Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin

by Pamela S. Meyers

  “I thought you had to leave for play practice.”

  “Not for another fifteen minutes. I’m sure there’s leftover meat loaf. It has to be in here.”

  Meg stepped closer and ran her eyes over the icebox’s contents. “It was there this morning, but I don’t see it now. It won’t kill you to be a little hungry.”

  Laura slammed the icebox door. “I need energy for tonight. If you’d told Dad you’d take that secretary job, we wouldn’t be starving now and Mom and Dad wouldn’t be arguing.” She marched out of the room, her skirt swirling around her legs.

  Meg set her dishes on the counter and ran the water. Raised voices still filtered in from the other room, and her chest tightened. Laura was right. If she’d agreed to take her father’s job, none of this would have happened.

  She swished her hand through the hot water and dropped in soap powder. Mom had become an expert at softening Dad when he became too dictatorial, but her methods hadn’t worked tonight.

  The voices quieted, and Mom came through the swinging door carrying a pair of untouched soup bowls. “You go ahead, Meg. I’ll do the cleanup. I need some time to think, and I do it best with my hands in sudsy water.

  Meg’s stomach growled. Maybe if she went to bed early, she’d manage until breakfast.

  As she climbed the stairs, Jack popped into her mind. He might be at home eating alone, but at least he had food. If he hadn’t taken that reporter job, maybe she’d have been given a chance to write at least a couple of articles. And maybe after Mr. Zimmer saw how well she did, he would’ve given her the job. She reached her room and flopped onto the bed. She might as well stop thinking that way. Jack was there and nothing was going to change.

  The next morning, Meg stepped into the kitchen with her stomach growling. Mom stood at the stove, wearing a dress she usually reserved for Sundays. “I’ll have the oatmeal ready momentarily. We only have enough bread for you three to carry in your lunches, so there’s no toast.”

  “All of us are carrying lunches?”

  “Since our budget is tight, I don’t see how your father can eat out today.” She held up a jar of Skippy peanut butter. “This is all we have.” Mom scooped up a small portion of oatmeal and dropped it into a bowl. She added a dollop of milk then placed the serving in front of Meg.

  Meg studied the lump of cereal. “What happened to the food we had in the icebox and cupboard before today?”

  “I gave it to the food pantry at church. If you have time, I’d appreciate your rinsing your dishes. I have an appointment in a half hour.”

  “An appointment, this early?”

  “I’m applying at the library for a job.”

  Meg twisted to face her. “Why?”

  “Why not?” Her mother removed her apron and hung it on a wall peg. “No reason I can’t go to work. See you tonight.” She left through the door leading to the hall. Meg stared at her food. If there were fireworks at last evening’s dinner, tonight’s should be like a bomb going off. She picked up her spoon and shoveled the hot cereal into her mouth. She had a few dollars in her purse to last till payday. Maybe she’d spend some on supper elsewhere.

  Chapter Eleven

  “That looks like a pathetic lunch.” Jack stood next to Meg wearing his hat and coat.

  Meg glanced up from unwrapping the waxed paper from what looked like a peanut butter sandwich and shrugged. “It’s enough for me.”

  He’d believe her except for her forlorn expression. If he could take her into his arms and comfort her right there, he would, but not only was it inappropriate, he doubted she’d let him. At least he was there to save the day for a hungry damsel, and he couldn’t think of anyone with whom he’d rather dine. “I hear the Utopia has Boston Bean on special today. Join me?”

  She placed a palm over her stomach. “I can’t let this good food go to waste.”

  He chuckled. “Food it may be, but I’d be willing to debate its value. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Where did that come from? At least he had the five-minute walk to think of a topic.

  She pursed her lips as if in deep thought, and then the smile he loved filled her face. “Well, all right. Bean soup sounds fine, so long as it’s served with a side of pie.”

  At the luncheonette, Jack led the way to an oilcloth-covered table in the back. He ordered two bean soups, two slices of apple pie, and two coffees from the waitress, whose name he’d learned on his last visit was Ruby.

