The Gathering Place Page 15

  Sara cringed every time she heard Wyatt talking about Jane’s coverage of the zoning meeting. The Messenger had scooped the Chronicle with Jane’s interview of the head protestor and a photo that included the man holding up a fistful of feathers. A bit staged perhaps, but eye-catching. The feathers had been Jane’s brainstorm, and she had resorted to pulling them out of her own down jacket. Wyatt was so impressed that he promised the paper would buy her a new one.

  Sara had to listen to him all day on the phone, bragging about how his paper had pulled the story out of the fire at the last minute after their first reporter—who thankfully remained nameless—had totally messed up.

  Friday passed in much the same way. As far as Sara could tell, Wyatt still hadn’t hired anyone to fill the vacant clerical position, and more and more of that work was coming her way. The only plus was working with Lindsay, since Wyatt’s sister seemed to be handling the business end of things now.

  Lindsay was calmer than her brother and more organized. She didn’t condescend to Sara but took time to explain what she needed clearly, not assuming Sara would automatically know what she had to do.

  She appeared at Sara’s desk midway through the morning. “I need you to organize these invoices for me; what’s been paid in this folder, and what’s due in this one. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Gloria was a little sloppy, even though my father thought she was a genius,” Lindsay noted, with a wry grin. “Check in the computer when they look iffy, and mark the questionable ones with a sticky.”

  “No problem.” Sara nodded, accepting the menial task as best as she could.

  “Listen,” Lindsay said, “I know this isn’t what you signed on for. But in a small shop, we all have to pitch in. Besides, it’s good for you to see the different aspects of running a paper. It’s not always about chasing after a hot story. Or even a dull one, for that matter. If not for the boring stuff, we wouldn’t have any revenue.”

  “I guess not,” Sara said, meeting her gaze.

  Lindsay touched her shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll get back to it. For one thing, Wyatt doesn’t have enough staff. Ed’s so spoiled, he hardly works anymore, except for that glorious column of his,” she confided, with a smile.

  “So I noticed.” Sara smiled, too. “How did you get to know so much about the paper?”

  “If you grew up in our house, it was all you really heard about, morning, noon, and night. You couldn’t help learning how it was run,” she joked. “I worked here summers and weekends, too, just like Wyatt. I even wrote a little bit. But that’s not my thing,” she added. “The newspaper is really like any small business. Once Wyatt sees that, he’ll take the problems in stride. I think he overreacted a little on Wednesday. Give him time, and he’ll get over it.”

  That made Sara feel a little better. Lindsay seemed so calm and steady compared to Wyatt. Wyatt’s mercurial temperament and creativity made him interesting, exciting to be around—he definitely had charm—but those same traits made him hard to work for, Sara decided. She wished Lindsay had more say in running the Messenger.

  Sara got to work on the invoices. Wyatt didn’t speak to her all that day, so Sara was surprised when he called her back to his desk a little before five. He looked tired and frazzled, as usual, with uncombed hair and a shadow of a beard on his lean face. Somehow it all looked good on him.

  He sat back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. “You could help me out with a little problem tonight, Sara,” he began. “The Rotary is going to present their Community Leader of the Year Award at a banquet in town. Can you cover it?”

  “Sure, no problem,” she said quickly, trying not to sound so excited that he could guess her fear of being forever exiled to the unsorted invoice piles.

  “Good. It’s at the Bailey House Inn, up near the turnpike. Starts at six. You’re dressed okay, I guess,” he said, taking in her burgundy turtleneck, long black wool skirt, and boots. Wyatt’s appraising gaze made her feel self-conscious. She was relieved when he looked back down at the rough sketch of a layout on his desk.

  “I have a huge hole in page three, and this Rotary story better fill it. Get what you need, come right back, and write it up. I’ll patch it in last thing.”

  “Sure, I’ll come right back. Anything else?” she asked, worried suddenly about missing something he assumed she would know. Like there would be an unscheduled appearance of the president of the United States at the end of the evening, and she might leave early and miss it.

