Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin

by Pamela S. Meyers

  “You’ve been writing here—for quite a long time now.”

  Her mouth went dry, and she stared at her lap. He’d known all along. “I wanted to tell you about rewriting Lester’s articles. I didn’t mean for it to get so involved, but he wanted to please you, and before I knew it, I was rewriting whole paragraphs.” She looked up through blurry eyes at his compassionate face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Zimmer.”

  “I was referring to the society news. But the truth is, I recognized your voice in those pieces long before I got sick. Time I admitted that Lester doesn’t have a voice when it comes to writing. In fact, his writing stinks.”

  She fished a hankie out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us you knew?”

  “Because confession is good for the soul. I was hoping to force it out of Lester when I assigned him the layout the first day I got sick, but he never said a word.”

  Meg gazed at the floor. “I can leave today rather than the thirty-first.”

  “Some would say I should agree to that but, I’m not other people.” He held up the envelope and studied the sealed flap. “Sometimes we try to make things happen before their time. You’ve got tenacity, Miss Alden, like Jack’s friend Ginny. I probably should have told you about the Burlington job, but I held back.”

  Meg swallowed the fist-sized lump in her throat. “You did the right thing in sending her.”

  “Your family must be upset about you moving so far away. You didn’t want Chicago?”

  “I’m going with Helen McArdle. She hopes to find work styling hair at a movie studio. I hate leaving my family and Lake Geneva—and Jack—but without moving I’ll never—”

  He opened a desk drawer and interrupted her. “For now I’m going to leave your letter here. If between now and June first you change your mind, I’ll tear it up.”

  She didn’t deserve his patience. Meg stood as her chest welled. “Thank you.” She wanted to say more, but if she didn’t get out of there, she’d slobber all over his desk.

  Her boss stood. “Before I forget… Lester said he’d like to learn the Linotype. It’s a good place for him. He’s going to work with the guys back there and learn the trade.”

  Meg didn’t move. If Lester were to work in Composing, who would that leave to report the news but Jack? Unless…

  “I’ve contacted a retired reporter over in Delavan. Gerald Purvis starts tomorrow. He’ll stay until a new reporter is hired.”

  She pressed her lips together. Mr. Zimmer might as well have chiseled it in the sidewalk out front. No Women Reporters Allowed.

  Meg thanked him for his time and stepped into the outer office. Jack glanced up with a questioning expression. She plopped into her chair and turned toward the water-splattered window. When had it started raining? She looked at Jack.

  Without a word, he wheeled his chair over. “You okay?”

  She nodded, loving him for his concern.

  “Before I go in with Oscar, is there anything you want to talk about?”

  She turned and slipped a stack of want-ad forms from a drawer. “I told him about rewriting Lester’s articles. He already knew and was waiting for me to confess. I also gave him my resignation. My last day is May thirty-first.”

  His face dissolved into a frown. “You really did it.”

  She faced him. “Did you think I was kidding?”

  He shook his head. “Not really.”

  “He said I can change my mind anytime. Why is he being so nice to me?”

  “I told you he was fond of you.”

  “He also said Lester will be moving to Composing.”

  “Composing might be a good place for him. That means there’s an opening for a reporter.”

  She sucked in her lower lip. “He hired a retired newsman from Delavan to pick up the slack.”

  Jack pursed his lips and stared out the window. “I’m sorry, Meg. I’d hoped he’d softened after seeing how well you’ve done these past weeks. You know, that’s what I would have done.” He brought his attention back. The sudden sadness in his eyes jolted her. “I thought I’d ask Ginny if she’d like to come to church on Mother’s Day. Her mother is in Florida, and she’ll spend the day alone.”

  Meg forced a smile. “That’s a good idea. I’m sorry I won’t be at the service. I told Mom I’d buy a big beef roast and make Mother’s Day dinner for her. I’ll stay home to cook that morning.” Never had she been so happy not to go to church. As much as Jack insisted that he and Ginny were only friends, the woman still got on Meg’s nerves.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Meg lay in bed listening to the chug of Dad’s car motor as he pulled out of the driveway. She hadn’t missed a Sunday at church in weeks. But the moment she suggested that she would buy the meat and fix dinner for the whole family on Mother’s Day, Mom couldn’t stop grinning, and Meg knew she’d hit the jackpot.

