Season of Angels (9781101612170)

by Kinkade, Thomas; Spencer, Katherine

  You’re here to deal with the facts, my friend. And absolutely nothing—and no one—else.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When Adele reached the old stone church on the green, she knew that the Sunday morning service had already begun. She parked her car and made her way to the side door, then slipped into the sanctuary and found a seat in one of the rear pews.

  She wasn’t too late. The choir was singing the opening hymn. She saw the minister, Reverend Ben Lewis, standing at the front of the sanctuary, singing along from his hymnal. It was nice to see Reverend Ben still here after all these years. She had heard he had a heart attack last winter and was going to retire but at the very last minute decided to come back. It was a wise decision, she thought. He wasn’t that old. Not when you consider that some people, herself included, live far longer than anyone expected.

  The church had not changed much either. It still held the same cool, damp smell—all the stones and the sea air caused that, she guessed—mixed with the scent of the wood polish used on the pews.

  Adele picked up a hymnal and found the right page. But her eyes eagerly searched the rows up front for her family. She did not see her son Joe or his wife, Marie, which was somewhat of a relief, she realized. She didn’t see her granddaughter Molly and her family, either. But Molly had a catering business and was probably busy with holiday parties today.

  She did see her grandson, Sam, still handsome as ever with broad shoulders and dark looks that stood out in any crowd. He was in his mid-forties now, she knew, though these days she didn’t keep track of the ages of her grandchildren the way she had when they were younger.

  Jessica, Sam’s wife, sat beside him along with their two sons, Darrell and Tyler, and the little one, Lily, up on Sam’s lap. Adele tried to recall her great-grandchildren’s ages. Darrell had to be at least seventeen now, and Tyler, seven and a half. Lily Rose was just shy of three. Adele felt her heart race with longing as she looked at them. She had not seen them since the summer, when they had dropped by on their way home from a camping trip. Darrell had grown even taller since then; he was nearly the same height as Sam now. And Tyler looked very different. He had chopped off the long, curly bangs he’d had since kindergarten and now wore his hair short.

  Only little Lily seemed mostly the same. Held in the crook of her father’s arm, she looked out over his shoulder and stared straight at her great-grandmother. Adele gazed back. For a moment she thought the little girl recognized her. Then the child turned away, and Adele realized that Lily didn’t know her well enough to recognize her. Adele hadn’t seen the child more than half a dozen times, and it hurt to realize that.

  She looked forward to surprising them when the service was over. She wondered what they would say. Adele had always felt that of all Joe’s children, Sam was the most understanding and sympathetic to her side of things. She hoped that coming out of church, he and Jessica would be in a charitable frame of mind.

  Aside from her family and Reverend Ben, Adele felt fairly anonymous among the unfamiliar faces. She did notice a few old-timers like herself, still marching on like good Christian soldiers—Lillian Warwick, sitting front and center, as was her due. Or, as she believed was her due. Lillian’s younger daughter, Jessica, was married to Sam, so that practically made Lillian a relative. Though one would never know it by the way Lillian acted whenever they met. Lillian sat beside Dr. Ezra Elliot, as she usually did. But the news that Lillian had married her old friend had been surprising. Then again, not that surprising once Adele thought about it. It was a sweet story, despite Lillian’s sour temperament. Adele wondered if marriage had improved her disposition.

  Sophie Potter, who owned the Potter Orchard, was still in the choir, bless her heart. And she still had a strong, clear voice. She had always been a kind, generous person without a harsh word for anyone. Adele knew that she had lost her husband, Gus, a while back and joined the ranks of widowhood. But Sophie still looked healthy and active.

  The only other churchgoers Adele recognized were Grace Hegman and her father, Digger. The old fisherman had always looked old—even when he was young—and Adele was unable to remember his age, though she knew he had to be even further on in years than she was. And that was saying something.

  It was funny how a church was like a family. It seemed like only yesterday that she and George were among the young couples here, sitting beside small children who squirmed in their seats. Now, even her own grandchildren were making way for the next generation. Time seemed to pass faster and faster as you grew old. She wasn’t sure why, but it did make life feel very precious and even urgent.

  Reverend Ben had started his sermon, and his words finally caught her attention. “It’s easy to be negative and fearful, to be full of worry,” he was saying. “Some people might even think such an attitude shows that you’re realistic and well-informed. Why, a few minutes of watching the news will do it easily, with scenes of war and crime, and reports on the economy. Or maybe you don’t even have to look to the news for reasons to worry. Maybe plenty of good reasons are close to home—illness, a troubled relationship, financial pressures—”

  A family torn apart by an old grievance, Adele filled in silently.

  “I think we can all agree that no one needs to look very far for worries. That’s easy. The greater challenge in this life is to cast aside worry and fear. And to trust in God’s plan for our lives. To trust that God is working to help us, even when we can’t see it. God doesn’t want us to worry. In fact, throughout the Bible, we find verse after verse telling us to ‘fear not,’ ‘have courage,’ and ‘trust in the Lord.’ You see, fear robs us of our faith and makes it practically impossible to see how God has blessed our lives in so many ways, every day. It makes it impossible for us to feel gratitude and peace. It makes it impossible to trust in God’s love for us.”

