by Annie Jones
He moved around the kitchen.
She did not have to see him to picture him taking a few restless strides in one direction, perhaps touching the laced-trimmed edge of a placemat, glancing toward the window over the sink. Sam in her family kitchen asking the one thing she had dreaded hearing from him for so long. And yet the peace that had come over her before had returned.
She put her hand over her stomach. She inhaled the smells of the holidays right down to singed gingerbread and the leather of Sam's jacket. Nothing. No sickness roiling up inside her. Just peace.
“Will you come to the church so we can talk this through?” he asked again.
She had to do it. She had put it off long enough. Too long. Her priorities had changed. Her long-term plans for herself, this house, and her child now seemed as irrelevant as the temporary solutions she had offered when she found Sam living in her family home.
She tucked her hair back. “Let me tell my sisters where I'll be.”
“Nic.” She had not known how close he stood to her until he snagged her by the arm. “Can you just tell me this much now? Can't you just say yes or no?”
“No.”
His grip loosened.
“That is, no, I can't tell you. I can't tell you if you are Willa's father, not now or even when we go over to the church—because I'm not sure myself.”
Not sure herself. Sam jangled his keys in his open palm as they walked along the side street toward the church. The silence of a town wrapped in winter weighed down on them. No cars passed, no people sat on front porches to wave and call out hellos.
The vacant houses with For Sale signs so old the paint had flaked away and the frames had gone to rust added their own shading to the quiet around them. When the wind picked up, the bare branches rattled like old bones. The church steeple stood watch over it all.
It took every ounce of reserve Sam had not to take Nic by the shoulders and demand she explain herself immediately. Only another minute now before he'd know everything. Then what?
He stole a sidelong glance at Nic. Her thick brown hair fell like a curtain along the side of her face, obscuring her expression. She kicked at stones in the rutted road with her dusty hiking boots. Her upper body hunched forward slightly. Whether that was from the chill or her emotions, he couldn't tell. The way she kept her hands jammed deep inside her sweater pockets, he suspected the chill.
The anger and frustration that had motivated him earlier vanished as he watched her in profile. He knew this woman like he knew his own heart. He knew her as a blessing to her sisters, a credit to her family, and a wonderful mother despite difficult circumstances. Whatever story she had to tell, he would listen to it without anger-clouded judgment.
He opened his mouth to tell her so as they reached the opening of the church driveway, but the crunch of tires on the gravel cut him off.
“Hey! Imagine finding you two out together—and heading for the church, no less.” A mammoth SUV pulled alongside them with Claire LaRue's head poking out of the driver's side. “Out for a romantic stroll or here for official purposes? Not that it's any of my business.”
Sam stepped up to the stopped vehicle. “That's right, Claire.”
“What's right? Y'all out and about in the name of romance or religion?”
“That's right, it's none of your business.” Nic closed in behind him, taking what he had offered as an answer without an answer and given it an antagonistic twist.
Sam cleared his throat. “What she meant was...”
“Oh, I think she said what she meant, Reverend. And she's right, to a degree.” The bells on Claire's holiday earrings jingled softly as she shook back her red hair. “I see where your daughter gets her directness, Nicolette.”
Nic scuffed her boots in the gravel.
“And her wonderful smile, Sam.”
“Claire, if you have something specific to say to me, I'd appreciate if you just said it plain out.”
“I admit, I did come over to the church today hoping to find you in. I thought I'd call later but now that we've run into one another—can we talk?”
“Do you want to come into the church?” Sam motioned.
“No, honey, Reggie bought me this fool thing as an early Christmas present, and I haven't mastered the knack of backing it up without running up over curbs and sidewalks and more than a few flower beds. I'm afraid I'd take down the whole Christmas tree if I tried it. Can we just chat like this? Won't take a minute.”
“Nic?” He glanced over his shoulder. “You want to go on inside and get warm?”
“Actually she might want to stay. This does concern her.”
Nic's fingertips dug into his shoulder.
“What concerns her, Claire?” He anchored his feet and folded his arms.
“Now you know, Sam, Reggie's family as well as my own are longstanding, respected members of this community. My mother's people were in on the very founding of this church.” She said it in such a bright and friendly manner that only someone who had reason to suspect her motives would have perceived even the hint of threat in her claim.
“To be sure, Claire. And I hope you're showing up for the tree decorating service is just the start of your—and your family's—renewed commitment to the church we're rebuilding here.”
Her breezy smile clamped down tighter and her eyes went a bit on the squinty side.
“Can we count on seeing you at the Christmas Sing on Wednesday night?”
“I have never missed a Christmas Sing—and never neglected to bring more than a fair share of donations for the needy—in my life. Why should this year be different?”
“No reason that I know of.” He grinned. “And of course, we'll see you again on Friday. Should be a beautiful candlelight service.”
“Candlelight you say? On Friday? Do I dare hope you're talking about...?”
“Christmas Eve.”