  The day couldn’t have worked out better since Jack had invited Ginny to the service. After the way Ginny had mocked Jack and Meg for attending church, Meg doubted the woman would even show up. But she knew that if Ginny did come, Mom would no doubt invite her home for dinner. Meg winced at the thought and climbed out of bed. She’d think about that if and when she had no choice.

  By the time Meg heard a car motor outside the house, she had the finished roast beef resting on the kitchen counter and was mashing the potatoes.

  Mom stepped through the back door first. “My, it smells good in here.” She came up to Meg and hugged her from behind. “Thanks for cooking, dear. The service was wonderful, and Jack surprised us by sharing his testimony when Reverend Hellman invited the congregation to speak. He mentioned you as the reason he ever came to our church. It was very touching.”

  Meg’s heart squeezed as guilt pressed against her chest. She should have been there. But if Ginny showed up, it was good for her to hear his story. “I’ve hardly been a good witness. It was God who worked on Jack’s heart, not me.”

  Mom slipped out of her spring coat. “As it should be. But if you hadn’t brought him here to the house that Sunday afternoon, we might never have had the opportunity to invite him to church.” Mom plucked out her hat pins as she walked toward the hall. “Jack should be along shortly. He was chatting with someone.”

  “Ginny, no doubt,” Meg called after her mother’s disappearing form. She lifted the pot of mashed potatoes and began dropping the white mounds into a serving bowl.

  “Who’s Ginny?” Mom was back in the kitchen.

  “The friend from college he invited to attend the service. A tall, willowy woman.”

  Mom shook her head. “We were the only people there with Jack.”

  The back door opened, and Dad and Laura stepped through. “Meg, Jack looked so lonely without you there. But Betsy Horner is in for the weekend from Chicago.” Laura sashayed across the room, exaggerating Betsy’s walk.

  “Laura Alden, stop making fun. You know Betsy’s changed since she came to God last year.” Mom looked at Meg. “She had a handsome young man with her. He and Jack seemed to hit it off when they talked after the service.”

  “Well, I didn’t see a ring on Betsy’s finger. Mark my works, sis, you’d better be careful with Betsy in town.” Laura scooted out of the room before Meg could throw the dish towel at her.

  “Don’t pay her any mind, Meg. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

  “And that’s why I don’t take those comments she made about me in the playbill seriously.” Meg went to the stove and turned down the flame under the green beans. “The vegetables are ready. All I need to do is to dish them up, and Dad can carve the roast.”

  The front doorbell rang and Jack’s voice called out. “Can I come in? Hope I’m not too late for dinner.”

  Meg felt a grin filling her face. “We’re in the kitchen.”

  Jack walked into the kitchen and made a beeline for Meg. He gave her a side hug. “Missed you this morning.”

  “Mom said you shared your testimony after the sermo
n. I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “Ginny never showed up.” His face slackened. “She needs God, Meg.”

  “I know. But maybe you aren’t the one to lead her to Him.”

  He wandered over to the meat. “Now this looks like a man’s meal. I’m almost glad you stayed home.”

  A vision of cooking for Jack every night rolled into Meg’s thoughts. She had to put on the brakes. This would likely be the one and only meal she’d ever cook for him.

  Jack picked up the bowl of potatoes. “I’ll take these to the table.”

  Throughout the meal, Meg basked in the comments of how good everything tasted, especially when the words came from Jack. The meal was for Mom, but was it wrong to enjoy his comments too?

  After the apple pie Meg had made the day before, Mom ordered Laura to do the dishes. As usual the teenager pulled a pout, but Dad reminded her that it was Mother’s Day and it was the least she could do.