  Reverend Ben paused, looking out at the congregation. “Am I immune to this pitfall? Not in the least. Just like all of you, I often feel paralyzed with fear, facing some problem that seems overwhelming. Or thinking about my loved ones and worrying for their safety or success or simply, their well-being. But at those moments we have to stop, and, like a small child being woken up from a bad dream, we have to seek comfort in God’s presence and trust that He is always right there with us, through the darkest hours. That He is right there, no matter what we are facing or undertaking. He is there, with His power, protection, and provision. As we have just heard in the reading from Isaiah 41, verses 10–13: ‘So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you and help you . . .’”

  Adele did not know the Bible very well, except for the most famous passages. This one struck a note deep in her heart. She took out a pen and a scrap of paper and jotted down the citation. She would be needing the encouragement in the days to come.

  She was afraid. Just like Reverend Ben had said. Full of fear, truth be told, to confront her family with this mission of hers. But it had to be done. She had woken up one morning, right after Thanksgiving, thinking about her family and the past, and she knew it had to be done. It was a “now or never” sort of moment. But after all these years of estrangement, she was afraid to confront them all. Especially her son Joe. He barely spoke to her as it was. He might cut her off completely. Then where would she be?

  She knew that the Bible said it was right to take on the role of peacemaker: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” She recalled the exact verse, Matthew 5:9. But the Bible never said it was easy. She could start with Sam, right here and now. But sooner or later, she would have to face Joe.

  Up in Vermont, she had felt so sure that she was ready to do this, to open all these old wounds again. But as Reverend Ben invited them all to sing the final hymn, Adele felt her courage and conviction fading. She bowed her head in silent prayer. Dear God, please give me strength to bring my family back together again . . .

  When sh
e lifted her head, Reverend Ben was giving his silent blessing. She saw everyone rise and begin to collect their things. She saw Sam and his family begin moving out of their row.

  No one had noticed her yet. With her heart pounding, Adele bowed her head and made her way out the side door, before anyone could notice.

  * * *

  Outside the church, Adele felt herself moving in a stream of people making their way to cars or walking across the green to the village. She guessed that quite a few were going to the Clam Box for a bite to eat. The place was always crowded on Sundays, even well into the afternoon. She and George used to take the kids there, back when Charlie’s father owned it. It was their favorite spot in town. Joe would order a clam roll and fries and banana pancakes with a side of bacon, no matter the time of day. His knowledge of food had branched out quite a bit since then, she reflected.

  Adele slowly made her way beyond the churchgoers and followed a path across the village green. It was a crisp day but there was little wind, and the water in the harbor was calm and dark, reflecting the sunlight and patterns of clouds. The big Christmas tree stood in the center of the green, strung with lights. She remembered the annual tree lighting, which was always held the Sunday night after Thanksgiving. How she and George had loved that. Singing carols and drinking hot cocoa. Taking the boys to see Santa ride into town on a fire truck. What would she give to go back to those days and live them all over again? A lot, she thought. Though it was useless to even imagine such a thing.

  She walked along and came to the street that faced the park and town dock. She hadn’t even realized where she was going when suddenly she saw a burgundy and gold awning over a sign on a storefront that read, WILLOUGHBY FINE FOODS & CATERING.

  It was her granddaughter Molly’s shop. Adele had seen it only once before, the last time she visited, when she drove down for the christening of Molly’s youngest daughter, Betty. Molly was doing so well for herself now. She was always a smart girl and a hard worker. But she had made some mistakes, like marrying the wrong guy right out of high school. Molly had gone through hard times after that marriage ended, but she never lost her spirit or hope. Adele was so proud of her.

  Wouldn’t she be surprised to see her grandma Addie in her shop today? She would be surprised for sure . . . but happy? Molly and she were not that close, not the way they used to be. Partly because Molly was so busy juggling her business and caring for her family. But also because Molly and Sam had both pulled away from her. Ever since the rift with Joe, things had been awkward with his children. But Adele always suspected that Molly regretted having to take sides at all and missed the way the family used to be, familiar and close. As she opened the door to the shop, she hoped that was true.

  Inside Willoughby Fine Foods, a rich buttery smell filled the air, making Adele instantly hungry. There were two large displays of food, a bakery area and one with dishes for taking out. A crowd of customers waited in front of each. Adele could only catch a glimpse of the selections and it all looked delicious, beautifully displayed and very gourmet.

  She glanced behind both counters but didn’t see her granddaughter. A door to a work area was open, and Adele could tell that there were people working back there, but all she could make out was a flurry of white and green aprons.

  Maybe this was a bad time. Molly was probably working hard, off catering a party.

  “Can I help you, miss?” Adele looked up to find a pretty teenager behind the counter smiling at her.

  “I’m here to see Molly. Is she here today?” Adele heard her voice come out in a shaky, old lady croak. Oh, she hated when that happened.

  “She’s back in the kitchen. I’ll get her for you.”

