At the Scent of Water

by Linda Nichols

  “How will that affect you?” she asked. She remembered all those tiny patients, and she suddenly felt a strong desire for Sam to be able to do his work. It was his calling, and the passion she felt for it surprised her.

  Sam shrugged. “Barney said the cardiologists have been asking when I’m coming back. If they’re willing to refer patients, I’m willing to take them on. I’ll do my work and let God take care of the rest.”

  Those words were sweet, and she remembered the man he used to be and saw him before her again.

  “Barney has made a proposal,” he said.

  She stiffened. She knew he had gone to Knoxville several times, that he and Barney had met. What she hadn’t known was that the dread would return, the fear that she was losing him again. It struck her hard, the thought that all that had transpired had been a mirage and might disappear in the cold light of day.

  “What have you decided?” she asked, feeling cold and sick.

  He looked genuinely surprised, then his eyes dawned with understanding. He took her hand. “I didn’t decide anything,” he said softly. “I told him you would need to be in on the negotiations. He suggested the three of us meet tomorrow for supper.”

  She blinked in silent shock, but before she could answer, she was stunned again.

  “I told him I wasn’t sure if you still intended to take the job in Los Angeles.”

  She frowned, wary, as if she were walking into a trap. “And what if I say yes?”

  Sam looked steadily into her eyes. “They have hospitals there, Annie.” He smiled, seeming genuinely amused. “I’m pretty sure I can find work.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  He nodded soberly. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he said, and she saw that determination she used to see him aim toward his work and his patients, only now it was coming her way. Her misgivings loosened their hold, and she found she could breathe freely again.

  She shook her head. “I want to stay here. This is our home. I’m pretty sure I can find work, too.” She thought of what Griffin White had said about retiring when she was ready to take his job. She had known that behind the jest was a truth. What she didn’t know was whether or not she wanted to pursue it. “I’m not sure I want to work, though,” she said. “I think I might like to tend to things at home for a while.” She thought of her garden and her house. She thought of filling up the empty rooms with sound and life and messes.

  “I’m not going back to Knoxville,” Sam said bluntly. “That much I’m sure of. It’s too far to drive every day. I want to come home each night. I want to have a life.”

  “We could move there,” she said bravely.

  Sam shook his head. “No. You’re right. Our home is here.”

  “What will you do, then?” she asked, both warmed and confused by his words.

  “Barney and I have been talking to the administrator of the Baptist Hospital in Asheville. They would like to start a program for pediatric cardiac surgery there. Two of our partners would join us, and we’ve been talking to Nathan Epstein at Cleveland and Harry Winslow at Boston. The hospital seemed very excited about the prospects.”

  “I should think so,” Annie said dryly. It was the equivalent of Tiger Woods volunteering to give golf lessons at the local YMCA.

  “Izzy says she’s in,” Sam said with a grin. “And the patients will come where the doctors are.”

  She saw the confidence in his face again. Not the sharp-edged pride, but the warm certainty that he was where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to be doing. “And I’ll be able to have breakfast with my wife every morning and come home to her for supper.” He took her hand, and she felt his warm, strong fingers clasp around her own.

  “I’ll call Jason Niles tonight,” she said. “I have his home number.” When she thought of the plans she had made, they seemed cheap and poorly constructed next to this solid, real life.

  ****

  She made one call before she called Jason Niles. She phoned her attorney’s office and left a message canceling the divorce action, giving her current address to send the bill. Something nagged at her, though. The thought that she was walking out on another life, and she thought of the boxes in the back of the truck in Shirley’s driveway. She would see to that later, she decided.

  She dialed again, Jason Niles’ number this time, calculating the time difference to make sure it was not too late. It was seven there. Delia answered on the second ring, sounding a little breathless. Annie smiled, wondering if she’d been playing basketball again or perhaps chasing the fat rabbit.

  “Delia, this is Annie Dalton,” she said.

