Читать книгу Light in the Storm - Margaret Daley - Страница 11

“You know, in here—” Samuel tapped the side of his head “—I know that my wife didn’t choose to leave us. But in here—” he splayed his hand over his heart “—it doesn’t make any difference. Pain is pain.”

Beth swallowed the tightness swelling in her throat. “I think Jane’s feeling the same emotions.”

“I know she is. She was very close to Ruth and took her death especially hard.”

But not as hard as you, Beth thought, seeing his anguish reflected in the depths of his eyes.

“Then we moved not long after that happened, and that was when I decided to resign from the army. Moving around was becoming too hard on my family, especially without their mother.”

“What made you become a chaplain in the army?”

“I wanted to serve my country and God. I thought I could do it by being an army chaplain.”

“But now you don’t think so?” She’d heard the doubt in his voice and wondered about it.

“I discovered you can’t serve two masters—at least, not me.” He turned away and walked to the stove to refill his mug.

The sight of his back, his shoulders stiff with tension, told Beth that topic of conversation was finished. She could respect that. There were a lot of things she wouldn’t discuss with others, and she and Samuel were practically strangers.

Even though the last thing she felt like doing at the moment was smiling, she did, needing to lighten the mood. “Tanya reminded me of something we’ll need to talk about soon.”

He threw her a glance over his shoulder, then slowly pivoted. “What?”

“I run the Sunday School, and since I’ll be leaving in the summer, we should discuss a replacement so I can train that person this spring.” She found if she voiced her plans out loud the reality of leaving Sweetwater became more real.

“Nothing like the present.”

“Here? Now?”

“Well, not exactly right this minute, but how about next week some time? Why don’t you come to Friday-night dinner at my house? Aunt Mae goes all out that night. For some reason she thinks we should celebrate the end of a work week. I don’t think she understands I do a lot of my work on the weekend. But it’s something she’s done for years and I didn’t have the heart to change it when she came to live with us.”

“I hate to intrude on a family evening.”

“Nonsense. If I entertain, it’s usually then.” Samuel sipped his cider, his gaze intent upon her.

The refrigerator still propped her up. Beth pushed away, surprised by the trembling in her legs—as though their conversation had affected her more than she cared to admit. “What time?”

“Six-thirty.”

“Fine.” She hoped she could stay awake long enough to hold an intelligent conversation. Friday nights were usually her crash night after a long week of teaching. She often would wake up around eleven, having fallen asleep in front of the television and having no idea what had been on the set earlier in the evening. “Speaking of celebrations, I think it’s time I threw my dart.”

“You really are going to decide where you go by throwing a dart?”

The incredulous tone of his voice made her laugh. “Yup.”

Beth walked through the dining room, encouraging everyone to have a seat in the living room. Her nine guests crowded into the small area, with Jesse sitting on the arm of the lounge chair that Nick occupied and Tanya on the floor next to the sofa.

Beth went into the foyer and retrieved from the closet a tagboard and one dart. “As you can see, this is a map of Central and South America. I’m planning a trip and tonight I’m deciding where. I’d ask someone to hold the board up, but I’m afraid I might be a bit wild with the dart, so instead I’ll position it on the rocking chair if Zoey doesn’t mind standing for a moment—unless you want to hold it.”

Her friend from school stopped rocking and leaped from the chair, horror on her face. “I’ll pass. I’ve seen you play sports.” To the group she added, “I would suggest everyone give her plenty of room. No telling where the dart will end up. I can remember the church softball game where she hit me and I wasn’t anywhere near where she intended to throw the ball.”

“Oh, yeah. You had a bruise on your leg for weeks after that,” Darcy said, scooting closer to Joshua on the couch so Zoey could sit next to her.

Beth positioned herself in front of the tagboard, then turned around to her guests. “Hence the warning.”

Several nearest her backed away. Beth squared off in front of the rocking chair, squeezed her eyes closed and tossed the dart. It clanged to the tile floor in the foyer.

“If you miss the map, does that mean you stay, Beth?” asked Paul Howard, an assistant principal at her school.

