The New England: ROMANCE Collection

by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris

  “Yeah. Swell.”

  “I see Clemmie made one of your favorite desserts again. What’s eating you? No appetite?”

  Joel recalled the barely touched peach pie he’d set on the porch. “Not much. Want the rest?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Joel handed Herbert the plate, and Herbert chuckled.

  “Remember the days when we would fight over who would get one of Darcy’s pies for her contests? Mmm. Clemmie makes them just as good. You’d be a fool to let a doll like that go,” Herbert observed with his mouth full. “And you can’t tell me you just care about her like a little sister either. I’ve seen the way you are with her.”

  “I’m hardly in any shape to consider a relationship right now. Thea sent you over here to keep me company so I wouldn’t brood, didn’t she?”

  “And then there’s Sheridan. What a knockout—and sweet as Christmas candy, to boot. She’s made it as obvious as the nose on your face that she’s stuck on you, coming here like she does to visit and flagging you down at church every week.”

  “I can’t see my nose, and I told you I’m not interested.”

  “To pass up either one of them, you must be bloodless or dead.”

  “No, but come tomorrow, check again.”

  “Hey now, don’t go talking like that.” Herbert’s effusiveness dissolved into gruff sincerity. “You have a team of people praying—us, Clemmie and her family, Darcy, Brent, all those at the Refuge, Sheridan, Paisley, their mom, Hannah, her mom and dad….”

  “Okay, okay. I get the picture. Still, you never know what could happen.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’ve made things right with your Maker, wouldn’t you say?”

  Joel couldn’t agree more. He couldn’t say what led him to reach out to God again—maybe a conglomeration of all that had happened in the past two months. One morning as he sat alone before Clemmie arrived, he felt so empty, so bleak, and he recalled much of the encouragement she’d given and what he had recently heard the pastor say. God’s love was eternal. Nothing Joel could do would prevent God from loving him, and he’d seen a shadow of such love in the way Clemmie’s father had treated him, had always treated him, no matter how badly Joel had behaved. Perhaps that had been the last blow needed to break the stony barrier that had encased his heart.

  “Yes,” he told Herbert, “I know the Lord will be with me. And if I wake up and see your ugly mug, then I’ll know it wasn’t my time to go yet. And if I wake up and see the angels and the face of God … Well, either way I can’t lose, can I?”

  Herbert clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! Just don’t let Clemmie hear you talk of dying.”

  “No, I’d never hear the end of it. This has really hit her hard.”

  “She cares a lot about you.”

  “I know.” Joel grew somber.

  “Sheridan, too, for that matter. You were so afraid of stepping foot off the property, afraid to be seen and of what people would think. Now you have two sweet gals eager to wear your ring on their finger. A fella should be so lucky.”

  “You have no reason to complain. Thea is one great lady to put up with the likes of you. And me.”

  “Don’t I know it? I suppose I should share the news, since it’ll be obvious to everyone soon, but we’re getting another little Miller this winter.”

  Joel’s smile was genuine. “Well, what do you know? Congratulations, buddy.”

  “And you need to stick around longer so all our children can get to know their uncle Joel. The girls think the world of you, though I can’t say why. You really can be incorrigible at times—my word, now I sound like our old schoolmaster!”

  Joel snorted a laugh at his friend’s nutty impersonation of Brent. Over the past few weeks he’d spent time with Herbert’s daughters, telling them stories of his and Herbert’s childhood at the Refuge. He’d even learned to tolerate their wretched cat, which had developed a habit of making its home on his lap. Absentmindedly, his hand went to the silky soft fur and stroked it, a rumbling purr soon following.

  “You know, old buddy, you’re really not half bad with children. Maybe you should consider settling down and raising your own family.”

  Herbert clearly wasn’t going to quit. Rather than go into both reasons again: that he couldn’t ask a woman to share his life when he was out of work and that he didn’t know from day to day if he’d be around long enough to put that ring on her finger, Joel settled for reason A.