  He shrugged. “Don’t forget your camera?”

  Sara felt warm color start to rise in her cheeks and turned so he couldn’t see. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  Okay, the story was a no-brainer, but she was relieved to be called back into action so quickly. Lindsay had been right. Wyatt really needed her, like it or not.

  Sara had her coat on when she remembered her date with Luke. She groaned, realizing she had to cancel on him. She quickly punched in his number, glancing over her shoulder to see if Wyatt was watching. But he wasn’t in the main office. He’s probably in the darkroom, she thought, grateful for the privacy.

  “Hey, how are you doing? I was just going to call you,” Luke answered, sounding happy to hear her voice. “Home already?”

  “Um . . . no. I’m still at work.” She twisted the phone cord around her hand. “Something’s come up. Wyatt asked me to cover a story tonight, some Rotary club banquet. And after what happened on Wednesday, I can’t say no. He’s had me doing mostly clerical work all week. It’s been really awful,” she added in a hushed tone.

  “You know, I’m liking that guy less every day,” Luke said slowly. “What about later, after it’s over? We can get together for coffee or something,” he suggested.

  Sara sighed. “I have to come back and write the article. He needs to run it in Monday’s edition. I may be here awhile.” She waited for Luke to answer, but he didn’t say anything. She knew he was disappointed and felt bad about letting him down. But he understood the pressure she was facing, didn’t he?

  “What about tomorrow night?” she suggested. “I was supposed to see Emily, but I can change that. She won’t mind.”

  “Sorry, I’m going up to Boston to see my family. When you said you were busy, I promised to drive my mother down to Connecticut for a family party. My dad is out of town for some retired police officers’ convention.”

  Sara was surprised by his plan but thought it was a good sign. When he was kicked off the police force, Luke’s relationship with his family grew strained. His two older brothers were both cops, as was his father, a retired detective who took Luke’s failure personally. Little by little, Luke had been trying to mend those frayed connections.

  “Oh, so I guess you’ll be gone the whole weekend then,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

  A tense silence fell between them. Sara knew that when Luke’s feelings were hurt he grew quiet, as quiet as a stone. She wanted to say the right thing, but didn’t know what to say.

  She heard Wyatt come back into the main office, shuffling things at his desk. I should be out of here by now, on my way to that Rotary meeting.

  “Listen, I’m sorry,” she said, sounding rushed. “But I just have to do this.”

  “I know. I’ll call you when I get back. We’ll get together next week. It’s no big deal.”

  Although he had said the right words, Sara didn’t find his tone of voice reassuring.

  They said good-bye, and Sara hung up. Then she picked up her knapsack and left the office. She had been given another chance but at a cost, she realized. Why was everything so complicated?

  “OKAY, NAME YOUR THREE FAVORITE JIMMY STEWART MOVIES.” EMILY set a huge bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and Sara leaned over and took a handful.

  “Let’s see, that’s a tough one.” Sara chewed thoughtfully. “It’s a Wonderful Life, of course.”

  “Of course,” Emily agreed.

  “Then I guess I’d have to say Mr. Smith G
oes to Washington. And, wait . . . I nearly forgot Vertigo.”

  “Jimmy Stewart was great in the Hitchcock movies, too,” Emily agreed, “but It’s a Wonderful Life is in a class of its own. I have to see it at least once a year. I usually save it for the night I wrap my Christmas gifts, but I was glad you picked it out for tonight.”

  “Me, too,” Sara said sincerely. It had been great fun to watch the old classic with Emily. Between the two of them, they knew just about every line. Being with Emily had taken her mind off her problems at work and with Luke.

  Then out of the clear blue, Emily said, “So where’s Luke tonight?”

  “Visiting his folks for the weekend. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Emily shrugged. “I just wondered why you were free to see me tonight.”

  Sara caught her eye. “I don’t see him every Saturday night. I mean, it’s not like we’re going out or anything.”

  “Sorry, I thought you were. I must have misunderstood.” Emily picked up a mug of tea and took a sip.

