“Is that the old fisherman you and Vera were talking about? Down there with the dog?”
James followed her gaze and smiled. “Yes, that’s Digger, and that’s his daughter Grace there on the log. She has to watch him all the time now. He’s become quite senile.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Yes, it is sad. . . . But it’s really been quite beautiful to see how all of their friends in town and at the church have gotten together to help out.”
Leigh nodded, glancing again at the trio, who had moved even farther down the shoreline. A community showing concern was a lovely idea, but Leigh was fairly certain James was exaggerating. She chalked it up to his being a minister. He probably liked to think things like that could happen, the way they did in the movies. But not in real life, she reminded herself. In real life, it was hard to find even one person to really help you.
She took a deep breath and glanced out at the ocean again. “It’s beautiful here. It takes your breath away.”
“It does, doesn’t it? It makes me feel good instantly.” James had come around to her side, carrying his pipes. “That’s the Durham Light, down there.” He pointed down the shoreline to a an old stone lighthouse, set high on a rocky jetty. “The local populace is quite proud of it. I think the light has some kind of special antique lens.”
“Can we go see it?”
“We might get too cold walking but let’s try.”
Leigh hesitated as she saw that to get onto the beach, they had to cross a high mound of snow.
James held out his hand to her. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”
She put her gloved hand in his. Moving slowly and concentrating on each step, she began to clamber over the hard-packed snow. She almost slipped once but James steadied her, and they made it over the slippery mound without incident. When they at last stood on the beach, she stopped and let out a long breath.
He flashed her another brilliant smile and released her hand. “Not bad for a pregnant turtle.”
“Thanks, I think.” She smiled, pushing aside a strand of hair that had blown across her eyes.
She still wasn’t used to wearing her hair so short. She had cut it herself, hastily snipping it in the bathroom the night she left Boston. Martin had liked her hair blond, but she’d stopped highlighting it once they’d separated and now it was back to its natural color, which she liked much better.
They walked toward the shoreline and James stopped a minute to sling his pipes over his shoulder. He glanced at her as he brought the mouthpiece to his lips. “Here it comes. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He puffed out his cheeks and let loose an earsplitting blast, then another, the opening notes of a tune. Leigh resisted a strong impulse to cover her ears.
James began walking along and she fell into step beside him. He played a few more notes then suddenly stopped, turning to face her.
“What’s the matter?”
He shook his head, trying not to laugh. “It’s nothing . . . just the look on your face.” He met her eye and she had to laugh, too.
“I’m sorry . . . it’s nice, really. I’m just not used to it at such close range, I guess.”
“Of course not. Listen, you walk on ahead. I’ll stay here and practice a little. Then I’ll catch up with you.”
“You don’t have to do that. We can walk together.”
“This will be better for me, too,” he assured her. “I don’t usually play for an audience. Besides, it might be harmful to the baby. They say unborn children can hear all kinds of sounds. I don’t want to traumatize her and make her end up hating music.”
She knew he was partly joking, but once again, she was surprised by his thoughtfulness, his awareness and consideration for the feelings of others.
“I’m sure the baby is in no danger of that,” Leigh told him, smiling. “But all right. I’ll meet you at the lighthouse, then.”
She turned and walked along the shoreline, mindful of keeping her booted feet out of the foam. A few moments later, she heard James start up again, behind her. At a distance the sound was much easier to take, even enjoyable. She didn’t recognize the tune but it was lilting and upbeat, not slow and mournful like some of the Scottish airs.
Leigh fixed her sight on the rolling waves, walking in time to their rhythm. A few gulls and smaller birds ran along the wet sand, pecking at bits of shells and seaweed each time a new wave rushed to shore. She loved the beach, no matter what time of the year. The vast space of sea and sky made her heart feel open and even hopeful. The ceaseless ebb and flow of the waves soothed her jagged nerves, and the sound of the pipes mixing with the waves was almost magical. Martin didn’t like the beach and she hadn’t seen the ocean much while they were married. Now she realized how much she had missed it.
She saw the lighthouse up ahead, painted white with bands of red. It had been built on a rocky hill, with a small stone cottage nearby. Even from a distance, she could see that it was quite old. The light on top seemed to be working, though it was only late afternoon and not dark enough to see it clearly. From time to time, she did notice a brief flash.
That’s about right for me. I never get any brilliant, dazzling signals. Just a flash here and there, signaling I might be on the right track.
Though the lighthouse hadn’t seemed that far at first, she could see that it was still some distance off and she already felt tired. Trudging along the sand in her heavy boots was an effort. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that James was getting closer. She stopped to watch him walk slowly along the shoreline, seeming lost in his music.
Deciding to wait for James to catch up, Leigh sat down on a big driftwood log. She felt so far away in this place, far away from her past life and the troubles that still hounded her. Who would ever find her here? It did seem safe. And all that really mattered now was that she keep the baby safe from Martin.
Leigh shook her head. On the face of it, it seemed morally wrong somehow—having to keep a child from her own father. But Leigh knew that she could never risk subjecting a child to her ex-husband’s rages.
