Cape Light

by Thomas Kinkade

  Jessica smiled, though his words struck a wary note in her. She was sure that Sam’s family talked about her—as an unlikely match for their son.

  Though she tried to relax and enjoy herself, she felt a vague uneasiness throughout the rest of the party. Sam had two other sisters besides Molly, and two brothers. Most were married with children. While the entire Morgan family was not there, it was still a challenge for Jessica to remember all the names and relationships. Sam rarely left her side, which she appreciated. Yet his attentiveness also made her feel self-conscious. She was sure his family assumed that their relationship was getting serious, which was not the case at all. At least, not from Jessica’s perspective.

  After everyone ate, grown-ups and kids alike gathered for games in the Morgans’ large yard. There was volleyball, horseshoes, and croquet. At first Jessica just watched Sam play volleyball, then she joined in, too, on the opposite team. She used to play in college and surprised Sam with a wicked spike that flew right past him. She would have given a lot for a photo of the look on his face.

  “Way to go, Jessica!” Sam’s nephew Rory yelled out. She smiled shyly, concentrating on the game, but finally started to relax and have fun.

  But later, as dessert was served, Jessica’s doubts were confirmed. She was in the house, washing her hands in the small powder room near the kitchen, when she heard two women talking about her in the hallway. It sounded like Sam’s sister Molly and his sister-in-law Lisa.

  “I don’t know. She’s not so bad. Besides, Sam seems to be crazy about her.”

  “He’s crazy if he thinks she’ll ever marry him,” Molly countered. “The Warwicks are all the same, believe me. I deal with the old lady every week now. Princess Jessica is mingling with common folks today, but she’s still a snob. Sam’s too good for her, if you ask me.”

  “I don’t know what they have to be so proud about. Her father nearly wound up in jail—”

  The voices grew less distinct as the two women moved toward the kitchen. Jessica waited, hoping they would go back outside. She also needed a minute to compose herself. Their words had stung.

  She wasn’t sure what upset her more—the fact that they thought she considered the Morgans beneath her, or the fact that they thought she and Sam were a serious couple.

  Who was I kidding? Jessica asked herself. Did I really think I could come here today and meet Sam’s family and it wouldn’t matter? It did, she realized. His whole family seemed to think that their relationship was serious. And most likely, so did Sam, despite everything she had said to warn him otherwise.

  Jessica finally joined the party again, but the harsh words continued to trouble her. She and Sam hardly spoke on the drive back.

  It was dark when he pulled up in front of her house, the streetlamps giving off a soft glow. He turned to her and took her hand. “You look beat. My family must have worn you out.”

  “I’m okay. It was fun. Thanks for inviting me,” she said politely, though she avoided meeting his gaze.

  Sam didn’t reply right away, and she knew he sensed something was wrong. “I’m sure it was overwhelming, meeting all of them at once like that,” he said. “It must have felt like I was dropping you straight into the deep end. But it won’t be so bad the next time.”

  Jessica had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. There he was, talking about the future again, as if they really had one together. It wasn’t fair to keep seeing him if he was counting on something serious.

  “Listen, Sam,” she said, “I think we need to talk.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

  Jessica withdrew her hand from his. “I’m just not sure about this relationship, where it’s going,” she began awkwardly. “I love spending time with you, really. You’re a great person. But I don’t plan on staying in Cape Light. I’ve told you that from the start. . . .”

  Sam sat very still, staring straight ahead, his large hands resting on the steering wheel. She leaned over and tried to see his face, but in the dim light she couldn’t really gauge his reaction.

  “A great person,” he said, echoing her words sarcastically. “Thanks a lot.”

  “I just feel as if you have more serious expectations about us than I do,” Jessica forged on, trying to ignore his anger. “And I want to be fair to you.”

  Finally Sam turned to face her. “I know you don’t plan on staying here, Jessica. But you know, life isn’t always so cut-and-dried. Sometimes a person’s plans change.”

