Cape Light

by Thomas Kinkade

  Lauren found her sister and took her hand. Jessica saw them leave with Carolyn Lewis. As she walked over to Sam, she heard Molly thanking Grace sincerely.

  “I told you before, I won’t take any payment for it,” Grace said, shaking her head. “I’m loaning it to you—to your girls. You just take care of it. And make sure Lauren practices every day.”

  “I will,” Lauren promised. She glanced at her mother, then back at Grace. “I’m not doing much this summer. Maybe I can come by here sometime and see if you need any help. You know, dusting and straightening up for you?”

  Jessica noticed Grace’s look of surprise. Before she could say anything, Molly added, “She’s old enough and she knows how. It was all her idea, too,” Molly added proudly.

  “Well, I don’t know. . . .” Grace said slowly. Daisy, who had been lying on the porch, now trotted down the path and sat at Grace’s feet. She absentmindedly reached down and stroked the dog’s head. Then she added, “Lauren can come if she likes, I suppose. We can see how it works out.”

  “I’ll come tomorrow,” Lauren said eagerly.

  “After you practice,” her mother reminded her, smiling. It was the first time Jessica could recall seeing Molly so openly happy. “Thank you again, Grace. I’m going to bake you a cake. Do you like chocolate?”

  Grace waved her hand. “Heavens, no. No cake for me.”

  “I like cake,” Digger said firmly, walking up to them. “I like that carrot cake you make. With the frosting.”

  Grace gave him a look. “That’s loaded with cholesterol, Dad. You know that.”

  “Just leave out the raisins, please,” he told Molly, ignoring his daughter completely.

  “Hey, come on now. Let’s get this show on the road,” Sam said, clapping his hands. “We still have to get that sucker up two flights of stairs.”

  The group let out a moan.

  “You there.” Sam pointed at Jessica. “Up in the truck. Here’s the keys.” He tossed the ring to her, and she reached out with both hands to catch them.

  “You’re being very bossy tonight,” she muttered as she passed him.

  “It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it,” he replied, a half smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

  As he shouted more instructions to the others, Jessica stashed her briefcase and jacket in the cab. Then she got behind the wheel and took a deep breath. This was the first time she had driven a truck, and it was a little scary. The truck seemed huge. But she couldn’t quit. She would manage somehow. She had to drive super slow anyway, to protect the precious cargo.

  She put on her seat belt and started the engine. When Sam slapped the side of the truck, she put it in drive.

  The truck lurched at first as Jessica got accustomed to the feel of the gas pedal and brake. She heard moans from the back, which made it even worse. She had never driven such a heavy vehicle before, and it was harder to handle than she expected. Up ahead of her, Harry’s black truck turned and Jessica cringed.

  “Here goes nothing,” she murmured under her breath. She eased her foot down on the brake, but not quite soon enough for a totally smooth maneuver. She winced as she took the turn too sharply.

  “Watch it, will you?” somebody called out.

  “For pity’s sake, you nearly killed me,” another voice protested.

  “Easy does it, pal!” Sam yelled at her, slapping the side of the truck with his hand.

  Ten minutes later Jessica breathed a long sigh of relief when she saw Harry’s truck slow to a stop and park. At least they made it without a major mishap, she thought.

  Molly lived near the Village Green in the second story of an old house converted to apartments, much like Jessica’s. The narrow stairwells made the move all the more challenging, but eventually all the pieces of the piano made it up the two flights of stairs without major incident.

  In Molly’s apartment Harry, Digger, and Sam helped themselves to cold drinks while Carolyn directed the three men as they reassembled the instrument. It didn’t take nearly as long as Jessica thought it would. The piano was soon in one piece, looking perfectly suited to the wide wall of Molly’s living room.

  Carolyn sat down to test it out and played a quick classical piece with a Slavic flavor. She missed a few notes here and there, Jessica noticed, but when she played the final chord, everyone applauded enthusiastically.

  Then Lauren sat down and did a quick scale. She looked up at her mother, her face beaming. “Isn’t it great?” she said.

