Love Shadows (18 page)

“I still do,” he said, finally looking over at Sarah.

“You should, Luke. You should love her all your life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

This time when Luke looked at Sarah, she felt as if he was seeing her for the first time and not looking through her or beyond her to some other place and time.

“Thank you for saying that, Sarah. That means a lot to me.”

“I think that’s what I’ve discovered in our sessions. The love we have shouldn’t die because we’ve lost our loved ones. I think it stays the same, it’s just that we have to get used to the fact that we simply can’t hear them when they tell us that they love us back.”

Luke’s eyes were filled with wonder and appreciation. They blazed with earnest trust and with an openness she’d only glimpsed before when he spoke about his children. She almost ventured to believe that this was the look of love, but of course, it was Jenny he was thinking about.

“I’ve never heard it expressed that way, Sarah, but it’s...well...lovely.”

“It’s how I feel,” she replied sincerely as the Ferris wheel finished its round and brought them back to earth.

They got out of the carriage and Sarah thanked Luke for the ride. “Thank you for all your help with the festival, Luke. I couldn’t have done it without you. I truly appreciate it.”

Luke shook her hand. “You’re welcome,” he said and paused, still holding her hand.

Just then, Aunt Emily walked up with Annie and Timmy. “Look who I found,” she said.

Timmy yawned. Annie just stared at her father.

Sarah hugged both the kids. “You guys were absolutely terrific today. No one is going to forget your performances for a long time. You worked really hard and it paid off. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Sarah,” they said in unison.

Sarah looked back at Luke. “I think they’re ready for bed.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Well, I’ll see you.” He hoisted Timmy into his strong arms and took Annie’s hand. “Let’s go, kids.”

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
Luke reached his truck two blocks away, Timmy was asleep. Luke put him in his car seat and then turned to Annie.

“Annie. I’m sorry,” he said, crouching down beside her so that they were eye to eye. “I hate it when you’re mad at me and I’m mad at you.”

“I hate it, too,” she said softly.

“Maybe I was wrong about all this. Maybe Sarah was right to encourage you the way she did. It’s all pretty scary to me.”

“Why?”

“Because...because you are...” He rubbed her arms as he spoke. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Annie.” Luke grabbed his daughter and pulled her close to his chest. “You’re so grown up all of a sudden and I don’t know how to handle it.” His voice quaked with emotion.

“You won’t lose me. I just want to sing, is all,” she said.

He held her at arm’s length. “I’ve decided to call the
Tribune
journalist and let him write about you in his article.”

“Do you mean it?” Annie asked with a growing smile.

“Yes. I mean it.”

“And the talent show?”

“You should have your chance, just like he said. But you have to promise me that you won’t be disappointed and brokenhearted if you don’t win.”

Annie chuckled. “Is that why you’re so scared? That I won’t win?”

“Well, yes. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Dad. I never thought I would win. I just want to try. That’s all. What’s the use of having talent if I don’t use it?”

Shaking his head, Luke said, “You remind me so much of your mother. That’s just what Jenny would say.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

L
UKE
CAME
HOME
from work, got out of his truck and felt his guts wrench. Standing in his front yard was Cate Sullivan, his Realtor, with a young couple who was smiling happily as they looked up at his house. The man looked to be about Luke’s age and was tall, with very black, straight hair. The woman was pretty, probably in her late twenties, he guessed. She was wearing a bright fuschia sundress.

She was also very pregnant.

“Oh, here’s the owner now,” Cate said to the woman. “Luke! Come over and meet Mitch and Claudia Green.”

Luke swallowed hard and tried to find a smile. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand to Mitch.

“We love your house,” Claudia gushed. “It’s absolutely darling. We’ve been looking for months,” she said, touching her huge belly tenderly. “As you could probably guess.”

“Yes,” Luke said. He remembered all too clearly when Jenny was pregnant and how they’d looked forward to their new home and their new baby. A pang ripped across his heart, creating a new trench next to the old trenches he’d been struggling to heal for two years.

“There’s nothing like it on the market,” Mitch said. “I suppose I shouldn’t say that since we haven’t formally put in our offer.”

“It’s okay. My wife decorated the house.”

“She’s really talented,” Claudia said and then quickly stopped herself. “I’m sorry. Cate told us about your wife. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” Luke said, turning away from Claudia’s happy glow. He looked up at the roof and then down to the front porch. “So when do you want to move?”

“As soon as possible,” Mitch said. “Cate told us you were flexible.”

“I haven’t even looked for a place for me and the kids yet,” Luke replied. “I guess that would be the first thing. Then we can talk about a possession date.”

“Sure,” Mitch said uncomfortably.

“Luke...” Cate took his forearm and led him away from Claudia and Mitch. “We’re going back to the office to draw up the offer. They’ll pay your asking price.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. But they want to move in a month.”

“A month,” he repeated.

Cate was silent.

“I just didn’t think it would happen so soon, I guess.”

“I know. But I told you. Jenny did a knockout job. And Mitch and Claudia have been looking for over a year. They don’t have time to dicker with prices or demands. That’s why they will pay your asking price.”