  “Mine won’t,” she said more sharply than she intended. She saw Sam’s expression harden. She had hurt him. She didn’t mean to, but she had to be honest with him. Now, before things went any further, before she was pulled in even deeper.

  She tried to soften the blow. “I think we just have different ideas about life, about what we each want for ourselves.”

  “Like what, for instance?” he challenged her.

  “Like, I can’t see myself living here for the rest of my life. I love the city, the excitement there, the opportunities . . .”

  Sam shook his head, nearly laughing at her, but not pleasantly. “Maybe you want to be president of the bank, is that it? I guess it would be tough to be with a guy who drives you around in a pickup truck.”

  Jessica pulled back from him, feeling her eyes well up with tears. It sounded so awful when he put it that way. “That’s not what I mean at all.”

  “Well, what do you mean? If you don’t want to see me anymore, just say it.”

  She glanced over at him. Although his face was shadowed by the streetlight, she could read his emotions in the rigid set of his body. Jessica had never seen him so grim, so cold toward her. She hated hurting him so badly. If she wanted to break this off, now was the time, she realized. She ought to get it over with now, make a clean break so they could both get on with their lives and find whatever it was that might make them truly happy.

  But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing Sam again.

  “I’m not saying that either,” she said finally, staring straight ahead. “I’m just . . . worried. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You’ve already said that,” he pointed out. “I think it’s more like you don’t want to disappoint yourself.”

  She frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, what are you afraid of, really? Are you afraid of a serious relationship? Afraid you might fall for me and get stuck here? Is that it?”

  His comment upset her, confused her. Was it true?

  “No . . . not at all,” she insisted. “That’s not it at all.”

  He shrugged, looking as if he didn’t really believe her. “Well, then, you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” she insisted. Still, his questions irked her. “Do you want to stop seeing me?” she asked suddenly.

  He took a slow breath and stared straight ahead for an endless moment, then said, “You let me worry about my expectations, Jessica. Whatever is going to happen here, is going to happen. You don’t have as much control over your life as you think.”

  Jessica didn’t entirely agree with that. She knew life took unexpected turns now and again. But not when it came to matters as serious as marriage. Not for her anyway. She sighed and turned to him.

  “If that’s what you want, okay,” she agreed. “As long you know how I feel.”

  “I think I do,” he said quietly, gazing down at her.

  He moved closer and put his arms around her. Jessica closed her eyes and pressed her head into his shoulder, feeling more relieved than she would have ever admitted.

  She had been honest with him about her feelings, and he still wanted to see her. That was his choice. She didn’t need to feel as though she was misleading him anymore.

  I could have lost him tonight, she realized. And I wasn’t ready to, yet.

  “REVEREND BEN? I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOU ABOUT something. Is this a bad time?”

  Seated on a bench in
the Village Green, the reverend looked up from his newspaper to find Lucy Bates standing in front of him. “Lucy . . . not at all,” he said with a smile. “Here, sit down.” He slid over on the bench to make room for her.

  “You looked like you were having a little private time for yourself,” Lucy said apologetically. “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “Just reading the newspaper. It can wait,” he assured her. Lucy rarely sought him out for counsel. He hoped it wasn’t anything too serious. She did look nervous, though, literally sitting on the edge of her seat, rubbing her palms together.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” she said.

  “Yes, absolutely.” He gazed around the Village Green, shady now in the midafternoon, then looked back at Lucy with a gentle, encouraging expression.

  “Well, this is hard to talk about . . . but I’ll try. You see, the thing is, I have this secret from Charlie. And it’s really bothering me. I’ve never kept anything secret from my husband before, and I’m just nearly sick from it.” She glanced at the reverend apprehensively. “It’s nothing terrible, not like I’m having an affair or anything like that,” she assured him.

  Ben was glad to hear that, though he willed himself not to show any reaction at all as she continued to speak.