  Molly nodded and patted her shoulder. “It’s really great, honey.” She turned to Carolyn. “Thanks again, Mrs. Lewis. I don’t know how you did it.”

  Carolyn laughed and shrugged. “Grace was really the one who did it, though some prayers helped, I think.” She lightly touched Lauren’s shoulder. “See you on Saturday, sweetheart. I can’t wait to hear your lesson.”

  Harry and Digger said good night after Carolyn left. Finally Sam and Jessica were the only members of the crew remaining.

  After thanking Sam for his help and giving him a hug, Molly turned to Jessica. “Nice driving,” she said. “Good thing you stopped by.”

  “I wasn’t sure I could drive Sam’s truck,” Jessica admitted. “Good thing you don’t live very far from Grace.”

  Sam turned to her, looking surprised. “You never drove a truck before?” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t ask,” she replied.

  He turned to his sister. “ ’Night, Molly. You owe me for this.”

  She grinned at him. “Yeah, I know. Big time.”

  Outside, Jessica pulled out the keys to Sam’s truck. “You look tired, want me to drive?” she offered innocently.

  “No way.” He shook his head, grinning. “I can drive.”

  Jessica laughed and climbed in the passenger’s side. Sam did look tired. They had gotten together a few times since their Saturday night date, but she knew he was working hard on a house extension and his own house at the pond. She didn’t know where he found the energy or the time to move Molly’s piano tonight. But that was Sam. He never seemed too busy when someone asked him for a favor.

  “Want to stop at the Clam Box for a bite? My treat,” she offered.

  “That’s sweet,” he said. “But to tell you the truth, I’m really beat. And grubby, too. Why don’t we go to my place? We can order a pizza or something.”

  Jessica had never been to Sam’s apartment. She wasn’t even sure where he lived. But she didn’t see any real harm in it. She was glad she had run into him tonight. She had been thinking of him all day.

  “Okay, that sounds fine,” she said.

  Sam lived near the harbor in an old building that had a marine supply store on the first floor and an apartment above. His front rooms had a view of the harbor with glass doors that opened to a small deck. The view drew Jessica as soon as she stepped inside. “This is beautiful. What a great place.”

  “It’s nice,” he agreed. “But I’m looking forward to having a real house soon. Make yourself at home. I’m just going to get cleaned up.”

  He left Jessica alone in the living room, and she soon heard water running. She looked around, curious about his surroundings. She liked his taste. It was masculine but not too spare and cold, like the places of some men she knew. There was a brown leather couch, covered with kilim pillows, and a brick-red area rug. The rest of the furniture was a mix of new pieces and old, many in the Mission style. All of the old ones were beautifully refinished.

  She saw a small writing desk near the window, with photographs of Sam’s family and friends. There were some books stacked neatly on top, a Bible the most prominent of them. Above his desk hung a framed black-and-white photo of a baseball player, leaping to make a catch. Jessica recognized Fenway Park’s notorious Green Monster, but didn’t recognize the player, one of the Red Sox, she had no doubt.

  She turned as she heard Sam enter the room. He had showered and changed to a white T-shirt and jeans. He was b
arefoot, she noticed, which was somehow touching to her. He looked even more worn out than before, and she wondered if she should go.

  “Ready for that pizza?” he asked, picking up the phone. “What do you like on it?”

  “Just plain is fine for me,” Jessica answered.

  A moment later she heard him order the pizza, one side plain, the other with everything but anchovies.

  “It will take about half an hour,” Sam said after he hung up. “Let me get you something to drink.”

  He poured some cold drinks in the kitchen and brought them into the living room where they sat together on the couch.

  Sam put his feet up on the coffee table and sighed. “That shower sure felt good.”

  “I’ll bet. I never saw anyone move a piano before. You must be exhausted.”

  “It was a group effort. I was mostly the foreman.”

  “So I noticed. I never knew you were so bossy,” she teased.

  “Yeah, well, there are still a few things you don’t know about me,” he countered with a smile.

