by Lyn Cote
“Thank you for bringing another meal,” Farrell said. “I’ll be sure to tell Chuck and Laurette.”
“No problem.” Mrs. Hansen beamed. “Just made a bigger batch of what we were having. Come on now, Morgan, let’s leave them to enjoy the food. There’s plenty for you, too, Cat. Don’t be shy.” The mother pushed her daughter out the door.
From the garage, Cat heard Mrs. Hansen say to Morgan, “Really, staring isn’t polite.”
“But, Mom, he’s so handsome.”
Too true, Morgan. Cat uncovered a corner of the casserole dish and breathed in the delicious scent. “Mrs. Hansen’s lasagna. Thank you, Lord!” She glanced over her shoulder and caught Farrell staring at the door. He wore the most peculiar expression.
“Farrell?” Cat murmured. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer.
Had he even heard her? His hand went to his scarred cheek.
While trying to analyze his reaction, Cat switched on the oven and slid the dish inside. She turned to him uncertainly. Was it possible he didn’t realize his scars did nothing to diminish his good looks? More importantly, had Morgan unwittingly taken his mind back to the cause of his scar, the fatal boating accident? Her heart grieved for the loss of his friend. How would she survive losing Laurette? Did he somehow blame himself? She ached with sympathy, but men didn’t appreciate that.
The need to stir him from this troubled mood turned her sassy. She put one hand on her hip. “So? Can you work in spite of the tantalizing aroma of lasagna or are we done with Computer Lesson One?” She would have just as soon stopped while she was ahead, but obviously Morgan’s reaction to him had touched a raw nerve.
“After you, partner.” He motioned toward the basement door.
Cat preceded him down the steps. She recalled his earlier mysterious comment about the “father of his heart.” She’d become accustomed to Farrell’s always trying to hide his limp. Were there other wounds he was hiding? Deeper ones?
Gage had never spent a Saturday night quite like this one—not even when he was thirteen. Chuck and Laurette’s stuffy kitchen was standing-room-only and buzzed with voices. Like a beautiful queen on her throne, Laurette sat in a webbed, aluminum lounger giving directions and carrying on a conversation with Cat. Standing near Cat, Gage tried to act as though he felt comfortable in the midst of the four teens, all wearing jeans and T-shirts. Wearing white jean shorts which nicely revealed her healthy tan, Cat certainly appeared at ease.
Cat’s tan was the real thing, not the product of a tanning salon. So far, Gage hadn’t seen one of those in Eden. He had several ideas rolling around in his head for possible new businesses he might open in Eden. But a tanning salon? No. Not his style at all.
Then the new idea uppermost in his mind elbowed its way to the forefront. Would he be able to get a moment alone with Cat to bring up the new project? He didn’t think she could possibly reject the opportunity, but with Cat—who knew? She still acted like turning on a computer ranked with having a root canal.
“How many more batches of popcorn will we need?” Laurette asked over the sound of popping corn.
The aroma of popcorn and the melted butter made Gage think of movie theaters. Even after a substantial supper, he couldn’t stop his mouth from watering.
“About two more,” Cat called back. “I’m figuring about one paper shopping bag full for each guy and a half for each girl.”
“That’s not fair!” Morgan objected. “I can eat as much as these two!” She pointed at the two boys of the group.
In return, they made faces and threw a few stray kernels of popcorn at Morgan.
“Welcome to the world of adolescents,” Cat whispered into Gage’s ear, then she raised her voice. “You two boys go into the living room with Mr. Farrell and move the couch so we all fit in front of the TV.”
Self-consciously, Gage moved forward and his two assistants followed. They paused at the entrance to the small living room done in off-white with dark-green furniture. “Okay…” Gage combed his memory for their names. “Ryan and Phil, we need to move the sofa so it’s lengthwise against that wall.”
“Why?” Ryan quizzed. Freckle-faced with red hair, he looked confused.
“It looks fine to me where it is,” Phil agreed. The boy needed a haircut badly, and his glasses were stuck together with duct tape. Gage’s mother would have committed hari-kari before she’d let him out of the house looking like that. Evidently, Phil’s mother was wise enough to expect a boy to be unconcerned about his appearance at thirteen.
