by Becky Melby
Turning away from him, she used her purple bandana to dry between her toes and then slipped on her white liner socks. She yanked at the shoestrings of her dusty gray Raichle boots. Too tight. After tying them right, she stuffed her jacket in her day pack. As she zipped the pocket shut, Seth’s hand jutted into the space between her and her walking stick. He blocked the sun, but the look on his face would suffice for sunlight. “Let’s enjoy the day, okay?”
“Okay.” Like a trained puppy, she held her hand out to him. It was becoming easier and easier to let his offenses slide. Was that a good or a bad thing? With her hand in his, she couldn’t decide.
The seven of them scrambled across slippery rocks, climbed the outcroppings above the falls, and ended back on the shaded trail. April took the lead, with Seth right behind her, singing “Happy Trails.” He’d rallied, but his mood still wasn’t where it had been before she’d brought up the job offer. A few weeks ago, her response to his negativity would have been a cold shoulder, but she was learning to put a leash on her emotions, to let things play out. The more it sank in that the males of the species processed conflict in a whole different way, the more she was willing to think before she acted. And little by little, she was beginning to accept that not all—probably not most—men had hair triggers like her father.
So what part of her news had set him off? The mention of Brenda’s name? After three years, was the hurt still that fresh? Or was it that he still had feelings for her? They’d been a day away from the altar, after all.
The thoughts got shoved aside as she picked her way across a shallow spot in the Gooseberry, jabbing the end of her pole into the river-smoothed pebbles. Seth had switched to “The Happy Wanderer,” and the rest of the group joined in. Yvonne’s clear, sweet soprano carried the melody. April added her so-so voice to the mix—“Val-deri, Val-dera”—glad there was no one in front of her to offend. It kept her mind off Seth’s strange behavior until the last line. “Oh, may I always laugh and sing”. . . . Something about it hit her strangely. Maybe it was the word “always.” Had she made it clear enough to Seth that she had no intention of letting this job interfere with their relationship, that her weekends would belong to him?
If it wouldn’t cause a seven-hiker pileup, she’d stop right there in the middle of the trail and wrap her arms around him, whispering things for his ears only. This won’t change what’s starting between us. If it’s God’s will, we’ll make it work. We’ll find time to be together. I promise I won’t put my career ahead of you.
She stumbled on a tree root, caught her balance again. Was that true? If he asked her not to take the job, to stay at KPOG forever just to be close to him, would she? Should she?
A rustling sound up ahead stopped her. She held her hand over her head and heard footsteps halt. Two whitetail deer stepped into the path, looked at her, then went back to the thick grass on the side of the trail. Stealthily, Seth’s arms wrapped around her from behind. His warm breath tickled her ear.
“I’m sorry. I’m really happy for you.” His lips grazed her cheek. “It’ll all work out.”
❧
Did he really believe any of what he’d just said? Seth’s eyes tracked the doe and her yearling, but his mind was on the wisps of sun-kissed hair tickling his cheek. The paradox between the setting and his emotions spun his world off kilter. The rush of water over rocks in the distance, the dappled pattern created by sunlight filtering through the leaves, the smell of her hair, the camaraderie of a day with other believers. . .all clashed now with the havoc in his mind.
What was Brenda up to? He was so close to breaking all ties with her. Was this her parting shot? She wasn’t happy, so she’d see to it that he wasn’t either?
Behind him, Yvonne sneezed. The doe startled and skittered into the trees, her little one right behind her, taking with them his excuse for standing in the middle of the trail with his arms draped around the woman with golden hair. As they followed the trail east toward the lake, Seth went back to his brooding. Trying to make sense of Brenda Cadwell wasn’t the best use of his brainpower, but he couldn’t let it go. If he could figure out her motive, he’d know what to do. There was no way he was going to sit by idly and watch April get hurt.
He examined the possibilities as they came to him. Brenda had done some consulting work for television and radio stations over the years—“vision creating,” as she called it. So maybe that’s what this was. Maybe.
