Читать книгу Picket Fence Promises - Kathryn Springer - Страница 9

“I’m just pulling up to the Golden Oaks,” I said, pressing my chin against the phone so Heather wouldn’t hear Alex in the background. “It’s my night to cut hair.”

“I won’t keep you then, I just want you to start thinking about the holidays. What are your plans?”

I never made special plans for the holidays. They just kind of…happened. Elise and Sam always invited me for Thanksgiving and after dinner, Elise and I would waddle into the living room with our second piece of pumpkin pie to watch It’s a Wonderful Life. It’s one of Elise’s favorite movies and that’s the only reason I pretended all these years to enjoy a movie about a man who was given a second chance—even though I knew that never happened in real life. Now, since Heather had reappeared in my life, I was beginning to believe.

“I’m not sure just yet.” I answered her question cautiously and glanced at Alex.

“I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure something out. Mom and Dad know I want to spend some time with you and they said they’re flexible.”

“Sure. That would be great.” Make room, stuffing more emotions!

“Is something wrong?” There was a touch of uncertainty in Heather’s voice and I glared at Alex. Which was wasted because his eyes were still closed.

“No, not at all. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I scraped up some cheerfulness and injected it into my voice.

“Bye…Mama B.”

Mama B. My throat tightened and I blinked away the tears that scratched the backs of my eyes. Where had that come from? Not that I minded…I just felt totally humbled by the honorary title. I certainly didn’t deserve it.

Alex followed me into the Golden Oaks and I was relieved to see that Audrey Cooke, the receptionist, wasn’t sitting behind the desk to greet people. Maybe it was possible to smuggle a celebrity into a group of senior citizens without any fallout.

“I always stop by to say hi to Esther and John first,” I murmured.

“Relatives?”

“Friends.”

I navigated Alex through the corridors until we came to a room near the end of the hallway. “I should mention something, although you’d probably figure it out soon enough by yourself. John is blind.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t act weird around him, though, because he has a sense of humor about it.”

“How can someone have a sense of humor about being blind?”

“You’ll see.” I rapped lightly on the door. “Esther?”

“It’s Bernice,” I heard Esther say just before the door opened.

She and John must have set a record for the oldest pair of newlyweds. Their summer wedding was held right at the nursing home and I’d even fixed Esther’s hair for the occasion. It was a day I’d never forget because it was the day I took a deep breath and faced the past. Although, it had been a little easier when part of it wasn’t warming the air beside me.

“Hi, Esther.” She put out her arms and I hugged her, resisting the urge to lift her off her feet and swing her around the room. She is so petite she could get lost in a group of fifth-graders and I feel like a giant next to her.

“Come in, come in.” Esther linked her arm through mine and noticed Alex hovering in the hall. “Is he with you?”

No. Yes. Argh. Complications. How was I supposed to introduce Alex?

“I’m Alex.”

I exhaled. Problem solved.

“One of Bernice’s old flames.”

I was going to kill him. Wait a second, there was a commandment about murder, wasn’t there? Maybe I could dye his hair green…And what was this about being one of Bernice’s old flames? Like I’d had a buffet to choose from?

John, sitting in his wheelchair by the window, laughed. “Both of you, come in. Alex, let me take a look at you.”

Alex glanced at me, clearly puzzled.

“I warned you,” I whispered.

“Do you live nearby?” John asked.

“California.”

A sudden thought hit me like shrapnel. Esther always asked about Heather when I visited her. That was because in a sunny window one afternoon I’d spilled out my life story to her. But I wasn’t ready to tell Alex about Heather yet. It wasn’t a good time. Not that there was any empty space in my appointment book that I could fill in to make that announcement.

“Bernice?” She looked at me and the compassion in her eyes broke straight through to my heart. She knew who Alex was. Was there anyone in Prichett who hadn’t figured out who Alex was? Still, relief cut a sweet path through the panic.

