The Winding Road Home (5 page)

Chelsea giggled. “I cannot believe this is my mother speaking. Your toes never curl when you talk about a guy. Not even about Will! And he's good-looking, if you like the uppity version—”

“My toes aren't curling.”

“Mom, don't take it literally. So what'd he look like?”

“Kind of longish hair the color of pewter, but he wasn't old. Blue,
blue
eyes. Good build.”

“This is too weird. I don't want to hear anymore!”

Adele fell back on the bed, laughing. “I have to listen to you all the time! See how ridiculous it sounds?”

Kate interrupted, holding out a dress. “Adele, how's this? It's black, dressy, simple.”

“That's perfect. I forgot about that one. It's my fundraising outfit.” She took it from her. “Thanks. Oh, there's the doorbell. Chels, let him in? I need two minutes. Three max.”

Chelsea scooted out the door and called, “Don't forget to comb your hair!” A moment later her feet thumped down the staircase.

“So where's he taking you?” Kate sat on the bed.

“It's a surprise. Someplace special in Rockville.”

“He drives all the way here from his home in Rockville, back again for dinner, here again to bring you home, and back home again. And this is the fourth time since I've been here. Sounds like love to me.”

Adele paused, her hand on the back zipper.
Love?
She dropped her arms to her sides. “Kate, I haven't thought about that kind of love in eighteen years. I've been too busy. I mean, he's a great guy, and we've been dating kind of steadily for about six months. But…love! What a scary thought!”

“Well, you know the test. Are your toes curling?”

Adele laughed.

Will Epstein looked very good indeed in a suit, a fact that always caught Adele by surprise. Until she had met him, men who looked good in suits did not even register on her radar screen. He was tall with boyish good looks mingled with a smooth, Wall Street executive image. As usual, heads had turned as they walked through the restaurant.

She reached now across the small candlelit table and brushed a blonde hair from his padded, pin-striped shoulder. She'd already cried, before dinner, in his car, in the parking lot.

He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Feeling better?”

She nodded, but knew that could change in the blink of an eye. At home she'd checked the calendar and figured it was
that
week. Unfortunately, before recognizing the symptoms of emotional fireworks, she'd devoured most of the chocolate in and around her desk. She really should not have ordered the triple chocolate cake for dessert. Chocolate amplified everything, causing excessive tears and unsteady hands that knocked over coffee mugs.

“Will, I have something for you.” She picked up the red gift bag at her feet and handed it to him. “Happy Valentine's Day.”

He smiled the smile that crinkled his hazel eyes. “I was wondering when I'd get to open this. What is it?” He removed the tissue paper and lifted out a large, glossy black coffee mug. “You made it! It's beautiful. I like the scrolls on the handle. Hey, it's big enough for lattes. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. It's your official executive mug. For the office.”

“It reminds me of when we met.”

“At the hospital charity thing.”

“At the silent auction table.”

“You bid on my set of casserole dishes.”

“The ones you wanted for yourself.”

She grimaced. “But I couldn't outbid you.”

“You pushed me to my limit.”

“They were nice.”

“Still are.”

She knew the dishes graced his cupboard shelves and he used them often.

He smiled softly. “You should have inscribed them ‘Designed for Adele Chandler' rather than ‘Designs by Addie.' Whoever she is.”

Addie was a childhood name, the one she always signed on her artwork, a habit begun with coloring book pages.

“Well, Addie-Adele, I have a little something for you.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in red foil topped with a petite gold bow.

With some trepidation, she accepted the gift.
Oh, Lord, please let it be earrings! Not an engagement ring!
Kate's words replayed in her mind…
It must be love.
No, it couldn't be love. They'd never talked about love.

She opened the box and saw…a ring. A none-too-small sparkling amethyst set in gold filigree. “Oh, Will. It's so beautiful.”

“It reminded me of when we met. You were wearing a wild purple outfit.”

