by Linda Wisdom
“Not yet.”
“I’ll leave your plate in the oven in case you change your mind.” Sara rose to her feet and left the room. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as helpless as she did now. How much of this could be her fault?
Her evening turned out uneventful after washing the dishes and throwing a load of laundry into the washer.
“I think I’m goin’ out to California and get on Wheel of Fortune,” Jackson announced from the den.
“That should be entertaining,” she said under her breath.
“Yeah, and maybe Vanna White would kiss me.” He chuckled at the idea.
“Jackson, you’ve always said you’d never fly,” she reminded him. “How do you expect to get out there, because I doubt your truck would make it?”
“That’s what trains are for,” he persisted. “I’m an old man and should have one good thing happen to me ‘fore I die.”
“I wouldn’t worry about my mortality if I were you,” she said drily. “Only the good die young, so you’re guaranteed a very long life.”
“You’re still a smart mouth, missy.” He flipped the television remote control to another channel. “There’s a Duke Wayne movie on,” he announced with great relish, settling back in his chair.
Knowing how he liked the company, Sara curled up on the couch and watched the film with him.
It wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed that she thought of Jess again. Acting on impulse, she dialed his number.
“Pastor Larkin here.”
She said tentatively, “Jess, it’s Sara. I didn’t disturb you, did I?”
“No, Sara. I was just catching up on some reading. What can I do for you?”
She settled back in bed, cradling the receiver against her shoulder. “I guess it’s too early to ask how Tim is doing.” She plumped her pillows behind her.
“Yes, it is.” Silence. “Sara, why did you really call me?”
She decided this was no time to by coy. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“You, me, us, the state of world affairs, the price of peaches.”
He laughed as she hoped he would. “Okay, why don’t you tell me how your day went?”
“You couldn’t find a more interesting subject?” she quipped. “All right, here goes. I helped Jackson install a new carburetor, changed the oil in a car, cooked the requisite number of meals, washed a couple loads of laundry. Just a regular day in the Murdock household.”
“Sounds busy to me,” Jess commented, relaxing in his chair, fully prepared for a long talk if she was. “Is the laundry what you do for fun?”
“No, my fun time was watching a John Wayne movie with Jackson.” Sara started to laugh softly. “You know, I feel as if I’m back in high school making those late-night calls after my parents thought I was in bed.”
“Except now you’re the parent making sure the kids are in bed, although in your case it’s only one,” he replied. “How was Tim’s attitude when he got home?”
“Basically nothing I do is right, and he’s mad at the world.”
“Mad at me.”
“That, too, I’m sure.”
For a moment there were only sounds of their breathing over the telephone wires as each debated what to say next.
“I guess I should let you go,” Sara said finally, unable to think of anything further to say without sounding ridiculous. “It is late.”
“Sara, I’m glad you called,” he said. “I hope you’ll feel free enough to call me again or won’t mind if I call you sometimes.”
Her smile was echoed in her voice. “I’d like that.” “Sleep well.”
“You, too;” her whisper just barely reached his ears. They both hung up feeling as if a first step had been taken.
“THE DISHES BELONG in the sink, not on the table,” Sara reminded her son as she hastily cleaned the kitchen before she left for the gas station. She grimaced when he casually tipped them into the dishwater and sauntered out the door with a goodbye wave. She would have said more, but the phone rang, and Tim was already gone.
“Hello?”
“Sara?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “I heard there’s a stand of trees on the east end of the lake that’s pretty private. Meet me there at one o’clock,” Jess told her.
“I can’t leave Jackson alone,” she protested, knowing she could and would.
“Yes, you can. Consider it our first counseling session. I’ll see you then.” He hung up before she could protest further.
Sara stood there staring at the receiver, the hum of the dial tone now reaching her ears. She carefully replaced the receiver in the cradle and left the house. She knew no matter what, she’d be at the lake at one o’clock.
At twelve-thirty Sara went up to the house to fix Jackson a sandwich and to pack a separate lunch for herself with an extra special surprise for Jess.
“I’ll be back later this afternoon,” she said, taking his meal down to him.
He eyed her sharply. “You’re gonna see him, aren’t you?”
Sara nodded, knowing there was no use in lying to him.
Jackson rubbed his hand over his chin. “I don’t want to see you hurting anymore.”
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “I don’t worry about it as long as I’ve got you around.” She ran over to her car carrying a wicker basket.
“Yeah, but I won’t be around forever,” he yelled, then swore at the familiar bell-like sound that warned him a car had driven alongside the gas pumps. “All right, all right, hold your pants on. Man can’t even eat his lunch in peace anymore.”
When Sara arrived at the lake, she was relieved to find only Jess’s Bronco parked there. She knew the area was virtually deserted during the, week, especially this end of the lake, since fishing wasn’t accessible. She grabbed the basket and climbed out of the car. Jess, who had been sitting on one of the large rocks at the water’s edge, looked up. He slid down and walked over to her.
“We’re crazy.” Sara said one thing, but her eyes held an entirely different message.
“So we’ve regressed sixteen years,” he tossed back, standing in front of her and just allowing his eyes to take their fill of her sunshine beauty.