  “If the operation’s a success, I’ll need to find a job and a decent place to live. No offense, old pal, but no way am I going to continue living out my days in this shed.”

  “Good. And you’re right. Women like windows. This place hasn’t a one. They want plenty of space to decorate for all the knickknacks they bring home, too.”

  “Will you just get out of here?”

  Herbert chuckled. “Seriously, I’ll talk to my boss. I’m sure he’ll take you back. He likes you. Said it was a shame to lose such a good worker. Said you might even have the makings of becoming a journalist one day.”

  “Mr. Thomas would disagree. I was one of his worst pupils when it came to writing reports and those awful poems.” This wasn’t the first time Herbert had told Joel their boss’s opinion of his potential, but before, Joel hadn’t cared. Now he felt that soft emotion clutch his insides again, making him tear up—something that had been happening a lot of late.

  “Herbert!” Thea called from the back porch. “I need you a minute, honey.”

  Herbert groaned. “Duty calls. I just hope it’s not about that silly painting she got at the bazaar. That woman must have made me move it fifty times already, to find the ‘perfect spot.’ I’m beginning to think one doesn’t exist.”

  Joel smiled. “Thank you again, my friend. For everything. I know we rib each other a lot and don’t always get along, but you’ve been a pal, helping me out like you have. I don’t know how I would have made it without you.”

  “You’re not going to start waxing poetic and get all sappy on me?” Herbert’s mocking horror teased, but Joel heard the softness clutch his voice, proof he was also getting emotional.

  “Aw, go on and get out of here before I take it all back.”

  “Yup, there’s the Joel I know so well. But this isn’t good-bye, so don’t treat it like one. That said, now I’m going to get sappy—you’ve always been like a big brother to me. Even if you were a worm at times.”

  Joel laughed. “Would you just go? And Herbert,” he added once he heard his friend’s steps move off the porch and to the grass. “Feeling’s mutual. On both counts.”

  Herbert’s laughter as he departed made Joel smile again.

  No matter what happened on the operating table, God had blessed him with a caring family at the Refuge, parents who were his not by blood but by heart, and good friends. Not everyone could claim so much to be thankful for.

  At least he’d had that.

  “Clemmie, luv, stop yer pacing before you wear a trail in the floor.”

  She turned toward Darcy, who sat on one of several benches against the wall in the stark, white hospital corridor where relatives waited while loved ones were in the operating room. “It’s been hours. Why haven’t we heard anything by now?”

  Her mother came up behind and hugged her. “The doctor said surgery such as his could last quite a long time, dear. There’s nothing unusual about that.” Clemmie felt grateful for her family’s support, sure she would have fallen apart if they weren’t there. She settled her head back against her mother’s shoulder, holding on to the arms she’d looped around her waist. “You need to curb that impatient streak of yours and settle down, sweetheart.”

  “I know I should, but I just can’t, Mama. This is Joel we’re talking about.”

  “I know. And you love him, don’t you? Not like a brother but as something much more.”

  “I’ve always loved him,” Clemmie admitted. “But it’s different from when I was a child. It’s
grown deeper now that I’m a woman. Matured and changed. And no, not like a brother at all.” She flushed, remembering his passionate kisses.

  “And how does he feel about you?”

  “That’s the question of the century,” she replied dismally. “I wish I knew. At times I think he still regards me like a little sis and good friend. At other times I think he wishes we had more—or maybe that’s my own wishful thinking?” She sighed. “I should just be grateful he didn’t boot me out the door when I let him believe I was someone else and he found out I wasn’t.” Her words, upon hearing them, made little sense, but she felt emotionally drained and didn’t bother to clarify. Nor had she slept much the night before, anxious for Joel.

  “That … was a mistake,” her mother gently admonished. “But I understand you didn’t mean harm. I’ve done a good many things I wish I hadn’t. A good many. But God always intervened when I asked Him to mend things, just like He did for you. I still wish to this day I’d never met Eric … yet if I never had, he might not be where he is, with his own loving family, of all things, and working in his soup kitchen mission. God certainly has a peculiar way of working things out.”

