“Intimate? At the Last Chance? Are you completely out of your mind?” Good grief this was worse than she’d expected.
“Two people alone in a booth is about as intimate as you’re going to get without driving all the way to Poplar Springs.”
“It was nothing more than sharing a simple meal. We were both going to the café after work, so it made perfect sense to share a table. That was it. Nothing more. Pastor and receptionist. Period.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t you ‘uh-huh’ me. Where’d you hear we were out for an intimate dinner?”
“So now it’s not just a meal, it’s an intimate dinner?”
“Whatever! Who told you?”
“So it is true! You’re seeing Jeff Parker.”
“No, it’s not true, but I need you to do some damage control before this gets back to Mrs. Parker.”
“Too late.”
“Why?”
“Who do you think called me?”
Pam sank into the nearest chair. “Mrs. Parker?”
“Yeah, but I’d already heard the news from Theresa Cahill. She heard it from Sally Norton, who heard it from Jan Evans, whose sister Beverly stopped by the café to pick up one of Mabel’s pies for a special dinner for her daughter Margaret and her new husband. I hear the husband’s kinda cute, but don’t worry, Jeff’s cuter.”
What a miserable mess. “Is there anyone in town who doesn’t think I had a date with my boss?”
“Uh, probably not. So what gives? Why all the secrecy?”
“Nothing gives. That’s the whole point. There was no date. No intimate dinner. Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nada.”
“Really?”
“Why would I lie?” Val hesitated a little longer than Pam would have liked. “Val?”
“You wouldn’t.” All the earlier eagerness in Val’s voice was gone. “It’s just—Travis has been gone two years.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Pam snapped. She hadn’t meant to, but how could she forget that two years, three months, and twenty-four days had passed since that horrible night?
“I’m sorry, of course you do, but you’re only twenty-eight years old. It’s time you get a real life again.”
“I have a life.”
“That’s not what I mean. You’re too young to be alone all the time. You need people to talk to besides your family. Like friends, guys. And talking to a dead husband doesn’t count. You should be dating live men.”
A dull steady pain began tapping at Pam’s temples. What was it today with sisters and dating? First Carol Ann wants Jeff to see more women, and now Valerie wants Pam to get a life. “Val, I don’t need this right now, and for the record, I don’t want to date. I’ve already had the best. What I need is for you to stop lecturing me and help me put out some fires.”
“There really isn’t any chance for you and Jeff?”
“If there’s a chance for anyone having a relationship with Jeff, my money’s on Sandra Quinn.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better. Jeff’s a nice guy. You deserve nice.”
“I had nice.” Pam’s voice faltered. She cleared her throat and spoke a little louder. “Will you help me put a stop to the rumors or not?”
Some days, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, Jeff simply knew there was no place like home.
It was only Sunday afternoon, and already this had been the longest weekend of his life. There was no other way to describe it. He’d spent most of Friday and Saturday dodging bullets from half the parishioners, and this morning after services, he’d gotten an earful from the remainder who hadn’t caught up with him during the days before.
He’d expected the gossip-hungry citizens to sink their teeth into the juicy news of the pastor’s new girlfriend and did his best to dispel the rumors. What he hadn’t expected was the backlash from the more serious side of the congregation. It had started Friday morning. He’d barely gotten out of bed when his phone rang. John Haskell, on behalf of the church board of directors, had wanted to know if there was any truth to Jeff “taking an interest” in his new secretary.
“Mind you, it’s not that we have anything against her,” Haskell had said. “She’s a lovely woman. Shame about losing her husband so young and all, but you’re her boss, Jeff.”
“Yes, sir.” What more could he have said?
“Then you understand why this doesn’t reflect well on the church?” He didn’t wait for Jeff to respond. “In this era of potential sexual harassment and media mania, to some folk, dating a subordinate is inappropriate, no exceptions. As our representative you have to be held above reproach. Of course, all of us on the board know your intentions are honorable, but it may not look that way to everyone. Especially outsiders.”