She started toward the dart. Samuel picked it up first and handed it to her. Their gazes touched for a long moment, humor deep in his eyes. She liked the way they crinkled at the corners. She liked their color—it reminded her of a piece of dark, rich chocolate that she loved to eat.

“No,” she murmured, suddenly aware of the silence in the room. “It only means I try again.”

Boswell and Paul moved back even farther. Half the room was clear for her next shot. Beth shook her head, closed her eyes and threw the dart without really giving it much thought, still rattled by the silent exchange a moment before with Samuel. It plunked into the tagboard. She eased one eye open and saw the dart in the middle of the map.

“Brazil.” Zoey came to stand beside her and stare at the map. “Guess you’d better get some Portuguese tapes instead of the Spanish ones.”

“The Amazon. How do you like heat and humidity?” Paul asked, stepping next to Zoey.

“Not to mention snakes and other unpleasant animals. Are you going to throw again?” Jesse flanked her on the other side.

With so much of South America being taken up by the Amazon, why am I surprised the dart landed there? Beth wondered. “No, I’m not going to throw again. Brazil it will be.”

A mild “heat” wave had tempered the bitter cold of the past few weeks, pushing the temperature up to near fifty. But with dusk approaching quickly, the air began to chill and the sun was low behind the trees. Beth paused on her porch and looked across her brown lawn, the drabness fitting her mood perfectly. Her feet ached from standing more than usual that week at school and her mind felt muddled from the late nights she’d spent grading writing assignments until her eyes had crossed and the words had blurred.

All she wanted to do was collapse into her soft velour lounge chair, switch on her television for background noise and stare unseeing at the screen. Do nothing. For once. But this was Friday and she had told Samuel she would come to dinner. With a heavy sigh, she stuck her key into the lock and opened her front door.

A noise from the back of the house alerted her that someone was inside. She tensed, her hand clenched around the knob.

“Beth, is that you?”

Relief sagged her body against the door. Daniel was home from college. “Yes.”

Her youngest brother came down the hall, drying his hair with a blue towel, wearing a pair of jeans slung low. “I just took a shower and was getting dressed to go out.”

She managed to close the front door without slamming it, a remarkable feat of patience when she didn’t think she had any left. “I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.”

“I caught a ride with Mitch. He’s taking me back on Sunday, too, so you don’t need to.”

“Oh.” Her exhausted mind couldn’t come up with anything else to say while she stared at her brother.

He hung the towel over his shoulder. “In fact, he’ll be by in fifteen minutes. We’re going to Pete’s.”

She refrained from saying “oh” again by mashing her lips together.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll tell you about my classes then.” He turned and headed down the hall toward his bedroom.

Beth watched him disappear, irritated at herself because she was irritated at Daniel for not telling her he was coming home for the weekend. She should be happy—and she was—but he had a way of taking over the whole house. To emphasize her thought, loud music blared from his room, chasing away the silence she desired after a day spent listening to 150 students.

When she placed her stuffed briefcase and purse on the table in the foyer, she noticed the mail that Daniel must have brought into the house. On top was an envelope from the Christian Mission Institute. She tore into it with a jolt of energy. A letter welcoming her interest in their overseas program and an application caused her hands to tremble. When she filled this out, she’d be one step closer.

As she stared at the application, an image of Samuel came into her mind—of a look of vulnerability that she had seen beneath his confident surface. A man in need of a friend. Surprised by that thought, she put the letter and application on the table next to her purse. She would deal with it later when she wasn’t so tired, when she wasn’t picturing a man who shouldn’t send her heart pounding with a smile.

Beth walked to the kitchen to find a drink with some caffeine in it. She rummaged around in the refrigerator, positive that she’d had one cola left. Nothing. She scanned the counter and discovered the empty can by the sink along with a dirty plate and fork. Daniel.

For a brief moment she thought of making a pot of coffee and drinking it all, but decided instead to take a cool shower. Maybe that would help keep her awake while having dinner at Samuel’s. Then she again visualized the handsome reverend and knew she wouldn’t have any trouble staying awake, because for the past few weeks he’d haunted her dreams when she’d finally fallen asleep.