  Mom smiled at Meg. “And you have the rest of the day off, Meg. Why don’t you and Jack do whatever you’d like?”

  “Great idea, Mrs. Alden.” Jack looked at Meg. “It’s a beautiful day. Up for a ride? I know a great place to sit and look at the lake.”

  Jack slid behind the wheel and looked at Meg already seated next to him. “I’m glad we have a few minutes to talk. The pier at home was put in this week and it’s a beautiful day. You willing?”

  She answered with one of her heart-stopping smiles. “Sounds swell. Being next to the water after cooking all morning suits me fine.”

  He started the motor and drove to Main Street. After Jack had the car headed west up Dummer’s Hill, he glanced over at Meg. “Seems like a long time since I drove you out to my house and we sat on the porch swing.”

  “It does, but in reality it’s only been a little over a month.”

  He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “A lot has happened in those weeks, though.”

  She didn’t answer. It was just as well. It was in his mind to convince her to not move, but he didn’t want to bring that up until they were at the dock. Elgin Club Road came up and he turned off the state highway. Mottled sunrays splashed over the road ahead, the overarching tree branches giving shade that would be most welcome when spring turned to summer. He braked as they descended the long hill toward the lake and made the sharp turn toward his house. A minute later he came to a stop on the parking apron. “Are you thirsty? Shall I get us a couple of ginger ales before we sit on the pier?”

  Meg shook her head. “I’m fine for now.”

  He helped her out of the car and held her hand as they walked alongside the house and out onto the front lawn. Ahead, the lake appeared as blue as the sky. In the distance, off toward the small village of Fontana at the western end of the lake, a lone sailboat bobbed along. He looked over at Meg, loving how her blue print skirt lifted slightly in the breeze and gave him a peek at her shapely legs. He also loved her simplicity, her unawareness of how beautiful she was. She usually wore only a little bit of lipstick, which he’d happily volunteer to remove with a few kisses. But first things first.

  They came to the bench at the end of the dock and sat. “Dad had the bench installed a few years ago, facing west for the purpose of watching the sun set each night. We’re a little too early for tonight’s show.”

  Meg smiled for the first time since they’d arrived. “I sometimes walk over to Elm Park to watch the sunset from there.”

  And I’d love to have you stay the summer so I can show you the view from here every night.

  He circled his arm around her narrow waist and nudged her into the crook of his arm. “You fit perfectly, like you belong here.”

  She answered with a “Hmm” and rested her head on his shoulder. “Everything is perfect right now.”

  He reached over and crooked his index finger under her chin to turn her head until he could easily cover her mouth with his own. Her lips slightly parted, sweet and tender. He let himself fall under her spell, grateful for the lack of an audience. Pulling back, he smiled at her half-shuttered eyes and loved how her long lashes fluttered when she looked up at him. “It’s not often we have this place all to ourselves. Just you, me, and the lake. I can’t wait to have you see what it’s like when everyone moves in for the summer. Kids running around, neighbors enjoying each other…”

  She eased back, and creases formed between her eyes. “But, Jack, I won’t be here for the summer. You know I turned in my notice.”

  The warm feeling that had filled his chest since they started kissing dissolved. “Oh, I know, but Oscar said he wasn’t accepting it until you truly walked out the door for the last time.”

  “Not exactly how he put it. He said I could change my mind anytime and he’d tear it up.”

  He leaned in and kissed her. “Same thing in my book.”

  “But I’ve not changed my mind.” She sat back and crossed her arms.

  He pushed one of her waves behind her ear. “You’ve still got three weeks left to rethink things. I don’t want you to move, Meg. We’re just getting started.”

  She turned and ran her gaze over his face. “What’s getting started?”

  He stared out at the lake. He was falling for her, but he wanted to be sure before he told her he loved her. What if she postponed her plans and their feelings faded? He would have caused her to lose out on her job opportunity. But at the same time, the thought of not having Meg in his life had his stomach turning.

  “I can’t let Helen down, Jack. This has been her dream since we were teenagers…and if I say I’m not going, I’m afraid she won’t go.”