She held the basket up like a prize. “Nothing fancy: chicken-salad sandwiches, chocolate cake, some fruit and lemonade.”
He threw back his head and laughed. A few strides took him over to his truck, where he pulled out a similar style basket and a heavy blanket, which he laid out on a bare spot of ground.
“Mrs. Harris’s oatmeal cookies, ham and cheese sandwiches, iced tea and cut-up vegetables.”
“It sounds like we’re going to have a feast here.” She set the basket down in the middle of the blanket and kneeled beside it. Jess sat down across from her with his basket as they retrieved their booty and proceeded to share. “No one can make oatmeal cookies like Mrs. Harris,” Sara decided, munching on her second cookie. “One of her secrets is a touch of cinnamon, but I’ve never been able to figure out the other. Do you realize a majority of the women in this town have a specialty? Mrs. Harris has her oatmeal cookies, Tess, her cinnamon rolls. Mrs. Lawrence makes fantastic potato salad, and Mrs. Baker fixes a pot roast that melts in your mouth.”
“And what are you known for?”
She tipped her head to one side in thought. “I guess for me it’s a toss-up between my chocolate-chip cheesecake and pasta salad.”
He sadly studied her offerings. “And you didn’t bring either.”
Sara smiled as she handed Jess a chicken-salad sandwich and received a ham and cheese in return. “I didn’t want to spoil you right off the bat.”
“What did you do this morning?” She chose a carrot stick to accompany her sandwich and a plastic cup of lemonade. They had laughed when both realized they had forgotten napkins.
“I drove over to the retirement home and held a bible study.” Jess began his second sandwich.
“Did you have a large turnout
?”
He nodded. “Yes, twenty to twenty-five people, most of them in wheelchairs, but very enthusiastic. I enjoy my time with them.” He chuckled, remembering something. “In fact, a couple of the ladies have volunteered to find me a wife. They feel everyone should be married. Maybe I should give them your name,” he teased. Sara wrinkled her nose. “I doubt they’ll be able to find someone in Henderson:’ She grabbed the remaining piece of chocolate cake before Jess could nab it.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you a surprise.” She rummaged in the bottom of the picnic basket and pulled out a large leather-bound book. “Voila!” She handed him the book with a theatrical flourish.
Jess looked down at the book in his hands and then at Sara.
“Open it,” she urged, smiling broadly. “I promise nothing will pop out at you.”
Jess opened to the first page and murmured a prayer under his breath as he gazed at a Polaroid photograph of a wrinkled and red-faced newborn baby. This was not the beautiful pink-cheeked, smiling baby of magazine ads, but he doubted he had ever seen a more stirring sight. Neatly printed underneath was Tim’s name, the date, his weight and time of birth. He swallowed a large lump in his throat, but it refused to budge. It was so difficult to equate this tiny blanket-shrouded bundle with the gawky boy he had come to know. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much that he hadn’t been there to greet his son when he entered the world. For the first time in his life he felt like crying.
“He was a big baby,” was all he could think to say in a raspy voice as he thought how slender Sara was. How had she managed to give birth? It was a stupid question to ask himself, he knew, but the thought of her suffering a lot of pain hurt him, too. He dropped the album into his lap when he realized his hands were trembling. He couldn’t lift his head, because he didn’t want Sara to see the pain in his eyes.
“And he let the entire world know he had arrived. The doctor said there was certainly nothing wrong with his lungs,” she mused, remembering the first time she had held her child and counted his fingers and toes as only a new mother does.
Jess slowly turned the page to find pictures of a younger-looking Sara holding Tim. With each page he was treated to a continuing record of Tim’s life helped by Sara’s monologue. He breathed deeply through his nose, but it didn’t help the emotions racing through his body and the tears burning his eyes.
“Once he learned how to walk, he couldn’t be held back,” Sara told him, now sitting close beside him. “Jackson used to say Tim ran on more cylinders than a race car.”
Jess traced the edge of one photograph where a gap toothed Tim presided over a birthday cake. Had it been a happy day for the boy? Did he have fun? He wished he had been there.
“A part of me feels sorrow at missing these important times in his life,” he murmured. “And another part screams out, because I feel as if I’m looking at a perfect stranger.”
“In a way you are,” she said gently, understanding his dilemma. “After all, you didn’t know about Tim then. Please don’t feel bad, Jess. I brought the album so you could see what he was like as a baby. I thought you might enjoy it. I didn’t intend to cause any guilt trips.”
“I do enjoy it, although I can’t imagine this holds fifteen years of his life.”
“No, this only goes up to his seventh birthday.”
With each new page Sara always had a tale to relate, such as Tim’s first experience with a neighbor’s puppy. “He couldn’t understand why he had to wear a diaper, and the puppy didn’t when they were both considered unhousebroken,” she laughed.
Jess chuckled. “Smart kid.”
“Yes, but you weren’t there when he tried to put a diaper on the cat we had then after the puppy had gone home. He decided the cat could wear one as long as he had to,” she said drily. “She laid her claws into him, and he screamed like the holy terror he was. He’s hated cats ever since.”