  “I want to go back to school. To college, I mean,” she explained. “I guess it’s been on my mind a long time, but I just never really told Charlie. Once I mentioned it to him, a year or so ago, and he told me flat-out to forget it, so I never brought it up again.”

  Ben nodded sympathetically. “I can see why,” he said.

  “But then I started thinking about it and sent away for some catalogs, and I realized I really wanted to get into a nursing program. So I said to myself, why not? The kids are getting older. They really don’t need me so much. And I’m not getting any younger. If I don’t start now, it’s never going to happen. I think I could manage it and still work at the Box.”

  Ben found her positive spirit very admirable. He loved to see adults still interested in expanding their knowledge and experience, living out the gift of God’s limitless potential.

  “I think your aspirations are wonderful, Lucy. I hope you can find some way to fulfill them.”

  “Thank you, Reverend,” Lucy said with emotion. He could see how much his simple affirmation helped her. “Sometimes, I don’t know. I’m not really sure I can do it. . . .” She touched her hand to her hair. “I’m not even sure I should do it.”

  “Of course you should. Have you spoken to anyone else about it?”

  She nodded. “Sara Franklin, the new waitress, knows. She’s been very good to talk to. And—you’re not going to believe this—Felicity Bean, over at the Beanery, she’s been helping me pick out the schools and do the applications.”

  Ben’s eyes widened. He did find that hard to believe, considering Charlie’s negative attitude toward the Beans and their new business. He could see now why Lucy felt such pressure to keep her plans secret from him.

  “I don’t know,” Lucy went on. “At first I thought I’d just wait and see if I got accepted anywhere before I sprang the news on Charlie. But it’s so hard not to say anything. I want to tell him,” she added. “Even if these applications don’t work out, I think I’ll try some more. I keep looking for a good time to talk to him about it. Then I chicken out.” She sighed and looked at the harbor.

  Ben chose his words carefully. “I know Charlie can be difficult. And I can see you have a lot of patience with him, Lucy. He should be grateful for that.”

  “Sometimes he is.” She turned to him and smiled. “Sometimes he even has to laugh at himself.”

  “We all do, sooner or later,” Ben answered. “Secrets are not good, you know, especially in a marriage. We need to be open with our life partners. Do you remember what the Bible tells us about love? Love is patient and kind,” he said. “Love believes all things, hopes all things. . . . ”

  “Yes, I know, Reverend. You hear it enough at weddings,” Lucy said wryly. “It’s just that when I try to talk to Charlie, I’m afraid of how angry he gets. He can be so unreasonable. He just doesn’t listen to me sometimes.”

  Ben felt that must be true. The Bateses’ marriage did not seem entirely balanced to him. Charlie had such a strong personality that Lucy often bent to his will. Still, marriage was like a seesaw, with one side having the upper seat for a while, then the other. And Ben was certain that both Lucy and Charlie loved each other very much.

  “I think you’re ready to be open with him, Lucy,” he said. “You need to tell your husband how important this is to you, help him to understand. He can’t meet your needs if you don’t tell them what they are.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” she said, but she sounded doubtful.

  “I know Charlie is very emotional. But give him a chance to be the best he can be. Don’t just assume he will be the worst. He may not get it right away,” Ben added, “but give him a chance. And give him time.”

  Lucy gave him a rueful smile. “I understand what you’re saying. I’m not giving him a chance. I haven’t even brought it up, and already I’m practically mad at him for refusing to let me do it. Charlie can be understanding,” she assured the reverend. “I just have to work up my nerve to talk to him. It just never seems to be the right time.”

  “Once you’ve made up your mind to do it, I think you’ll find the right time. God will see to that,” Ben told her. “Have faith that God will help you talk to Charlie. Have faith in yourself and your plans. They are admirable and worthy, Lucy. Don’t give up on this.”

  “I’ll try not to,” she promised. She got up off the bench, looking more resolved. “Thanks again, Reverend. I’m glad I stopped to talk to you.”

