“Yes. Definitely. Anytime,” she said.
“Can I give you a ride home at least?”
“No, thanks. I’m going to walk. I need the exercise . . . If you talk to Claire tonight, let me know. I’m curious to hear how that goes.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know what she tells me.”
“Good. I can hardly wait.” Then on sheer impulse, she put her hand on his shoulder, leaned up on tiptoe, and kissed him on the cheek. His skin was smooth and very cold. As she stepped back she saw his dark eyes light up with surprise.
“I’ve got to go,” she said quietly. “See you.”
“Bye, Tess.” He waved and watched her walk up the street.
She felt so happy, she could have been walking on air. But it was more than just that giddiness you feel when you meet someone you’re attracted to. She felt that she and Jonathan had shared an adventure tonight, like a team of investigators on a case. A case of historical investigation, she amended. She was starting to feel in sync with him in so many ways, the way they reasoned things out and laughed at each other’s jokes, even the way they walked together, in rhythm with each other’s steps. They were not completely alike, she knew. But their differences seemed to complement each other.
At first she had thought it was just their common interest in history that made it easy to be with him. But now she felt it was more. Much more. She was as eager to know where this relationship would go as she was to find out what was in Digger’s letters.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Friday night’s dinner at the inn had been delicious as usual, Adele thought. Claire had outdone herself with a salad of mixed greens, chilled beets, and goat cheese, followed by a scrumptious entree of roast salmon with dill sauce, green beans, and wild rice mixed with mushrooms.
It had been a full table, too, with Claire, Liza, and Liza’s boyfriend, Daniel Merritt, a carpenter and all-around handyman, who did all the repairs and renovations on the inn. Then there was Jonathan, the history student, of course. He seemed in particularly good spirits, telling them more about his research but also asking the others a lot of questions about living on the island. Especially Claire, who had lived there all her life and had ancestors who went back to Cape Light’s founders.
Adele was grateful for the lively conversation. It distracted her from the worries that preyed upon her mind. She had seen little of her family since Tuesday, hoping that Sam would be able to work things out with Molly and Joe. So she had waited, mostly staying around the inn, often finding herself helping Claire with the cooking or some other task that went faster with two sets of hands and some diverting conversation.
After dinner, Jonathan offered to help Claire clean up, so that Liza and Daniel could make it up to Newburyport in time for a film they wanted to see. Claire and Jonathan shooed Liza out of the kitchen, and Adele went into the front sitting room and took out her knitting, as she had most other nights since coming here. She knew Claire would arrive a short time later, with her own knitting and a tray bearing a teapot and homemade cake or cookies.
Adele wasn’t sure she would have remained on the island this long if she had not been at the inn, enjoying Claire and Liza’s relaxing company so much. It was such a peaceful, gracious place, a safe haven from the turmoil in her family, a touchstone for her troubled heart.
She took out her knitting and began to stitch. She was making a little hat for her great-granddaughter, Lily. A pink cap with purple trim. It was a small, simple project, but she hoped she would be done in time to give it to Lily before she left town.
Now, as she knit, her troubled thoughts returned. She had to face it. She had come with good intentions, but she hadn’t thought this peacemaking mission through. Maybe she was just too old for the job of smoothing these troubled waters.
Sam had stopped by the inn late that afternoon. He tried to make light of the situation, but there was no progress with his father, and it sounded as if things between him and Molly had gone from bad to worse.
That’s when Adele told him, “You’ve tried your best, dear, but it’s time for me to go. I’m doing more harm here than good.”
“Don’t give up yet, Grandma. It’s just that Molly’s stubborn. She’s always been that way. But this is like a chess game. If we can just move Queen Molly out of the way, I can get to Joe.”
Adele smiled at his analogy. “When did you start playing chess, Sam?”
“My son Darrell taught me. I can’t win a match off him, but luckily, I still hold my own on the basketball court.”
“Good for you,” Adele said with a laugh. “I wish I could see those boys and Lily before I go.”
“What do you mean? Of course you can’t go until you spend some time with us. The kids have been asking me all week when you were coming. How about Sunday? We can meet at church and you can spend the day with us. We’re lighting the Advent candle this week at the service, and we’re going to decorate our tree in the afternoon,” he added.
Every Sunday of Advent, the four weeks just before Christmas, a special candle was lit on the altar to honor the days leading up to the birth of the Savior. Each week a different family was chosen from the congregation to light the candle and say the prayers. It was an honor, and Adele wanted to see her grandson and his family perform the little ceremony.
“Of course I’ll come. I’ll be there front and center,” she promised. Her drive home could wait until Monday.
After Sam left, Adele felt a wave of melancholy. She was excited to visit with Sam’s family but wished she could see Molly’s girls, too, before she left. Visits to Vermont from Molly and her crew were far and few between. None of Joe’s other children—Jim, Eric, Glen, and Laurie—lived in New England now, though Laurie and her twins were coming up from Florida for Christmas. I will miss seeing them all, Adele reflected.