“Christmas Eve? Oh, of course, Christmas Eve.” She started to tip her head back but the headrest bumped her forward. She scowled. “I asked Reggie for a peignoir set, a pair of sparkly earrings, and a book. I got this contraption. Aren't men who try to come up with surprises for their women just the most precious things, Nic?”
To Claire's credit, that got a giggle out of Nic, even if she did try to suppress it at the last minute and disguise it as a cough.
“Anyway, forgive me, but when you mentioned a candlelight service, and seeing you two out together today, and being more of the direct woman kind of person than the going around the briar patch man kind of person, I'll just say it.”
“Then say it.” Nic relaxed her grip on Sam's shoulder and stepped to the side.
“I thought you had a wedding in the offing.”
“A wedding? Are you out of your mind?” Nic voiced Sam's thoughts precisely.
“Actually I am quite sound of mind. It's you two I was worried about.” She fussed with her hair, her jewelry, even adjusted her rearview mirror, before angling her shoulders toward them and aiming that too-too-sunny smile their way. “Do you think there hasn't been talk? Did you think this could go on, in light of your combined and separate pasts and with these present circumstances?”
“The dissension among the membership? The group that meets at Dewi's wanting me out?” Sam scowled.
“I'm not talking about the circumstances at the church. I'm talking about the circumstances at home, your home...the home the two of you share.”
“I rent a room and bath with kitchen privileges.” Sam shook his head.
“Share? With my entire family, my sisters, and now her kids and my aunts coming in and out all day.” Nic’s voice came out a bit too thin to sound entirely convincing.
“Which only gives people the impression that you have their blessing. It doesn't stop those who want to assume the worst.”
“That's a dangerous rumor you're starting, Claire.” He held out his arm to keep Nic back, not sure if it was her or the woman in the SUV he was protecting.
“I didn't start a
nything. Your actions did and in an already volatile atmosphere. I'd have thought you'd both know better.”
“We're not doing anything,” Nic protested.
“Aren't we supposed to stay away from even the impression of wrong doing?” Claire raised her eyebrows and her earrings jingled.
She had them there. Sam hung his head. “I should have thought of it from that angle. You're right, Claire.”
“I didn't come here to be right. Believe it or not, I came to be helpful.”
“Helpful?” Nic huffed.
“I believe you, Claire,” Sam said at the exact time that Nic spoke.
“I came to warn you that the talk has already begun.” Claire narrowed her eyes on them. “No doubt fed by those who want you out, Sam, for reasons that have little to do with your present personal life.”
“Claire, I know you've been in with the Dewi's bunch. Why
exactly do they want me out so badly?”
“There are only a few. And you know the reasons. There are people here like Lee who can't abide the idea that someone who thumbed his nose at the entire town could be allowed to return and take a position of honor and respect among us.” Claire paused for a moment to let that sink in but not long enough for Nic or Sam to comment. “And there are those who feel strongly that a man with your past might serve in the church but should not lead it, should not be an example to young people. People in small towns have long memories.”
“No kidding,” Nic muttered.
“Some folks fear the message your ministry might give the youngsters of Persuasion is to have all the fun you want while you're young, then get right with God when you grow up. Or worse, that if you go to church on Sunday, it doesn't matter how you are the rest of the time—that's what they'll say if they buy into the story of you and Nic living together.”
“I can see that.” He put his hand over the lowered window of the black SUV.
“Most of us, Sam, we're looking for a reason to go one way or another.” She put her hand on top of his but just briefly. “Inviting folks door to door to come decorate the tree was a good first step. But it will be for nothing if you don't stop this rumor dead in its tracks.”
“But why suggest marriage is the answer? I can just move out of the house.” Sam straightened away.
She shook her head. “I doubt that would be enough, and I think you both know why.”
“No, why?” Sam asked.
“Because of the child.”
Nic drew in her breath, a small sound that pretty much said everything they both were feeling.
“You're out of line there, Claire.” Sam slashed his hand through the air. “Be careful what conclusions you jump to.”
“I'm not jumping anywhere, Sam.” She ran her fingers over the steering wheel. “I'm not starting rumors nor casting stones. I have no right. I was at that party that night. None of us were acting like the good girls our mamas raised. I hope you know I never was one of those who talked behind your back.”
Nic wet her lips and yet her voice came out dry as dust. “Thank you.”
Claire acknowledged her with the slightest of nods. “Now I didn't come here to deliver an ultimatum. I hope it didn't come off like that. I'm just shouting a heads-up and telling you what it may take to set things right with folks.”
“Understood and appreciated.” Sam touched her arm.
“Certainly. But I can't help thinking...would it really be so bad?”
“What?”
“The two of you getting married?” Claire laughed accompanied by her earrings jingling merrily. “Why, just look at the pair of you out together today. It looks right, I tell you. And last night, with your little girl between you...with Nic's little girl, I mean. Anyone can see it.”
Nic tugged at the opening of her cardigan, wrapping it tightly over her. “See what?”