One thing he was certain of—she wasn’t doing it altruistically to advance the career of the new love interest of the guy who dumped her at the altar. But she could be opening doors for April in hopes that other doors would slam in Seth’s face.
It boiled down to two theories: She was either doing it to advance her own career. . .or to hurt him. And yet, it might still be the best thing for April. Until he knew more, he’d be the encourager she needed him to be.
❧
“I’m. . .happy for you.”
April stared at Jill’s pitiful attempt at a smile. Would everyone she told say those same words with equal fakeness? When she’d given her notice for the apartment, Sydney’s enthusiasm had been just as artificial as Jill’s. Yvonne, thankfully, hadn’t even pretended to be happy for her. “Thank you.”
“Your listeners will miss you. I’ll miss you.” Jill’s usually perfect posture rounded to the curve of her chair. “You’re building up quite a fan base in this little town, you know. People feel like you connect with them—and connect them to each other.” Her red-nailed hand pressed against her black blouse. “You get to the heart, April.”
Tears constricted April’s throat. “Is this just you being weirdly emotional, or is this you doing your guilt-tripping manager job?”
“Both. I know I’ve always said I wanted to see you living up to your potential. Selfishly, I just hoped it would be right here. Have you prayed about this, long and hard?”
“Yes.” The ghost of a doubt floated through her consciousness, but she shooed it away. She had spent much of the past week thanking God for opening this door and asking Him to help her put together a show that would honor Him and touch lives. She’d prayed her way through her tour of KOEK, through every word in the contract before she’d signed it. And yet, second thoughts had hovered for days. But that was normal. Anyone making changes this big would have a few doubts.
“Well then, I guess, like Scuffy the tugboat, you were meant for bigger things, and the rest of us will just have to live without you.” Jill pulled a tissue from a carved black dispenser and blew her nose. “I’ll get to work finding someone to fill your slot. I’m not going to say replacement, because I don’t think we’ll find anyone to do that.”
❧
“Oh, baby, I’m so happy for you.”
April pulled the phone away and stared at it before resting it back on her ear. Finally, a voice that actually matched the words. But from the strangest source. She closed her office door. “Thanks, Mom.”
“It’s what you’ve always wanted. My little girl, a TV talk show host! Wait till I tell my friends.”
Friends? Was the woman whose words were bouncing off a satellite and into her office really her mother? “It’s just a cable station. Not national syndication.”
“But it’s a start. And you’ll have your weekends free so you can spend some time with me.”
More guilt. April stared at the Itasca State Park wallpaper beneath the icons on her desktop. She didn’t even remember telling her mother what her new hours would be. “Sure. . .some of the time. I’ll be coming back here a lot.”
Silence. A tight-sounding inhale. “It’s a long drive from wher. . .ever you’re going.”
“I know.” Only too well. Three hours hadn’t seemed like much until she’d told Seth about the job offer. Six hours of driving every week. Would that get old? Would he get tired of only seeing her on weekends? Would she?
“Don’t expect that man to wait around for you while you figure out your life.” A tired sigh. “They nev
er do.”
Sixteen
The new girl, the one Jill refused to call “April’s replacement,” was catching on faster than April would have thought. Chrissy Leibner was fresh out of school and as bouncy as Tigger. But her three-toned blond hair and fast, breathy words gave the wrong impression. After four days with her, April was astonished by her emotional and spiritual maturity. Jill had chosen well.
And it bugged April.
“Good job, Chrissy.”
The Thursday afternoon spot, Chrissy’s first solo on-air shift, had just finished. Her transitions had been smooth and witty.
“It’s really an honor to work with you, April.” Chrissy set her headphones on the desk.” I looked up KPOG on the Internet. People love your show.” Her pert little nose wrinkled. “That’s not all they’re talking about.”
“I don’t have time to read blogs. Do I want to know what people are saying?”
“They’re talking about a guy who keeps calling your show and whether or not he’s the Channel Five weatherman. Some people think there’s a thing between you two. Is there?”
