The Way Home (4 page)

“Claire, I'm back. I got that plant food you wanted at the hardware store. Do you need it out here?” Liza came out of the kitchen door and first looked at Claire and then Jamie. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company.”

“Liza, this is a dear friend, Jamie Carter. We haven't seen each other in ten years. But he saw that article in the
Globe
and came all the way out here to surprise me.”

Liza seemed surprised by the story but managed a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Jamie.” She sat at the table next to Claire and poured herself some water. “Do you live in Boston?”

“Yup. Always. That's where I met Claire.”

“When I worked at the Crosby Street Center. I think I told you about that,” Claire said to Liza.

“Yes . . . I remember..”

Claire had told Liza about her work at the center. But not about her special relationship with Jamie, how she had planned to become his foster parent or adopt him. It was hard to remember now how close she had come to calling him her son.

“Jamie and I were friends, special friends,” Claire tried to explain. “We're just catching up. It's been so long.” She smiled at Jamie. “I still have a lot of questions I want to ask you.”

“My life is pretty boring. Just working at dumb jobs and hanging with my friends. What about you, Claire? Have you been working here a long time?”

“Ever since my father died. First for Liza's aunt Elizabeth and now for Liza. The inn was run down for a while. I was more of a companion and housekeeper to Elizabeth toward the end than an innkeeper. But Liza whipped the place back into shape in no time. She's done a fine job.”

“I wouldn't say ‘in no time,'” Liza corrected her with a laugh. “The place is still a work in progress. But we are doing better and better. We should have a very busy summer.”

“I like old houses. This one is really cool. You always told me about the island,” Jamie said to Claire. “I used to try to imagine what it looked like, mainly when I was falling asleep at night. I know it sounds weird, but it's just like I imagined it.”

Claire was touched by his admission. She had forgotten how much she used to talk about the place she called home. Building it up to some magical land in a little boy's mind. But if any place could live up to such lavish description, it was this island.

“You haven't even been on the beach yet. Let's go down for a walk,” she said, rising from her chair. “I'll just bring all this inside and grab my sun hat—”

Liza quickly rose and shooed Claire away from the dirty dishes. “I'll clean up here. Don't worry.”

Jamie stood up and glanced at his watch. “I guess I have time for a walk. My train doesn't leave for about two hours. All I need to do is call a taxi.”

“Oh, no reason for a taxi. I can run you into town,” Claire told him. “I'll just get my hat. It's in the kitchen.”

Claire went inside and Liza soon followed. Liza put some dishes in the sink and stepped over to her, her voice low. “Would you like Jamie to stay over tonight? We can have dinner together and you can really catch up.”

Claire was surprised and pleased by Liza's offer. She had been so busy asking Jamie questions, she hadn't even thought that far.

“Thank you, Liza. I'll ask him. I hope he will stay.”

* * *

A
SHORT
time later, Claire was walking along the shoreline with Jamie, trying to keep up with his strides. They had left their shoes at the bottom of the long flight of wooden steps that led down to the beach, and Claire had rolled up the bottom of her pants.

The tide was rushing in, and the waves tumbled one on top of the other with hardly a break between them. The midday sun beat down steadily, but Claire hardly felt the heat. The salty spray cooled them, and ocean foam soaked her pants almost to her knees. Claire didn't mind it. She didn't think Jamie minded either.

“I'm glad we came down here. I hardly get a chance to walk the beach in the summer. We're so busy most days at the inn.”

“Really? If I lived here, I'd be swimming every day. This beach is awesome. Maybe I can find a job near the beach this summer. I think I'll go up to Cape Cod. There must be lots of summer jobs up there.”

“There probably are,” Claire agreed, though she suspected most of those positions were filled by now. Most hotels and restaurants hired summer help by Memorial Day. But she didn't want to dampen his spirits or seem critical. And he might find a job up there. Who could say?

She saw him glance at his watch and remembered Liza's invitation. “Jamie, you're welcome to stay over for the night if you like. Liza asked me to invite you.”

He looked up and smiled. “Really? Sure, I can hang out a little longer. I don't have anything going on tonight. Do you do all the cooking here?” he added.