  “Well, we do go out sometimes. We get along really well, but it’s not really serious or anything. You know how it is,” Sara concluded.

  “No, I don’t know really. But that’s okay. I don’t mean to pry.” She paused, as if considering what to say next. “Luke seems . . . serious.”

  “Well, he can seem sort of tough and distant, I guess. Until you get to know him.”

  “Serious about you, I mean,” Emily clarified, glancing at her. Sara looked away. She knew what Emily had meant; she was just trying to avoid getting into this conversation. She suddenly felt that Emily was prying, and it made her uncomfortable.

  “He cares for you a lot,” Emily continued in a careful tone.

  “Yes, I know.” Sara stretched her legs out and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d really rather not talk about Luke, though. If you don’t mind.”

  “Oh . . . sure. I didn’t mean to pry.” Emily looked uneasy, even embarrassed, and Sara regretted that her words had sounded so sharp.

  Sara shrugged, feeling uneasy now herself. “I just feel . . . well, my relationship with Luke is private. I’m not ready to share it with the world at large.”

  Emily nodded. “Sure. I understand.”

  But Sara could tell from Emily’s expression that she’d now hurt her even more. Emily didn’t consider herself “the world at large.” She clearly thought she and Sara had a closer connection by now. And they did. Still, it was one of those moments that made Sara keenly aware of the fact that she and her birth mother really didn’t know each other very well yet. They were trying and making progress day by day. But they still had a lot of lost time to make up for.

  Sara didn’t know what to say—or if she should say anything more.

  Emily nursed her mug of tea. “By the way, what are you doing for Christmas? Will you be going back to Maryland again?”

  Emily’s question sounded casual, but Sara knew that her answer mattered. “I’ll be around.”

  “Oh, good.” Emily sounded surprised. She paused. Sara sensed that she wanted to ask something and felt nervous about it. Finally she said, “Jessica is having a Christmas Eve party and asked me to invite you. I guess I’ll be at my mother’s on Christmas Day. You’re welcome to come there as well, if you like,” she added hopefully.

  Sara hadn’t really thought about what she would do over the holidays in Cape Light. She had assumed she would see Emily at some point, but she wasn’t sure how or when. The idea of both parties seemed a little overwhelming. Then again, why was she staying here if not to get to know Emily and the Warwicks better? She knew that the party at Jessica and Sam’s would probably be a lot of fun. People in town were still talking about the engagement party the couple gave back in September.

  “Sure, count me in on both. I’d love to come,” Sara said.

  “Great.” Emily looked so happy, she practically beamed. Sara still wasn’t used to the pleasure Emily took just from being around her. It was touching, an ever-present reminder that her birth mother loved her and had never really wanted to give her up.

  At times, though, Sara felt pressured by Emily’s love. Sometimes she just needed to take a breath and step back—even knowing her withdrawal would hurt Emily’s feelings.

  “I spoke to my folks today. They’re coming up to New England the day after Christmas and will stay until Sunday. They’re really looking forward to meeting you,” Sara said.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting them, too.” Emily still smiled, but her blue eyes had clouded over, Sara noticed. Of course she’d be nervous about meeting Sara’s parents. Sara could tell her parents felt the same way about meeting Emily. Sara already felt as if she’d been negotiating between the two camps, and part of her dreaded the event.

  “I thought we could all have dinner together one night. But I wasn’t sure where we should go,” Sara said.

  “Hmm, let me think. The Pequot Inn is nice. Very New England, if they’re looking for atmosphere,” Emily said. “And the food is good, too.”

  Her parents would be so distracted studying Emily, Sara doubted they’d notice the ambiance or the food. But she thought the suggestion was a good one.

  “That sounds good. I’ll check it out,” Sara said. “I’ve also told them about Lillian,” she added, with a smile. “They’re dying to meet her, too.”

  “We’ll have to arrange it then,” Emily promised. “But you know how your grandmother gets. We’ll have to catch her in a good mood.”

  “They’ll only be here for five days. I’m not sure that will be enough time.”