  Jessica was sure that was true. Just when she felt she had Sam figured out, he would show her some new, surprising aspect of himself.

  “How did Grace ever decide to give Molly the piano?” she asked. “Last I heard, she scared poor Lauren out of her wits.”

  Sam shrugged. “I guess she thought it over and had a change of heart. Digger told me she felt bad about yelling at Lauren. Kept mentioning it, mulling it over. Maybe she finally realized that the piano was just going to waste out there. She told Molly she thought that some other child should use it to make music, that that’s what Julie would have wanted. Carolyn Lewis said she had been praying for Grace.”

  Jessica sat back. Whenever Sam talked about religion, it made her nervous. That was one subject that made her feel far from him. “Do you think Carolyn’s prayers really helped?” she asked after a long pause.

  “I’m sure of it,” he replied, meeting her gaze. Jessica was the first to look away, taking a long sip of her iced tea.

  The sun had dropped down to the horizon, sinking in a blaze of color. The view was breathtaking. Jessica took Sam’s hand. “Let’s go out on the deck and watch the sunset.”

  Sam smiled and leaned back into the couch. “You can go. I’m too tired to move,” he said, but he didn’t let go of her hand.

  Jessica looked at him with concern. For Sam not to get up for a sunset, it had to be serious.

  “I’ll sit here with you. Maybe you ought to lie down until the pizza comes.”

  “Good idea. My back is killing me,” he confessed. “I must have lifted something funny.”

  Jessica got up so he could stretch out on the couch. “Did you take some aspirin?”

  He shook his head. “No, not yet. I guess I ought to.”

  “I’ll get it for you.”

  He told her where to look in the medicine cabinet, and she soon returned with the aspirin and a glass of water. The room was almost completely dark now, but she didn’t bother to turn on a light. Sam sat up halfway to swallow the tablets.

  “Thanks. That should help. I’ll be okay by tomorrow. It’s just a pulled muscle or something.” He rolled over onto his stomach and put his head down on his folded arms. “It feels better on my stomach.”

  Jessica sat down next to him on the floor. She’d never seen him so wiped out before. He seemed drained, physically and emotionally, not at all himself. He was really such a giving person, caring and hardworking. But he had some low moments, too, she realized, when he needed someone to look out for him.

  She rested her hand on his back and rubbed it lightly, with a circular motion. His T-shirt felt soft, his skin warm underneath.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Good,” he said with a sigh. He glanced at her, moving his head to one side. “That’s good, Jessie. Thanks . . .”

  No one except Sam ever called her Jessie. He had only used it a few times, but it was clear that it was his private nickname for her. At first that felt strange, but now Jessica secretly liked it.

  “Up near my shoulders more. That’s where it hurts,” he said.

  She moved her hand up to his shoulders. His muscles felt tense and hard. Gradually they started to relax under her hand.

  Sam’s eyes closed completely, his thick black eyelashes curving against his cheek. Was he asleep already? Jessica wasn’t quite sure. She didn’t want to say anything and risk waking him.

  It is funny, she thought, how it doesn’t feel strange at all to be with him here like this. She felt so close to him in such a short time. This is what it would be like to be his wife, a small voice suggested, to take care of him and be his partner.

  Then her mind backed away from the image. No, that’s not what she wanted. Sam was a nice guy, a wonderful person. She couldn’t deny that. She cared about him and respected him. But this was just a summer thing. She probably shouldn’t have even come here.

  There was a knock on the door, and Jessica rose to answer it. The pizza, at long last, she realized. She paid the delivery man and put the box in the refrigerator. Then she wrote Sam a short note and placed it on the coffee table, where he would be sure to see it.

  She glanced at him one more time. He was on his side now, sleeping soundly. She reached down and touched his hair and then his cheek. Then she found her jacket and briefcase, and slipped out the door.

  It was a reasonable walk home, not much farther than her walk to the bank and back each day. The night was mild, the tang of the salt air refreshing. Jessica was glad for the exercise to clear her head.

  At home she found a message from Paul on her answering machine.