She nearly laughed. “Yes, I do. But I'm not going to tell you what I'm making for dinner. It will be a surprise.”

“Okay. I can handle that. I'm sure it will be something good, surprise or not.”

They talked a little more on the way back, and walked along in silence a while, too.

You never know what God has planned for you when you wake up in the morning,
Claire thought as they started back up the stairs. Seeing Jamie Carter today was the last thing she had ever expected. She still felt a jolt of surprise every time she looked at him. Yet, talking to him seemed like the most natural thing in the world. They still shared some sort of bond, she thought, some special connection. That had not faded entirely, even after all these years.

Claire clung to that heartening thought as she began to climb the long flight of wooden steps. Maybe she could still help him in some way. Maybe God, in His wisdom and mercy, was giving her a second chance, sending him here. She truly hoped so.

* * *

A
VERY
Bishop had called the inn while Claire was on the beach and told Liza she wouldn't be back in time for dinner. She had too much work at her restaurant.

Claire prepared a simple meal for just the three of them. Not gourmet fare but an old recipe that she knew was one of Jamie's favorites—meatloaf with gravy, mashed potatoes, and string beans. She had been glad to find she also had all the ingredients on hand to make his favorite dessert—strawberry shortcake.

After dinner, Liza went into her office to catch up on phone calls. Jamie helped Claire clean the kitchen and then joined her out on the porch. While she worked on her knitting, he opened a book, a paperback thriller he found in the inn's small library.

The book didn't hold his interest very long, she noticed. He had never liked reading very much. She remembered coaching him, word by word sometimes, on his reading assignments.

He walked around the porch and gazed up at the sky. It was a clear night, and a multitude of stars dappled the inky black sky.

“Wow . . . so many stars out here. You can't see any in the city.”

“There's no moon tonight. That makes them even brighter,” Claire said.

“Do you know the names of any constellations?”

“Oh, just the basics. The Big Dipper and Orion and such.” The constellations every child learns about from a parent or grandparent. Maybe on a camping trip, or just some ordinary summer night. But he had missed those typical childhood moments. She remembered how Jamie would often be the very last child to be picked up at the center by his father or grandmother. She doubted there was any talk about stars on the way home. Some nights, he would wander out into the darkness all alone and a little piece of her heart would go with him.

“How do astronomers even know what they're looking at? How do they name all the stars and find them?” He wasn't really asking her to explain, she realized, just wondering out loud.

“That's a good question. It must be difficult, even with all their special telescopes.” She sat quietly, pushing the yarn along the needles, adding one stitch and then the next.

After a moment she said, “I tried to find you.” The thought popped into her head and was voiced aloud before she even knew what she was saying. “After my father died. I tried very hard. I went back to Crosby Street and asked everyone who knew you. I went to your old school and your old neighborhood. I even hired a private detective,” she added. “He couldn't find you either.”

Jamie walked over to her chair and looked down at her. “I left Boston for a little while. With my dad. He took me to live in New Jersey. Then he got in trouble again and I went back to Boston to live with my aunt . . . It's okay, Claire. We don't have to talk about all that stuff.”

Claire wanted to talk about it. She wanted him to understand that she had not forgotten him, even though it must have seemed that way.

“I want you to know that I tried. I really did,” she said again. “But sometimes that's not enough.”

She couldn't help but think how different his life might be now if she hadn't been forced to leave the city without him. Or if she had been able to find him after her father died.

Jamie shrugged and flopped down in the chair next to hers. He picked up the book again but didn't open it. “Who knows? I try not to get hung up on stuff like that, sad things you can't change. It only brings you down.”

Claire nodded. She understood what he was trying to say. You couldn't live in the past or dwell on what might have been.

“I didn't get it when I was a kid, but I understand now why you had to come back,” he said. “I'm not mad about that.”

Claire had written him a long letter and gave it to him the day she had to go. She had explained to him the reason she was leaving. She knew from the look on his face, he hadn't heard half of what she was telling him. She had always hoped that later, in a quieter moment, the letter had helped him understand. But he didn't mention the letter, so she didn't either.

“Thank you, Jamie. Your forgiveness means a lot to me,” she said honestly. She hoped with all her heart it was true.

