September Love Page 5

  “Thank you. It’s a bed-and-breakfast now. I started a small business after my first husband passed away. Won’t you sit down?” No, don’t sit down. Just go away. How in the world can you hope to take Cyrus’s place?

  “No, thanks. I know you’re busy. I won’t stay. Just tell Doug to give me a call. I’ll be at the church—I guess you know the number.” Suddenly he smiled and there was laughter in his eyes.

  Beth felt herself flushing, wondering if he sensed her disapproval. If he had, he didn’t seem to care much whether she approved of him or not. It made her feel defensive. He really shouldn’t run around looking like a grubby teenager.

  “I stopped at the hospital and saw Cyrus this afternoon,” he said. “He’s been with this congregation so long, I’m sure he’s very important to you all.”

  Beth felt her flush deepen. It was as if he had been reading her mind. “Yes, he is,” she said. “How was he today?”

  He paused a moment before answering, “I’m sorry. I can’t con you by telling you he’s fine when he isn’t. Cyrus is a very sick man. His son and daughter are coming in today. I sent for them at his doctor’s request.”

  Beth said down suddenly and looked up at him. He seemed so tall. “Yes, my daughter told me that,” she said faintly.

  “I’m more sorry than I can say. Can I…get you something?”

  “No, I’m okay. It’s just that— Cyrus has always been here.” How stupid she must sound, she thought.

  “I’m not going to say he won’t recover—somewhat. But I think we must face the fact that he won’t be coming back as your pastor.” There was an odd gentleness in his tone now.

  Maybe he wasn’t so young, after all.

  “It’s going to take some getting used to by all of you,” he added.

  “I know,” Beth said bleakly. Please go away now. You can’t help me. You weren’t there when I was afraid I would die before Jill was born. Cyrus was there. He made me not afraid to die. And Cyrus was there when Ralph died. And it wasn’t you but Cyrus who helped Kate through the difficult early part of her marriage to Ian. And it was Cyrus who guided us all when we worked together to create the church school.

  Beth stood up, embarrassed by the long pause. What must he be thinking of her? He was looking confused and uneasy. She was rescued by the sound of the front door opening. Doug was back. Thank you, God.

  “That must be Doug now.”

  “Oh, good.” There was pure relief in his tone, and he grinned. “As you’ve probably already guessed, I’m better at coaching the kids’ basketball game than some other of my pastoral work. I’ll need to bone up. But take hope. I’m working on it— Hi, Doug,” he said, as Doug and Kayla came into the room.

  Kayla had been crying. She made an effort when Doug made the introductions, but it was an uncomfortable moment.

  “Doug, can I tear you away from your family for a couple of minutes to talk new science books for the ninth graders?” Pastor Cooper asked, his gaze lingering on Kayla.

  How odd. Kayla didn’t look that bad.

  “Sure,” Doug answered. “Come on into the study.” And he led Pastor Cooper out of the room.

  As soon as he had gone, Beth went to Kayla. “What is it? What’s the matter?” she asked. Had something gone wrong?

  “Oh, it’s just me, Beth. I did okay at rehab.” She sat down on the couch, all hunched over, putting her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed. Poor Dad. After we made all the arrangements and we were back in the car I…I kind of fell apart. I was so stupid. I know I’ve got to go through with it. I’ve got Adam to take care of. I don’t have a choice, but I’m so…so scared to go in again.” She raised her face and her vivid blue eyes were full of tears. “I’m such a…loser.”

  “No. You’re not a loser,” Beth said firmly, and sat down beside her. “You are doing a sensible thing. And you can do it. When you’ve got this far you know you’ve turned the corner. It’s going to be fine.” This was Doug’s daughter and, somehow, she had to be helped.

  “I know,” Kayla said wearily, her voice low and defeated. “But, Beth, you don’t know how many times I’ve screwed up. Other people don’t seem to—”

  “But think ahead, Kayla. Think of three months from now. All this will be over. It will be behind you. You will have done it. Think about that.” Kayla mustn’t become discouraged. She mustn’t give up.