  “Jessica, are you there? No? Well, then I’m sorry I missed you. I know I’ve barely been in touch, but it’s been an absolute zoo here. I’ve been thinking about you, though. Listen, I’ll call you again soon. ’Night.”

  Jessica felt a small jolt of surprise and even some guilt at hearing Paul’s voice. She was pleased that he’d called her—finally. He even sounded as if he’d missed her a bit. Or maybe he was just feeling lonely on his prolonged business trip. In any case, it was good to hear his voice. It made him more real somehow, reminding her of her “real life.” The world she belonged to.

  Paul was “right” for her, Jessica told herself, a much smarter choice than Sam would ever be. Sam would never leave Cape Light, and she would never have the heart to tear him away. He belonged here, with his half-finished house on the pond and his friends and his family. But Jessica didn’t want to stay. It was not the life she imagined for herself.

  She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t too late to call Paul back, but for some reason, she didn’t want to. It seemed like too much effort. She decided she would try him tomorrow night.

  She sighed and stared into the refrigerator. She wasn’t very hungry, but she could use a snack. Elsie came out of nowhere and twined herself around Jessica’s ankles.

  “Why is life so confusing?” she asked the cat.

  Elsie meowed in response.

  Jessica bent down and ran her hand along the cat’s back. “That’s a philosophical answer if I ever heard one,” she said, grinning. “Let’s have some tuna salad and go to bed.”

  AN HOUR OR TWO AFTER CLOSING THE CLAM BOX FOR the night, Charlie Bates was just finishing cleaning up the diner. He normally had a cleaning crew in to do the job, but they canceled on him today, and he was stuck with the dirty work of wiping down, sweeping, and mopping up. That’s what it was like when you had your own business. You couldn’t rely on anyone. You had to be able to do it all.

  Once he was mayor, of course, he wouldn’t be caught dead mopping up this place. It was hard for a man to better himself, expand his horizons. You needed support. He wished Lucy would take more interest. She would have to, once he won the election. . . .

  He heard a tapping on the big plate-glass window and was about to shout, “We’re closed!” when he spotted his buddy Tucker Tulley.

  Charlie unlocked the do
or. “Hey, Tucker,” he greeted him. “Did you pull the night shift? I thought you were beyond that now.”

  “Just doing a guy a favor,” Tucker answered as he walked into the empty diner. “I don’t mind night duty once in a while. It’s nice and quiet. Gives you a chance to think.”

  “Sounds like fun. Let me know how it goes,” Charlie joked.

  Tucker sat on a stool at the counter and pushed his hat back on his head. Something in his serious expression made Charlie feel nervous.

  “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Sure, thanks,” Tucker said.

  “Got a nice fresh pot here. I just made if for myself a little while ago.”

  He poured Tucker a mug and then one for himself. Tucker looked down at the coffee but didn’t drink it.

  “So what’s up?” Charlie asked.

  Tucker cleared his throat. “I’m investigating this harassment claim from Dr. Elliot. Did you scare off Elliot’s buyer?” he asked point blank.

  Charlie reeled back, as if his friend had struck him. “Of course I didn’t do it. Why is everyone blaming me? There’s a heck of a lot of people in this town that feel the same way I do about the situation. You were at the meeting. You saw how many people agreed with me. It could have been anyone.”

  Tucker did not reply. He just sat, looking at Charlie, his mouth pursed in a tight line. “All right, I’ll grant you that much. But you have been the most outspoken about it. Someone told me you and Elliot nearly came to blows in here the other day.”

  “Well, that’s just the way I am. I can’t help that. Besides, he started it,” Charlie argued. “First Elliot, then Lucy, now you, too. It’s insulting that you don’t believe me,” he said in a quieter tone. “My best friend.”

  “You can add Betty Bowman to the list. She came into the station and wanted to give a statement. She says it was you.”

  “On what grounds?” Charlie demanded loudly.

  “She’s got no proof, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Betty Bowman’s just mad because her deal fell through,” Charlie said. “I’d rather step between a Rottweiler and a roast beef than that woman and her commission.”