And so his weekend had begun.
“What time is dinner?” Jeff watched his mom flip on the oven light and peek through the tinted glass to the made-from-scratch rolls baking inside.
“For heaven’s sake.” Etta Mae grinned. “What's the hurry?”
Stepping up behind her, Jeff looped his arms around his mom’s waist and lightly rested his chin on her head. “Would you rather I didn’t look forward to your cooking?”
“I’d rather you told me what’s really eating at you.”
Jeff kissed his mother’s head and retook his seat at the kitchen table. “Just a long few days.”
Etta untied her apron, tossed it on the counter, and settled in the seat beside her son. “Your father told me about Haskell. John couldn’t wait to phone Harlon as soon as he was done talking to you.”
“Hmm.” Jeff fiddled with the edge of the place mat. Every one of Mrs. Henry’s first grade classes had taken family photos and made place mats as Christmas gifts for their parents. He and his three siblings were no exception. What surprised him was that his mother still used them to this day.
“That old coot…” Etta continued, “…has been giving your father grief since the first day he was named to the board of directors.”
Jeff glanced at his mother. He couldn’t imagine anyone finding fault with his father. In everyone’s eyes Pastor Harlon Parker was the next best thing to having the Lord Himself preach.
“Which old coot is that?” Harlon Parker sauntered into the room, sniffed the air, and smiled at his wife, his eyes twinkling like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. “Smells like dinnertime.”
Jeff had never thought twice about how much his father loved and respected his mother. When he was a little kid, he'd thought that’s the way everyone’s parents were. As he grew older, he realized his folks had something special. It amazed him that after almost forty years of marriage his parents still lit up like candles when the other walked into the room.
“John Haskell,” Etta answered her husband.
His dad’s eyes narrowed as they studied his wife. “Etta.”
“I know. It just irritates me to think that man has nothing better to do than spend his days finding fault with our boy.”
“John Haskell is a good man.” Harlon patted his son on the shoulder. “And Jefferson is a good pastor. He’s done a remarkable job taking over. I don’t believe I would have done nearly as well handling everything without Ellen.”
“Pop, you would have done just fine without Ellen, and you know it. And I haven’t taken over. Just trying to keep up till you get back. The church needs you.” Especially Pam. Someone has to help her find her way, and I’m not that man.
“You’ve done more than keep up.” Harlon turned to his wife and kissed her square on the mouth for just a second longer than Jeff was comfortable watching, then took the seat beside her. “So, Haskell called to fuss at you about dinner the other night with Pamela Sue.”
Jeff nodded.
“You got any untoward intentions with the lady?”
There was no need for a mirror. Jeff knew his eyes had opened as big and round as a spotted owl’s. “Of course not.”
“That’s what I thought. You pay no mind to J
ohn.”
“And what about the rest of the board?”
“Hmph. You listen to your old man and your own conscience. If you spend your ministry trying to cater to the whims of the board, you’ll find yourself all twisted up like an old phone cord. You do what you know is right in the sight of God, and you’ll do fine.” At that the doorbell rang, and his dad patted his wife’s knee and pushed to his feet. “I’ll get that.”
Though they were still waiting on his brother Danny and his family, and his sister Carol Ann, neither of them would have rung the bell.
“You expecting company?” Jeff asked.
From the way his mom’s eyes darted over to the stove and back, and the rush with which she popped out of her seat, grabbed her apron, and said, “Could be,” he knew.
“Oh, Ma. You didn’t?”
“And why shouldn’t I? Pamela Sue is a very nice young woman. And if you haven’t noticed…” Etta squared her shoulders. “…a very attractive woman at that.”
“Ma-ah.” Leaning on the table with his elbows, he let his head rest in the palms of his hand. He should have realized, if his mother thought he’d taken an interest in anyone, she’d home in like a missile on heat. “What were you thinking? If word gets out about this—a family dinner with Pam—it’s going to fuel all the gossip I’ve spent three days trying to squelch.”
