The Way Home (30 page)

How had everything looked so green just days ago and now all the autumn colors—yellow, orange, and dark red—made a painter's palette of the dappled, fallen leaves? How did the seasons change so quickly? It always caught her by surprise.

She walked over to the vegetable patch, where most of the plants were already brown and spent, and had been even before the storm. A few hardy stalks were still standing. The last of the summer bounty peeked out from the overgrown rows—some squash and eggplant. Green cabbage was still growing and so were the pumpkins.

She would have to find the ripe ones later or they would rot on the ground. It was hard to work in the vegetable garden now; it always made her think of Jamie. All the work he had put into weeding and mending the fences this summer. She could almost see him right there, kneeling between the rows of carrots and tomatoes. It made her feel sad, and she scolded herself for indulging her emotions this way.

She leaned over and picked up a sunflower that had fallen to the ground. A majestic sight in its prime but now shriveled and brown. The seeds were worth saving. She would plant even more next year, she promised herself.

She heard someone walking down the gravel drive, toward the back of the inn and turned to see who it could be. Maybe Reverend Ben, she thought. She had a feeling he might look in on her after their meeting in the park the week before.

“Claire? . . . I kept knocking on the door. I guess you didn't hear me.”

Claire turned quickly. It was a man's voice, but not the reverend.

It was Jamie . . .Could it really be him? She shaded her eyes with her hand to make sure her emotions weren't playing tricks on her.

He walked closer and she could see him clearly, no question now. Yet he still seemed like a mirage, a vision that had appeared in the dim, shady garden. She couldn't even address him, for fear he would disappear again.

When Claire didn't speak he came a few steps closer. “I know you must be mad at me . . . but I needed to see you. I just want to talk awhile, then I'll go,” he said quickly.

Claire just stared at him. His abrupt departure had hurt and confused her, had made her question herself and even doubt her faith at times. Her feelings at that moment were a jumble. But one was coursing through stronger than all the rest.

“Oh, Jamie,” she said, blinking back tears. “I am so glad to see you.” She pulled off her thick gloves. “Let's go inside. It's chilly and damp out here.”

Jamie nodded. He followed her, looking nervous and scared. Did he think she was angry with him? It would be a logical conclusion, Claire had to admit, but all she felt was relief that he seemed well and had come back, that she hadn't lost him forever.

He followed her into the kitchen and she put up the kettle and made two mugs of tea, just to have something to do while she got her self under control and gathered her thoughts.

She sat across from him at the table, stirring a spoonful of honey into her cup. “I never thought I'd see you again. Are you all right?”

“I'm good,” he said. “I didn't come here to ask for help again, if that's what you're thinking. I came to . . . to tell you I'm sorry for running out on you and Liza. I guess I left you pretty shorthanded.”

Missing his help at the inn was probably the least of it, from her perspective. But what he said was true. They hadn't been able to hire anyone else at that point of the summer and had both taken on a heavy load of extra work.

“You did leave us in a lurch,” Claire conceded, “but we got by. I wish you had stayed to talk things over. We both felt you had misunderstood us. We both believed you. We never thought you had stolen that man's watch.”

He looked down at his hands, his expression sad and serious. “I know that, Claire. And I know I acted as if I was all bent out of shape about being accused but . . . I knew you believed me. That was the problem. I did take the watch. I really did do it. And you and Liza were both so . . . so good to me. So loyal. I couldn't face you anymore, knowing what I'd done. Even though I gave the watch back. I knew I had lied to you. So I did what I always do. I just ran.”

Claire swallowed hard. She couldn't believe it. But it had to be true. He had said so himself. He'd stolen the watch. Now she did feel a surge of anger and betrayal, realizing he had lied to her. Lied with a straight face, again and again.

But here he was, coming back to explain and apologize. She didn't understand.

“You took the watch? You lied to us all that time while we stood up for you? How could you do such a thing . . . and then just stand there, watching us defend you?”

He bit down on his lower lip and slowly nodded. “I know. It was horrible of me to trick you like that . . . but I was in a real jam and I didn't know what to do. I owed this guy in Boston a lot of money. A lot more than I had saved working here. I was able to duck him awhile, living out here. But he finally caught up with me . . . He gave me a warning. I had to pay him back or else. I didn't know what to do. I thought if I took the watch, and sold it somewhere, I'd get him off my back. Then I'd be home free and could go on with all that stuff you'd been helping me with.”

Claire let out a long breath. So he did have some reason for deceiving her that way. It was something.

“Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you. Didn't you realize that?”

The color rose in his cheeks. He shook his head. “I thought about it . . . but I couldn't. You'd helped me so much already. And you were thinking so well of me. Making such a big deal about me getting my act together. And here I was, screwing up again. I didn't want you to know I was still . . . you know, acting stupid, getting into jams.”