“This is too much. I can't accept—”

“Sure you can. I'm not proposing. It's simply a token of how much I care about you.” His eyes were warm, full of compassion.

“Will, you pay child support, two home mortgages—”

“It was a tremendous sale. Adele, after my marriage fell apart, I didn't think I could ever let another woman into my heart. But you're there. God is real. Please accept this gift. And please don't look so scared.”

She gave him a small smile. “We're both so busy, but I don't know what I'd do without our times together. You've added a whole new dimension to my life. I care very much about you. But I haven't considered a—a permanent relationship.”

“The ring doesn't commit you to anything. You're free to continue dating as many guys as in the past.”

She laughed. There had been exactly two other men she'd dated since Chelsea's birth, and they were ancient history. She met his gaze. Did he mean it? Since they'd met, he had been an undemanding companion who was simply sharing the present moment of life with her. He was a good friend who was treating her like a princess tonight.

Adele slipped the ring onto her right hand. “It fits! Oh, Will, you're too generous. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Here comes your chocolate.”

Her good intentions to skip it slithered away. Why not indulge? It was Valentine's Day. And besides, she knew she wasn't going to sleep well tonight anyway. Princess treatment was having an unsettling effect on her.

“Adele?”

She jumped at Kate's loud voice, and the bowl she was shaping on the electric potter's wheel instantly gained a 45-degree angle.

“I'm sorry!”

“Whew.” Adele turned off the humming wheel and straightened her back on the stool. “I was somewhere else.”

“I know the house rule is that you're not to be disturbed down here, but it's two in the morning.” She wrapped her robe around herself and sat midpoint on the stairway. As usual, she wore her glasses. Her straight red hair hung almost to her shoulders.

“Did I wake you?” Adele had placed her two wheels somewhere in the proximity of under the kitchen. Kate slept on the first floor not far from it.

“I was awake. Are you all right?”

Adele laughed and brushed her hair back with her forearm, her wet hands dripping. “No. Chocolate, PMS, Will, an amethyst ring. Oh my goodness! I've still got it on!” It was caked with wet clay. She wiped her hands on her jeans, hurried over to the sink, and carefully washed her fingers.

“Sounds like a rough night.”

Adele joined her on the steps. “Will gave this to me at dinner.”

Kate inspected the ring on her finger. “It's beautiful. An engagement ring?”

“Good heavens, no! But still, it's making me uncomfortable. I mean, I like him a lot, but…”

“But what?”

“He's always been kind, but this is so extravagant. Now I feel like a princess. A queen!” She sighed.

“And?”

“I like it. But I don't want to like it!” A strangled giggle escaped her throat. “I've been so independent for such a long time. This is cutting into that something awful.”

“Do you love him?”

“Probably, in a way. You know, Kate, I really don't know if I've ever been in love.”

“What about Chelsea's father?”

“He doesn't count. I was only nineteen and rebelling against my uptight parents. We met in Venice. We both had dropped out of college, both had enough money to bum around Europe. We traveled together. I had no morals, Kate. After a few months we went our separate ways. And then I found out I was pregnant. I came home. My dad disowned me on the spot.”

“Disowned? That's an old-fashioned word.”

“Not for R.J. Chandler. He refused to help in any way, shape, or form. In his eyes I had betrayed him. He burned his will in front of me.”

“Adele. That's awful! What kind of man could do that?”

“An enormously successful one. His work in arbitrage consumed him. He treated me like a disposable asset. The worst of it was his lack of compassion. I don't think he loved me. But God brought me through. I kept in touch with my mother until she died about twelve years ago. He never did have a change of heart.”

“How did you end up here?”

“I was on a Greyhound bus, heading from Baltimore to San Francisco. A snowstorm hit, and we were forced to stop in Valley Oaks. The community rallied around us, and people transported us over to the church. The next thing I knew, Naomi Sommers was tucking me into bed in this house.”

“You're kidding. Have I met Naomi?”