She put down her knitting and turned to him. “I am so very happy that you found me. I know it can never be the way it was when you were a boy. But I hope we can start over and be good friends again.”

“Yeah, well . . . sure. I guess, I thought we kind of still are friends . . . or I wouldn't have come out here.”

“I hadn't thought about it that way,” she admitted with a smile. From the outside, it seemed as if she was the one who had been doing all the helping. But she knew then, and she knew now, her bond with Jamie, his affection and trust, had brightened her life and made it richer in so many ways. He had helped her back then more than he would ever know.

Today, they had been given a second chance, the type that doesn't come along very often. Claire prayed that she would not squander it. Or let it slip from her grasp.

Tonight, she would fall asleep offering prayer upon prayer of pure gratitude.

Chapter Three

A
VERY
had not returned to the inn Monday night until eleven. Claire had been in the kitchen, preparing things for breakfast. She heard Avery come in and go straight up to her room.

But here she was at half past seven Tuesday morning, the first one up, except for Claire herself, who always rose at six whether or not she had work to do. She liked to start her day when the world was quiet and still. It helped her feel centered and peaceful.

Avery came into the kitchen where Claire stood before the stove, waving a metal spatula like a symphony conductor, as she orchestrated a meal of French toast, bacon, and a salad of orange slices and strawberries.

“Breakfast is almost ready. It'll be just another minute or two. Help yourself to coffee,” Claire told her, nodding at the big coffeemaker on the far side of the counter.

Avery filled a mug to the brim. “This smells good. Dark roast, just the way I like it,” she murmured. “A little cinnamony,” she noted between sips.

“I add a dash or two,” Claire confessed. She turned the bacon strips with a pair of tongs. The scent was enticing, sure to lure Jamie from his room, she had no doubt.

She checked the first wave of slices, golden on both sides and nicely puffed. She slid them from the pan and set the platter on the table.

“You can start, if you like. More to come,” she promised.

“That looks delicious. But I have to run.” Avery had finished the coffee and refilled the mug. “The staff is coming in to finish the setup, and we're going to do some training.”

Claire dipped more bread slices in the batter and set them on the hot skillet. “Sounds like a full day. Have you found good help?”

“I think I have. It's hard to know in this business until the heat is on . . . if you'll excuse the pun,” Avery added with a grin. “But everyone is experienced and excited about the grand opening.”

“How many have you hired?”

“Two waitresses, a kitchen helper, and a busboy. I wanted to find a seating hostess, someone who could manage the floor. But I can't afford it right now. I guess I'll be running in and out of the kitchen for a while. I need to see what's going on in the front of the house when we start off anyway.”

Claire turned back to the toast and flipped the slices. “The grand opening is still set for this weekend?”

“Kicking off Friday night. I know today's only Tuesday, but that's not much time.” Avery checked her watch. “I have to run. I need to make some calls. I'm still missing a few deliveries.”

Claire understood Avery's urgency but didn't think she should race off with only coffee in her stomach. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day. “At least take a little something with you,” she said, offering the young woman a yogurt and a banana.

Avery thanked her and stashed the food in her big purse. Claire wondered if she would ever find it. “I probably won't be back for dinner again. No need to wait for me.”

Claire had expected that. “You have a good day. A productive one, too.” She watched Avery rush out the kitchen door as if someone were chasing her.

Liza came into the kitchen just as Avery left. She walked over to the coffeemaker and filled her mug. “Was that Avery? Leaving already?”

“She has a lot to do today. She's training the staff. She's hired four people so far.”

“That sounds about right for a restaurant of that size.” Liza picked up the
Cape Light Messenger
,
which sat folded on the table. “Our ad won't appear until tomorrow. I hope we get a good response.”

“Are there many other ads today?”

Liza kept her gaze on the newspaper as she answered. “I haven't gotten to the classified section yet. I'm stuck in the news articles. Did you know there was a Garden Tour in Newburyport last Sunday? Guess we missed it.”

“That would have been enjoyable. Might have even given us a few ideas for the property, but we weren't free last Sunday,” Claire reminded her as she brought the food to the table.