Claire felt sad. He had hid his problem, trying to keep up a good image in her eyes, afraid to disappoint her. He just couldn't believe that anyone could love him enough to see the good in him all the time. Even when he made mistakes.

“I told you once before, Jamie, that I will always be here to help you. I meant it. No matter what,” Claire said finally. She looked at him curiously. “But why even tell me about this now? I never had to know that you lied to me that way.”

“Yes, you did . . . I didn't want you to go on thinking it was something you did or said to me that made me go away. The same for Liza.”

“I did feel that way. Liza did, too,” she admitted.

“It wasn't you at all. It was me. I got pulled back, one last time. Old voices telling me I was fooling myself trying so hard, trying to do better. So I took the watch, thinking what the heck. I'd cash it in, get that guy off my back, problem solved.”

“And this guy you owe money to—is he still after you?” she asked.

Jamie shook his head. “No, the cops picked him up for something else. He's in jail, for a long time. I didn't have anything to do with that, but I really am free of him now.”

Claire returned to her real question. “So you returned the watch because you were afraid of getting caught?”

“A little . . . But it was more the way you and Liza stuck up for me that made me turn it in. I never had good people like both of you on my side. People who go the distance for you and watch your back,” he added quietly. “It was just like you told me. You believed in me. But I had to believe in myself. I've spent some time on my own working on that. So I came back to say I'm sorry. And to tell you that I think I really have changed now. I have become . . . or am on the way to being a better person. A better man. One you can be proud of.”

Claire sat silently for a moment, taking in his words. She felt her anger and confusion suddenly swept aside. His realization was more important than anything that had come before that.

Her heart filled with happiness and gratitude. God truly works in mysterious ways. There was no doubt. Just like the small black seeds planted in the earth change into a bounty of fruit and flowers. Just as the tiny mustard seed grows to the grandest tree of all. Faith, hope, and love planted in a heart can yield an amazing harvest.

She reached out and took his hand. “You make me proud, just saying that . . . Where did you go? Where have you been all this time?”

He let out a long breath, looking relieved that the hardest part of this conversation was over. “I didn't want to go back to Boston and get sucked up into my old gang of friends. I had enough sense to take your advice about that,” he said. “I went up to Portland. It's a pretty cool place. I found a job in a little tech shop that does computer repairs. I was a helper mostly but I learned a lot. I took the GED, too. I don't know yet if I passed but I feel pretty good about just getting through it.”

Claire felt so happy at this news, she couldn't stop herself from crying. But they were happy tears. She gave up silent thanks to God that the story had ended so well. Jamie could have fallen back to old ways, old friends, bad habits. He could have been lost to her forever.

“Claire . . . please don't cry. You'll make me feel bad.”

“I can't help it. I'm just so happy for you, Jamie. I knew you could do it all along.”

“I couldn't have done it without you,” he said quickly.

“Oh yes. Yes, you could. You've done it even better without me,” she replied. “Everyone needs a little help now and then. But we are finally responsible for our own lives, answering only to our maker. You took control and did it all on your own. Don't ever forget it. You had to do it without me. I can see that now.”

She had been like a mother bird, reluctant to push a fledgling out of the nest. But he had to take off and leave her for a while to prove he was strong on his own.

Jamie reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tissue paper packet, tied with a slim piece of ribbon. “I brought you something. I hope you like it.”

Claire looked down at the small package, wondering what it could be. She pulled off the ribbon and paper carefully. Jamie was watching her. Whatever it was, she would act thrilled and delighted. She could tell her reaction was important to him.

Finally she unwrapped it. She could see a silver chain and realized it was jewelry. A piece of amber on a silver chain. “How beautiful,” she said, holding it out in her hands to get a good look. “Oh, my goodness . . . is this the beach glass?” she said suddenly. She glanced at him and he quickly nodded, looking very pleased at her surprise.

“I noticed it was gone. I thought you could have taken it but I wasn't sure—”

“I wanted to have it. To remind me of this place,” he admitted. “Then I wanted you to have it. To thank you for helping me.”

She stared at the gift again and this time blinked back more tears. “This is so beautiful . . . and thoughtful. I don't think anyone has ever given me anything nicer.” She reached across the table and gripped his hand. “I'll treasure this, Jamie. Always.”

She fumbled a bit with the clasp, but soon had it fastened and patted the amber charm that rested near her heart. “Wherever you go, I'll have this close by, and think of you.”

“I'll think of you,” he said quietly.

Claire wiped her eyes and rose from the table. She smiled, trying to collect herself.

“Liza should be back soon from the city. You can stay over if you like,” she offered. “The inn is empty, except for Avery.”

“I'd like to see Liza and talk with her, too.”