“I lived there for a few years. Near Monterey,” John was saying as he reached out and took Esther’s hand. “I can’t compare it to living here, though. I’m spoiled by the changing seasons. We know we’re going to get winter, but what kind of winter? The kind that yanks your breath out and steals it away or a mild one that dumps huge drifts of snow outside the windows? And spring, is it going to be warm and green or gray and muddy? If I lived anywhere else, I’d miss the variety, that’s the truth. Even when I was in New York, I’d remember this area and it pulled me back like high tide. Now I know why.”

Esther blushed an adorable pink. “Sounds like it’s the seasons you love, not this old lady,” she teased.

“I love you both.” John winked. “How long are you staying in Prichett, Alex?”

“I have some vacation time.”

“A week?” Esther asked the question that I had been afraid to.

I could deal with a week if he really insisted on staying in Prichett. I worked every day except Sunday and could avoid him on several evenings when I had other commitments. He’d be long gone before Thanksgiving.

Alex smiled. “Actually…I have three months.”

I lost sight of Alex an hour after I started cutting hair for the residents. The last I’d seen him, he’d been talking to a woman named Althea, who thought that he was her son, Henry, who’d finally come for a visit. No one had said anything about having a celebrity in their midst. In fact, half the people in the family lounge probably thought that Alex was Althea’s neglectful son. Once in a while, I saw one of the nurses give Alex a speculative glance but no one approached him.

“Three months,” I muttered under my breath.

“That’s if I decide to go back,” a voice said behind me.

I’d lost sight of Alex but apparently he hadn’t lost sight of me. If he decided to go back? What did he mean by that? “You can’t just step out of your life.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re Alex Scott. People like you can’t just decide one day that they’re not going to be famous. You picked your life and now you’re stuck with it. If you wanted this—” I poked a comb in the air “—you would have chosen it a long time ago. After what you’ve gotten used to, you’d go insane in a small town like Prichett.”

“You seem pretty sane.”

Ha. The fact that he thinks so only shows how good an actress I can be. The truth is, I’m only coasting next to normal and like every good daughter, I blame my mother.

“Henry?”

Althea wandered up to us and I saw Alex’s expression change. His face softened and he put his hand on Althea’s arm to steady her. “I thought the nurse told you it was time to go back to your room now,” he reminded her, his voice so low and warm that it brought another dormant memory to life. Alex was a good man. I’d assumed that by now he’d be cynical and self-absorbed, and knew it would be easier on me if he was. I didn’t want to see him being kind to little old ladies who thought he was their long-lost son.

Althea looked at me, and then her gaze shifted back to Alex. “I just wanted to be sure you’ll come back to visit me. Don’t be gone so long next time.”

“I won’t.”

“Henry is my son,” she told me, her voice faltering slightly. “I’m lucky to have a boy like Henry.”

“Good night, Althea.” I watched as the nurse came to take her to her room and then I glanced at Alex. “I’m almost done here. I can give you a ride back to Charity’s.”

“Just give me five minutes. I’ll meet you by the reception desk.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to call Henry.”

I took advantage of the few minutes I had to duck back into Esther and John’s room. John was already asleep but Esther was sitting in a chair by the bed, knitting.

“I’m starting early. I’m going to have to make two, you know.”

“You’re making blankets for Annie’s babies?” I reached out and touched the whisper-soft skein of mint-green yarn. Twins might not be such a big deal anymore when women all over the place were having triplets or quintuplets, but these were Annie’s twins.

Esther nodded, the knitting needles gently clicking together as the blanket grew in her lap. One of the things I loved about Esther was the way she didn’t feel the need to crowd the air with words. She knew I had something to say and she gave me the time and space I needed to say it.

“Thank you for not mentioning Heather. I’ll tell him. I’m just not sure when. Soon.” The thought suddenly occurred to me that if I wanted him to leave, revealing that particular bit of news just might do it. But why? I felt a ripple of unease. Over the years I’d convinced myself that I’d done him a favor by removing the baby and me from his equation, leaving him a famous, wealthy entity while saving myself from the rejection that I knew would eventually happen. I couldn’t let myself imagine that Alex and I might be celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary in a few years if I’d made another decision.

“And are you going to tell Heather?”

