He’d been lambasted for his actions and told he needed to keep his girlfriend “under control.”
Garrett didn’t bother to correct his boss about his now-defunct relationship. He was having a hard enough time accepting that himself.
God, he missed Tara.
He shut his door and went over to stand by the window, looking out on the city.
Control Tara, indeed. He snorted and gave his head a shake. There was no controlling Tara...nor did he have any desire to control Tara.
He had wanted to control Angie, and, damn it, she’d ended up controlling him.
And still was.
He balled his hand into a fist and hammered the butt end into the wall.
Tara was right. Angie haunted him. He lived his life in fear of Angie, running from memories that dredged up guilt, so afraid of making the same mistakes again.
This time it had cost him plenty—almost everything, in fact.
Well, no more. He couldn’t keep putting Dylan—or himself—through this.
The time to stop running was now. He had to face his fears and put Angie’s ghost to rest at last.
He drew a deep breath and felt his head clear completely for the first time in four years.
And for the first time in four years, he knew exactly what his next move needed to be.
He strode from his office to Henri’s with a purposeful stride, barging in on his surprised friend without bothering to knock.
“Henri,” he said. “We need to talk.”
* * *
THE CROWD WAS SO LARGE for the Board of Fellowship meeting, it had to be moved from the pastor’s study to the Fellowship Hall of the church.
Remains from the Wednesday night potluck had to be cleaned up first, but, with so many hands there to help, that task didn’t take long.
Faith knew she should be upset about the single item on the agenda, but she wasn’t. Her breath came easily, her heart beat at a normal speed. Her family was all there together—Tara on one side of her, Thea on the other, Trenton between Thea and Sawyer. Even Emma was there on the far side of Tara. They were a loving, united front and nothing that happened tonight would change that.
Ollie had stopped by for a few minutes as they were leaving for the church. He asked if he could play them one song, then he’d pulled out his violin and played the old hymn “Wherever He Leads, I’ll Go.”
The song had been playing in Faith’s head ever since.
Like Sawyer always said, there was a master plan, and they were all part of it. If that plan included a move away from Taylor’s Grove, so be it. As long as she could be with Sawyer, she’d go to the ends of the earth.
A hush fell over the group as Arlo James began the meeting with roll call. All five members were there, and, as Faith considered each one, she was pretty sure she knew how four of the votes would go.
Sue Marsden played Duane Abell like a puppet. He always voted with her on everything. On the other hand, Arlo and Sawyer were fishing buddies, and Johnny Bob Luther treated Sawyer like a son, so it was doubtful either of them would vote against him now.
That left Miss Beulah May Johnson, a matriarch of the church, who sometimes threw out pearls of wisdom the size of golf balls, and other times was sillier than a pet coon.
Her flights of fancy hadn’t come on with old age. She’d always been that way, and everybody accepted what she said with a grain of salt.
But how Miss Beulah May would vote was anybody’s guess.
Sawyer was listed on the agenda under New Business, and because there were no Committee Reports and no Old Business, his position came up quickly.
It was Sue, of course, who made the motion to “relieve Pastor Sawyer from his duties due to gross lack of leadership and lack of transparency in his personal life as behooved a spiritual shepherd.”
Faith felt her hackles rise at the ridiculous drivel, but as expected, Duane seconded the motion.
Then came the call for discussion.
Tank Wallis was the first to speak. “Sue’s motion seems to be based on old facts,” he said. “Not current ones. Everybody in town knows Sawyer and Faith are back together. And their actions in Lacy’s front yard last night were pretty transparent to anyone looking on. I think the motion should be withdrawn.”
Sue butted in without being called on. “Their actions in Lacy’s front yard last night make my point. A preacher and his wife shouldn’t behave in such a vulgar manner.”
“I’m kinda sorry I slept through it,” Tara whispered, and Faith gave her a wink.
“And,” Sue continued, “I believe they only made a show of reconciliation because they knew what was coming. If we let him off tonight, she might still move her things out tomorrow. They’re just trying to buy some time and weasel the church out of his salary for another month.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous, Sue.” Faith recognized Ivadawn’s loud voice from the back.
“It’s not ridiculous. We still have no idea what any of this separation was about, and why everything suddenly became so hunky-dory when Tara got home. If we don’t know the reason, how can we be sure it won’t come around again?”
Tara had flinched at the mention of her name, and Faith felt her own spine stiffen. Her child had been through way too much lately, and it had shown in her mood today.
Faith had never seen Tara so down—not even when Louis had come home from Honduras with a wife on his arm. It hadn’t bothered her to speak of Jacques Martin, but any mention of Garrett Hughes made her mood plummet lower than a snake’s belly.
Faith reached for Tara’s hand too late. Her daughter was already on her feet.
