The Gathering Place Read online

  Contents

  DEAR FRIENDS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Gathering Place

  A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2003 by Media Arts Group, Inc. and Parachute Publishing, L.L.C.

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

  For information address:

  The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is

  http://www.penguinputnam.com

  ISBN: 978-1-1012-1488-6

  A BERKLEY BOOK®

  Berkley Books first published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY and the “B” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

  Electronic edition: February, 2005

  DEAR FRIENDS

  IAM SO HAPPY ONCE AGAIN TO WELCOME YOU TO CAPE LIGHT. The town is much as it has always been—a place where the pace is slower and people stop to savor the simple pleasures.

  When I first conceived of the idea of the Cape Light books, I wanted to convey with words the same vision that my artwork expresses with paint—the values of faith, hope, family, and community. I never dreamed that so many of you would write to me and say that Cape Light had become so real and precious to you. I knew that Cape Light lived in my heart, but I am so proud that it has found a place in yours as well.

  The painting on the cover of A Gathering Place is a portrait of a simple village church, the serene image of a lovely building. When I paint a picture of a building—whether it’s a warm cottage, a stately house, or a quiet church—I concentrate on the architecture of the building so that I can paint it, but I must also visualize life inside the building. This is the only way I can capture its true essence.

  I imagine the people who live in these structures. I think about the role the building plays in their lives. The white-steeple church on the cover of this book is not a grand place. It’s not a lofty cathedral. It is very simply a gathering place. A place where people come together to thank God, to ask for his help, and also to reach out to each other.

  In A Gathering Place you will see hard times for Lucy and Charlie Bates . . . moments of suffering and doubt for Reverend Ben . . . hard decisions to be faced by Emily Warwick and Dan Forbes . . . and the entire town will experience a sad and profound loss. Through it all, the people of Cape Light will hold together and help their neighbors to gather strength and push on.

  As you open this book and once again greet the people of Cape Light, my prayer for you is that you find a gathering place of your own: a place where you can find love and support and the peace of mind to appreciate all of God’s blessings.

  —Thomas Kinkade

  CHAPTER ONE

  EMILY WARWICK PARKED HER JEEP IN FRONT OF DAN FORBES’S house, then opened the tailgate and carefully removed an apple pie. Covered with foil, it sat wedged between various plates and bowls filled with the makings of a Thanksgiving dinner.

  High gray clouds blew across the sky, bringing sunlight one minute and shadows the next. The frost-covered ground and icy roof edges along Emerson Street cheered her, the sparkling white trim looking as if it had been applied by an artist’s careful touch. Even Dan’s squat little cottage looked more appealing today, which was saying something. A frosty glaze coated the pavement under her steps, and carrying the pie up the path proved to be a bit of a balancing act.

  A balancing act, too, in the very gesture, she thought. A Thanksgiving offering to a neighbor and friend. And yet her relationship with Dan definitely seemed more than a friendship these last few weeks . . . but less than a romance.

  The pie in one hand, she pressed the doorbell with the other. Though she’d never been a whiz in the kitchen, for some reason she’d been inspired last night to bake for the holiday. One pumpkin and two apple, one pie too many for the small gathering at her mother’s house. Dan seemed the perfect candidate for the extra. About two weeks ago, he’d taken a bad fall while working on his sailboat and was now confined to a wheelchair, with no one but his son Wyatt to keep him company today.

  It’s just a neighborly gesture, the friendly thing to do. And we are friends, she reminded herself, if nothing more.

  The door swung open, and a young woman with honey-blond hair and deep blues eyes stared out at her curiously. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m Emily Warwick, a neighbor. . . . I live down the street. . . .” Emily felt awkward and began to gesture, then noticed the tinfoil slipping off the dish. “I just wanted to drop this off.”

  “Oh, of course.” The young woman smiled. “I’m Lindsay, Dan’s daughter. Dad’s told me about you. You’re the mayor, right?”

  “Right,” Emily replied with a nod, wondering if that was all Dan had said about her. “I didn’t realize both you and Wyatt were coming for the holiday,” Emily said, mentioning Lindsay’s brother. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Not at all. Actually, Dad didn’t know we were coming. My husband and I sort of surprised him.” Lindsay laughed, suddenly sounding and looking a lot like her father. “Come in, please. Dad could use a visitor. Actually, he’s starting to drive us all a little crazy,” she added in a whisper.

  Emily smiled, slipped off her coat, and left it on a nearby chair. The house was filled with the delicious scents of a turkey roasting and cranberry sauce simmering. So poor Dan wasn’t going to starve today, after all.

  She followed Lindsay to the small kitchen, where Lindsay set the pie on the counter. A young man with thick brown hair and a full beard stood at the stove. Wearing a long white apron, he added fresh herbs to a stockpot, his expression one of complete concentration.