“Maybe once we find a good helper, we can take turns sneaking away and having some fun, doing what all the tourists do when they come here,” Liza said, still scanning the paper.

“Maybe we could.” Claire shifted in her seat and took a sip of coffee. She listened for sounds from the second floor. All quiet on that front. Jamie was not up yet, though she expected that with the scent of bacon filling the inn, he would be down shortly.

“There's something I'd like to ask you, Liza, if you have a minute to talk. It's just an idea, and I won't be the least offended if you don't—”

Liza looked up from the newspaper and closed it on the table. “You think we should offer the job at the inn to Jamie.”

Claire couldn't tell if Liza was in favor of this idea or not. But at least the notion had crossed her mind, too.

“I do. He's worked as a waiter and also as a janitor. That's relevant to the job here, don't you think? And he's very good with people,” she added. “Very smart and catches on quickly. I'm sure he'll be happy to do whatever is asked of him.”

It would be a good opportunity for him, too, she thought. It sounded as if he didn't even have a decent place to live. He would get free room and board working at the inn and be able to build some savings over the summer. Maybe even enough to go back to school.

But she held her tongue. She didn't want to overwhelm Liza with all her thoughts on the subject, which had spun through her head for hours. Liza had taken a slice of French toast and was fixing it on her plate while she listened. Claire could tell she was trying not to smile.

“Sounds like you've thought this out pretty thoroughly.”

“Yes, I have. I thought about it a lot last night, before I fell asleep. I prayed about it. And when I woke up this morning, it seemed clear to me. Hiring Jamie will help us—and help him.”

It seemed the perfect solution, an ideal way to keep Jamie close, help him get back on his feet, and back on a good track.

“I know you want to help him, Claire, and he's a very nice young man. I enjoyed having dinner with him last night, I really did,” Liza began. “But I'm just not sure. You haven't seen him in a long time. He may have changed. He may be very different from the boy you remember.”

“He's grown up. He's more mature, that's for sure. But that's a good thing. I don't think he's changed, not really. I'll make sure he knows what's expected,” Claire promised. “I'll treat him just like any other person starting off in this job.”

“I'm sure you would supervise him. But if it didn't work out, it could be a problem.” Liza's expression became serious. “It could be very difficult if we had to let him go. Especially considering your friendship with him.”

Claire knew that was true. But she couldn't help feeling as if there were some unseen hand in this situation; the amazing coincidence of Jamie finding her just when he was out of work and there was a job here, perfectly suited to him. Claire felt very sure she was not the only one who would be watching over Jamie and helping him do well here. She felt sure that the good Lord above had brought him to her doorstep for this very reason.

Liza had finished her breakfast and pushed the dish aside. “You never told me much about Jamie or your relationship with him. I can see now that it was very important to you.”

“It was. Still is,” Claire added, lifting her gaze to meet Liza's. “Jamie was always special to me. I don't really know why. There were so many children coming in after school every day. The center was just a big drafty warehouse, fixed up inside, painted bright colors, clean and safe. And free to their parents,” she explained.

“We gave them meals and helped with homework. We gave them school supplies and coats, or winter boots. But what they really needed most was attention. Someone who cared what sort of day they had. Someone who cared if they understood their homework or did well on a test or got scolded by their teacher. There were so many stories at the end of their day.” Claire smiled, remembering. “When my work in the kitchen was done, I would go out to the main rooms and help with the children. My heart went out to all of them, but Jamie was the one who caught my eye. Always quiet, hanging in the corners. Didn't smile much, or have many friends. His clothes were usually dirty and mismatched or outgrown. I could see he wasn't just shy. He was scared. It took time, but he began to trust me. I was the only one who could help him with his schoolwork. We would memorize multiplication tables or the names of the fifty states.”

He never cared how long he had to wait. He only wanted her, Claire recalled.

“As soon as he got to Crosby Street, he would come to the kitchen door and look for me,” she added. “I would give him an apron and gloves, and let him do small tasks. Something fun, like making cookies. He took it very seriously. He was very proud when we brought the cookies out to the other kids.” Claire could still see him, a skinny little boy carrying a platter piled high with treats.