  Kayla straightened tiredly, as if she were an old, old woman. “Beth, you know, you’re a sweetheart. I’m glad Dad found you. He deserves some happiness. Where did you stash my dumb little kid?”

  “Adam isn’t dumb,” Beth said quickly, surprising herself because she sounded so defensive. “He’s taking a nap. He’s in the bed-sitter.”

  “The bed-sitter sounds pretty good to me, too,” Kayla said. “I think I’ll sack out awhile. Unless you need me to do something,” she added.

  “Not a thing. You just take it easy. You’ve had a rough afternoon. We’ve got guests coming, but not until later.”

  She watched Kayla leave. Kayla was young. She shouldn’t walk like that, as if she was too tired to put one foot in front of the other. A phrase came to her that Doug sometimes used when he was tired from heavy work, like chopping the firewood: Tired to the center of my bones. Kayla shouldn’t look that tired.

  She heard the approaching murmur of men’s voices and knew that Flip Cooper and Doug had finished.

  After Flip left, Doug sat down beside her, reaching for her hand. How good it felt to be here alone with Doug, feeling the strength of his big hand. They didn’t speak for a moment, savoring the privacy and peaceful silence.

  “How did it go at the rehab place?” Beth finally asked.

  Doug sighed. “Good, I think. It’s a nice place. The staff—we met some of them—are competent, well qualified. Kind. Patient.” He sighed again. “But it’s a…facility. It’s a rehab center, just short of a hospital, never mind the decor, the fact that the staff don’t wear uniforms. It’s a rehab. People go there who need help. I can’t imagine being in such a place myself, of being so…controlled. So…confined. Being told what to do, hour by hour. Kayla…” His voice dwindled away.

  “But Kayla needs that kind of help,” Beth said. “She knows that, probably better than we do. It won’t be easy for her. Nothing like that is. But people who need that kind of help are broken people, Doug. Somebody has to…put them back together again.” Doug mustn’t become discouraged about this.

  “I know,” he said sadly.

  “Kayla told me she broke down in the car after the interview.”

  “Yes. She did. I pulled the car over to the side street. I never know what to do in a situation like that. It worried me. There was such a hopelessness about it. It was as if once she started crying she couldn’t stop. And there was nothing I could do. I felt so desperate. Finally, she managed to get control. Or maybe she had just worn herself out. I kept thinking I should be able to…I don’t know. As a father I’m just not…” There was such regret in his voice, it tore Beth’s heart.

  “You were probably better than you thought as a father,” she said. “Raising children is a never-ending challenge. And we all think we should have done better.”

  “Well, I certainly could have done better. Kayla isn’t the only one paying the price. Much as I hate to admit it, she’s way out of her depth in parenting, too. Poor little Adam. He’s being cheated, big time. I guess that’s what it means when it says in the Bible about the sins of the fathers being visited on the second and third generations. On the rare occasions when I was home, I couldn’t wait to get back on the road again. And leaving always meant I was leaving Kayla when she might have needed me. And now, after all this time, I can see the result of my running away. It has become the burden of a little three-year-old kid named Adam—one of the most insecure kids I’ve ever seen, who can’t even begin to understand—”

  “Doug. Don’t do this to yourself. You couldn’t have been that bad a father. Kayla must take some of the responsib
ility. She’s an adult. Did you mention any of this to Pastor Cooper?”

  “No. It simply didn’t occur to me. He’s a nice enough guy, but, really, I don’t think it would ever dawn on me to take him any personal problems—not the way I would with Cyrus.”

  “Yes,” Beth said, suddenly distracted. “He said he doesn’t think Cyrus can come back as pastor.”

  “I’d heard that from some other people. I guess we’re stuck with Pastor Cooper. Actually, he’s okay, really. You just have to get used to him. And there was another thing,” he added, looking at her keenly. “I got the distinct impression that he could become interested in Kayla. He’s a single guy, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he’s single.” Beth started to laugh. “And you think he might be looking for a wife? That’s usually a woman’s reaction when she sees a single man.”