  When the young woman left with their orders, he focused on Meg and held her brown-eyed gaze. Eyes that he could lose himself in for days. But that was something he needed to avoid—at least for now. “I’m looking forward to church on Sunday. I’m glad your mother invited me.”

  She offered a smile that stopped at her eyes. “That’s Mom. Always inviting people to church.”

  “And you don’t?”

  She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “Now and again. She beat me to it this time.”

  For a girl who carried her Bible to the lakeshore, she didn’t sound very enthused. He picked up his knife and tapped it on the table. “Do you have a strong faith in God?”

  Ruby brought their soups, placing a steaming and fragrant bowl first in front of Meg and then Jack. He waited while she tasted hers.

  She looked up and grinned. “This is much better than my sandwich.”

  “And you still need to answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  He filled his spoon. “I asked about your faith. Since I’m to attend your church on Sunday, I wondered what to expect.”

  She set the spoon in her bowl. “My family believes in God’s saving grace. That without His Son dying on the cross and taking the punishment for our sins, we would have no standing before God.” She returned to her soup.

  Jack took a yeast roll from a basket and buttered it. He’d had no idea the Aldens were so religious. They seemed like the usual family the other day. Well, he’d go this Sunday. If it wasn’t to his liking, he’d make his excuses if they invited him back.

  She took a roll. “Did you see many breadlines in Chicago and DC?”

  Relieved that she didn’t continue the discussion about faith, he lifted a spoonful of soup to his mouth and swallowed. “I think either city has as many breadlines. Do they have them around here?”

  Meg shook her head. “People have had to tighten their belts, but overall, it’s not been as bad as in the large cities. We have a food pantry at my church, which is used a lot.”

  Jack sipped his coffee. “I’m not a millionaire, but I can’t say I’ve suffered. I volunteered at a breadline in DC. It was a very sobering experience.”

  The conversation flowed to whether there were any breadlines in Walworth County. Jack decided he’d check into it. She suggested the food pantry at her church as a good place to volunteer, but he avoided the statement. Better wait to see how religious her church was before he committed.

  Meg finished her soup then dug into her dessert. Her appetite caused him to chuckle. He’d had several meals with her, and she’d never seemed like a voracious eater until today.

  A movement across the way caught his eye, and he glanced over. “Isn’t that your father?”

  Meg turned then jerked back around, ducking her head. “Yes.”

  He eyed her curiously. “Don’t you want to say hello?”

  “I’d rather not.” Meg forked another bite of pie and directed it to her mouth.

  He waited for her to swallow then said, “It’s none of my business, but—”

  “The other night, he told us his secretary is expecting. She’s quitting to stay home, and he thinks he’s already found her replacement.” She kept her focus on her plate.

  If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he’d have never noticed the slight tremble in her lower lip. “Anyone you know?”

  She looked up at him and blinked. “Yes. Me.”

  Jack held Meg’s coat while she slipped her arms into its sleeves. He wanted to marc
h over to Louis Alden’s table and ask him why he was insisting his adult daughter quit a job she loved to work for him instead. Good thing the man sat out of earshot on the other side of the café, because Jack had about split his sides laughing over Mrs. Alden’s ketchup soup and cheese sandwiches for supper and how she’d sent them all off with peanut butter sandwiches this morning.

  He suggested Meg wait outside while he paid the bill, careful to turn his face away from Mr. Alden’s table. Meeting her on the sidewalk, they started toward the office. He only had about five minutes to convince her not to quit the News-Trib. “You haven’t said whether you’re going to give in to your father’s orders.”

  She emitted a long sigh. “Last night the tension between my parents was awful, and I was ready to say yes. But this morning I realized how courageous Mom is. Sometimes Dad forgets that his family isn’t a courtroom.” She raised her chin. “Quite a few people in town have rooms to let to help with expenses. There are usually no vacancies during the summer, but during the rest of the year, many are available. I’m thinking of taking one myself.”