  There was a long pause. “Who?” Delia asked.

  “Annie Dalton,” she repeated. “I came to your house a few weeks ago. You showed me your rabbit.”

  “Oh.” Clearly irrelevant to Delia’s real life. “Okay,” Delia said. “I remember now.”

  “I’d like to speak to your Dad,” Annie said, then waited while Delia went to fetch her father. She smiled, thinking of how many times she had thought of Delia and apparently how few times Delia had thought of her. It was another strong gust of truth and blew away whatever remained of her illusions.

  She gave Jason Niles the short version of events. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to renege on the job. I’m awfully sorry to break my word.”

  “You do what you have to do,” he said simply. “I’m glad you found your way home.”

  And the bright, shining life she had imagined with him vanished. Reality took its place. Not the flawless, backlit reality of fantasy, but the real, bumpy, scarred, beautiful, breathing, warm-skinned life she knew she was meant to have.

  ****

  They met with Barney for supper, and on the way back from Knoxville Sam pulled the car aside at the overlook beside The Inn at Smoky Hollow. The sky was a deep bottle blue, the bumpy tree-covered ridges forested with velvet, the hillsides splashed with pink and red wild flowers. The river rushed again, the falls spilled down the rocky steps and sprayed out before they tumbled down over the rocky bed.

  They stood side by side and gazed down at what had once been a dry, cracked valley.

  “When are we going to move back into our house?” Annie asked boldly.

  Sam turned to her soberly. “I thought you might want proof first that things would be different this time.”

  “I have all the proof I need,” she said.

  “In that case I think I have something that belongs to you.” He reached inside his pocket and brought out her rings. He slipped them on her finger, and she took his and put it back where it belonged.

  “For better or worse,” she said and smiled.

  “I hope we’ve already seen the worse,” Sam said fervently, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

  He kissed her then, and she leaned into him. She felt his solid chest against her and his rough cheek under her hand, and she tasted his mouth, soft and warm.

  “I have an idea for a second honeymoon,” he said as they walked to the car, his arm sliding neatly around her waist as natural and right as it had ever been.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Let’s go to Seattle.”

  She was surprised, and after a moment she flushed with happiness. The old Sam would have never even considered taking a trip. The old Sam would have been driven to go to work, would not have even entertained the possibility of a vacation. She thought about introducing him to the people who had grown so dear to her. To Kirby and Suzanne, to crazy Shirley. She thought about seeing Theresa and Dov again and the joy they would feel at this news.

  “That sounds good,” she said, grinning, “but why the sudden enthusiasm to take a trip?”

  “I’m not letting you go off by yourself to settle your affairs,” he said with a determined expression on his face that melted into a grin. “Besides, I want my truck back.”

  Forty-five

  Everything was green and fresh on Mary and Elijah’s wedding day. By the time Annie a
nd Sam arrived at Mary’s, the huge yard was already filling up with family and friends. Elijah’s sister had come from Pennsylvania, and Mary had already begun her campaign to move her into the guest cottage as a permanent resident. Dov and Theresa had come from Los Angeles, and their reunion with Sam and Annie was sweet. Her brother-in-law had been ecstatic when they had called with the news of her and Sam’s reconciliation and of Mary’s wedding, and upon arriving here he had picked her up and danced her around the room, then had kissed both of Sam’s cheeks. The wall that had separated them had been demolished in an instant. Annie could hear Dov now regaling the family in his loud, booming voice. He and Theresa and the kids were staying with Papa and Diane. She and Sam had moved back home.

  “At least everything’s cleaned out,” Sam said. “We got rid of all the junk.”

  The only sadness had come when she had gone to visit Mrs. Rogers, to thank the old woman who had walked with her a ways through the valley of tears. As soon as she had pulled up in front of the grocery store, Annie had known she was gone. The place looked empty, the door firmly shut, the windows staring like vacant eyes. The porch was bare, and a Realtor’s sign was planted in the center of the scrappy little garden. She stood staring, bereft.