“Is that what they think?” April stood, hugging her laptop to her chest. “Let’s call it a day.”
❧
Brenda was eight minutes late.
April did a mini–drum solo on the tablecloth as she memorized the Sage Stoppe’s menu. Whole grilled lemon sole with lemongrass butter, roast cod with spring onion mash and soy butter sauce, rib eye steak with béarnaise sauce, and thin cut—
“You must be April.”
Dark eyes, olive skin, and thick, shampoo-commercial mahogany hair. The almost-wedding picture had not done Brenda Cadwell justice. April took the bangle-crowned hand and shook it, wondering as she did how the woman’s fingers could be icy with the outside temperature nudging ninety.
“Thank you for taking the time, Brenda.”
“My pleasure. It’s so much easier to ask questions in person, isn’t it?”
April nodded, suddenly wondering which one of them would be asking the questions. She’d been trying for a week to set up a meeting with Brenda and KOEK’s station manager, who’d been out of town when she’d toured the station. When Brenda finally returned one of her many calls, she’d said it would work best for her to meet in Pine Bluff on Friday. She had some “business near there.” The manager, apparently, was an extremely busy man.
April smiled, covering her irritation. “How was the drive?”
“Oh, you know how it is. Well, maybe you don’t, living up here where there isn’t any traffic.”
“I went to school and worked in the Cities.”
“You did, didn’t you?” Brenda picked up the menu. “What’s good here?”
“The fish chowder is to die for.”
“Sounds heavy. I’ll have a salad.”
Their waitress, in a white apron and traditional Cornish bonnet, approached them and took Brenda’s order first.
“I’ll have the spinach salad with grilled chicken instead of the bacon. No croutons. Dressing on the side. And a glass of Perrier.” She pushed her water goblet to the edge of the table.
“There will be an extra charge for the chicken.”
Brenda’s fingers fluttered. “Of course.”
The young waitress nodded and smiled as she scribbled. “And how about you, Miss Douglas? Sorry we don’t have chocolate fondue.” She winked. “I heard you guys were getting serious,” she whispered.
“My life is a fishbowl, Sherry.” April winked back. “So the chowder would be fitting.”
“Cup or bowl?”
“Make it a bowl. And can we have a bread basket with extra butter?”
Sherry headed for the kitchen, and April opened her notebook. Her lips parted, but Brenda spoke first.
“I bet you haven’t been able to sleep a wink or talk about anything but your new show.”
“I’ve got pages of ideas and questions. Some of them can probably only be answered by the people I’ll be directly working with.”
Brenda’s thumbnail creased the crisply pressed fold of the cloth napkin next to her plate. “Mr. Palmer will be back next week. He took his daughter on a graduation trip to Italy.”
“Seems strange that he’d hire somebody he hadn’t met.” There, she’d verbalized the loudest question in her head.
A corner of the cloth napkin bent under Brenda’s finger. The long nail creased it, again and again. “He trusts me. So. . .is Seth excited about your new opportunity?”
I wouldn’t exactly call it excitement. “Of course. He’s even come up with some suggestions.”
Brenda took a long draught of the lemon water she’d pushed aside earlier. “Knowing Seth, I imagine his vision is probably a little more ‘out there’ than what you’ll be doing.” She laughed and dabbed her lips with her napkin.
“What do you mean?” April rubbed her right thumb against her left.
“If Seth were to design a show for you, I don’t think you’d have the kind of freedom you need, April.”
“What do you think he’d do to squelch my ‘freedom’?”
“He’d insist that your guests all be Christians whose stories have happy endings. As you and I know, that kind of format would turn away a lot of potential viewers.”
April leaned forward on her elbows. “When we spoke on the phone. . .you. . .” She let the sentence trail off when she realized that Brenda’s wide brown eyes were fixed on something other than her.
“Seth!” Though their tones were as different as night and day, both women spoke in tandem. “What are you doing here?”