“Nonsense. Pam isn’t the first neighbor I’ve invited over for a meal, and she won’t be the last.”
“Yes, but this is different…” Expecting Pam and his father, Jeff was caught off guard at the sound of pounding feet running in his direction.
“Uncle Jeff” sounded through the room moments before a projectile hit him full force in the chest.
“Hey, buddy.” His three-year-old nephew Gavin was his biggest fan. “What ya got there?”
Clutched in the little boy’s grip was a fistful of somewhat bent dandelions. “Oh, I forgots.” He hopped off his uncle’s lap and, flashing a toothy grin, thrust his hand at his grandmother. “These are for you, Gram. I picked them.”
Grandmother and grandson stood side by side, beaming at each other with so much love and pride, that Jeff’s heart warmed, melting away all the irritation he’d felt for his mother only moments before.
His brother Danny’s pregnant wife, Terri, came waddling through the doorway and settled into the nearest chair with unexpected ease for a woman of her girth. “Help your gram put those in water.”
When Jeff pushed back his seat to stand, his sister-in-law waved him off. “Don’t get up on my account.” Then she smiled. “Great sermon today. You outdid yourself. Made me want to go out and join the Peace Corps or something.”
“Yeah, well, I think you’re needed more here.” Jeff grinned.
“Seriously, what you say really resonates with us of the younger generations.”
Just then Jeff spotted Pam standing to one side of the door with his one-year-old niece, Emily, perched on her hip. Pam whispered conspiratorially as the little girl cooed with delight.
Whatever he’d meant to respond to his sister-in-law was quickly forgotten. He couldn’t explain it, but his eyes were riveted to the sight. Michelangelo couldn’t have had a better subject for mother and child.
“We nearly collided at the front door.” Terri splayed both hands across her well-rounded tummy. “Emily usually doesn’t take to strangers.” Terri flashed an impish grin. “I don’t suppose you babysit?”
“Anytime,” Pam shot back without hesitation.
One by one they took a seat around the old oak harvest table that was big enough to seat the Walton family and then some. Danny stood behind his wife rubbing her shoulders, while Terri and his dad rehashed, almost word for word, Jeff’s sermon.
His sister, Carol Ann, always bursting with energy, practically flew into the room mumbling, “Sorry I’m late,” as she made her way greeting everyone around the table.
“You hurry up and take your place,” Etta instructed. “Supper’s almost ready.”
Emily clapped her hands and kicked her feet at her grandma’s announcement.
Pam pointed at a box of Cheerios Etta always kept handy on the kitchen counter for when her youngest grandbaby came to visit. “Will it hurt her appetite to have some of those?”
Terri glanced behind her at the cereal and shook her head. “Nah.”
Pam made her way across the kitchen, never stopping her conversation with Emily. After pouring the bowl of Cheerios, she and the baby took a seat at the table. Anyone watching would never have guessed she was only the next door neighbor. Pam fit in as though she’d been raised in this house with the rest of them.
As the sound decibel grew around the table, Jeff kept his eyes on Pam and his niece. Emily focused intently on the round pieces of oats, painstakingly maneuvering her little fingers to lift each one to her mouth. Holding the child on her lap, Pam kept a firm arm around her middle. Since the day Emily had taken her first step two months ago, the child had been like a whirling dervish. Sitting still was not on her list of favorite things to do. Judging from the way Terri and Danny would cast a sideways glance in Pam’s direction, her gift at settling an active child hadn’t gone unnoticed. Apparently there was more to Pamela Sue Dawson than a friendly smile and an ability to keep him organized. A lot more.
Pam watched Etta Mae loading leftovers into plastic containers. “I couldn’t possibly eat all this food by myself.”
“Better you than Harlon and me. We don’t need any more padding. Oh, Jefferson,” Etta called to her son, chatting with his brother in the living room. “Come here a minute, please.”
“Sure Ma, just a sec.”