Leigh put a hand on top of her belly. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll find a safe place for us. And I’ll never let him come close to you, even if I have to fight him to my last breath.”
She remembered the newspaper article stashed in her pocket. With James still a good distance down the beach, she decided it was safe to take it out and read it closely. She had only had a chance to quickly scan it in Vera’s living room, but even that brief glance had confirmed what Alice had told her the night before.
GARRET MILLS CUTS 200 JOBS, the headline boldly stated. Leigh bent closer and eagerly read the rest.
Garret Mills, the largest employer in Brighton, New Hampshire, announced that 200 factory jobs will be terminated as of December 1. This latest and most dramatic cost-cutting measure seems to support growing rumors of serious financial problems at the textile mill, one of the largest and oldest in New England. A proposed merger with Martex, due to be completed this month, soured when Garret Mills came under scrutiny by the state attorney general in a preliminary investigation of the firm’s accounting procedures. Investigators suspect that company principals conspired to falsify records to show inflated profits. The volatile, erratic behavior of CEO Martin Garret III, grandson of the company’s founder, has also been a red flag to potential investors. Arrested twice in the last three years while driving under the influence, Garret was also charged with spousal abuse during divorce proceedings last year. When asked to comment, Garret flatly denied any connection between his personal life and current company woes. He also added, “We are cooperating fully with the investigation and have no doubt that the firm will be found innocent of any wrongdoing.”
Just seeing Martin’s name in print gave Leigh a chill. Reading the quote, she could almost hear his voice. Who would ever suspect, hearing that rational, oh-so-respectable tone, that he could so easily lose all control? Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, tur
ning from a button-down executive into an out-of-control monster in the blink of an eye.
Maybe the world at large was finally getting wise to him, Leigh realized. He couldn’t hide that side of himself forever. His self-destructive nature was starting to contaminate everything he touched. She had little doubt that he had falsified accounts to promote the merger. He never flinched at cheating. He was bitterly contemptuous of people, especially those who trusted him most. In his twisted, grandiose self-vision, he probably felt entitled to take unfair advantage.
Leigh read the last few lines again, hoping with all her heart that Martin’s dire problems would distract him from searching for her. But he was obsessive. He hated to lose. He might well hang on to the very end. She could never be sure.
Leigh crumpled up the paper and stuck it in her jacket pocket as she realized James was only a few yards away.
He was walking toward her, breathing heavily as if he’d just been running. He lifted his hand and smiled, but when he slipped off the pipes and plunked down next to her, his ruddy complexion looked ashen. She watched him open his jacket and wipe sweat from his brow. She recalled Vera’s questions and concern just before they’d left and how James had brushed it off. Leigh hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, assuming it was just the older woman’s usual coddling. But maybe there was some reason.
“Are you all right, James?” she asked quietly.
“Just winded from playing and walking at the same time. I’m out of shape. Been lying around ever since I got here, like a big fat house cat.”
His self-mocking image made her smile, yet she sensed an underlying seriousness.
“Since you came to Cape Light?” she asked. “I assumed that you’ve been living here awhile.”
“I came to Cape Light in September,” James said. “I’ve been working at a mission in Central America for almost ten years now. But I had to come back to the States . . . for health reasons.”
Leigh could see it wasn’t easy for him to talk about this and wondered if maybe she should stop asking personal questions.
“Don’t worry. I’m not dying and it’s not contagious.” James glanced at her, his somber tone cast off and his usual good-natured humor returning.
“Oh . . . I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“I’m just teasing you, Leigh. Some people get awfully nervous when they hear you’re sick. Now you’re thinking, I wonder what he has, only you’re too polite to ask.” Leigh smiled self-consciously; she had been thinking just that very thing. Before she could admit it, he said, “I have malaria, a particularly drug-resistant strain. It’s partly my own fault. I got lax about taking the pills that ward it off. I’d been down there so long, I got complacent, I guess . . . and now I’m paying for it.”
“That’s too bad. But you seem very healthy. I would have never guessed. You must be getting better.”
“I am. At least I think so, though my doctors and I disagree on that point. The infection is under control but it never really leaves your body. And I have some complications since I waited so long to come up here for better treatment.”
James took a breath, staring straight out at the sea. Leigh felt both sympathy and admiration for this man. He had serious problems in his life, just as she did, and yet he always managed to act cheerful and upbeat. And he had a gift for reaching out to others; he had asked her a lot about herself these past few days while she had asked him next to nothing. He must think I’m completely self-centered, she thought.
“I don’t know much about missions,” she admitted. “What’s it like? What kind of work do you do there?
“Hard work most of the time, but good work.” He glanced at her, the start of a smile in his eyes. “It’s just helping people who don’t have much. When I was in the seminary I went there for a visit. Back then I never guessed my calling would be in a foreign mission. But I was very moved—inspired, really—to return. I’ve studied engineering, too, so that’s come in handy,” he said lightly.