  “Are you a friend of Mrs. Rogers? I’m her neighbor, Betty Franklin.”

  She had turned, startled. It was a young woman, dark-haired with a friendly wide face.

  “Yes, but an out-of-touch friend, I’m afraid. What happened?” She was afraid to hear the answer.

  “She had a stroke,” the woman said, and Annie’s heart tightened. “A small one, but her daughter came and took her back to South Carolina to live. I hated to see her go. We all did. It feels like the end of an era.”

  Annie had come home with a heavy heart but with Mrs. Rogers’ daughter’s address in South Carolina tucked inside her pocket. It was not so far away. She would go and visit someday, she promised herself. At least she would write.

  ****

  Sam checked in on the groom, who was easy and relaxed, then went looking for Annie, but it seemed that she and Diane were helping his mother with her dress and hair. He knew enough to stay clear of that, and if he’d had any doubts, Laurie set him straight when she came through like a hurricane on her way to the kitchen.

  “Can’t you find something to do instead of wandering around?” she demanded.

  “I’m giving away the bride,” he said, pulling out his lone duty.

  “Go out there and check on those children. They’re raising up a racket, and this is supposed to be a dignified event.”

  Sam grinned and made his way through the kitchen, which was in a state of cheerful chaos. The refrigerator was full, and Laurie had every available surface in the kitchen and dining room covered with pie plates and cake plates, mounds of fried chicken, roast beef and ham, pimiento cheese sandwiches, fresh biscuits and corn bread, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, butter beans, coleslaw, sweet potato soufflé, creamed corn and succotash, ambrosia, Jell-O with marshmallows, Jell-O with apples and nuts, Jell-O with cream cheese and whipping cream, banana pudding, and everywhere huge sweating jugs of iced tea. Laurie and Theresa began an animated discussion now about whether the potato salad should be temporarily housed in the freezer. He ducked past them and went outside.

  The mob of children Laurie was so worried about were indeed playing—with Ricky, who proved to be the source of most of the noise. They were as well behaved as could be expected, desperately scrubbed and shining, buttons buttoned, shoes polished, barrettes in place, hair plastered to their heads. They were no doubt in agony for the ceremony to begin so that it could be over. Then they could rip off their ties and truly run wild as they loved to do, and Sam knew that one day his own children would run and shout and play in this very place. He passed them by without troubling them. Dignity was highly overrated.

  His uncles were tuning up. He could hear them now, and he made his way around the back of the house, past the willows, past the sawhorse-and-plywood tables, which were covered with clean white linen and bouquets of his mother’s roses.

  He felt a burst of joy, more intoxicating and light than any champagne. He walked through the arbor into the little garden. The honeysuckle that covered it was blooming, and he breathed in the heady scent. He brushed past the mounded blossoms of her other flowers and sat down on the little bench. He leaned forward and looked at the sober, round-eyed face of the little bronze girl, and once again tears came. He had wept often in these last days. Tears of joy as well as sorrow. He felt as if the dam had broken, that pain had flowed out and now healing and restoration could flow in.

  He tried to imagine what it would be like someday when he saw Margaret again. Would she be older? Would she be a woman? Or would she still be the child he had known, and would he and Annie have a chance to watch her grow? He didn’t know, but somehow it didn’t seem important now to have every answer. His daughter was in good hands. He trusted in that. He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and cleared his throat.

  “I’ll see you again, baby girl,” he said.

  The music started playing. He rose and went to join the others.

  Epilogue

  THE NEXT YEAR

  Ginny’s heart sagged with disappointment, for, if truth be told, the only reason she had made the journey for the birthday celebration this year was because of the man at the corner table. She had known, somehow, that this would be the end of the story. One way or the other. Which was why she had pestered her daughter until she relented, loaded her into the minivan, and drove her clear up to North Carolina to The Inn at Smoky Hollow, complaining all that way that it was an awful lot of fuss to make for a few old ladies to celebrate their birthdays. Imagene had helped her out of the car, but Ginny had walked into the restaurant on her own steam, using her walker. She had a little weakness on her left side, but she could still speak and think. No matter what Imagene thought.

