sat on the hillside opposite Sarah and her friends. Luke had brought two blankets for them to sit on, windbreakers for the kids and juice boxes.

“Look, Dad! They’re selling popcorn!” Timmy piped up.

“We just had dinner,” Luke said.

“But we didn’t have any dessert,” Annie countered, eyeing the little boy on the blanket next to them who was munching on a cookie.

“Since when do you get dessert?” Luke asked.

Timmy pouted and kicked a small stone. “Never.”

Annie walked right over to the little boy with the crew-cut blond hair and the cowlick in front. He had a sprinkle of freckles across his nose just like she did, and very light blue eyes. He was almost cute, she thought.
Almost.

“Hi, I’m Annie. What’s your name?”

“Josh,” he said dismissively. He went back to his cookie.

Annie was undeterred. “Did your mom bake those cookies for you?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Josh kept eating.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

He glared at her. “I’m not sharing.”

“I didn’t ask you to. But where did you get it?”

Josh smiled, now that he knew Annie didn’t want to take his cookie like his little sister always did. “They sell them here,” he said. “Next to the popcorn cart.”

“I bet it’s expensive.”

“No, only a quarter. Or five for a dollar.”

“Really?” Annie was delighted. “Well, thanks, Josh.”

“They sell saltwater taffy here, too. It’s the very best, but my mom won’t let me have candy.”

Annie’s mouth drooped despondently. “My dad, neither.”

“Bummer,” Josh said.

“Yeah.” Annie went back and sat down next to her father, who had his arm around Timmy’s shoulder.

“I have a dollar, Dad. Can I buy us some cookies?”

“A dollar. Where’d you get a dollar?”

“I earned it.”

Luke’s head jerked back. “You what? How?”

“I helped Mrs. Taylor put the supplies away on Sunday afternoon at camp, and then Timmy and I dumped the trash. She gave us each fifty cents.”

“She asked you to do chores?”

“No, Dad. We asked
her.
We saw that she has a whole bunch of little kids and taking care of them can really cause a mess. So we volunteered to help her. It was her idea to pay us.”

“Little kids?” Luke tried to stifle a laugh. He thought of his own children as
little kids.
They were already thinking of themselves as the
big kids.

“So can I go buy some cookies?”

“How about popcorn, instead? It’s healthier. Your mother wouldn’t want you to have sugar this late at night.”

“Dad, it’s seven o’clock,” Timmy argued.

“Precisely,” Luke said.

“Okay. Popcorn is better than nothing,” Annie conceded. “Could I get the cookies for tomorrow?”

Annie wore a stubborn expression, one he often saw in his own reflection. She was a great deal like him in many ways. Taking charge. Standing firm. Never backing down from a fight. Luke realized he was not going to win this argument. “Sure.”

Annie and Timmy scampered off down the hill and onto the walkway that encircled the band shell.

* * *

S
ARAH
SAW
THE
children approaching and stood up. “Hi, Annie. Hi, Timmy,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Hi, Miss Jensen,” Annie said.

“You can call me Sarah.”

“My dad said that’s disrespectful,” Timmy said with a very wide grin. “We’re going to buy popcorn and cookies.”

Maddie stood up. “Sarah, why don’t you introduce these children to everybody.” She put her arm around Sarah’s shoulder and returned a smile to Timmy.

“I’m so sorry. Maddie Strong, Liz Crenshaw, Isabelle Hawks and Mrs. Beabots, meet Annie and Timmy Bosworth.

“Mrs. Beabots?” Annie asked. “My dad works for you.”

“Yes, he does. And he’s doing a fine job, as well. You can tell him I said that. Do you want to be a carpenter, too?” Mrs. Beabots asked Timmy.

He shook his head. “I’m too young to think about my career.”

Sarah burst into laughter. “I totally agree, Timmy.”

“How is it you know these children, Sarah?” Mrs. Beabots asked, surprise ratcheting up her eyebrows.

Annie chimed in. “Oh, she helps Mrs. Cook at our Vacation Bible School sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Timmy said. “At St. Mark’s.”

“I see,” Mrs. Beabots replied with a sly smile. “Sarah, why don’t you help the children with their goodies? Surely they can’t carry all that themselves. And buy them some lemonade. The money goes to charity, you know,” she said, looking from Annie to Timmy.

“I didn’t know that.” Annie stared at the dollar in her hand as if it now had new meaning.

“We must all do everything we can to support the arts in our town,” Mrs. Beabots said.