  “What would you do for food and other expenses?”

  “Some of the rooms include a light breakfast and supper at night. What stops me is that I’d not be able to save any money.”

  “Saving for something in particular?”

  She opened her mouth then shut it.

  “You don’t have to tell me. That was a rather personal question.”

  She stared at the sidewalk. “It’s okay. It would help me to talk about it, but you mustn’t breathe a word. Truth is, I might move out of town with Helen. Before I decide for sure, I’m waiting to hear from a friend about a possible position.” She faced him, and a smile danced across her lips. “Why, Jack, by the expression on your face, I believe I pulled the rug out from under your feet for a change.”

  He pushed his fedora back on his head. She could say that. But what surprised him most was his response to her moving away. He didn’t like the idea one bit. “You did startle me.”

  They came to the corner, and he took her elbow and guided her to the opposite curb. At the office entrance, he faced her instead of gripping the door handle. “Where are you girls planning to land? Milwaukee? Chicago?”

  “Hollywood.” She averted her eyes.

  “Hollywood? As in California?”

  She smiled. “That’s the place. I’m hoping to get my foot in the door at the Los Angeles Examiner.”

  He yanked at the door handle, and they entered the office. At the closet they both reached for a hanger, and their hands landed on the same one, his on top of hers. A warm tingle shot up his forearm, and he wanted to hang on for dear life.

  He released his grip and took a different hanger. “So when’s this big move?”

  “I’ll thank you not to say a word,” she whispered. “Nothing is settled.”

  He hung his coat on the rod, making sure it wasn’t anywhere near her wool wrap, the one that made the gold flecks in her eyes pop. He stuffed his right hand into his pocket and crossed his fingers. “My lips are sealed.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack approached Faith Community Church’s white clapboard building. Since waking up that morning, he’d wrestled with canceling his plans—thanks to Louis Alden. What kind of Christian would treat his adult daughter like a child? He didn’t want to disappoint Meg’s mom, so he’d decided to endure. Meg waved from the church steps. Unable to ignore her infectious smile or the pull she had on him, he picked up his pace.

  Meg led the way to a pew halfway down and slid in, leaving Jack room to sit on the end. He nodded a greeting to the rest of the family then assisted Meg out of her coat, the movement causing a pleasant lilac scent to waft over. He studied her as she read the bulletin then dragged his eyes away. If he wanted to get anything out of the service, he’d have to move to the other side of the room.

  The background organ music switched to a different melody, and a balding man in a dark suit came to the front and raised his arms. Everyone stood.

  “Good morning. Our opening hymn on page 355 is one we all know and love: ‘Great Is Thy Faithfulness.’”

  Instead of singing the unfamiliar hymn, Jack read along in the hymnal Meg shared with him. Was God really faithful? Had He provided all Jack ever needed? Around him, robust voices sang out as though their owners really believed the words. They were already on the last verse, singing about bright hope and assurance of God’s blessings. Could he trust God for his future?

  Tomorrow, Dad had a doctor’s appointment. Last night, Mom had said the cough was as bad as before. Her voice sounded thin and unnatural. If it turned out to be bad news, how could Jack trust God? Kate’s dream to run the Beacon had become his dream for her. Could he trust God enough to let Him have it?

  The sound of rustling pages drew him back to the present. Meg slipped her open Bible in front of him and pointed at the page. Jack started at seeing penciled lines under several verses. His family’s large Bible stayed on a fancy table in the main hall except for maybe when Dad read from it on Christmas. He supposed there were smaller Bibles around the house, maybe on the shelf in the library. But no one had a personal Bible they carried to church the times they’d attended.

  He followed along as the reverend read the words.

  “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

  Kate had said she knew nothing about their father being sick and reminded him that Dad did have a flair for the dramatic. But, still, why had he asked Jack into the city unless it was serious?