  Doug grinned sheepishly. “Well, he’s single. And Kayla is a lovely young woman. He did ask me about her. Rather persistently, I would say. I think he noticed she’d been crying but was too tactful to mention that.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him she was a widow. I guess I just let him assume she had reason to cry now and then. I didn’t go into any detail.”

  “That was probably best,” Beth agreed. “At least until we know him better. Kayla is entitled to some privacy,” she added.

  They fell silent as they heard the front door open. It was the Driscolls, coming back from wherever they had been. They could hear Mrs. Driscoll’s plaintive voice and the deep murmur of Mr. Driscoll reassuring her about something.

  Doug raised his eyebrows. “When are they leaving?”

  “Tomorrow,” Beth whispered, as they heard the Driscolls going upstairs. When the sound faded, they settled into silence again.

  Beth finally asked, “When will Kayla go into rehab?”

  “Tomorrow. I take her over tomorrow morning. That was her decision. She was fine during the interview. She said the sooner she got started, the better.”

  “That was sensible. I think—” She paused as someone was coming down the stairs with a heavy tread, loud and purposeful. Both Beth and Doug turned to the hall door as Mrs. Driscoll came majestically in, very obviously upset. Doug stood up as she entered, and after a moment, Beth did, too. What now?

  “Ah, I was hoping to find you both. I don’t understand this!” She gingerly held out a limp, half-eaten piece of old toast. “You said you had a good cleaning service. If so, why in the world would I find this in our room? Really!”

  Beth reached out, and Mrs. Driscoll placed the piece of toast on her palm. “I…I don’t understand it either,” Beth said uncertainly. “Where did you find this?”

  “In our dresser drawer. The bottom one. Bert and I always use the bottom drawer because most people use the top one. I believe that the bottom one is cleaner. This piece of toast was in our bottom drawer.”

  “I don’t…understand,” Beth repeated helplessly.

  “Well, I think I do,” Mrs. Driscoll said portentously. “I think it was that little boy. I saw him in the hall this morning. He had a piece of toast in his hand. I do not approve of children leaving the table carrying food. I’m sure he’s running about in the guest rooms, leaving bits of food here and there.”

  “I’m sorry,” Beth said. “I’m really sorry. I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “I should hope not!” Mrs. Driscoll turned and angrily left the room.

  As she left, Beth and Doug turned to each other in confusion. Then, they both saw it at the same time. On a lower shelf of a bookcase in a back corner. Half hidden behind the bookend—unmistakably—was a small cookie.

  “Adam?” Beth said faintly. So that was why Adam wandered away from the table during meals. “Can Adam be hiding bits of food? Why would Adam hide bits of food?” But even as she asked it she knew the answer, and felt a little sick.

  It took an effort but Doug replied. “Because he expects to be hungry, Beth.” His voice was oddly grim, not sounding like Doug at all. He turned away and she couldn’t see his face. “It would seem that my grandson—in his three-year-old wisdom—is trying to provide for his very uncertain future in the only way he knows how. He’s learned a tough lesson. If you have a piece of food today, hang on to it. Because tomorrow you’re going to need it.

  “I did this to him, Beth.”

  Chapter Four

  Morning was hectic. Neither one had gotten much sleep the night before. Doug had been miserable about Kayla and Adam, and Beth was miserable because he was miserable. They had talked until very late. Then Seattle’s frequent night rains had found another hole in the roof over the Driscolls’ bedroom, in, of course, the area over the bed canopy. Someday they might recall and laugh about Mrs. Driscoll’s outrage, but not today. Then Doug had had to get Kayla to the rehab center before nine-thirty because she was to begin with a complete physical exam and the rehab doctor was only going to be there until eleven. Kayla and Doug had left before anyone had finished breakfast.

  Kayla’s leaving had resulted in Adam’s near hysterical crying just as the Driscolls wanted to check out. The other guest, Justin Bryant, stepped in and showed remarkable child-consoling ability in calming Adam down while Beth dealt with the Driscolls.