“We need to move it, so there will be enough room for all of us to sit on the floor.” Gage motioned both of them to go to the other end.
“Who’s going to sit on the couch then?” Ryan asked. The roll of baby fat around his middle bobbed as he walked.
“Laurette has to keep her feet up ’cause of the baby.” Phil, tall and thin, looked at Gage. “Which way do you want us to move our end?”
Gage stooped and positioned his hands on the cloth underside of the couch. “Toward the TV. Okay?”
The boys grunted their understanding.
“Bend your knees and lift.” Gage did the same.
Their end of the forest-green sofa rose, but wobbled unevenly. “Ry, lift your side higher,” Phil whined.
The sofa leveled. Gage walked forward, the boys backward. They pivoted as they moved. “Okay, set it down easy.”
Ryan let go.
“Ow! Ry!” Phil yelped. “You just missed my foot.” Phil set down his side, then shoved Ryan. Ryan tripped over his own feet and bumped into the floor lamp.
Gage leaped forward. Too late. The lamp crashed to the rug.
“Hey!” Cat’s voice rose over the sound of popping corn and girl giggles. “What’s going on in there?”
“Just a minor mishap. No big deal.” Gage picked up the lamp, righted it, and unbent the dent in the fan-shaped shade. He looked to Ryan. “Next time don’t be in such a hurry.”
“Sorry.” Ryan turned bright red.
“Apology accepted. Now let’s see if they need any help in the kitchen.” How long before Chuck got back and Gage could fade into the background? Should he wait until morning to put the deal before Cat? Maybe she wouldn’t want to talk business here. Maybe it would be impossible to talk business here.
The three males weren’t wanted in the kitchen and for no apparent reason, Ryan and Phil started shoving each other. Gage thought swiftly. He had to keep the boys from growing restless. “Okay—out to the drive.” On his way through the garage, he snatched up the basketball. Outside, he dribbled, then tossed it at the old basketball hoop mounted above the garage door.
After it dropped through the net, Phil caught it and dribbled it away. Ryan leaped forward running between Phil and the net. Gage sighed inwardly. Thank heaven for basketball.
Leaving the two girls to empty and fill the popcorn popper once more, Cat watched the impromptu basketball game from the kitchen doorway to the garage. She hadn’t expected Farrell to hang around after the youth group arrived that night. He hadn’t seemed to be the type to be interested in thirteen-year-olds.
“He’s so cool,” Morgan breathed from behind Cat.
“Who?” Cat asked. “Ryan or Phil?”
“No, Mr. Farrell.”
Cat grinned ruefully. Leaning against the doorjamb, she tucked her hands under her arms. “Hush. Never say that loud enough for a man to hear you. It’s very bad for them.”
She felt Farrell’s gaze touch her. She braced herself, resisting any reaction to him. She wouldn’t allow herself to act like a thirteen-year-old girl, too. How embarrassing.
Catching a whiff of scorching popcorn, she straightened up and turned back to the kitchen where Ginny, the other girl in the foursome of teens, was supposed to be watching the popcorn. “Ginny, don’t let it burn! We’ll never live it down!”
Within minutes, Chuck and Bet drove up, dispersing the basketball players. “Mission accomplished!” Chuck declared as he got out of
the car. “Two gallons of root beer and two videos!”
Cat hung back, letting Chuck and Laurette lead the meeting. Somehow Laurette managed to get Cat and Farrell sitting side by side in the midst of teens. Was Laurette trying to matchmake? That’s all I need.
The first video, an old horror film from the fifties, showed giant locusts taking over Chicago. The youngest generation in the room found the special effects more amusing than frightening. Laughter and loud hoots lifted Cat’s mood.
She and Farrell had worked together more than six weeks now. Outwardly, they worked together easily, but underneath, Cat didn’t feel comfortable yet. How was it that she possessed some type of “Farrell” radar? Whenever they were in the same room, she always seemed to keep track of him. She longed for the day she’d relax and he’d have no effect on her.