  Emily laughed and shook her head. “How well you’ve come to know her already.”

  BEN DISCREETLY CHECKED HIS WATCH. THE BATESES HAD BEEN IN HIS office for nearly an hour but hadn’t made much progress. On Wednesday nights, he usually made hospital visits, but when Lucy had finally asked to come in for counseling, he had willingly rearranged his schedule for them.

  Lucy had done most of the talking so far, while Charlie sat scowling, occasionally barking, “That’s not true,” at her. Now they were both sitting silent and sullen, mired in their own thoughts and anger.

  Deciding that this silence was not a productive one, Ben turned to Charlie. “Lucy has said that you are negative about her returning to school, and that makes it even harder for her. Do you want to say anything about that?”

  “What can I say?” Charlie shrugged, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “I pay for her tuition and books and the baby-sitting, don’t I? She’s cut down her hours at work. That’s costing me, too. You ask me, I’m making things easy for her.”

  “I’m not talking about the money, Charlie. I mean your attitude, the things you say,” Lucy replied.

  “Of course, you’re not talking about money, Lucy. You don’t give a thought to what this is costing us. Or you wouldn’t be doing it.”

  “I work in that diner day and night and have for years. But I’ve never once seen a real paycheck,” Lucy declared. “Charlie takes some money from the business account every month and puts it in our house account and says it’s for the both of us. But when I want to spend it on something, it’s his money.”

  “The reverend isn’t interested in our financial arrangements. That’s private,” Charlie said harshly.

  “Let’s just back up a moment—” Reverend Ben cut in. He took a deep breath. Lord, help me out here. Their problems are deep. I feel as if I’m walking in quicksand.

  “Money issues are a problem for many couples, and we’ll talk about that, too, at some point,” Ben said in what he hoped was a calming tone. “But right now, I think it would help to get back to something Lucy said, Charlie. She said it wasn’t about the cost of school. She said it was your attitude.”

  “My attitude, huh? That’s a good one.” Charlie took a deep breath but didn’t say anything more. He didn’t have to. His body language said it all, Ben thought. Charlie sat staring straight ahead, with his arms crossed solidly over his chest, his jaw set, th
e very definition of a stone lion. The body was present, but the spirit was not willing, Ben thought, paraphrasing the biblical verse.

  Lucy had twisted around in her armchair, with her back toward her husband. When she needed to talk to him, she had to glance over her shoulder. Mostly, she looked the other way, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

  “A man has a right to his opinions. In his own house, no less,” Charlie said. “You know it even says in the Bible that a woman should obey her husband. Doesn’t it, Reverend?”

  Ben sighed inwardly. Leave it to Charlie to point to the Bible to justify his behavior, when it was Lucy who attended every Sunday and showed far more kindness, compassion, and patience every other day of the week.

  “Good point, Charlie. Let’s take a look at what the Bible says, shall we?” Reverend Ben picked up the Good Book sitting on the right-hand side of his desk and opened to the New Testament. “Let’s see, here’s the First Epistle General of St. Peter, Chapter 3. I think this might be the passage you’re remembering. ‘Likewise, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands. . . .’ ” He looked up at Charlie. “Is that what you mean?”

  “Exactly.” Charlie sat back, looking satisfied. “Hear that, Lucy? In subjection. That means you need to obey me.”

  “Let’s see what it says about husbands,” Ben continued, ignoring the look of dismay on Lucy’s face. “Same chapter, a little bit further down. ‘Likewise, ye husbands, dwell with them according to knowledge, giving honor unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life. . . .’ ”

  Ben looked up and met Charlie’s eye. “It says, ‘giving honor to the wife.’ What do you think that means?”

  Charlie shrugged and looked away. “You got me. What does it mean, Reverend?”

  “It means you need to respect my feelings more, Charlie. You need to listen to what I say and take it seriously,” Lucy cut in, before Ben could speak.

  Charlie shook his head, looking suddenly infuriated. “Your feelings! I’m sick and tired of hearing about your blasted feelings!”