  “They’ll probably never come back,” Beth said resignedly to Justin when she returned to the dining room.

  He glanced up from Adam and grinned. “And that would devastate you, of course?”

  And she had had to laugh.

  “No, I suppose not,” she said, sitting down at the now disordered table. “Are you off antiquing today?”

  “Yeah, as soon as I can leave my little friend, here.”

  Adam seemed content enough now. He sat at his place with his half-eaten breakfast before him. His small face was still flushed and tear-smudged, but he was methodically eating. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, so little, so confused.

  She thought, Where else has he hidden food? Should she find all his carefully saved little scraps and throw them all away? What if more guests find half-eaten fragments in their rooms? What if Adam feels hungry in midafternoon and discovers one of his cherished fragments gone? How is it possible to explain to a three-year-old child that he will not be hungry in this house? Should she gather up all his tidbits and put them in one place for him? Maybe she could secretly throw away any that got too stale. Maybe that would make him feel secure until he had learned he would not be hungry here. She was startled by Justin’s voice.

  “Earth to Beth. Are you out there somewhere?”

  “Oh, Justin. I’m sorry. I was a thousand miles away.”

  “I know.” He was laughing. “I’ve got to go now. We have big business afoot in the world of old stuff, and I’ve only got two more days. Can you take care of my little buddy now?”

  “Yes, I’ll take over.” She got up to see him to the door. “Thanks more than I can say for stepping in. I’m sorry this morning was such a hassle.”

  “Glad to help, Beth. Hassles make life interesting. See you later.”

  She shut the front door behind him. There was one great thing about running a bed-and-breakfast. Wonderful people occasionally came and went in her life—many more than were not so wonderful.

  Then her mind flew to Kayla. What were Kayla and Doug doing now? They would have reached the rehab center half an hour ago. Had Kayla made it through without breaking down again? She wished she had had more time with Kayla this morning. Perhaps she should have encouraged her more. But Kayla had seemed distracted, with a kind of vacancy that had puzzled Beth. She turned and went back into the dining room. The silence of the big, empty house pressed upon her. Adam was still at the table, observing his empty plate. He looked up anxiously, his blue eyes wide with worry. A three-year-old child should not have to worry.

  “Mommy come back?” He had heard the door shut.

  Beth forced herself to speak brightly when all she wanted to do was cry. “Not yet, Adam. It’s too soon. Mommy’s
coming back but later. Not today.” She mustn’t get too attached to Adam, she warned herself.

  He gave a small sigh and started to climb down from his booster seat. She hurried forward and caught him before he fell. He never waited to be helped. He wasn’t expecting to be helped. But he should. Little children should expect help. And get it.

  “Toy box,” he said firmly, and Beth felt a surge of relief. He wanted to go to the toy box and perform his version of playing. This meant he would sit there soberly for a while, taking out the toys and looking at them, then putting them back. Now and then he would piece together some of the small yellow plastic pieces to make some oddly shaped creation. He played so differently, not like Jill’s little boy, Ben. Ben was often lost in his own imaginary world, but it was a secure world. He emerged from it now and then to play with other children, and Ben’s laugh was a delight to hear. Would they ever hear Adam laugh? Had Adam ever laughed? What had he to laugh about?

  She cleared the table, tidied up the kitchen, and was making beds when Doug came back. She heard him go into the bed-sitter. Could Adam stay in the bed-sitter alone at night? One more question. One more thing to worry about. When would this end? Leaving a half-made bed, she hurried downstairs to talk to Doug.

  “Did everything go all right?” she asked him after she had kissed him.

  “I guess so. She’s in there, anyhow.” He sounded tired. He was watching the little boy intently.

  “I wanted to talk with her this morning,” Beth said. “But there was so much else to do, I couldn’t.”

  “I know, love. I don’t think it would have mattered. I think you’ll probably find an empty vodka bottle in here when you clean up. She’d had a few for courage before we left. Didn’t you notice?”

  “No. Not really. You mean you think she’d been drinking? In the morning?”