  Adele started to smile then suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of Joe’s voice coming through the open door. Was he back there, too? Adele took a breath. She wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

  “Don’t worry, dear. That’s all right. I’ll come back another time. When it’s less hectic in here.”

  The girl stared at her with a confused expression. “Would you like to leave your name or phone number?”

  “Not necessary. I’ll catch up with her,” Adele said. She quickly left the shop and headed back across the green. She felt suddenly exhausted. Her hands were practically shaking, and her legs felt weak.

  All the anticipation . . . and then the letdown, she realized.

  She sat heavily on a bench and looked out at the water. What now, God? It seems visiting Molly today wasn’t meant to be. She had hoped to take one little step toward Joe, to approach Molly or Sam first and get them to understand. But she wasn’t ready to face Joe, head-on, with no warning.

  Maybe God wants me to think about this a little more, she told herself. Maybe I should just go back to Vermont. If I left now, I could make it back in time to sit in front of the TV and wait for my weekly phone calls with the family. None of them would ever even know I was here.

  Adele sighed and closed her eyes a moment. Fear not. That’s what the scripture says. All things are possible with God. Even winning over my stubborn, angry son.

  She would go back to the inn and have lunch. After all, Claire was cooking crab cakes. Not worth missing out on that, Adele decided. Maybe I’m just shaky because I need a bite. Low blood sugar. Not because I panicked at the mere sound of my son Joe’s voice.

  * * *

  Jonathan was working in his room when Claire knocked on his door and announced that lunch was about to be served. When he walked into the dining room the only other guest staying at the inn was already seated, the old woman named Adele Morgan. They had met at breakfast but had not talked much.

  The long dining room table was set with embroidered cloth linen napkins and silver flatware, with a centerpiece of fresh flowers in a low silver bowl. Even in this remote spot, the innkeeper, Liza Martin, was attentive to all the fine details. The inn was not only as comfortable as he had hoped but quietly elegant.

  Dinner the night before and this morning’s breakfast had proved that the food was just as high caliber as the table settings. The smells from the kitchen were enticing, though he could not guess the menu.

  “Sit anywhere you like,” Liza told him. She walked around the table, filling water glasses from a large glass pitcher.

  He chose a set across from Adele, not wanting to be rude, though he would have preferred to eat by himself with a book or some of his research material. You can make polite conversation for a half hour or so. It won’t kill you, he reminded himself.

  Still, he was wary of encouraging an old woman, who would doubtlessly go on about her children and grandchildren and her family Christmas plans.

  Jonathan had not been raised with a lot of family around. In fact, his life had been just the opposite. After his mother died when he was seven, his father remained at a distance from all their relatives. Jonathan saw his maternal grandparents and a few cousins once or twice a year at best, and he rarely saw anyone on his father’s side at all. That’s why the holidays didn’t have much meaning for him, even though most people seemed obsessed by them at this time of year.

  As they ate the first course, a light but creamy lobster bisque, Adele talked mainly to Claire about the church service she had attended that morning and all the people there that they knew in common. Jonathan enjoyed his soup and the fresh, fluffy squares of corn bread. But when the second course came out, a platter of delicious crab cakes, plump and golden and almost as big as his fist, the attention of the three women suddenly turned to him.

  “Have you seen any of the island yet, Jonathan?” Liza asked him.

  “Not much. I meant to take a walk or a drive around this morning, but I got distracted with my work.”

  “What is it that you do?” Adele asked.

  “I’m a grad student at Tufts. I’m studying American history, the colonial period.” Jonathan paused, not sure ho
w much he should say.

  But he had already told Liza a little, and she filled in the blanks for the others. “Jonathan is researching the legend of the island. He’s writing a paper about it.” She turned and smiled at him.

  “Yes, I’m researching the historical facts surrounding the story,” he politely clarified.

  “How interesting. Have any other historians done that before?” Adele asked.

  “There are many people who have worked from secondary sources and revised or recycled different versions of the story. I’m looking for firsthand accounts. Original documents, letters, diaries, accounts in the records of town meetings.”

  Liza had left the room and now returned with a fresh basket of rolls and corn bread. “That is interesting. So you’re looking for the testimony of actual witnesses to the epidemic and what happened after that?”

  “Exactly. The epidemic in the village of Cape Light is well documented, as well as the sick who were brought here to be quarantined. But the events afterward are well . . . historically cloudy, you might say.”

  He suspected that some at the table believed the legend, and he didn’t want to insult anyone. So he stopped himself just short of admitting that he highly doubted the story. According to legend, after the sick were quarantined and more or less abandoned on the island, angelic beings arrived and nursed them through the winter.

  “The story is improbable,” Adele spoke up, her voice surprisingly strong and clear, though her hand shook a little when she picked up her water glass. “But when you reach my age, you realize that miracles can and do happen. Sometimes there is just no rational explanation.”

  Jonathan nodded, not wanting to seem rude. “I’ve just begun my research, so I don’t know if that’s so,” he said honestly. “I do know that once the facts about an event are gathered and considered, one can usually arrive at a likely, or plausible, explanation.”