  “So am I. I’m glad I could help. Let me know how it works out, okay?”

  “Yes, I will,” she said, and headed back to the village.

  Ben watched her for a moment, then looked out at the harbor. A stiff breeze stirred the treetops and made the canvas sails of nearby boats give off sharp snapping sounds.

  He sent up a short prayer for Lucy and Charlie Bates, and got to his feet, troubled. The talk with Lucy reminded him of his own secret. He still hadn’t told Carolyn about his letter to Mark. He would have to tell her right away, he decided. Tonight, when he got home. He sent up another small prayer asking for God’s help in that conversation.

  CAROLYN WAS IN THE KITCHEN, COOKING SUPPER, when Ben got home that evening. He kissed her hello.

  “I made some pork chops for dinner,” she told him. “There’s local corn and some tomatoes Digger dropped off from Grace’s garden. Aren’t they gorgeous?” she said, pointing to the basket on the countertop.

  As summer gardens in town reached their bountiful peak, the parishioners kept Ben and Carolyn supplied with a variety of home-grown vegetables. He picked up one of the tomatoes and sniffed. It was as large as a softball and smelled fresh and flavorful, not like one of those bland, spongy things the grocery stores passed off as tomatoes these days.

  “Grace grows the best,” he said, setting the tomato on the top of the pile. “She ought to win a prize.”

  “I think she has,” Carolyn noted.

  He gazed at her back as she stood at the cutting board, slicing a carrot. This is as good a time as any, he thought, taking a seat in one of the kitchen chairs. He just had to come out with it, as he’d counseled Lucy Bates.

  “I wrote a letter to Mark,” he said quietly.

  He heard the chopping stop. Carolyn’s body stiffened, but she didn’t turn to him. “You did? When?”

  “I wrote it about two weeks ago. I sent it to the last address. Maybe it will be forwarded to him.”

  “Maybe,” she said. She finally turned and wiped her hands on her apron. For once he couldn’t read the expression in her eyes. “What did you say to him?”

  “That we love him. That we want him to come home and work things out. That I think it’s time.”

  “Did you tell him Rachel’s exp
ecting a baby?”

  Ben nodded. “Yes, of course I did. Mark would want to know about that, no matter what.”

  Carolyn sighed and turned her back to him. “I don’t know, Ben,” she said, shaking her head. She was upset. He felt a tightness in his chest. Maybe he should have asked her opinion first. It was a hard call. Mark was her son, too.

  “What don’t you know, dear?” he asked quietly. He rose and touched her shoulder, turning her to face him. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking,” he urged her.

  “Oh, you know . . . the same old thing,” she said. She tried to smile at him but couldn’t. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I’m just afraid of doing anything, I guess. I’m afraid that if we say anything at all to Mark, it will make things even worse.”

  “Yes, I know. I thought you might feel that way.” He paused and gently rubbed her shoulders. “But after Rachel told us about the baby, I felt it was time to do something. I’ve thought a lot about this, Carolyn. I’ve prayed about it, too. I think it was the right thing to do. I really do.”

  He met her gaze and watched her consider his words. She looked as if she was struggling with the idea, then her expression relaxed and she seemed resolved. When she looked up at him again, her eyes held a trusting light that made him feel worlds better.

  “I know I don’t see this situation very clearly,” she admitted. “I try . . . but I just can’t.” She raised her chin a bit. “I do so want him to forgive me for not being a perfect mother, for not being there when he needed me. Then again, sometimes I feel he’s being unfair. Not just to me, but to you and Rachel, too.”

  “I was the one who drove him away,” Ben said, his voice filled with pain. “I couldn’t bear seeing him so angry with you. I couldn’t see past his anger to the pain behind it.”

  “I know.” Carolyn cupped his cheek with one hand. “There were times when neither one of us did the right thing by Mark. Perhaps we even failed him. But hopefully he’ll see that we’re trying to heal that now. How did you even know what to say?”