  Lindsay waited a moment, then touched his shoulder. “Honey, this is Emily, a friend of Dad. She brought us a lovely pie. Emily, this is my husband, Scott.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Scott stretched out a large hand, and Emily shook it. “Thanks for the pie. Now I don’t have to worry about dessert.”

  “Not counting the pumpkin-mousse napoleons, he means,” Lindsay noted. “Scott’s a chef. He keeps forgetting we’re only four people today, not forty.”

  Scott gave a good-natured shrug. “So we’ll have plenty of leftovers.”

  “I’m going to have to double up on my workouts,” Lindsay said with a sigh. “This happens every year over the holidays. You should have seen last year’s feast in New Orle
ans.”

  “Is that where you live?” Emily asked curiously. Dan often talked about his son, but he rarely mentioned his daughter.

  “We lived there for three years,” Lindsay explained. “But we knew we would come back north one day. My dad’s accident just made us move up faster.”

  “Oh, so you’re up in New England again for good?”

  “It looks that way. Scott may open a restaurant in Boston with some friends. I’m looking for a job, too. I’m in marketing and sales,” she added.

  “Sounds like you’ll be living in the city then.”

  “That’s our plan. We’re going to camp out here until Scott’s business deal is settled. Dad sure found a cozy little place,” Lindsay said, glancing around with a smile. “I guess he didn’t expect so many visitors.”

  “I guess not,” Emily agreed. The house was small. Too small really for Dan’s entire family to have moved back in with him. There was a certain irony to it, as Dan was such a solitary type and now, to make matters worse, housebound.

  Dan’s house, which was just down the street from her own, had been for sale a long time before he bought it. He explained it as an emergency purchase. He had sold a larger home in the village, and he suddenly found himself needing a place to go. But he didn’t intend to live here long. Only long enough to hand over his newspaper to his son, Wyatt, then take off on a long, rambling trip on his sailboat.

  But Providence had something other than early retirement in mind for Dan, something else entirely: An accident on his boat about two weeks ago had left him with a concussion, several broken bones, various bruises, and an impressive black eye.

  Following Lindsay, Emily made her way to the family room in back, which seemed to be Dan’s headquarters since his accident. More like the lion’s den on some days, depending on his mood.

  The room, once a screened-in porch, had been nicely renovated. A fire flickered in the stone fireplace that took up one corner of the room. Broad windows lined three of the walls; built-in bookcases beneath them held Dan’s many books as well as awards for the newspaper. One long wall was decorated with framed photographs.

  Dan sat at a rolltop desk, the antique topped with a notebook computer. His wheelchair was slanted sideways to the desk to make room for the long, straight cast on his broken leg. It looked uncomfortable, but Emily could hardly imagine Dan surviving for a day out of reach of a keyboard.

  As the two women entered, he turned in his chair. His blue eyes lit up when he saw Emily, and she felt her heart do a small flip. She suddenly knew she’d done the right thing by coming today.

  “Well, look who’s here. What brings you around, Mayor? Visiting local shut-ins for the holiday?” he teased her.

  “I only had time for one. Your name was pulled from a hat,” she said, matching his dry tone.

  He laughed and she could see him relax a bit. “Happy Thanksgiving. Nice of you to drop in,” he said sincerely.

  “I just wanted to say hello.” Emily stepped closer. “I didn’t realize you had such a full house.”

  “Doesn’t take much to fill up this place. But having Lindsay and Scott show up last night was a nice surprise,” Dan said, as he smiled over at his daughter.

  “Emily brought us a pie,” Lindsay told him. “Looks like apple.”

  “Mmm, my favorite. I didn’t know baking was among your many talents, Mayor.”

  “It’s not high on the list, so don’t get your hopes up,” she warned him.

  “When you’re in my situation, you have to think positively,” Dan said. “At least about dessert.” He gazed at her, smiling in a way that made Emily feel self-conscious in front of Lindsay.

  Lindsay must have sensed something. She glanced at her father and Emily, then said, “I guess I’ll go see if Scott needs any help. Would you like some coffee or tea, Emily?”

  “No, thank you. I can’t stay long.”

  “Nothing for me, honey. I’m fine,” Dan said.

  “Okay, just call if you need anything,” Lindsay said, as she left them alone together.

  “Have a seat,” Dan offered, gesturing to the couch. “You can stay for a minute, can’t you?”

  “Sure.” Emily took a seat on the couch, and Dan turned his chair to face her.