“Not yet. She lived here with her daughter, Julie, who at that time was just a little girl. One thing led to another. The long and short of it is, she loved me to Jesus. Fed me, clothed me, took me to church, found me a doctor, helped me get my first job at the nursing home and then an apartment. I bought the house from her about seven years ago.”

“That's quite a story.”

“And off the record. Valley Oaks already knows what it needs to know of it.”

Kate smiled. “You never heard from your dad? Or found Chelsea's dad?”

“Nope. I learned to forgive R.J. That took some doing. Only by my heavenly Father's power. And Naomi's mentoring. Actually, she had a similar experience as an unwed mother. The daughter of the original owner of this house, a widow, helped her when she was a pregnant teen.”

“Isn't it wonderful to see how God's hand works through a string of people like that?”

“Amen. Thanks for listening, Kate. I think I've calmed down now.” She stood. “I'll put away my clay and head to bed. By the way, what are you doing up?”

“Reviewing all the decisions that led me to the
Valley Oaks Times
. Telling myself that God does not make mistakes.”

“Aww, Kate, I bet you knew that before you moved here.”

She stood and yawned. “I thought I did, but I guess I needed another reminder. Thanks.”

Kate depressed the clutch, breathed a prayer that frosted the early morning air, pumped the gas pedal, and turned the key in the ignition.

“Come on, Helen,” she coaxed the car as if it were a racehorse on the home stretch. After two tries it chugged awake once more. “Thank You, Lord.”

The cell phone on the seat beside her played its tune.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kate. Tanner.”

“Hi.” She grinned. Since their dinner last week, their paths had crossed a few times. He was a regular fixture at high school events and had sought her out at boys basketball games and a band concert. She enjoyed his company.

“How are things?”

“Not bad. It looks like Helen's going to get me to work again.”

“Helen? Helen Thomas? You actually know the woman?”

“My car.”

“You named your car after Helen Thomas.” It was a matter-of-fact statement spoken with a trace of disbelief.

“Tell me you never named a car.”

“But you're a
girl
.”

“I'm going to forget you said that.”

He laughed. “Here's the latest scoop for you. Girls basketball, awards banquet, tomorrow night, in the commons. Be there. It's news.”

“Rusty already assigned it to me.”

“Ah, she beat me. I'll pick you up at five-thirty so you can give Helen a rest. She doesn't sound so good.”

Kate gunned the car. She sounded all right to her, though the heater hadn't warmed up yet.

“Which house is the Chandlers'?”

“On Cherry, across from the Community Center's parking lot, west end.”

“Okay, see you there. Oh, I almost forgot. You need to bring a dish to pass.”

“I thought it was a banquet, as in the food is provided?”

“Banquet is a Magic Kingdom synonym for potluck. If you don't want to cook, we'll stop at Swensen's on the way and buy something from the deli. That's what I do, if I remember. Fried chicken goes over big. Need anything from Baltimore? I'm on my way.”

“Baltimore, Maryland? And you'll be back by tomorrow night?”

“I'm flying a charter, just overnight. Some guy's picking up an invalid. Give my love to Crusty Rusty.”

Kate smiled. “Will do. Fly safe.”

“You too.” He chuckled. “My guess is that describes how you
drive
. Bye!”

“Goodbye.”

She shifted into first and eased away from the curb, still smiling. The guy was better than Beth. Beth would have insisted that they cook.

“Rusty, it's archaic.” Kate wasn't whining. She was just stating an opinion as calmly as she could while struggling to breathe in her boss's chimney stack of a car.

Rusty coughed, flicked her ash out the window opened just wide enough, and drove with one hand as they sped through the winter wonderland of rolling white hills. “What's archaic?”

“Driving to Twin Prairie to print the paper and then stuffing it in envelopes and then sticking those in the mail for subscribers.”

“The paper doesn't go in envelopes. We just stick labels on them.”

“And fold them.”