❧
If protecting April meant making her mad, so be it. If protecting April meant making Brenda mad. . .he smiled extra-wide as he shook her cold fingers and pulled out the chair next to April. On the way to the restaurant, he’d thought back to the Sunday school lesson on the twelfth chapter of Romans he’d facilitated back in May—Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody.
Lord, change my heart.
It was tempting to pretend he wasn’t there for what both women knew he was. But that would have fallen short of doing what was right in the eyes of everybody. “I have a few questions about April’s new job.”
He’d known ahead of time that April’s reaction could have gone either way, so he was disappointed, but not surprised, when her lips curved up but her eyes held no sparkle. He’d seen that look before. Brenda, wearing the smile he’d seen her practice in the vanity mirror in his car, turned to April. “Are you comfortable with him being here?”
“Of course.”
She could have just said yes. She could have hesitated. “Of course” was a good sign. The waitress approached and asked in a giggly voice if he was ready to order. He asked for coffee and said he’d just order dessert when the women did, knowing full well that in Brenda’s mind sugar was lumped in with the seven deadly sins.
April turned to him. “We haven’t had a chance to get to my questions yet. Maybe yours will be answered at the same time mine are.”
Was that a nice way of telling him to be quiet? Not a problem. He had no intention of monopolizing the conversation or making April feel inadequate in any way. He just wanted to be sure that Brenda didn’t evade. Brenda was an expert evader. For the thousandth time, he wondered why he’d put up with that until it was almost too late. He smiled at April and then turned it on Brenda. “Great.”
“What I want to talk about is format. Everything else was clearly outlined in the contract.” April picked up her pen and pulled off the cap. “How involved are you in programming?” In a seemingly unconscious gesture, April shoved the cap back on her pen. “I called the station yesterday.” She stared, letting her words sink in. “Until then, I was under the impression that you worked for KOEK.”
A 100-watt smile beamed at April. “I do work for the station. I’m not employed on-site.”
“So you’re a consultant?”
Brenda took a sip—and the
n another—from her half-finished water glass. “Among other things, I’m a recruiter. When Seth told me about your idea for a show, I knew just where you were needed.” The megasmile flipped from April to Seth and back again. “So let me hear your ideas, April. We need to start brainstorming about promotion.”
Seth had had enough. His fingers closed around the handle of his butter knife, and he pointed it at Brenda. But just as his lips formed the first letter, April leaned forward. “I need some details. This is all way too vague for my comfort, Brenda. The pay is better than I’d expected, and the benefits are wonderful, but now that I know you’re not employed at KOEK, I’ve got some huge concerns. I need to see in writing the things you promised—that I’ll be in charge of picking my own guests, my own topics. And I need to know now.”
Way to go, April. Seth high-fived her in his head. As soon as he had the chance, he’d apologize for barging in. Clearly, his presence wasn’t needed at this meeting. This girl could hold her own.
Brenda nodded. “I’d have the same concerns if I were you.” She bent down and pulled a tube of lipstick out of her purse, applying it without need of a mirror.
He’d forgotten how much that irritated him. “Brenda, just spell it out for her.” April didn’t need a knight on a white charger, but he couldn’t help trying to play the role.
“I understand what—” Music blared from the floor near Brenda’s feet. She closed the lipstick tube and picked up her purse, sliding her hand in and out. “Excuse me.” She slid the cover up on her slim ruby red phone. “Hello. Oh no. Of course. No, not a problem. I’m on my way.” Her lip did the fake pouty thing he’d once found so appealing. “I’m so, so sorry. I have to run.” Her hand reached across the table to April. “I’ll call you on Tuesday.”
Her elegant hand reached out to him. “So good to see you, Seth. I’m so sorry I can’t stay, but we’ll talk soon.” Her smile could melt lead. But it didn’t touch him.
With her fingers in his grasp, he stared, letting her know he’d seen right through her. “Lots of big emergencies in the television business, aren’t there?”