The longer she worked with him, the more questions she had about him. Why did he leave Chicago? What was he looking for in Eden? And tonight, why did he look like he was about to spring something on her? She could see the signs. He kept looking at her as if he were measuring her.
The second video, an old Disney movie, caught the teens’ interest in spite of themselves. When it ended, Chuck called the organizational part of the meeting to order. “Now as soon as school is over for the summer, this group will be having Bible studies here, every other Wednesday at 6:30 p.m.,” Chuck explained. “And you will be prepared.” He gave each teen a stern look. “Laurette is going to handle the Bible study because it doesn’t take any legwork.”
“Don’t worry!” Laurette grinned. “I’ll make it interesting, and we’ll play games afterward.”
Only Morgan appeared to take Laurette at her word.
“What’re we doing for real fun?” Ginny demanded. “I don’t care what my stepfather says. If this all turns out to be just another Sunday school—”
“Laurette said it would be fun,” Farrell said. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Ginny blushed to her hairline.
“We’ll have plenty of fun,” Chuck added. “Bible study every other Wednesday, games after, a fun activity one night a month and—”
“And a community project,” Bet interjected. “That’s my part. I set it up already. We’re going to help paint the new group home, which should be ready in the fall.”
“Group home?” Ryan queried.
“Yes, the church is opening a home where six Down’s syndrome adults will live,” Bet replied.
The four teens traded worried glances.
“Do we have to?” Ryan asked. “I never painted anything.”
“Yes.” Chuck sounded definite. “You’re all old enough to be of some use to your community.”
All four teens looked surprised at his blunt words.
“Besides,” Cat said softly, “helping others can be a lot of fun and will bring longer lasting pleasure. It’s better to give than receive.”
“She’s right,” Farrell agreed.
Well, that’s a first! Cat said to herself.
Farrell continued, “All of you are just the right age to begin giving. That’s something I learned from an old friend when I was your age.”
A shadow passed over Farrell’s face. Cat wondered what was going on inside that well-shaped head?
“Okay.” Morgan eyed the adults.
“Yeah, chill.” Ginny twisted a piece of dark-blond hair around her finger.
“Ginny,” Bet said gently. “We’re icy.”
This drew reluctant grins from Morgan and Phil.
Gage looked over at Cat. He had the perfect opening. Now was the time. “Cat has an opportunity to do something for her community, too.”
“What?” Cat looked instantly wary.
“The Hadley estate—” he began.
“Oh, Gage, you’ve heard about the garden restoration at the Hadley estate!” Bet clapped her hands.
He nodded.
“Heard what?” Morgan asked.
“Yes, what?” Cat’s echo sounded hollow.
She’s wondering what I’m going to drop on her. Gage grinned. “The Hadley estate in town has been officially added to the National Register of Historic Homes.”
“So?” Ryan asked, obviously bored.
Cat repeated his question.
“So it needs an authentic nineteenth-century garden around it.” Gage leaned forward. “And Hope’s Garden should do it.”
Cat wrapped her arms over each other and looked mulish. “What’s the catch?”
Gage glanced away. “The city has a limited budget….”
“How limited?” Cat demanded, her eyes blazing at him.
“Limited,” he admitted. “That isn’t important when you have a chance to do something distinctive to your hometown.”
“You’re old enough to ‘start giving to your community,’” Ginny added in slyly.
Shaking her head and frowning, Bet tapped the girl’s knee.
Cat stared at him. “We’ll talk this over. In depth. Later.”
Phil cleared his throat. “Cat, I mean, Ms. Simmons…” His voice cracked and he flushed with embarrassment.
“Yes,” Cat coaxed gently.
“I was wondering if you need anymore help this summer.” The boy couldn’t look at Cat.
“Do you have any experience?” Gage asked, then mentally kicked himself. His partner wouldn’t appreciate his putting his oar in.
“I always help my mom with our garden and yard.” Phil glanced up.
“Why don’t you come in before school is out and we’ll talk about it? You’ll need a work permit since you’re not sixteen yet.” Cat’s voice was businesslike, but kind.