“Amen to that,” Sarah said. “I’ll buy you some saltwater taffy.”

“Our dad won’t let us have candy,” Timmy said firmly.

“We’re restricted at night, but we can have it for special treats other times,” Annie argued, then looked up at Sarah with a broad smile. “That would be very kind of you, Sarah.” Sarah bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing again as Annie tugged on her hand.

Next to the popcorn cart were three card tables covered in plastic cloths and dozens of desserts—cookies, slices of pie, brownies, lemon bars, homemade donuts and baklava. Sarah stood in line with Annie and Timmy to make their purchases and she listened to the conversations taking place around her.

“Isn’t this fun, Sarah?” Timmy asked, taking her other hand.

“It’s one of my favorite things to do in the summer,” Sarah agreed. “My parents brought me to the park every week when I was a kid.”

“No way!” Annie exclaimed. “This is our first time.”

Sarah instantly felt both sadness and glee for the children. Though they had missed out on the wonderful music and fun art displays all these years, at least they were here now.

“It reminds me of a carnival,” Timmy said.

“Yeah, it does. It just needs a merry-go-round and a Ferris wheel,” Annie said.

“Do you kids like carnivals?”

“Sure do!” Timmy said. “Someday, when I’m really rich, I’m going to go to Disney World and I’m going to ride the roller coaster and all those cool rides till after my bedtime.”

“I’d go to Cinderella’s castle,” Annie said, and started humming “When you Wish Upon a Star.”

Sarah looked down at Annie and remembered how beautifully she sang in the children’s choir. She watched as Annie closed her eyes and sang the song softly to herself as if she were dreaming about wishes and stars and happy things.

Sarah’s resolve to feature Annie as her soloist in the Children’s Pageant doubled. She already knew Annie could belt out “America the Beautiful,” but Annie also had the ability to pluck Sarah’s heartstrings with this touching, hopeful song.

Finally, it was their turn to be served. Sarah had been so immersed in thought she hadn’t paid any attention to the line or the fact that Louise Railton herself was standing behind the card table to take their order.

“Louise!” Sarah said delightedly. “You’re just the person I want to talk to. Well, one of about a hundred,” Sarah chuckled.

“Wonderful. Anytime. Now, what will it be?” Louise asked the children.

Sarah interrupted. “I’m buying. Give them one of everything.”

“Wow!” Timmy said. “I want the brownie!”

Sarah looked at Annie. “Would you like a brownie? Or a cookie?”

Annie frowned and shook her head. “That’s too much. We shouldn’t. Not till we ask Dad first,” she warned.

Sarah smiled. “Of course, Annie. We’ll ask his permission.”

Louise packed the cookies and brownies in a brown paper bag.

“I’ll help you carry this stuff back and we’ll ask your dad together,” Sarah said.

Louise loaded the children and Sarah down with three popcorns, three lemonades, a dozen cookies and brownies. Sarah bought a bag of saltwater taffy for later.

“We’re going over to see their father,” Sarah said to her friends as they walked past.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” Maddie asked. She’d been watching the entire encounter closely.

Sarah and the kids continued on around the path as the musicians readied themselves for the first number. The conductor had just approached the center microphone and was welcoming everyone to the summer concert season.

Sarah followed the children to Luke, who was standing up with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. “What’s all this?” he asked, somber-faced.

Sarah beamed a smile at him, hoping to crash through the granite wall of resistance she had come to expect. “I was helping the kids. They said we had to get your permission for them to have sugar tonight.”

“I’d rather they didn’t.”

“I understand. I thought maybe you all would enjoy the cookies tomorrow. Louise tells me that most of them freeze well. And here, I got you some of her famous saltwater taffy. It’s not summer without Louise’s taffy.”

Luke took the bag of taffy. “Thanks.”

He looked at the cups of lemonade, the cookies and popcorn. “Looks like more than a dollar’s worth to me.”

“Sarah... I mean, Miss Jensen, treated us,” Annie gushed.

“I see.” Luke shot an incriminating look at Sarah.

“I hope it was okay,” Sarah blurted, already feeling Luke’s anger growing. Suddenly, she felt the censure the children must feel whenever Luke was like this. She didn’t like it one bit, and as far as she was concerned it was unnecessary, if not plain rude.

“Nothing I can do about it now,” Luke replied, clamping his mouth shut.

Sarah refused to let him guilt her into feeling bad. She continued smiling at him, determined to win this contest of wills.