“I don’t know yet.” That was something else that I didn’t want to face. I felt the urge to run away again. God, could we just rewind the last twenty-four hours and start over with a new script?

“God is bigger than this,” Esther said quietly. “Don’t forget that.”

“I thought the Christian life was supposed to be peaceful,” I said, hearing the faint whine creep into my voice. I never whine. I blamed Alex. “You know, like a nice scenic riverboat ride.”

“A riverboat ride.” Esther tipped her head thoughtfully and the knitting needles fell silent. “I think it’s more like…oh…bungee jumping off a bridge? Skydiving…?”

“I get the picture! Why didn’t someone tell me that?” Bungee jumping? She had to be kidding. I got dizzy if I ran up the stairs to my apartment too fast.

“This is what you have to remember, Bernice. Peace isn’t necessarily a warm, fuzzy feeling. It isn’t even something we can grab and hold on to. Peace is Him. It’s God Himself. So when you hit the rapids on your nice, scenic boat ride, you don’t run away, you run to.” The needles began to click again. She gave me a wide smile and a wink. “It’s an adventure, but you can trust Him.”

“You aren’t really going to leave me here, are you?”

When I pulled up in front of Charity’s B and B I didn’t even put the car into Park, I just put my foot on the brake to hold it steady for the two seconds Alex would need to open the door and get out. “Yup.”

“You don’t have to sound so cheerful about it.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine…with Murphy for company.” I couldn’t resist.

“You’re trying to get rid of me.”

“I’m not very good at it.”

Alex twisted around in the seat. “You were,” he said. “But you aren’t going to get away this time. You aren’t just passing through Prichett, you live here. I’ve got you cornered. See you tomorrow.”

He started humming again when he got out of the car and strolled up to the door, which Charity was holding open for him.

I slapped my hands against the steering wheel and howled silently. Why was he doing this? Being funny and charming and kind? It was killing me.

I had forgotten to leave a light on so I had to blindly bump my way up the outside staircase behind the Cut and Curl in the dark. When I flipped the light on, the first thing I felt was absolute, total relief that I hadn’t let Alex come up.

My apartment gave the term “shabby chic” a whole new meaning. I have a weakness for tag sales and it shows. I’ve convinced myself that one day I’m going to convince Lester Lee to sell me the little place he owns a few miles out of town. I will then take up my hobby of choice and refinish furniture in my spare time, which is why, over the past ten years, I’ve collected a staggering number of old wooden chairs, interesting side tables and an antique buffet that stretches the width of my living room. And happens to be covered with my collection of snow globes—another weakness. I tried to see my apartment through Alex’s eyes and what I saw was an odd assortment of furnishings that wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me. And then I caught sight of my reflection in the antique mirror. It wasn’t even centered on the wall—I’d hung it on the only nail large enough to support it while it waited patiently for its true home. The one with the picket fence.

Then I tried to see me through Alex’s eyes. I leaned closer to the glass and peered at the lines fanning out from my eyes. Anchoring two fingers on each side of my cheekbones and my thumbs against my chin, I pulled back on the skin that had loosened over the years, like I was retucking a fitted sheet that was beginning to lose its shape. It didn’t help. Now I looked like I had at the age of six, when my mother braided my hair too tight. I let go and gravity prevailed once again. For a few seconds I wished I was aging as beautifully as Elise. But then, Elise had started out beautiful, so maybe that was the secret.

And though my parents had done their best to shake me off our branch of the family tree, there was no denying that I was their child. A mixed-up concoction of Strums and Corbins that ended up with me looking like the final product of a potluck casserole. My insecurities saw an opportunity and came rushing back but at the moment I was too tired to fight them off. I collapsed onto the sofa and felt something crinkle underneath me. One of my three-by-five cards.

I love you, O Lord, my strength.

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;

My God is my rock in whom I take refuge.

My strength. My fortress. I wasn’t in this alone. The thought bloomed inside of me. Esther was right. He was the one I needed to run to. And Alex was wrong. He thought I was backed into a corner, but actually I’d taken refuge in the one who’d created me. Ha.