Her Secret, His Son

by Linda Wisdom

  Sara’s gaze swept the area, then swung back to the improvised volleyball court where the six men were divided in teams of three. One man in particular kept her attention. Jess was on one of those teams. She found herself silently cataloging the differences between the young man she’d once known and loved and the mature man he’d grown into. His bare shoulders were broader, his once-smooth chest now dusted with crisp, dark brown hair, his body was leaner and lightly muscled. She watched the muscles in his shoulders knot when he leapt up to spike the ball over the net. When the other team failed to send it back, he laughed and cheered with his teammates. Sara could see a sheen of sweat on his upper body from his exertions. Her mouth went dry, and she quickly swallowed some wine.

  “If you’re going to guzzle it that way, I’m going to replace our good wine with an extremely inferior brand.” Tess appeared behind her and looked in the same direction as Sara’s gaze. “Charlie ran into him at the hardware store yesterday and invited him,” she murmured, adding quickly when Sara turned to her, “I never told him a thing. I love my husband dearly, but he does tend to stick his foot in his mouth at times. Sara, are you sure the feelings are gone?”

  She nodded, understanding her friend’s concern for her. “Yes, they died a natural death a long time ago. We’re not the same people we were then.” She turned her back on the game so Jess wouldn’t find her watching him.

  Tess put her arm around her friend’s shoulders and steered her back to the kitchen. “Come on, you can help some of us get the food ready. Jenny’s here, so we can catch up on the latest gossip.”

  Inside the large country-style kitchen three other women were taking wrappers off the food dishes and dipping spoons in various bowls. In no time Sara’s spirits were revived as she was put to work cutting up tomatoes and shredding lettuce for the hamburgers. Still, in the back of her mind, she recalled the man jumping up to spike the ball over the net. She began to wonder if those feelings were dead after all. She quickly roused herself, knowing this wasn’t the time to think about it.

  JESS HAD SEEN HER watching him. In a rare spirit of that old-fashioned macho desire to show off he had jumped up to spike the ball and looked her way out of the corner of his eye when his team congratulated him on the winning point. She wasn’t dressed in jeans tonight but a pale lilac sundress with spaghetti straps. Her fair hair was twisted on top of her head in deference to the heat. The lovely girl had grown up into a lovelier woman, and he wouldn’t be human if he didn’t notice it. He had stopped thinking about might-have-been years ago, but seeing Sara again revived a few of those old memories, the sweet with the bitter. When he saw Tess approach Sara and walk with her into the house, he returned to the game with his usual vigor.

  In the two short weeks Jess had been in town he had already gleaned a lot of information about Sara. Ninety-nine per cent of the older residents especially the women, treated Sara with the same courtesy they would have treated Typhoid Mary. Some of the men, especially the young and cocky ones, treated her as if she ran a red-light district. He also learned she had friends, very few but extremely loyal to her.

  While there were a total of twenty people, excluding the children, Sara and Jess couldn’t ignore each other. She couldn’t help wondering what people would say if they knew about her and Jess’s shared past. At first she was afraid someone would guess the truth by some divine intuition, then laughed at her groundless fears. There was no reason for them to know. Not unless she was stupid enough to say something.

  Sara wasn’t surprised when she and Jess ended up sharing a table with two other couples. In fact she had a sneaking suspicion Tess had something to do with the seating arrangements and swore to get even with her later.

  “Was your last church in a small town, Reverend Larkin?” she asked politely, piling lettuce, tomato and onion on her cheeseburger.

  “No, I was in Atlanta,” he replied, spooning a large portion of Sara’s pasta salad on his plate.

  “You chose to come here from Atlanta?” Suzanne, one of the other women seated at the table, looked surprised. “I hate to tell you this, but it’s supposed to work the other way around.” She slanted him a flirtatious glance. Newly divorced, she was known for lamenting the fact her husband had left her with little money and no means to support herself and her two small children. It was a known fact she wouldn’t mind finding a second husband as soon as possible.