“Great. Thanks.” His relief showed in the way his shoulders relaxed.
Gage caught Cat’s attention and smiled. He took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, he felt connected to people around him. Everything that had just been said to the teens filtered through his mind. Lord, I’m in the right place, aren’t I? Are you listening? I want to know you better—like Manny did.
A week later on Memorial Day, Gage drove up behind Cat’s white truck and parked in Eden Cemetery. Evening was approaching. The quiet cemetery bloomed with colorful ribbons and flower arrangements both silk and fresh, showing signs of the many visitors who’d come earlier while the sun was high. When Laurette had explained that the traditional holiday was still observed in Eden, Gage hadn’t been able to remember ever decorating graves on Memorial Day with his family. It had just been another day off.
He glanced around and located Cat standing in the midst of the graves. She wore her dark-green gardening smock over a pale-yellow linen dress. The color made her look like an exotic flower in this setting. Evidently, decorating her parents’ plots was a dress-up occasion in her mind. At her feet lay a basket of fresh flowers and flats of bedding plants.
He got out of the car and took with him the two-gallon jug for carrying water. Laurette had supplied him with this excuse for joining Cat at the cemetery. Laurette had insisted he go. She’d said softly, “I don’t want Cat to be alone.”
Treading carefully around the graves, he closed the distance between him and Cat. He walked quietly, not wanting to disturb her. Her head was bowed, and she might be meditating, praying. This made him feel even more awkward. Drawing near, he opened his mouth to greet her and explain why he had come.
But a sound escaped Cat—it seemed a combination of a sigh and a sob. He knew the pain behind that kind of sound all too well himself.
He looked at her profile. She was crying.
For a second, cowardice nearly carried him back to the car. But he stood his ground. Was this why Laurette had insisted he join Cat here? Not wishing to intrude on his partner’s private grief, he waited silently.
She took a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know you never liked to see me crying.” She drew another breath. “I brought some white alyssum and Thumbelina zinnias to plant for you and some fresh-cut flowers for Mother
just as you always did for her.” She bent and arranged the flats of flowers around one brass marker, then turned to the other marker next to it. “Mother, after I arrange your bouquet, I’ll plant your moss roses. I’m sorry I haven’t been here earlier, but the nursery is booming.” She reached down and lifted a dark brass vase out of the flat brass marker. She twisted it until it clicked into place.
Gage took a few steps backward, then called, “Cat!” He strode forward holding the watering jug in front of him. “Laurette said you might need this.”
Cat swung around. “Why…I…what?”
“This jug.” He waved it. “Where do I fill it with water?”
She pointed to a faucet jutting up from the lawn only a few yards away. “I could have managed.”
“No problem.” Glad to have something to occupy himself with, he reached the faucet, positioned the jug for filling, and twisted the handle. Cold water gushed out, pounding into the plastic jug. Sprinkles flew into his face.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Cat arrange pink roses, white lilies, glossy green ferns, and fresh lavender lilacs into the vase. The arrangement would have dazzled the most demanding customer. Evidently, Cat believed her mother deserved the best. The sweet scent of the lilies and lilacs drew him as he carried the full jug over to her. “Should I fill the vase?”
She nodded, then moved back letting him pour the water. Laying down a knee pad, she knelt by her father’s grave. She took out a trowel and began loosening the soil. “Laurette made you come, didn’t she?”
He considered denying the truth, but knew it would be futile. “She said she didn’t want you to do this alone.”
She sighed loudly. “Laurette tends to overdramatize things. I’ve decorated my mother’s grave every year since I can remember.”
But your father’s grave is still new. Gage said nothing about the tears he’d seen her shed. He wished he’d thought to visit Manny’s grave on the past three Memorial Days. But I didn’t know, Manny. He almost said the words aloud.
Why did people speak to the dead at their graves? They weren’t really here, only their earthly remains. That’s what Manny had taught him. Gage glanced at the marker for Cat’s mother. It read: Hope Johnson Simmons, Loving Wife and Mother. Under the lady’s life dates, in small letters, it read: The gift of God is eternal life.