“And you’ve been there ten years?”
“Yep, just about that. I’ve been the director of Helping Hands for the past five. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long. The time has passed so quickly for me. We’ve dug wells, built a school and houses and a medical clinic. . . .”
“Wow. That’s amazing. You must be very proud.” James was so modest. She’d had no idea he’d done so much with his life. He had impressed her as a good person from the start, but now her image of him took on new dimensions.
“I am proud. We’ve done good work—with God’s help, of course—but there’s still so much more to be done. We were just getting under way expanding the clinic when I left. Here, where life is so comfortable, it’s hard to believe that so many people in this world live without the most basic needs being met: enough food to eat and clean water to drink, clothing for their children, medicine—” He stopped, as if afraid he had said too much.
Leigh was again at a loss for words. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she had never given much thought to the kind of people James was talking about.
“You sound eager to get back,” she said at last.
“I am. I love visiting this church and the people around here, but I feel as if I’m goofing off.”
From the little she knew about him, Leigh guessed that James worked hard wherever he was, giving the most he could to any situation.
“After ten years, it sounds as if you deserve a few months off.”
“That’s one way of looking at it, I guess. I do love what I do there, so it doesn’t seem a hardship to me.”
“But enjoying yourself does?” she teased him.
“Hmm . . . there’s a tough question.” His dark blue eyes twinkled. “Not today it doesn’t, being here with you.”
His compliment made her self-conscious. Was he attracted to her or just being nice again? She couldn’t see how he could be interested in her, a totally pregnant turtle. Besides, she told herself, he was probably involved with someone. And that someone was undoubtedly more spiritual, a woman who shared his interests and idealism.
Why not? He was intelligent, warm, kind, and had a sharp sense of humor. And he was quite good looking, too, she decided. It was funny how she hadn’t really noticed that before. In his quiet way, James Cameron was sort of a catch.
Leigh shook her head, wondering at the strange turn of her thoughts. What did it matter if James Cameron liked her? Or if he had a string of girlfriends? It was so entirely irrelevant to the life-on-the-run that she seemed to have fallen into.
“How did you end up here?” she asked, determined to stop considering romantic possibilities. “I mean, at this church during your leave?”
“This congregation has always had a special relationship with the mission,” James explained. “We’re supported by a wide range of donors but Bible Community Church sort of adopted us. They’re the ones who always come through. They have a real interest in and commitment to what goes on there. I think it’s because the minister who founded Helping Hands grew up in Cape Light. He was part of this congregation as a boy.”
“Oh, I see.” She didn’t really. She didn’t understand much about missions or churches or how they fit together. “And you grew up around here, too? In Essex, you just told me, right?”
“That’s right.” He nodded, looking pleased that she remembered. “But I don’t have many connections around here anymore.”
“Did your family move away?” Leigh noticed an odd look on his face and wondered if she’d asked too personal a question.
“Oh . . . you might say that. I grew up in an orphanage. I’ve lost touch with most of the boys I knew there, though I still write to the minister and some of the teachers who ran the place.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried,” Leigh said, realizing that her question brought back unhappy memories for him. Even though her own childhood had been difficult, it wasn’t nearly as sad. Still, she could relate to his feeling of being alone with few connectio
ns.
James brushed off her apology. “It wasn’t a bad childhood. The teachers and counselors at the orphanage were kind, for the most part. And now I think of the church and the people at the mission as my family, so I’ve more than made up for the one I lacked growing up.”
Leigh had to smile, surprised at how he was able to turn an awkward moment into something brighter.
“How about you, Leigh? Did you grow up in a big family?”
“No, not at all. It was just me and my mom. My father died when I was about five—a car accident. My mother loved him very much. She never wanted to remarry. She died about five years ago, still living in Ohio, where I grew up. I really miss her,” Leigh added honestly.
“Sorry to hear that. Were you very close?”
Leigh nodded. “Yes, we were. She really encouraged me and tried to help me in any way she could. It was hard for her to send me east to college, but she thought it would be best for me, so she did. I didn’t see her much once I moved to New England. I regret that. I came to go to school and ended up staying.”
“What did you study?” he asked curiously.
“Fine art. I wanted to be a painter . . . but that didn’t work out.”
He didn’t respond at first; instead he seemed to study her with a thoughtful expression.
“You’re still young. You have lots of time to pursue it.”
“Theoretically, I suppose. Once the baby comes, though, I doubt I’ll be doing much artwork. . . . Maybe when she goes off to college.”
His mouth tilted up in a charming half smile. “Don’t wait that long.”
She smiled back, then stared out at the ocean, suddenly realizing that she had told him a lot about herself, a lot that was actually true. How had that happened? She hadn’t meant to. It was just that easy way he had of talking and asking questions that had caught her off guard.
I’ll have to be more careful in the future or I’ll wind up giving myself away.
“When will you go back to the mission?” she asked, wanting to turn the conversation back to him. “Do you know?”
A Christmas Promise Page 9