  Jess shrugged. “I like smaller towns” was his only explanation.

  While the women cleared the tables after dinner, the men moved over to a corner of the yard to talk and swap stories.

  “Sara’s one hell of a woman,” Charlie said bluntly, after noticing on whom Jess’s eyes rested the most. “She’s had a few bad breaks, and quite a few people wouldn’t argue if she left town for good. Yet through it all she’s managed to raise her son and keep her business going.” His tone was almost defiant, as if daring the minister to deny his words.”

  Jess shook his head. “Charlie, believe me, I’d be the last person to judge,” he said quietly. “I doubt any of us were angels during our younger years. I helped run a halfway house for runaways in Atlanta that wasn’t in the best part of town, and saw and heard things that could turn a strong man’s stomach. Sara’s a brave woman to ignore those narrow-minded few.” He thought of the stormy days before they had parted and regretted his arrogance back then.

  “Yeah, she’s something else.” Charlie sounded like the proud older brother. “It’s just a shame she never married. She’s got a lot to offer the right man.”

  Jess wondered the same thing as he wandered over to the redwood swing Sara sat on as she watched the smaller children play tag.

  “Where do they get all their energy?” he wondered, sitting down beside her.

  “Probably the same place we got ours when we were that age,” she answered, managing to flash him a smile.

  Jess closed his eyes briefly. “What about Tim?”

  Her face fairly glowed in the dim light.

  “He ran me ragged from the time he could walk. Jackson used to say Tim couldn’t sit still if his life depended on it. He’s still that way’” she whispered.

  “What did your parents think of him?”

  Sara hesitated. “They, ah, they thought he was very well mannered.” She didn’t want to say they saw him very few times, by their own choice.

  “That isn’t what I mean, and you know it,” he said angrily.

  She stood up and half turned to face him. “I know, but some things are easier left unsaid. My parents experienced great difficulty in knowing how to treat their grandson. Even though they lived only a mile away, I saw them rarely, and they were happier that way.” Unable to say more, she stood up and held out her hand. “Good night, Reverend Larkin.” She found herself desiring to put as much distance between them as possible.

  Jess reached up with both his hands and clasped hers between them. “Good night, Sara.” A wicked sparkle lit up his eyes. “See you in church.”

  Swallowing a sharp retort, Sara turned on her heel and walked swiftly away. Jess watched her speak to Tess before disappearing around the corner of the house.

  “You shouldn’t be sitting here all by yourself,” Suzanne said brightly, dropping down beside him. Her flirtatious smile was age-old. “Now tell me all about Atlanta.”

  Jess’s answering smile wasn’t as bright. He decided if Suzanne wanted to know, he’d tell her in great detail. With luck she wouldn’t last five minutes.

  WHEN SARA ARRIVED HOME she found Tim and Jackson squabbling over a poker hand.

  “And I say you palmed that card!” The boy pointed an accusing finger at his partner.

  “Hell, I never palmed a card in my life,” Jackson blustered. “I won that hand fair and square.”

  Tim slumped in his chair, muttering he didn’t have a chance of proving the older man cheated.

  “Must be a big pot,” Sara said lightly, entering the room.

  “More like a useful one,” Jackson
chortled. “If he wins, I have to mow the lawn for the next two months,” Tim clarified when his mother turned to him.

  “Now why didn’t I think of gambling for your services?” she teased looping her arms around her son’s neck and dropping a kiss on his head. “I might have been lucky and had you carrying out the garbage until you were fifty.”

  “With the way you play poker you’d be cleaning my room for the next hundred years.”

  With its present condition it would take that long.” Sara leaned over to steal a potato chip. Her eyes widened at the sight of two beer bottles on the table, and she glared at Jackson.

  “How was the barbecue?” the older man asked, casually pushing both bottles toward his side of the table.

  “Just fine. You should have come. The new minister was there, and I’m sure the two of you could have had an enlightening conversation.”