“And, don't forget, then we come back, fill the vending machines, and drop some off at Lia's pharmacy and Swensen's.” Rusty snorted a laugh. “Keep in mind, kid, despite the one-horse show, it's an important job we're doing. We're tuned to the pulse of the community, and it's our responsibility to publish it.”

“Do you ever feel like you make a difference?”

“Sure. A lot of people tell me how much they appreciate the paper.”

“I mean, do you ever change that pulse by speeding it up or slowing it down?”

“An editorial here and there.”

“But do you ever uncover anything that opens people's eyes? That makes a decided change in their thought processes? This week we wrote about everything they already know or could know if they hung out long enough at the pharmacy.”

“It ain't DC, kid.”

Mm-hmm
.

Whoops. What had happened to her middle-of-the-night surrender to God's leading? To the reminder that God was the potter, she was the clay? Probably lost between lack of sleep and the mounting desire to a pull a fire alarm. She cracked open her window. She no longer cared that it was ten degrees out there.

“Rusty, Tanner Carlucci sends his love.”

The older woman roared her deep, bronchial laugh. “So you've met?”

“Actually…” Kate cleared her throat, partly from embarrassment, partly from smoke. “He took the photo of Kingsley and Olafsson.”

“Ha! Good for him. I might have had to fire you if you'd missed that one.”

“You can't fire an intern, can you? It's not like I'm getting paid.”

“Katy-girl, you need to lighten up.”

Lighten up. She knew that. Wasn't that another conclusion she'd reached at two this morning? God did not make mistakes. Like every other unplanned diversion in her life, He had directed her steps. Without a doubt, He had brought her to Valley Oaks. Now what was she going to do? Whine or lighten up?

Rusty Connelly was a gold mine of wise journalistic tidbits. After 12 hours in her company storing countless nuggets, Kate went home with a decidedly nonwhiny attitude. The village still wasn't DC, but professionally speaking, things were improving.

When she opened the front door, a sound wave of female chatter greeted her. She recalled Adele had mentioned her book club meeting was at the house tonight and that Kate was welcome to join them.

While removing her coat, she had a partial view of the living room. It looked like a packed house. She spotted Britte Olafsson and cringed. Before she could retreat, Adele hailed her.

“Kate! Come on in. Ladies!”

The conversation died and eight pairs of eyes zeroed in on Kate.

Adele continued, “I'd like you all to meet Kate Kilpatrick.”

As one, the group stood, gathered around her, and cheered.

“Good job!”

“Great job!”

“Nice writing!”

“It's perfect!”

They shook her hand, introducing themselves, patting her on the back. Their names went in one ear and out the other.

Overwhelmed, Kate finally managed to say something. “What are you all talking about?”

Adele replied, “Your article about Britte and Joel!”

Of course. Copies of the
Times
were already available in the stores and vending machines. She had placed them there herself. Evidently while she was eating pizza with Rusty, eager readers were already out buying the weekly.

“Kate.” Britte beamed, no longer resembling the shellshocked Nordic. “Thank you. We look like a couple of lovesick teenagers in the photo, but you did such a nice job of making the event sound sane rather than idiotic. I still cannot believe he called you.” She shook her head.

“That makes two of us.”

Kate accepted their invitation to join their book discussion. Pass up a roomful of potential sources? She didn't think twice about finding a seat.

Later that night she thought of Adele's description of the group. They referred to themselves as Club NEDD, an acronym for nurture, eat, and dabble in discussion. It was an accurate name. She had eaten and discussed. And although she knew the article was pure fluff, the women's response to it had, beyond a shadow of a doubt,
nurtured
her.

Lying in her bed, she smiled at the ceiling, warmed at the image of the loving group. Their nurturing had jiggled loose a buried thought. God had created in her the mindset and the passion to be a reporter. In all her fussing over the internship, that gift had gone dormant. To recount life's journey for others was what gave her breath, and she had been suffocating. It was time to start breathing again.