“I knew that he lived with his grandmother,” she went on. “But she had problems of her own. Sometimes his father lived there, too. He drank heavily and disappeared for months at a time. Which was a blessing of sorts . . . because Jamie's father abused him, verbally and physically.”

“Oh, dear. That's awful.” Liza's tone was sympathetic. “What did you do?”

“I didn't even know at first,” Claire admitted. “Jamie was so good at hiding the truth from everyone. Ironically, he adored his father, made some sort of hero out of him in his mind. I was very angry at myself at the time for not seeing the signs. But once I did, I tried to get him out of that terrible household. He was removed once, but sent back,” she recalled. “I was applying to foster him myself, and maybe eventually adopt him, when my father needed me here.” Claire sighed, remembering one of the saddest days of her life. “My last afternoon at the center, I tried to explain to Jamie why I had to go. But he didn't understand. He was far too young. Later, after my father died, I tried very hard to find him. Now . . . out of the blue . . . here he is.” Claire shook her head. “I can hardly believe it.”

Liza nodded, taking in the story. “Thank you for telling me all that. I knew that you really cared about him, but I had no idea the situation was so . . . so intense.”

“Intense,” Claire repeated. “I guess that is a good word to describe it.”

“I didn't realize you had such a hard choice to make. An impossible choice,” she added. “I didn't really understand why giving him this job seemed so important to you. Now I do.”

It had been hard for Claire to share her memories, especially the most painful ones. But it seemed a small price if Liza could be persuaded.

“It is important,” Claire admitted. “It would be a great favor to me if you would agree. If your only objection is that it might be hard to let him go—hard for me, especially—please know that I will accept the situation if it comes to that. Though I don't think it ever will.”

Liza gazed at Claire and rubbed her cheek with her hand. Claire knew she was putting her employer—and good friend—in a difficult spot, but she felt it was for a very worthy reason. Claire believed with all her heart that Jamie would not disappoint them. Liza would look back on this conversation and wonder why she'd had any objection at all.

“All right. We can offer him the job,” Liza said finally. “You seem certain he'll be good at it. You know how much I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you, Liza. I think with some training he will do well. I'm sure you won't regret it.”

That was all he needed. Just a decent opportunity and some help putting his life on a good track. There was no limit to where he could go with that kind of wind at his back. Claire felt very sure about that, too.

Liza carried her dish to the sink and put it in the dishwasher.

“Why don't you tell him about the job when he comes down? If he's interested, I'll talk to him about the pay and the hours and all that.”

Claire thought that was a good plan. Liza left for her office, needing to check e-mails and make some calls this morning before working on the flower beds.

Jamie came down to the kitchen a few minutes later, wearing a clean T-shirt Claire had found for him the night before. His hair was combed back from his shower, and she noticed the red flush of sunburn on his nose and cheekbones. It was probably from their walk on the beach; he hadn't used any sunblock. He would get into the habit once he started working here. That would be one of her rules, for sure.

As he poured himself coffee, she noticed that he had a train schedule tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. “There's a train to Boston in an hour,” he said. “Do you think I could make it? The next one after that isn't until eleven.”

“That's plenty of time. I'll drive you to the station. No need to call a taxi. There's French toast and bacon on the table. Help yourself.”

Jamie sat at a clean place and filled his plate. She could tell he was trying hard to be polite and not take too much at once. Though he looked tempted to simply tip the entire dish of bacon onto his own.

“You're the last one down, so don't be shy.”

He fixed his French toast with butter, syrup, and cinnamon before taking a bite. “Mmm, this looks good. I never eat a real breakfast like this . . . unless I go to a diner or someplace like that.”

“You should learn to cook. It isn't hard.” She was about to remind him of how he had helped her in the kitchen at Crosby Street, but decided this wasn't the right time.

“I can make a few things. Scrambled eggs,” he said between mouthfuls. “But not like this. This is really good.”

“I'm glad you like it.” Claire enjoyed watching him gobble down the breakfast. She couldn't deny that. She waited until he was almost done eating, then said, “Before you go, I'd like to talk to you about something. We need someone to help here at the inn. Liza took an ad in the newspaper yesterday. But I had an idea that you might be interested, and I suggested it to Liza.”