  Tim choked. “Sure. Jackson could tell him why he prefers being a heathen, while the preacher could try to save him. I’d like to be there for that.” He tossed down his cards. “I’m quitting.”

  Sara walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water and carried it back to the living room.

  “What’s the preacher like?” Tim asked. “Did he talk about fire and brimstone during dinner?”

  She shook her head. “No, he didn’t, and he’s like anyone else.” She silently cursed herself for a stupid answer.

  The boy rolled his eyes. “Come on, Mom, he’s a preacher. That means no swearing, no drinking, no fooling around, basically no fun. We both know Charlie and some of the others get a little crazy when they’ve had a few beers in them. You forget, I used to go to some of the barbecues. Didn’t they resent him being there?”

  Sara thought about the old Jess who had partied with the best of them and knew he would never deliberately put a damper on someone else’s fun unless it was destructive to others.

  “I think he knows the difference between having a good time and having an orgy,” she murmured.

  Tim looked sharply at his mother. Ever since the new pastor had come to town she had been acting differently, and he didn’t like it.

  “Hey, why don’t we go fishing tomorrow?” he spoke up. When he saw the way her face lit up at his suggestion, he felt like a heel for not doing something like this sooner. She once told him she understood he was at the age where he didn’t want to be seen in public with his mother, but he sensed that didn’t stop her from craving special times with him.

  “That sounds like fun,” she replied, trying so very hard not to sound too eager at his suggestion. “But wouldn’t you have more fun if you went with some of your friends or with Jackson?”

  “Probably,” he replied, too candidly for her taste. “But the time’s gonna come when I won’t be around, so I should probably spend time with you before you’re too old to have any fun.”

  “Thank you very much,” she said wryly. “You’re right, I certainly wouldn’t want you to strain yourself pushing my wheelchair.”

  “Yeah, we talked about that kind of stuff in psychology,” he explained. “I’m go in to bed. See you in the morning.”

  Sara looked over at Jackson. “Why do Heel as if our fishing trip is an extra credit assignment?”

  “Could be worse.”

  How?”

  “He could have come right out and told you it was a school assignment.”

  Sara winced. “If I have to get up at dawn, I better get to bed.”

  Within fifteen minutes she was in bed, but finding it difficult to sleep as she found herself remembering her talk with Jess and watching him play volleyball. A faint tingle flew through her veins. She dismissed it as the consequence of being alone too long and finally fell asleep after setting the alarm for what she considered an ungodly hour.

  “IT’S NICE TO KNOW you haven’t lost your appetite even this early in the morning,” Sara said drily, watching her son demolish two stacks of pancakes and several sausage patties while she settled for a fraction of that and two cups of coffee.

  She had already packed a lunch for them, and they set out on Tim’s motorcycle just after dawn. She laughed out loud with pleasure as the wind whipped through her hair and they sped down the road toward the large lake on the other side of town. Tim circled the lake until he found the spot he wanted. They picked up their poles and picnic basket and made their way to the water’s edge. Tim offered to bait Sara’s hook with one of the worms he’d picked up at the bait shop, and they soon cast their lines out and settled down to wait for the first bite.

  “I feel as if I’m being buttered up for something,” Sara commented, resting against a flat rock, her pole held loosely between her fingers.

  “You’re too suspicious, Mom.” Tim rummaged through the basket and withdrew two cans of Coke and handed one to her. “Great, you brought blueberry muffins.” He grabbed one and munched away happily as if he hadn’t eaten all those pancakes in the last hour.

  “No, I’m practical. I know you too well.” She slipped her sunglasses on when the sun began creeping upward. “So what are you angling for?”

  He leaned back on his elbows gazing off into space. “A story.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You were barely six when you haughtily informed me you were too old for Dr. Seuss.”

  Tim didn’t laugh. “Do you realize you haven’t joked and teased like that in a long time?”