Why now? She’d never been particularly interested in a man to the point she dreamed about him.

She wasn’t getting enough rest. That had to be it. Shaking her head as if that would rid her mind of the man, she started for her bedroom. Passing the laundry room, she caught sight of a huge mound of clothes thrown on its floor and covering most of it. Daniel. Now she knew her brother’s real reason for coming home. He hadn’t done any laundry since she’d dropped him off three weeks ago. Flipping on the light, she picked up a dark shirt that reeked of smoke and cologne and waded through the pile of clothes to the washer. She dropped it in, followed by another and another.

Finished with his sermon for the coming Sunday, Samuel pushed back his chair at his desk in his office and began to rise when a knock sounded at his door. “Yes?”

Tanya Bolton strode into the room. “Do you have a few minutes to talk to me?”

The troubled expression in her eyes prompted Samuel to say, “Yes, of course. What’s wrong?” He gestured toward a chair.

Her eyes took on a misty look as she fought tears. She sank into the chair next to his desk. “Tom has been hurt.”

“Tom?”

“My husband.” Tanya folded her hands in her lap and stared at them. “He’s in prison for arson. A while back he was caught burning barns in the area.” She lifted her gaze to his. “He’s a good man, really. He just went a little crazy after our daughter’s accident. As you know, Crystal is in a wheelchair. She fell from a horse and became paralyzed. He blamed all horses after that.”

“How was he hurt?” Samuel asked, realizing there was so much he didn’t know about his congregation and that this put him at a disadvantage when dealing with his parishioners’ problems.

“An inmate attacked him and stabbed him. He’s in the infirmary. The doctor says he’ll be okay, but, Reverend Morgan, I’m worried. Lately Tom has said he doesn’t want me to come visit him anymore. He’s never let our daughter come. I don’t know what to do.” Tanya twisted her hands together, the sheen of tears visible in her eyes. “I’m so afraid for Tom, my daughter, myself. What should I do?”

The question he most feared was spoken. There had been a time when Samuel had always had a ready answer, had been sure of the advice he’d given. Now he felt as though he was fumbling around in the dark, most often stumbling and falling.

“He needs me now more than ever and he won’t see me.” A tear slipped from Tanya’s eye.

Lord, help me to say and do the right thing, Samuel prayed, aware of the silence that shouldn’t have filled the office. Tanya stared at him, waiting for an answer to her problem.

“Sometimes we have to honor a person’s wishes even when we don’t think they are good for them. Have you prayed for guidance?”

Tanya nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”

Panic took hold of Samuel. Counseling was a natural part of his job, but since his wife’s death he’d felt inadequate, now more than ever. How could he counsel another when he couldn’t help himself?

Samuel offered his hands to Tanya. “Let’s pray together.”

Tanya took his hands and bowed her head.

Samuel began to pray, hoping the words would soothe a troubled soul.

Beth fingered the tortoiseshell clip that held her riotous damp hair pulled back. A few strands of her unruly mop had come loose and curled about her face. Long ago she’d given up trying to control it, and spending hours straightening it seemed like a waste of time, time she’d never had for herself. Peering down at her black jeans and heavy black-and-white sweater, she satisfied herself she was ready to ring the bell. She’d done all she could to make herself presentable in her rush to be on time for dinner, but there wasn’t much she could do with her plain features. She’d started to press the buzzer when the door swept open and warmth enveloped her.

The bright lights of his foyer framed Samuel, throwing his face into the shadows, but Beth saw the smile of greeting. The welcome in his expression rivaled the warmth emanating from his house, drawing her in out of the cold.

“I hope I’m not too late. My brother unexpectedly arrived home from college with tons of laundry to be done this weekend. I wanted to get a jump start on it.”

“He doesn’t do his own?” After she stepped across the threshold, Samuel closed the front door behind Beth.

“His one attempt turned half his white underwear and T-shirts pink and cost a small fortune to replace.” She winced at the defensive tone in her voice and tried to temper it with a grin. “It just seemed easier to do it myself. Less hassle.”