  She had had high hopes for this night, for she had prayed every day the whole year long for the dark-haired man, and she’d felt that settled, joyful feeling that her prayers had been heard and answered. It was clear from the moment she arrived here tonight, though, that she would be disappointed, for as soon as she’d walked in, she’d seen that not only was he not here, but his table was occupied by someone else. She felt a sharp sadness, but she tried to set it aside and enjoy this time with her old friends. They were finished with their suppers now, and she supposed the time had come to perform the familiar birthday rituals.

  She sat quietly as they talked around her. Somehow the absence of the dark-haired man made her feel sad and dispirited. They were all failing, she realized. Cora’s health was poor. She had been in and out of the hospital all year. Marie was not here this year because of illness. Susan and Laura both looked feeble and frail. She supposed the same was true of her, and for a moment, before faith rescued her, she felt sad and defeated. She shook her head, though, and resisted those thoughts. She told herself the truth. He was her God when she was young and strong, and He would be faithful to her now that she was old and gray. He would keep her and give her joy, even to the end. No matter where she lived. Whether or not she saw the answer to her prayers. She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned. The waiter was at her elbow, holding out something in his hand.

  “Ma’am? This came for you by messenger.”

  She took it from him. It was a note. On heavy cream stationery, the envelope was addressed with one simple phrase that made her face break into a joyful smile. To the Lady Who Prayed. She fumbled with the seal, picked up her knife, and slit it open. Cora clicked her tongue. Ginny ignored her.

  Dearest Sister,

  As you’ve noticed by now, I won’t be at The Inn this year. My wife and I are celebrating the birth of our daughter. Sarah Eloise weighed eight pounds, seven ounces, and has red hair like her mother. Mother and daughter are fine. I, however, am a little worse for wear. She made her appearance this morning, so from now on I will think of you whenever we cel
ebrate her birth.

  I will never forget what you have done for me. God raised you up to hold out hope when I had no hope left, to pray when I had no faith left. And oh, how He has answered! How like the Lord to give more than we asked—blessings poured out, pressed down, shaken together.

  How can I thank you? But then, it’s Him I should thank. We serve an awesome God, don’t we?

  Until we meet again you remain in my heart and prayers,

  The man at the corner table.

  PS: Dinner’s on me. Have a happy birthday, and this year wear the red hat with the black feathers. It suits you better than the other one.

  “What is it? For goodness’ sake, who’s sending you messages here?” Laura demanded.

  “Has Ginny got a beau?” That was Cora, of course. Ever the romantic. Ginny lifted her chin and didn’t answer a thing. She slipped the note into her purse and smiled as the waiters wheeled in a cake—a real cake as big as a hubcap and not that silly little saucer-sized thing they usually brought. This one was pretty—three layers tall and covered with candles, all burning brightly. A waiter slipped from behind the throng. He set a dozen roses on the table—soft creamy white against a royal blue tissue.

  “Oh, my word!” Cora looked as if she would faint. The waiter signaled the young server. She came forward and lifted a chic red hat from a box bearing the name of one of Asheville’s exclusive shops. Ginny set it on her head, not even caring how silly she might look. In fact, from their faces, she didn’t think she looked silly at all. She felt a warm fire light her heart and tears well in her eyes. She felt young and strong and beautiful as they began to sing.

  About the Author

  LINDA NICHOLS, a graduate of the University of Washington, is a novelist with a unique gift for touching readers’ hearts with her stories. At the Scent of Water was selected as a Book of the Year finalist by ForeWord Magazine. Linda and her family make their home in Tacoma, Washington.