  Even though she had seen him since his accident, the sight was still a shock. Besides his leg being in a cast, his left arm was in a sling. The bruises on his face were healing slowly. The swelling had gone down, but the abrasions had turned a nasty shade somewhere between red and purple.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “A little better than I look. But not much.” Dan touched the bandage on his forehead. “These stitches should come out soon. Thank goodness I’ve got such a hard head. I guess I ought to be grateful. It’s still frustrating to be stuck in this chair, though. So much for taking retirement before I turn fifty!”

  He smiled at her and Emily didn’t know how to respond, distracted by the subtle energy between them. She could feel it, like an electric current in the room.

  “And it will be about six weeks until the cast comes off?” she managed to ask.

  “That’s what they tell me. I should get a smaller, removable cast on my leg by Christmas, and I may need some physical therapy after the leg heals. But the doctors won’t know that for a while.”

  A heavy silence fell between them. Emily racked her mind for something positive to say. The only benefit she could see from Dan’s accident was the fact that it had kept him in town and gave her an excuse to see more of him.

  But is that really a good thing, she wondered, since sooner or later he will be leaving anyway?

  “How is Wyatt doing at the paper?” she asked.

  “All right, I guess. He’s been distracted taking care of me. But now Lindsay can take over around here,” Dan said. “You know, Wyatt worked at the paper every summer from grade school through college. He should be able to run the place by now.”

  Yes, that had always been the plan, as anyone who was acquainted with Dan even remotely knew by now. Dan’s great-grandfather founded the Cape Light Messenger. Dan’s father, and his father before him, had handed over the reins in due course to the male heir apparent.

  Wyatt was a photojournalist and had been living on the West Coast, doing quite well in his field, Emily understood. She wondered how he felt about moving back to his hometown now, after roaming around the world. But Dan never hinted that Wyatt had second thoughts about returning.

  “Well, at least you’re still around to help him,” Emily pointed out.

  “I try. But it’s difficult since I’m not down in the office when problems come up. Wyatt doesn’t seem comfortable asking for advice.”

  “Typical male behavior,” Emily teased gently.

  “Especially in this family.”

  “Those Forbes hardheads. You mentioned that before.”

  “So I did.” Dan met her gaze and smiled at her. Emily smiled back, finding it hard to look away. Then they were both distracted by the sound of someone entering the room.

  She turned to see Wyatt, wearing a loose jacket with a long striped muffler slung around his neck. He could have passed for a younger brown-haired edition of Dan, she thought, with the same tall, rangy build and lean face. He didn’t notice her at first, his attention focused on his father.

  Lindsay appeared in the doorway, with a tray of hors d’oeuvres that gave off a mouthwatering warm buttery scent.

  “The printer just called,” Wyatt said. “He’s got a problem with a few pages in tomorrow’s edition. I have to run over there and figure it out. So I may be a little late for dinner.”

  “You can E-mail me some text if you need help cutting,” Dan offered.

  “No big deal. I can handle it,” Wyatt answered quickly.

  “Can I come?” Lindsay asked her brother. “Maybe together we can get it done faster.”

  Emily could see Wyatt hesitating, as if he were tempted to accept, then he pulled his car keys from his pock
et. “It won’t take long. But maybe you can stop by the office sometime and look over the subscriptions and advertising, that kind of thing. It’s piling up, and I never seem to have time to get to it.”

  “What about Gloria? Isn’t she back yet?” Dan asked.

  “I forgot to tell you. She called yesterday and quit altogether. Said she found a new job at an advertising agency in Newburyport. I guess she didn’t really have the flu,” Wyatt added dryly.

  “I guess not,” Dan agreed, looking concerned. “It’s hard to find someone to fill that spot. It’s not strictly secretarial.”

  “Don’t worry, Wyatt. I’ll help you catch up until you hire someone. I don’t have much else to do.” Lindsay set the platter down on the coffee table and wiped her hands on her apron. “I have an interview Wednesday, but otherwise, I’m free.”

  “That would be great, Lindsay. Just until he finds someone good, I mean,” Dan said. He looked surprised, Emily noticed, but pleased at the solution.

  “Thanks, it would help a lot. I’ve had Jane Harmon coming in full-time for a while now,” Wyatt told them. “And Sara Franklin should be starting on Monday.”

  Emily smiled at the mention of her daughter’s name.

  “Sara. That’s right. Where did she go anyway?” Dan asked.

  “Down to Maryland to visit her family for the holiday,” Emily explained.

  Sometimes Emily still found it hard to believe that the baby she had given up for adoption over twenty years ago had come to Cape Light to find her. Sara had come to town last May, right after graduating college, but it was several months before she revealed her true identity to Emily. After their reunion Emily had worried that Sara would return to her adoptive parents and disappear from her life again. Fortunately, though, Sara decided to take a job on the Messenger and stay in town a bit longer.

  Finding her daughter had been the happiest, most blessed day of Emily’s life, the single event she felt most thankful for on this special day of Thanksgiving.