“When I was eight, I dressed my dog in a pillowcase doubling as a cape,” Jess reminisced. “I wanted to see if he could fly like Underdog.”
Sara’s eyes grew huge. “Fly? Such as pushing him off a roof or something?” she squeaked.
He nodded. “The idea sounded great to me. My mother caught me before I could inflict any damage, and I couldn’t sit down for a week.”
“That is terrible!”
“Boys do crazy things, what can I say?” Jess studied the last picture of Tim in the album. The boy was dressed in a navy blue suit and tie, his hair slicked back. The only jarring note was his very apparent black eye. He traced it with his fingertip, then closed the book. He turned to Sara, cupping her chin with his fingertips.
“Thank you,” he said huskily. Sara only smiled, not feeling the need for words just then.
He thought of the inner strength it must have taken for her to raise her child alone. He cradled her face between his palms, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones with the lightest of touches as his head slowly lowered and tipped to one side. But his mouth didn’t touch hers at first. Instead it applied butterfly kisses across each eyebrow, the closed eyelids, then down her nose before resting against her parted lips.
“You’re taking too long,” Sara murmured, linking her arms around his neck and pulling him down. This time she took charge, nibbling along his lower lip until her tongue gained entrance. She murmured softly as she searched out the dark moist cavern of his mouth. Jess moaned as his arms went fully around her, pulling her tightly against him, and he buried his face against her hair.
“So good,” he muttered, when they came up for air.
“You always were.” She couldn’t resist teasing him. Jess’s mouth returned to hers, harder than ever. His hands roamed across her back and down to the curve of her backside before sliding back up to settle under the curves of her breasts, but not touching them.
“You’re fuller than before,” he murmured, afraid to touch her further. He felt as if his body was pulling him in two different directions as he remembered times past and his conscience reminded him of his teachings. He couldn’t believe the attraction could escalate so strongly.
“Motherhood does that.” She looked up at him with her feelings apparent on her face. She could tell he felt the same way.
Inhaling sharply, Jess released her and spun around. He raked his fingers through his hair and breathed deeply to calm his raging nerves. “We should probably get back,” he muttered.
Nodding, Sara picked up the trash and packed it away in its respective hampers.
“Perhaps we should confine our conversations to the phone from now on,” she said softly, feeling the shock waves as much as he did.
Jess shook his head. “While I enjoy talking to you on the phone, I also like to look at your face. Perhaps we could turn this into a regular date.”
“All right.” Sara carried her basket to her car and set it in the trunk, prepared to leave without anything more said.
“Sara.” She turned around. “Could you bring the second album with you the next time?”
“I won’t forget it,” she promised. “Except next time you have to talk about yourself, too.”
He held out his hand. “It’s a deal.” Looking very solemn, they shook hands before getting into their cars to go their separate ways.
While Mrs. Harris thought it strange that Pastor Larkin wasn’t hungry for dinner and spent a lot of time sitting in his study looking off into space, Jackson wasn’t a bit surprised by Sara’s lack of appetite. If anything, he expected it, and he worried even more about her.
WHEN TIM ARRIVED at Jess’s house for his second session, he was sullen and uncooperative from the beginning. Jess recognized the signs right away and took him outside.
“I don’t see where this will do any good,” Tim said, while Jess rummaged in the dark confines of the garage.
“They won’t unless you want them to. Ah, here it is.” He walked outside carrying a basketball.
Tim rolled his eyes. “That sounds like a line out of a movie.”
“That must have been fun.”
He ignored the sarcasm as he threw the ball to Tim. “You’re not some dumb kid, Tim. Your test scores are high, while your grades are barely passing. You go to class, but you don’t listen. You have few friends, and they’re all screwups like you want to be. You don’t participate in school activities. And your first interest in the opposite sex turned out to be a disaster.”
Tim reddened at that statement, then turned on him. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You talk to all those teachers who really don’t give a damn about me, and now you think you know everything, but you don’t.” He ran backward several paces and threw the ball with little effort, the sphere dropping neatly into the basket.
“That was pure luck,” Jess muttered, then added, “Then why don’t you tell me what I don’t know.”
Tim sent the ball his way, throwing it just a bit too hard. If Jess hadn’t caught it, it would have hit him squarely in his midsection. Jess looked at him for a moment, but said nothing. “Like I said, you think you know it all. Mom was never married to my dad, and a lot of creeps in this town like to remind me of it.”
And it bothers you.” He jumped up, making a dunk shot and grinned smugly.
“Not me!” he denied hotly. “It’s the things they say about Mom I don’t like.”
“Do they always say something about your mother?” he asked quietly, rolling the ball from one hand to the other.
Tim thought about it as he studied the frayed hem of his jeans. “No,” he admitted finally. His head snapped up, his eyes blazing with anger. “But that’s what they mean!”
“How do you know that?”
“Because they do!” he insisted, but he didn’t sound as convincing this time.
Jess remained quiet, allowing Tim to mull over what he’d just said. He threw the ball back to Tim, who stood back even farther and made another basket.