She felt a sudden sharp pain clutch her heart. She had imagined their Christmas gathering so clearly—the sights, the sounds, the cheerful conversations and laughter. The simple but inexplicable warmth of her family gathered around, like a beautiful, warm blanket.
She felt as if the comforting feeling had been yanked away and she now stood stunned and sad, chilled and alone. That was the problem with expectations, with hoping and praying for something so hard. Prayers are not answered in our time, but in God’s time. She knew that. But it was always a hard lesson to be reminded of. She had no choice but to accept it. Accept that she had tried and failed. It was simply not to be. Not this Christmas, anyway.
Adele heard someone coming down the entry hall, and Claire appeared in the doorway with her tray full of tea things and her knitting tote over one arm.
“You’ve already gotten started, I see.” Claire set down the tray on the low table and took her favorite seat in the wing-backed chair near the fire.
“I didn’t get too far. Just sitting here thinking, mostly,” Adele admitted.
“That’s going to be a sweet little hat. For one of your great-grandchildren?” Claire guessed.
“Yes, for Sam’s little girl, Lily. I hope I can finish it by the weekend. I’m going to visit them on Sunday. They’ve invited me over for dinner and to help decorate their tree.”
Adele had only hinted at the real reason for this visit and had yet to tell Claire the full story. Though Claire had probably overheard something of the conversation when Joe had visited on Tuesday morning and Sam has come to see her here today. Something about Claire’s sympathetic expression and calm blue eyes suggested she had a good idea by now of what was going on with the Morgan clan.
Claire had never been one to pry or ask too many questions. A wonderful quality, Adele thought, and a great relief.
“That sounds like a perfect Sunday afternoon to me. Liza and I need to decorate the tree this weekend, too. She and Daniel picked out a tall one this year.” She glanced over at the
Christmas tree that stood in a stand in the corner of the sitting room.
It was tall, Adele saw, and beautifully shaped with long swooping boughs in perfect proportion. Decorating had started on the rest of the room, too, with a pine garland draped around the hearth and Christmas decorations, most of them antique, set about the room. Adele noticed an old snow globe made of heavy glass, a set of three tall nutcrackers, and a golden Glockenspiel.
“Perhaps we can enlist some helpful guests to add the finishing touches,” Claire said.
“I’ll help you if I can,” Adele replied happily. “I won’t be putting up a tree this year for myself. I might as well help everyone I can down here.”
Claire checked the teapot then poured them both cups of steaming herbal tea. Adele had the feeling she was going to ask a question now.
But before any words were exchanged, Jonathan appeared in the doorway. “Everything’s done in the kitchen, Claire. I turned on the dishwasher. I hope that was all right?”
“That’s just fine, Jonathan. I appreciate your help. We never put our guests to work. I hope I haven’t given you the wrong idea.”
“Not at all. I wanted to help.” He did want to help her, since Liza had to leave and Claire was left with the whole job of cleaning up. After she had cooked such a fabulous meal, too.
But he had also wanted more time alone with Claire to ask about her heritage. She had answered all his questions, but somehow, he still hadn’t learned much about her. Claire North had a real talent for deflecting attention and preserving her privacy. He had finally given up on drawing her out, but he had learned more about the history of the settlers and had enjoyed talking to her.
“Come in and sit with us a minute, have a cup of tea,” Claire urged him.
“The fire’s just right and these are excellent cookies,” Adele added, offering him the plate of large, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Golden around the edges and chewy looking, just the way he liked them. Jonathan could not resist.
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” He took a seat in an armchair and helped himself to the tea and confections.
“Claire’s looking for more volunteers this weekend to help decorate the tree,” Adele told him. “But perhaps you’re not staying that long?”
“I’ll still be here.”
“I’m glad of that, but you don’t have to help if you’re busy. Only if you want to,” Claire said, taking out her own knitting.
Jonathan didn’t answer. It had been a long time since he had decorated a Christmas tree. He could hardly remember the last time.
“How long do you think it will take to finish your research?” Adele asked. “I don’t think you mentioned that at dinner.”
“Hard to say. It’s going well, but will probably take a few more weeks.”
Claire paused in her work and examined the stitches. “Will you be with us for the holidays? Or take a break and come back?”
“I’m not sure. I might go back to Boston for a few days,” he said. “I might go back just to do a little work in the school library . . . Can I stay over Christmas if I need to?”
“Of course you can. We’d love to have you. It will be a quiet day here. Just myself, Liza, and Daniel for dinner. Audrey and Rob Gilroy, who run the goat farm next door, might come, too.”
“Sounds nice. But I don’t want to intrude on your private dinner. I used to love Christmas when I was a kid. Now, though, it’s just another day for me.” That wasn’t entirely true, he knew. It did matter to him. Or it would—if he had a close family, or even close friends, to celebrate with.
Claire looked genuinely distressed. “Christmas isn’t just another day,” she gently corrected him. “Does your family live far from here? Is that why you don’t go see them?”