  He wasn’t giving up that easy. “What if you go long enough to help Helen settle in and then come back?”

  A corner of her mouth twitched. “I doubt Mr. Zimmer will keep my job while I decide whether I like it there. But even if he did, what would I come back to? By then you’ll be at the Beacon.”

  Jack ran his free hand through his hair. She was slipping away from him. He’d tried his best, and she stood her ground. He’d have to leave it to God. He stood and pushed down the hurt. “Stay here a minute. I’ve got something to give you. It’s in the house.”

  Meg sat stone-still, listening to Jack’s footfalls fade as he walked toward the house. A door slammed, and she reached into her skirt pocket for her hankie and dabbed her eyes. She was falling hard, and the thought of not seeing him almost every day as she had for nearly two months was killing her.

  Jack sounded like he didn’t want to leave Lake Geneva any more than she did now that they’d met. She bit her lower lip. If God’s timing was so perfect and it was His will she meet Jack, wouldn’t He have had them meet when they had time to develop a relationship?

  A door slammed, and Meg looked to the shore. Jack came down the cement steps and crossed the lawn toward the dock with a thick book under each arm.

  He sat beside her. “I thought you could use these.” He laid one of the books on her lap.

  She ran her hand over its blue cover. “A journalism text?”

  “It has a whole section on column writing.” He reached over and flipped it open to a bookmarked page.

  She ran her gaze over the opening paragraphs. A wad formed in her throat. Helen would think her daffy to consider such a gift romantic, but it meant more to her than a dozen bottles of perfume. He understood her. “Jack, this is wonderful—but don’t you need these?”

  “I have others.” He took the book and set it on the bench before handing her the other one. “This is about newspaper publishing. Of course, you already know some about things, but it explains how the big papers operate.”

  She flipped through the pages, hungry to read more. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say thank you and start reading them.” He stood. “We’d better get back to the house. Your dad mentioned that he wanted to play a round of Landlord’s.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Meg had little time to read Jack’s books until the next evening after dinne
r. She settled on her bed and flipped through the pages of the first book he’d shown her. Seeing his familiar handwriting scribbled in the margins here and there made it seem as though he’d given her a little part of him to take to California. Was she crazy to not stay as he asked?

  “Hey, roommate, what are you doing here in your bedroom on such a beautiful evening?”

  Meg glanced up. Helen stood in the bedroom doorway wearing a pair of sport trousers and a perky blouse. Meg closed the book and scooted up against the headboard. “Reading about column writing.”

  “I thought you wanted to be a reporter.” Helen stepped into the room.

  “Jack suggested I think about being a columnist as another way to write for a paper.”

  Helen sat on the foot of the bed, her flowery scent filling the air. “Meaning the News-Trib?”

  “Mr. Zimmer agreed this morning to a trial piece for the last two weeks I’m here as long as it is something for women—but I want to come up with an angle that reaches men and women. Start with one paper, and hopefully it will eventually get sent out through a syndicate to other dailies. Maybe while I’m working the typing pool at the Examiner, I can play around with different column ideas.” She paused, switching topics. “How was your Mother’s Day yesterday?”

  A shadow seemed to cross Helen’s features. “Not very good. Mom’s arthritis started acting up again. I’d planned to treat her to a movie, but we stayed home. She was a bit better this morning, though. I came by to see if you wanted to catch the movie tonight.” Helen picked up the book and read the writing on the face page. “Jack gave you these?”

  “Wasn’t he thoughtful?”

  Her friend closed the textbook. “Maybe he’s making a silent bid for you to not move by suggesting you write a column from here.”

  Meg laughed. “Mr. Zimmer is only letting me have a stab at it because Jack convinced him that doing so will help me when I move. Nothing will change if I stay. Mr. Zimmer will soon be back to running the paper full-time, Jack will move on to the Beacon, and I’ll be at the Examiner.” She focused on the unopened book as a dull ache flooded her chest. “The perfect arrangement.”