“You were meant to be together. The two of you loved each other a long time ago. Everyone knows that.”
Sam eyed Nic, not sure of his feelings at present but unable to deny Claire's view of the past.
Nic shifted her shoulders and did not look at Sam.
“You've both suffered plenty for bad choices and bad judgment, isn't it time you set things right? The way they always should have been?”
Sam never took his eyes from Nic; she only met his gaze for an instant before she bowed her head and kicked at the gravel under her feet.
“Think about it, at least.” Claire gunned the motor. The window whirred as she started to shut it, then stopped. “Don't forget everything I told you, okay? And Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” Sam shouted back, though he knew she could not hear him as the SUV roared away. “Has she taken leave of her senses or have—”
He turned to face Nic only to find he was talking to himself.
“Get yourself inside this church, Sam!” She motioned to him from beside the Christmas tree. “This has gone on long enough. It's time we got everything out in the open, once and for all.”
“Which is why I brought you over here in the first place,” he muttered under his breath as he started across the lot toward her.
“Don't drag your feet now. We don't have time to waste. I think it's finally time we do exactly like Claire suggested.”
He stopped in the middle of the lot, blinked, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Get married?”
“No.” She put her hands on her hips. She looked absolutely immovable except for the wind-whipped ends of her hair. Shoulders straight, she raised her head the way she did when she was putting her family members in their places. “No, I think it's time, finally, that we do like Claire said and set things right once and for all.”
Eighteen
The door to his office fell shut like a gunshot in the silence of the old, empty building. Nic spun around to face the minister making his way through the small room toward the leather chair framed by the large window. “You didn't show up that New Year's Eve.”
“I'm well aware.” He looked up, his fingertips resting on the large open appointment book on his desk.
“You promised me that you'd come for me, that we'd get married right away.” She tried to keep her voice steady. She had only meant to state the facts, to remind him of the way it had been so he would understand her state of mind that night. But when the words began to spill out, they came faster than she had anticipated edged with raw emotion. “I based some pretty uncharacteristic decisions on that promise, and those decisions changed the course of my life.”
He closed the date book. “Believe me, I know that.”
“You took advantage of my innocence and trust.” Once she had begun she couldn’t stop.
“And have lived to regret it. I hope you know that.” The faster she spoke and more impassioned she got, the more even his tone.
“You didn't show up that night,” she reminded him, her voice breaking.
“Yes, we established that.” He smiled, obviously hoping to lighten the mood, if only a little.
Nic raised her chin. Though her eyes remained dry, her throat closed and she forced out her next words in a strangled sob. “You broke my heart.”
Sam moved around to sit on the edge of his desk and folded his hands in his lap. “If I could undo that fact I would.”
“I don't want you to undo it. You can't no matter how much you wish you could.” She held her breath to steady herself then exhaled slowly. “I want you to acknowledge it.”
“All right.”
“It's not all right. Saying it's all right doesn't affect the outcome one bit.” She pushed her hair back, wincing as her fingers snagged in a tangle.
“I'm well aware we are dealing with things that are in the past, Nic. Things that a few sympathetic responses will not mend. Believe me, I understand that.”
“I want you to understand that on the heels of that heartache and after already making a string of decisions that went against my own beliefs, the way my family raised me and all my heart had hoped for, I
was in a very fragile state of mind.”
“I can see how you would be.” His response, his posture, this expression were all cautious.
“I'm not laying blame here. I'm not making excuses, either.” Now she paced as she spoke. She used big, slashing gestures with her hands that both emboldened her and underscored her thoughts with power and finality. “I accept my part in all this. I made those choices knowing full well they were wrong for me and would carry consequences for my family and my faith. But I went on ahead with them anyway.”
“I wish I could say I had no idea what that's like, but I've made a few monumental eyes-wide-open blunders myself.”
She stopped and wound her fingers together. “In that way I should bear more of the blame for it all than you should.”
“No, Nic.” He started to stand then seemed to think better of coming to her, settled down on the edge of the desk again and went on. “I thought we weren't going to assign blame here and certainly not try to start divvying it up as to who should accept more or less of it.”
Years ago he would not have understood at all, but now she knew that he did—completely. That strengthened her resolve to go on. “I regret that my choices hurt so many people, of course, but I won't wallow in regret—much to the disappointment of certain people around town.”
Sam chuckled. “I hear you there.”
“A lot of people want me to walk around under the dark cloud of my past, a tragic figure, an example of what not to do. It galls them that I am happy, that I don't see myself or my life as devastated by my mistakes or defined by my missteps.”
“Many people find guilt easier to handle than redemption.”
“I knew you'd get it, Sam. But I had to make sure we were on the same wavelength before I spill out the whole story. And I have to say, so that there is no misinterpretation, I do not consider Willa or her disabilities my cross to bear or my punishment.”
“Of course you don't. Anyone who knows her, who has seen you with her knows she's a blessing.”