“Oh no, they’re right in Boston.” There wasn’t that kind of distance between them. Just the emotional kind, which was the hardest to bridge. “I don’t have a big family. I’m an only child and my mother passed away when I was seven. It’s always been just me and my father . . . until he got married a few years ago to Gael,” he added. “They met at his firm. She’s very nice. Has two little girls, so I have these cute stepsisters. They’re all going skiing in Utah for Christmas. My dad asked me to come but I’d rather just work. . . . I may not even be done here with my research on the island.”
Claire nodded. He could tell she was hearing the story that was written between the lines.
“I never took to skiing much myself, either,” Adele said. “Everyone in Vermont where I live is just crazy about it. I did enjoy the cross-country style . . . What does your father do for a living, Jonathan? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“He’s an attorney. He runs a big firm that was founded by my grandfather. The plan was that I would follow him into the firm when he retired. The problem was, I didn’t like law school. I tried it for a year, but it wasn’t for me.”
Claire nodded, efficiently finishing off another row of her knitting. “You love history, no question. It’s a blessing in life to find something you love and have a talent for doing. A great blessing.”
Jonathan smiled, feeling she really understood something very important, something essential to finding a real sense of purpose and satisfaction in life.
“That’s exactly right. I could have pushed myself through four years and passed the bar, but I knew I would have been miserable for the rest of my life. I knew it wouldn’t be good for me, and it probably wouldn’t have been good for the firm, either.”
“Sounds like you made the right choice,” Adele said. “It must have been hard to tell your father.”
“Yes, it was. He’s still angry at me, though he tries to act as if he’s not.” The hardest part, Jonathan thought, was knowing that his father would never feel truly proud of him, no matter what academic heights he reached. Academia and scholarship were not on his father’s yardstick of success.
After that the women fell silent. The only sounds in the room were the clicking of knitting needles and the yellow flames crackling in the hearth. The smell of the fire mixed with the fresh scent of pine was deeply relaxing. Jonathan suddenly realized that he had been talking so openly with Claire and Adele, though it was not at all his way. But he did feel comfortable and somehow very safe here. He took another cookie and more tea.
“Perhaps someday your father will come to see how happy and fulfilled you are in your work,” Claire said finally. “That seems to me all a parent could want for a child.”
“I hope so. I just wish that in the meantime, I didn’t feel as if he was so disappointed. But there’s not too much I can do about that.”
“No, there isn’t. Have you tried talking to him about how you feel?” Claire added.
“When I quit law school I tried to talk to my dad about it, but he was too mad at me to even listen. And now . . . Well, I sort of gave up.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Claire said. “You seem too young to give up on anyone.”
Jonathan didn’t know what to say. “I haven’t given up on him exactly. But he doesn’t understand what I do, or what’s important to me. I’m not sure he ever will. Maybe when I finish my doctorate and find a position at a good university and get a few papers published . . . maybe he’ll get it then.”
“That’s a lot of maybes,” Adele observed.
Jonathan had to laugh. “Yes, it is.”
“Do you mean you need to wait until you’re a success in your field before you can work things out with him, is that it?” Claire asked.
“Yes, I guess so.”
Adele looked over at him, seeming surprised. “But you’re already a success, Jonathan.”
“She’s right,” Claire said gently. “And I like to think that all of us are always good enough to make peace. It’s one thing we don’t need a degree for, thank the Lord. Maybe it’s j
ust a matter of it being the right time. All things in their time.”
“I take your point,” Jonathan said with a smile.
It was surprising to him that he didn’t mind this discussion at all. He rarely talked about his father, and Claire was practically a stranger. But there was something about this cozy room and the fire and her calming presence that had drawn him out. And given him something to think about.
Now it was time to go upstairs and do some more work before he turned in for the night. He was eager to get a start on Digger Hegman’s letters.
“Thanks for the tea,” he said, coming to his feet. “This was a very nice break. But I have to go up and get back to work.”
Claire smiled at him. “You do work very hard. I hope you’ll get out and see more of the island before you go. It’s an unusual place, and you might find the answers to some of your questions here.”
Jonathan wasn’t sure how studying the landscape would help him, but it might give him a deeper understanding of the experience of being quarantined here. And it was a beautiful place that he had not seen enough of.
“I’ll try to do that, Claire,” he promised. He said good night again and left the ladies.
As he walked up to his room, he felt calmer and even encouraged about his work here. Had his talk with Claire North done all that? She did have a peaceful, understanding presence. Was that a trait passed down from her ancestors, or just her personality?
Another question he might not ever answer. But he did want to talk to Tess and tell her he had at least tried.
He pulled out his phone and checked the time. It wasn’t too late to send Tess a text. She had told him to report in right away if he talked to Claire.
Tess—Asked Claire about her heritage tonight. I didn’t learn too much. But we had a good talk anyway.
He sat and thought a moment. Then typed some more:
Are you free tomorrow? Can you drive around the island with me? Claire thinks a tour will answer some of my questions.
Then he sat and waited. He got worried when ten minutes passed and she didn’t answer, but twenty minutes later his phone buzzed, signaling a message:
Season of Angels (9781101612170) Page 15