She knew he really meant apologize to her. Liza would hear him out and appreciate his honesty. She was sure of that.

“I have to leave really early. I have to get back to work tomorrow.”

She liked hearing that, the serious way he said it did her heart good. “Oh we don't want to keep you from your job. Believe me. But Portland isn't so far. I hope you'll come down and visit when you can.”

“I will. And you can come visit me,” he added.

“I would like that very much.” She took a clean apron from the hook by the kitchen door, thinking she should start dinner.

“You can help me by going out to the garden and looking for anything ripe that was pushed down in the storm. The gloves and clippers are on the table, right there. And the bushel is back in the barn, in the usual spot.”

He rose and headed to the back door. “I missed the garden. I'd like to see how everything's doing.”

Everything was doing fine now,
Claire thought. They had come full circle.

She knew now that Reverend Ben had been right. She did help Jamie, in her way. She had set him on a good path, though she couldn't walk all the way beside him.

She stood alone in the kitchen, grateful for all the blessings in her life, but most of all, grateful that Jamie was finally finding his way home.

Avery and Mike found the right recipe for romance, but that didn't stop them from having a (mostly) friendly competition as chefs. Now you can taste and rate a special dish from each of them. Avery's is a new take on a favorite comfort food—French toast. Mike's is the crabcakes that have been wowing the crowd at the Lazy Tuna ever since his dad opened the restaurant. As Avery would say
,
Bon appétit!
As Mike would say, Dig in!

Baked Apple French Toast from Café Peregrine

2 tablespoons cinnamon

3 tablespoons brown sugar

3 tablespoons white sugar

1 teaspoon nutmeg

3 large apples, almost any variety (Macintosh, Braeburn, Empire)

1 tablespoon of fresh lemon juice

8 eggs

1 ½ cups whole milk

1 cup heavy cream

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

¼ cup maple syrup

1 large loaf of dense quality white bread, whole grain, or cinnamon (a day old is good but not necessary)

1–2 tablespoons butter

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a baking pan 9 inches by 13 inches. In a small bowl, mix cinnamon, brown sugar, white sugar and ½ teaspoon of nutmeg and set aside.

Peel apples. Remove core and slice. Place in bowl with a tablespoon of fresh lemon juice and toss to coat slices. Add about half of the cinnamon/sugar mixture. Toss again to coat apple slices and let them sit.

Beat eggs in a large mixing bowl. Add milk, cream, vanilla, maple syrup and ½ teaspoon nutmeg. Tear or slice bread into pieces about 1 inch wide and 2 inches long and add to egg mixture. Coat all sides of bread but try not to break bread pieces. Let bread soak up mixture a few minutes. Fold in apple slice mixture and pour all into the baking pan. Dot top with bits of butter.

Cook at 350 degrees about 40 to 45 minutes. When toast looks golden and puffy, a few minutes before completely done, sprinkle on the rest of the cinnamon/sugar mixture and let it cook another 3 minutes until sugar melts.

Serve with maple syrup and butter. This dish can be made ahead and reheated before serving.

Lazy Crab Cakes from the Lazy Tuna

2 pounds lump jumbo crabmeat

1–2 tablespoons butter

½ yellow onion, finely diced

½ red bell pepper, finely diced

1 large egg, beaten

½ cup mayonnaise

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon Worcestershire Sauce

1 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning

3 tablespoons fresh dill, finely diced

½ to 1 cup panko breadcrumbs

¼ cup canola oil

Dill Yogurt Dressing

3 tablespoons chopped dill

½ cup plain Greek yogurt

2–3 tablespoons white vinegar

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon water

lemon wedges

Tabasco sauce

Place crabmeat in a large mixing bowl and pick through to remove any bits of shell. (Handle meat gently, do not shred.) Heat 1–2 tablespoons of butter in a sauté pan and cook onion until clear, then add red pepper bits and cook a short time until soft. Set aside.

Add beaten egg, mayonnaise, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, Old Bay seasoning, dill, and onion and red pepper bits to crabmeat. Gently mix. Refrigerate mixture about 1 hour so it is easier to handle and cakes don't fall apart. Preheat oven to 400 degrees and line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.

Form mixture into cakes about 1½ inches thick and 3 inches wide. Dredge each side in breadcrumbs. Meanwhile, heat about 2–3 tablespoons oil in wide flat pan and when oil is hot (but not smoking), cook cakes a few at a time in pan until brown on each side. If oil gets brown, discard and start fresh. Place cooked crab cakes on the cookie sheet and heat in the oven until heated through, about 2–3 minutes.

Mix all ingredients of Dill Yogurt Dressing and top with a bit more chopped dill. Refrigerate for approximately 30 minutes and serve with crab cakes, lemon wedges, and Tabasco sauce.

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