Luke pierced Cate with a steady gaze. “Write it up. Now we need to find an apartment for me and the kids as soon as possible. Something nice. They deserve the best.”

Cate nodded. “So do you, Luke. So do you.”

* * *

T
HE
SCRAMBLE
FOR
a new home for Annie and Timmy was exhausting, frustrating and impossible, Luke thought as he flipped through colored spec sheets of apartments. There were only two apartment complexes in all of Indian Lake, and they were filled.

Most apartments in town were the upper or lower halves of hundred-year-old homes, which actually appealed more to Luke than a little box in an apartment building or complex. Luke and Jenny had been lucky in that they’d always owned their own house.

“That was then. This is now,” he grumbled to himself as he picked up his cell phone and called Cate. He made arrangements for viewings of three apartments in older homes and one three-bedroom house on the south side of town for the next evening.

It was still daylight when Luke drove up to the rental house with Annie and Timmy. Cate Sullivan was already at the property and had unlocked the front door.

“I’m not going in there,” Timmy said, looking at the small ranch house that had needed a new coat of paint for about the past twenty years. The front window was boarded up with plywood and the yard had not been mowed for weeks.

“I don’t blame you,” Luke said. “You kids stay here.” He walked up to Cate.

Before he could say a word, she shook her head. “This is a disaster. Don’t go in. I’m going to report this to the realty board.”

“Doesn’t the landlord have any more pride than to let a house deteriorate like this?”

“It’s owned by a bank. They don’t give a flip.”

Luke nodded and put his hands in his back pockets. “It didn’t look like this in the photographs.”

Cate cocked her head over her shoulder. “There have been squatters here.”

“No way.”

“Let’s go. I’ll take care of this.” She turned and locked the lock box.

Luke and the kids followed Cate around from one apartment to another. After walking on warped floorboards, seeing bathrooms with no showers, bedrooms fashioned out of former closets and interiors that clearly needed a great deal of Luke’s skills to repair, Luke had had enough.

He turned to Cate. “These landlords should be paying me to rent from them.”

“I’ll keep looking,” Cate said.

“Look fast,” he replied.

* * *

A
NNIE
AND
T
IMMY
sat inside the tent Annie had put up in her bedroom. Timmy hugged his teddy bear and heaved a very loud sigh. Then he started to cry.

Annie didn’t stop him. “It’s okay to cry in here because he can’t see us.”

“I don’t want to live in any of those terrible places,” Timmy said.

“Dad will find us a nice house.”

“Not as nice as Mom’s house,” Timmy bellowed as his little chest heaved sob after sob.

“No. It won’t be as nice as this house. Nothing will ever be this...wonderful.” Annie looked out of the little flap door and into her pretty bedroom with its white eyelet curtains and pink walls. “Maybe we should ask Mom to help us find our new home.”

“How? She’s dead.”

“I know that,” Annie blurted. “Dead people always help alive people.”

“Who said?”

“God did. I think. Anyway, I never felt like Mom was really gone from us. Sometimes, I see her in my dreams.”

“Really?” Timmy asked, smearing his tears across his cheeks with the palm of his hand.

“Uh-huh.”

“What does she say?”

Annie put her forefinger to her lip to help her remember exactly what it was that her mother had told her. “Not much. But she’s there. She told me once that she loved me and you and Dad.”

“Well,” Timmy replied, “I never saw her.”

“Maybe you will someday.”

“Not if we move away from here!” Timmy’s face crumbled and he started crying all over again. “Ghosts always stay in the houses they lived in. That’s what they say in the movies and on those TV shows.”

“You’re not supposed to watch that stuff.”

“I sneaked.”

“Oh,” Annie said and put her hand on Timmy’s little shoulder. “I think the movies are wrong. I think Mom will go with us wherever we are. Besides, we have to take care of Dad. He needs us a lot. I think he’s really sad we have to move.”

“Yeah,” Timmy hiccupped. “I think so, too.”

“So we have to be brave.”

“I don’t want to be brave. I want to live in a nice house and I don’t want to change schools.”

Annie bit her lower lip and nodded. “Me, too.” Then she put her arms around her little brother and let him cry into her shoulder. “We’re going to be okay.”

“How can you be sure?” Timmy asked.

“Because I asked Mom to help us.”

* * *

A
S
USUAL
, M
RS
. B
EABOTS
had heard the gossip about Luke when she’d gone to Cupcakes and Coffee Café. Maddie Strong had gotten the word directly from Cate Sullivan.

“Luke sold his house,” Mrs. Beabots told Sarah as they sat on Sarah’s front porch.

“Already? He just listed it.”

“Apparently, the couple who is buying the house is about to have a baby and they needed to move quickly.”

“I wonder if Luke has found a new place yet.”

Mrs. Beabots tore off a small piece of the banana-nut muffin Sarah had baked that morning and put it in her mouth. “Mmm. English walnuts?”

“And some pecans. I always love pecans.” Sarah smiled. “I should call Cate.”

“No need. She told Maddie she’s having a devil of a time finding something suitable.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “This is just awful. The children must be scared silly. Having to change schools.”