  Sara looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is you’ve turned into some kind of gloom and doom,” Tim told her, turning halfway to face her. “And I think part of this is my fault.” He shook his head to silence her gasp of protest. “Mom, you’re not like you used to be. I can remember the way you used to laugh off the way people treated you. You don’t do it anymore.” His faced darkened with the same temper Sara remembered seeing on Jess’s so long ago. “You always said you stayed here because you needed roots and you wanted me to have them. We could have had that somewhere else, you know, but you didn’t want it. What did it get us? Creeps make passes at you, the so-called social leaders in town treat you like dirt, and when guys call me a bastard they’re speaking the truth,” he said bitterly.

  Sara’s eyes filled with tears as she reached out to grasp his hand. “Do you hate me for that? For trying to do what I mistakenly thought was right?”

  “No, he hastened to reassure her. “You said you left my dad. You told the truth, didn’t you? I mean you didn’t say that so I wouldn’t think badly of you, did you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t lie to you.” The time she had dreaded for a long while had finally arrived.

  “Then tell me the whole story and not just the parts you used to think I’d understand without asking too many questions,” he persisted. “You used to tell me I’d have to wait until I was older. I think I’ve finally reached that point,” he grumbled.

  Sara stifled her smile. For a boy who would be ready to shave soon, he appeared the picture of youth.

  “I don’t think you have too much to worry about growing too old too fast,” she said drily. “But you’re right, it is time for you to hear the entire story.” She stared down at the clasped hands, needing those moments to gather her thoughts, unsure where to begin her story, because there were some things she could not reveal.

  “You met in college,” Tim prompted.

  Sara nodded. “Your father had the same rebellious streak you now show, and he was very stubborn, just as you are.” She pictured the lanky young man always dressed in faded jeans, T-shirt and a beat-up denim jacket. “There really isn’t a lot to say, and it’s an old story you see on the late show every so often. After a while I wanted to get married, he thought we were too young, and now that I’m older and, hopefully, wiser, I agree with him, but at that time I was positive I knew better, because I pressed for a commitment he couldn’t give me.” She smiled sadly. “We argued, I felt he didn’t love me as much as I loved him, so I left.”

  “He didn’t know you were pregnant?”

&
nbsp; She shook her head. “I didn’t know I was until I had been back here a couple of months.”

  “But you didn’t call him.” He spoke it as a statement instead of a question.

  “No, I didn’t,” she murmured. “Tim, by now you should know I have a great deal of pride. Much more than one person needs, which unfortunately you inherited. Since he didn’t try to contact me I wasn’t going to contact him if I could help it. I forgot that we never really talked all that much about our pasts, and he never learned what town I was from. I decided it was best I go on with my life and not worry about something that couldn’t be easily taken care of. I did break down and tried to call him after you were born, because I wanted him to know he had a son, but his number had been disconnected, and when I tried to call his friends, no one knew where he was.” Where had he gone then? she still wondered. A few times that thought cropped up, but it always disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

  Tim’s face was set in bitter lines too old for his young age. “He just didn’t give a damn about us, did he? Otherwise he would have tried to find us,” he pronounced.

  She shook her head, remembering the pain in Jess’s eyes when he’d first confronted her with his newfound knowledge. “No, there was no way for him to find us.” She grasped his hands tightly when he tried to pull away. “Don’t hate the man for something that was beyond his control,” she urged. “Tim, hate is a disease that will eat you up and leave you with nothing.”

  “But it’s because of him people treat you the way they do,” he argued vehemently, his fishing pole all but forgotten.

  “No, it isn’t. I could have gone anywhere and said I was a widow or divorced and no one would have been the wiser. I know this has been hard for you, and I’m sorry for that, because I never wanted you to be hurt.”

  Tim winced, thinking of the times he’d hurt his mother with his thoughtless behavior and silently vowed to do better in the future. He didn’t voice his vow out loud in case he wasn’t able to keep it as strongly as he might like to.