Etta smiled and nodded, as if her son could see her through the wall. Then one by one, she placed the leftovers into a brown paper shopping bag.
As much as Pam loved Friday nights with her family, dinner with the Parkers was so different, so…normal.
Compared to dinner with her dad and three siblings, dining with six adults and two children definitely made the evening a bit louder, a bit more chaotic, and occasionally, a bit overwhelming. But not once did anyone treat her like a fragile vase that might shatter without warning. Oh, she and her family teased and laughed and argued just like they had done growing up, but eventually someone would say or do something to remind them why Pam had moved home from Dallas, and nothing could reverse the heavy mood that would settle on the rest of the evening.
“I can’t thank you enough for inviting me.” She handed Etta a nearby container.
“You’re welcome anytime. There’s always room at our table and no need to wait for an invitation.” Etta Mae patted Pam’s hand before turning to the cabinet for another bag.
And to think Pam almost hadn’t come. As much as she’d enjoyed her dinner with Jeff the other night, she didn’t think having Sunday dinner with his entire family on the heels of the gossipfest was such a good idea. Jeff didn’t need any more aggravation. But Etta Mae wouldn’t take No, thank you for an answer, and Pam was really glad she hadn’t. Playing with the children, conversing over dinner, and helping Etta Mae with the dishes, reminded her so much of what life had been like before. Of what she wanted it to be again.
Of course, without Travis, she’d always be aunt Pam. But she wanted to be this happy aunt Pam 365 days a year. She didn’t want to be at the mercy of nightmares, stable and normal one day, and a crazed neurotic the next, never knowing when she’d wake up afraid of her own shadow.
Her glance drifted over to her purse and the phone number she knew was tucked away safely inside her wallet.
Smiling, Jeff sidled up beside his mother. “What’s up?”
Holding two oversized shopping bags, Etta Mae held them out to Jeff. “They’re a little heavy, so you go on and help Pam take these home.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Pam reached for the first bag. “I can manage.”
“Nonsense. What good is a man if he can’t help you carry the load?”
Jeff had a very distinct
feeling his mother wasn’t talking about leftover meat loaf, but Pam’s appreciative smile gave no indication she’d caught the implication.
They covered the short distance to her house in only a couple of minutes. Standing on her porch, waiting as she unlocked the door, an odd sense of loss took root inside him. He’d really enjoyed dinner at home. Some time with his family was just the escape from reality he’d needed, but having Pam there somehow managed to make it even better. And much to his surprise, he realized now, he didn’t want the evening to end yet. “Shall I put these in the kitchen for you?”
“Yes, please.” Pam shoved open the door and pointed to the back of the house. “Straight ahead.”
Jeff deposited the bags on the counter. Then, like a bellboy at a hotel waiting for his tip, he stood aimlessly in the middle of the room, not wanting to leave, not sure what else to say.
“Would you like some coffee before you go? Maybe help me polish off a little of your mom’s apple pie? I noticed you didn’t have any after dinner.”
She had? He’d been so at peace relaxing for the first time in days that he was content to simply sit back and watch everyone else. “Sounds delicious. Thanks.”
The sound of dishes clattering as she pulled two from the cupboard filled the room. “Whipped cream?” she asked.
“Nope. Straight up.”
“Got it.” Pam laughed, a full rolling laugh that warmed him deep inside, and then she turned back to face the counter. “One slice of apple pie, straight up.”
“I hope having dinner with the entire clan wasn’t too much for you.”
“Are you kidding?” Pam set the two plates of pie on the table. “My family does dinner every Friday night. Put us all at the same table and we make yours look like The Brady Bunch. Too well adjusted to be real.”
“Your family seems as well adjusted as the rest of us.”
“You think?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Did your sister ever die her hair pink?”
Jeff swallowed a grin. “No, can’t say that she did.”
“And what about Danny? I don’t suppose he ever went through a stage where all his girlfriends wore combat boots?”
Hope's Corner Page 8