“Tsk. Tsk,” Mrs. Beabots clucked her tongue. “I’m surprised at you, Sarah.”

“For what?”

“That you haven’t thought of a way to ensure the children’s education at St. Mark’s for the fall,” Mrs. Beabots’s eyes gleamed with bright mischief.

Sarah knew exactly what Mrs. Beabots intended. She was going to pay for the children’s education. She could make a “donation” as she would call it, for tax purposes, no doubt. Then Father Michael could tell Luke that Annie and Timmy had received scholarships. It was done all the time. In fact, in Mrs. Beabots’s day, it was commonplace for an exceptional and talented child to be given an anonymous scholarship. As Ann Marie would say,
that was
how it was supposed to be.
Those who didn’t understand, and never would, called it “luck.”

Sarah jumped up and threw her arms around her friend. “Oh, Mrs. Beabots you are such a love! How wonderful! The children will be so happy.”

Mrs. Beabots smiled, but just as quickly, it evaporated into a thin line of concern.

“It’s not going to work.”

“Why not,” Sarah asked.

“If I tell Luke, he’ll know it was my money and reject the whole thing. If Father Michael or someone from the church calls him, Luke might turn them down because of his anger against God.” Mrs. Beabots snapped her fingers. “You need to be the one to tell him. Coming from you, he might go for it.”

“Or not.” Sarah frowned.

“I think you can pull it off,” Mrs. Beabots said confidently. “Please?”

“Oh, all right. But I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“I’ll call Father Michael and make the arrangements.”

Mrs. Beabots brushed a few errant crumbs from her lavender dress and looked out onto Maple Avenue. “You know, Sarah, I have always loved living in town the way we do. It’s a good place for children to grow up. It would be a shame if Luke was forced to move out into the country. Very inconvenient for the children.”

“So true.”

Mrs. Beabots rose. “Well, dearie, I have work to do.”

“Work? What kind of work?”

“Well, not as much as you do. I want to get out those canning jars for you. Those tomato vines of yours are going to be very abundant,” she said, hustling down Sarah’s front porch steps.

Squinting her eyes suspiciously at her favorite neighbor as she hurried away, Sarah called, “Just what are you up to?”

Mrs. Beabots waved her hand. “I must not dally. No time to lose.”

* * *

L
UKE
FELT
AS
if his life was moving at warp speed. He’d never expected to sell his house so quickly. He’d thought he’d have time to look around for a suitable rental house or an apartment for him and the kids.

Packing had turned out to be an unending task. He had no idea where all their junk had come from. Donating all the kids’ baby clothes, furniture and toys to the St. Mark’s Children’s Fund was a big help. Luke thought he would never get through the endless array of dishes, pots, cooking utensils and holiday decorations Jenny had saved. There was no hope for the majority of their things. He would store everything that was not an absolute necessity until the day came when he and the kids owned a proper house. Then, and only then, he would make the decisions about what to keep and what to trash.

Luke had given each of the kids empty boxes to pack only the clothes that still fit them. The rest of their clothes they were to put in plastic bags for donation.

Luke walked into his bedroom and started pitching the old sneakers, sweatshirts and jeans he would never wear again.

After cleaning out his dresser, he opened the door to Jenny’s walk-in closet.

For over two years, he hadn’t even turned on the light. The closet smelled musty and close. He fanned the air with his arm.

Every single sweater, dress, pair of slacks and shoes was exactly where Jenny had left it. In her last few months, she hadn’t gone out of the house much except to chemotherapy or for checkups. He’d thrown away the clothes she’d worn to the hospital the week she died. But all the rest of her things were still here.

He felt guilty and nearly like a traitor taking her jackets off the hangers and putting them in plastic bags. He decided this process was too slow. He grabbed huge armfuls of clothes and lifted them off the rod and plopped them on the floor. Then he pulled the large black bag around the clothes and tied it up. He found a cream-colored Irish wool cardigan that he’d always hated. Jenny had told him two years ago that she’d given the sweater away, but here it was, tucked into the back of the closet.

Luke didn’t realize he was crying until the pain in his chest grew so sharp he actually clutched himself and sank to the floor. “Jenny.”

He threw his head back and wailed her name and then shoved his fist in his mouth to stifle his scream. He didn’t want to frighten the kids, but he wished to heaven someone would come and keep him from being so afraid.

With tears streaming down his face, he took out another plastic bag and filled it with all of Jenny’s shoes until the floor was clear.

He was surprised that her purses, shoes and scarves looked much cheaper and more worn than he remembered.

At the far end of the closet was a tall, narrow lingerie chest that Jenny used for her underwear and personal things. When he pulled out the bottom drawers, he found snapshots. Lots of them.

Sitting on the floor, Luke went through the photographs. There were shots of Jenny when she was pregnant with Annie and later with Timmy. There were at least a hundred photographs of the various rooms in their house, before her design and decoration and after. On the back of each photograph were her notes about paint colors and fabrics, furniture manufacturers and painting processes. If she’d been a licensed interior designer like Sarah, she couldn’t have been more precise.