“I can’t believe this has even gotten this far.” Tara shook her head in disgust as she addressed the crowd. “What business is my parents’ separation to anybody here except them? And y’all know my dad is the finest example of a loving spirit Taylor’s Grove has ever known. I was in Paris, alone and sick at heart, and as soon as he heard that, he sold his bass boat—you know...the one that belonged to Grandpa Ian?” There were a few gasps from people who knew what a sacrifice that was, and Faith’s throat tightened. “Yeah, that one. He sold it in order to have the money to come see about me. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.” She looked directly at Sue. “And neither do you.”
A bubble of pride swelled in Faith’s chest. Her daughter had become quite a woman.
“Well, of course, you’re going to be on his side,” Sue snapped. “You’re his daughter.”
“Yes, I am.” Tara turned a beaming smile toward Sawyer. “And proud of it.”
“I understand Sue’s point,” Randall Lively called out. “The preacher needs to be somebody you can go to with your troubles. If he’s too worried ’bout his own, he ain’t likely to be too interested in mine.”
A few nods and grunts of agreement followed.
“Everybody’s got troubles, Ran,” Tank growled.
“And maybe that’s what we need to think about.” Ollie stood up from his seat in the front row. “We all have our troubles—that’s no secret and it shouldn’t be a big deal. So why keep secrets?”
Where was he going with this? For the first time that evening, Faith squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.
“Let’s just let it all out.” Ollie swept his arm dramatically. “You see, I have the mother of all secrets.”
Faith felt herself blanch. No, Ollie. Please, don’t.
“Years ago,” Ollie said, “when I was a much younger man and had just been told I was probably gonna lose my sight, I was depressed. Mightily so.” Faith clasped her hands together to stop the trembling. “I couldn’t sleep at night, so I took to walking the streets of town. I was trying to memorize everything so I’d have the images in my brain when I couldn’t see them with my eyes anymore.”
He paused and looked around slowly. “Y’all have no idea the things that happen in this town after the sun goes down...but I’ve seen them all. I have the mother of all secrets because, you see, I know the secrets.”
Ollie’s gaze shifted from one side of the room to the other, but he couldn’t see who was sitting where, so his eyes held no accusation. “I’ve seen the cars driving into garages at night, occupying the space where the out-of-town spouse’s car usually sits. I’ve seen the clandestine meetings in the dark parking lot behind the school.” He smiled. “Yes, kids, I’ve known for years about the smoking and drinking that goes on down by the marina when it’s closed for the night. And the skinny-dipping, too.”
An embarrassed laugh passed through the crowd.
Ollie shook his head sadly. “I’ve heard the arguments and seen the abuse through windows that weren’t quite closed and shuttered all the way.” He sighed. “And I’m here to tell you tonight, that if you demand complete transparency from the preacher, I’m gonna unload everything I know about everybody. If the preacher can’t have secrets, ain’t nobody gonna have secrets.”
There was a long, anxious moment of silence before Nell Bradley stood up. “Y’all are just turning this meeting into a big gossip session, and I for one won’t stand here and listen to it.”
“Yeah!” A number of people shouted their agreement while Nell excused her way across the row of people sitting by her.
“We don’t need this!” one particularly hostile voice shouted from the back. Faith thought it was Bobo Hudson, but she couldn’t be sure.
“You’re right,” Ollie agreed. “We don’t need this. Maybe we don’t need transparency. Maybe all we need is love. We all have secrets, and we love each other in spite of them. If we knew everything about each other, I don’t think we’d love each other nearly as much.”
That brought a much-needed laugh of relief.
Miss Beulah May stood up. “I think we just all need to relax. And I believe I’ll go home now and pour myself a good stiff shot of bourbon.”
“Miss Beulah May!” Sue’s chin dropped to her chest. “You can’t say things like that in church!”
Miss Beulah May gave a smile and a pageant-queen wave to the crowd. “I think I just did.” She looked very pleased with herself as she moseyed her way to the door.
“You just lost your swing vote, Sue.” Tank gave a delighted laugh.
Johnny Bob Luther stood up in the middle of the aisle. “I reckon the preacher ain’t gotta be perfect. He just needs to be better’n me.” He slapped Sawyer on the back as he passed him. “And I reckon he is.”
The meeting dissolved with that. People started talking, moving about and leaving.
“Sit down!” Sue snarled, but everybody ignored her. “This meeting’s not over yet.”
“Yes, it is,” Arlo shouted over the noise. “The motion’s withdrawn. This meeting’s adjourned.”
Sue slammed her palm to the table. “You can’t do that!”
Arlo smiled at her and did a good imitation of Miss Beulah May’s wave. “I think I just did.”
The outpouring of love Faith felt from the congregation filled her heart to the brim. This was why they’d stayed in Taylor’s Grove all these years. It was a good place. A loving place. It wasn’t perfect, but, like a successful marriage, you took the good with the bad, for better or worse.
Sawyer’s arms slid around her waist in a hug from behind. “I love you.” He kissed her ear. “I’ve been too lax about showing it in public, but that’s all changed.”
Palming his cheek, she pressed his face to hers. “I’m never going to get tired of it, either.” As he moved away, she held her arms out to Ollie, who had moved within reach of her, and hugged him across the folding chair. “You said what nobody else could, Ollie. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“I only spoke the truth. We’re not made to be perfect. The blessing lies within the fact that we’re loved in spite of our imperfections.”