  An hour later, Jack held the door for Meg and her family then followed them into the bright sunshine. The temperature had risen, and he decided to keep his coat over his arm.

  Mrs. Alden glanced at him. “Jack, I hope you haven’t made plans for later. We’re having roast chicken for dinner. Will you join us?”

  He caught Meg’s gaze and received no indication that she was uncomfortable with the invitation. “I’d like to.”

  “Dinner is in two hours. You’re welcome to come anytime.”

  “Would it be okay if Meg and I took a ride? It’s a beautiful day, and I’d like to discuss the sermon with her.”

  Meg’s eyes grew large as half-dollars. Louis Alden appeared as if he were about to protest, but Mrs. Alden gave him a look and the man pressed his lips together and nodded.

  “I think that’s a lovely idea. We’ll see you kids later.” Mrs. Alden turned her eyes to Laura. “Let’s go. I have a meal to prepare.”

  Meg sat beside Jack as he headed his Ford V-8 down Madison Street. The sun’s rays streamed through the window, and she regretted not shedding her coat. Crazy as it sounded, she’d much rather spend the next couple of hours playing Landlord’s and Prosperity with Dad than be alone with the handsome man at the wheel. A proverb from the Bible popped into her mind. She truly needed to keep her heart with all diligence.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  She glanced his direction. “Where did such an odd phrase come from?”

  An appealing chuckle rumbled from deep in his throat. “I have no idea, but the lady evades my question. So, I’ll start the conversation. I enjoyed the service.”

  The last thing Meg wanted was to reveal her misgivings about God. She needed to get him onto another subject. They reached Main Street and Jack waited for a car to pass. Ahead, the lake sparkled in the sun. “Looks like the last of the ice is gone.”

  He turned the wheel and headed west. “Before you know it, the building’s new name will be announced and we’ll be dancing to Wayne King.”

  We?

  A mental picture of her and Jack spinning around the new dance floor invaded her thoughts as a delicious sensation washed over her. Of course, he meant the royal “we.”

  “Ready for a little drive?”

  “How far?”

  “Just a few miles.” He downshifted and maneuvered the vehicle pas
t Snake Road and up Dummer’s Hill. At the crest, the car picked up speed, and Jack cracked his window. “The air feels wonderful. Too bad we don’t have a convertible.”

  Meg gripped her hat brim. Permanent or not, her waves would never survive the stiff wind of a convertible. Off to her right, cows grazed in a meadow. It had been too long since she’d ventured outside of town. Now, here she was, planning a possible move halfway across the country.

  “Keep hold of your hat. I have to signal that I’m turning.” Jack cranked his window down and stuck his left arm out straight as warm air caressed Meg’s face.

  He turned onto a gravel road then closed his window. Meg glanced at him. “Where are we going?”

  “I thought since we had time, I’d prove I don’t live in a mansion.” He tossed her a wink. “Just the outside. We’ll have to wait until the family is here to show you the interior. Not that it’s anything fancy.”

  Meg let out the breath she’d been holding. She might want to challenge the archaic notion that women couldn’t be newspaper reporters, but she wasn’t ready to sully her reputation by being in a man’s home without others present. “I’m glad you clarified yourself.”

  Jack let out a hearty laugh. “What does the lady take me for? I wouldn’t think of such a thing.”

  They continued down the gently sloped road under a canopy of trees still bare from winter. At a sharp bend, he stopped the car and pointed at a large home.

  “That’s the Mitchells’ house. They’re the only ones who live here year-round.” He drove at a slow pace past several homes, then turned onto a cement apron and parked. “We’re here.”

  Ahead, except for a cupola that seemed to soar upward into the surrounding trees, the two-story wood-frame house appeared almost plain, its front door having no more than a small roof overhead for protection. Why would someone build a home on the water and make it so basic? “Okay. You win. No mansion. But you have to admit, Jack, it is larger than my house, and we don’t have the lake as part of our backyard.”