“Amen,” she agreed.
“You have a good man, Faith.”
She glanced at her husband, who, at the moment, was hugging all three of his children at once. “The best,” she said.
“Don’t ever forget to tell him that.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
And she never did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TARA OPENED HER EYES to the bright morning sun. Eighty-nine days.
“Stop it!” She wrapped the pillow around her head as if that could stifle her thoughts.
Since the day she’d returned home from Paris, the first thought to pop into her mind every morning was how long it had been since she’d seen Garrett and Dylan.
It was crazy, but despite her best efforts, she just couldn’t get beyond the man and his little boy. It was like her brain wanted to move on, but her heart remained rooted in the concrete of that terrace in Paris.
The first couple of weeks after she’d left, Dylan had called every day. But toward the middle of August, his calls became fewer and fewer, eventually dwindling to none. She supposed it was a good sign that she’d been forgotten.
The pillow made her feel like she was smothering herself. She uncovered her head.
One day she’d want to date again, and she would allow herself to love someone else.
Today just wasn’t that day.
But she did at least have a plan that would keep her busy for the next three days—the annual O’Malley Columbus Day weekend at the cabin.
She’d stayed up late last night getting all her students’ essays graded, so the entire weekend would be work-free.
She hurried through breakfast and a shower, anxious to get to the lake, where there would be so much laughter and talk that her mind would have little chance to wander.
She grabbed her phone on the way out the door, listening to the voice mail from Emma as she walked to the car.
“Hey, I got booked into a much-needed massage today, but it’s not until eleven. Go on without me. I’ll drive up later.”
“Darn,” Tara muttered. She’d looked forward to having Emma with her on the drive. She reached over and tuned her radio to a heavy metal station, setting the volume to a few decibels below painful.
The changing foliage with its stunning array of crisp golds and fiery reds filled the roadside, and she tried to lose herself in the passing images. But her thoughts kept diverting back to Paris and how the city would look in autumn...how much Dylan would have grown...how Garrett’s eyes could set her on fire with a simple glance.
The cabin came into sight, drawing an audible groan from her. She was the first to arrive. Where was everybody?
She pulled out her phone and punched her mom’s number. Her mom picked up after just one ring.
“Morning, Tara,” she said brightly.
“Hey, Mom, where are you? I’m the first one here.” She unlocked the door and tossed her bag on the floor of the front bedroom.
“We’re on our way. I took food up yesterday, so everything’s there. Start a pot of coffee, would you?”
“Okay. See you in a bit.”
She made coffee the O’Malley way—extra strong. The aroma took her back to mornings in Paris when Garrett would bring her coffee in bed. She sighed and stepped away from the coffeemaker...and the memory.
A car door slammed, which probably meant either Trent or Thea had arrived. She headed to the front door to greet her sibling, and was barely halfway across the living room when the screen door opened and Garrett stepped in.
Tara’s brain stalled as her feet came to an abrupt halt. An unseen force knocked the breath from her lungs, and she stood there gaping and mute.
His hands went to his hips and he filled the doorway, barring escape in that direction if she’d been so inclined,
which she wasn’t. “Hi,” he said, and she could read the wariness in his eyes. The scar on his upper lip disappeared as his lips pressed together tightly.
The momentary numbness passed and feeling rushed back through her extremities. Her first inclination was to run to him, but she held herself motionless.
“Hi,” she answered. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you. Can we do that?”
“I guess so.” She tried to right her world, which had been jerked completely off its axis. “How did you know where I was?”
His face relaxed enough to allow a small smile. “This weekend has been planned for...well, for a long time. Your dad and I started talking on the phone the week after you left Paris, and your parents invited me here for this weekend.”
“You came all the way from Paris for the weekend?” And her mom and dad had encouraged that?
“No.” He shook his head and the smile disappeared. “Look. Can we sit down? I’ll explain everything.”
His presence filled the room...the whole cabin, and Tara needed fresh air to clear her wobbly thoughts. “Let’s walk down to the lake.” She tilted her head in the direction of the back door. When she moved, he followed, but she noticed he was careful not to touch her. Was that for her benefit or his?
“You want coffee?” she asked as they passed through the kitchen.
“Not yet. My heart’s racing enough without it.”
She smiled at his honesty, knowing exactly how he felt, although she didn’t say so.
They stepped into the brisk autumn air coming off the lake. Tara breathed it deep into her lungs, hoping it would clear the conflicting emotions this man’s presence caused.
“Where’s Dylan?” She cast him a sidelong glance, still not trusting a direct eye-to-eye gaze.
“He’s with your mom and dad. We stayed with them last night.”
Her parents had invited Garrett and Dylan to stay with them in Taylor’s Grove...and hadn’t called her? Hadn’t warned her they were coming? They knew how heartbroken she was over Garrett. Did they think closure would get her over her depression?
Moonlight in Paris Page 27