  Clemmie turned to look at her mother and noticed new lines of strain etched around her mouth and between her brows. Yet with her glowing skin, dark auburn hair, and pale green eyes, she had an unearthly beauty not many women did. “Have you talked to him recently?” She still found it odd that her mother and the villain who’d made her life a living purgatory, even trying to kill her more than once, had actually made amends.

  “Just the yearly Christmas cards, as you know, compliments of his wife, I would imagine. Nothing more. I understand he and Bill Thomas still correspond by letter and the telephone. They were gangsters together in the old life, working for that awful Piccoli man. Oh, it just seems so strange talking about those horrid days in such a calm fashion. Time truly heals all wounds, and God does work miracles. He can for Joel, too.”

  “I know, Mama. Still, it’s so hard.”

  “What you need is an amusing tale to take your mind off things.” Darcy patted the empty chair next to her. “Come sit beside me, luv, and let me tell you what mischief that new boy Quentin has been up to now.”

  “Darcy,” her mother warned with a slight laugh mixed with a groan. “It’s not nice to tell tales.”

  “And you don’t think she’ll be gettin’ an earful on her return? He didn’t exactly do his misdeeds in private, Charleigh. Maybe she can give us an idea of how to get through to him.” Darcy smiled at Clemmie while continuing to talk to her mother. “She always did have such a good head on her shoulders.”

  Except when it came to her own choices. Still, it did help hearing about the wild antics of the new young reformer, what the Refuge’s problem children called themselves. In between spurts of quiet laughter over the food fight he’d caused and shocked horror that he’d almost burned down the woodshed after experimenting with a cigar he’d snatched from Grandfather’s box, with his own gang of boys who looked up to him, Clemmie realized how much like Joel the new boy was.

  Soon her father, Hannah, and Hannah’s parents returned with sandwiches; and Clemmie felt relieved and surprised that the nurses didn’t throw them out, their number had become so large. They kept their voices to a dull murmur, respecting where they were. Clemmie’s heart clenched in gratitude when her father gathered them all around to pray for Joel. She knew her father could see past her false smiles and wavering courage. He had always been able to read her well.

  Hannah sat close and held her hand, offering reassurances while the hands of the clock slowly made their revolutions.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Again.

  At last a nurse came forward, and Clemmie jumped to her feet. “Joel Litton—how … how is he?”

  “Your friend made it through surgery.”

  Clemmie felt as if she might fall and held strongly to Hannah’s arm. “Can I see him?”

  “Not until tomorrow. He’s under anesthesia and will be for some time.”

  She didn’t add what Clemmie feared most—if he wakes up.

  “Please. I just want a peek. I won’t go inside.”

  “He won’t know you’re there.”

  “I don’t care. Please …”

  “It’s against hospital policy….” The nurse’s eyes gentled as if she could sense Clemmie’s urgency to see for herself. “All right. Just a quick peek through the door.”

  “Thank you.”

  She followed the nurse down a series of corridors before they stopped at a room. The nurse smiled and inclined her head, opening the door.

  The area was dark, but Clemmie could see his form on the bed. The top of his head and his eyes were swathed in white bandages. From the steady rise and fall of his chest, she knew what the nurse told her must be true.

  Joel was alive; he had survived the dangerous operation.

  “Thank You, God,” she whispered and, not caring what the nurse might think, blew Joel a soft, trembling kiss before turning to rejoin her family.

  Chapter 18

  Joel awoke to familiar dark. And pain. Excruciating pain, more severe than any headache; he groaned in agony. It took awhile to remember where he was and why. The voices of those in his room—nurses? doctors?—soon became blurred, and he began to feel woozy.

  He woke off and on, with no idea how much time passed—minutes? Hours? Days? It was too much trouble to figure out. In his more lucid moments, he listened to the murmuring voices, his sole connection to reality, and tried to figure out their identity. Soon a soft, husky one grew familiar to him, and he reached out.

  “Clemmie?” he rasped.

  Instantly, her soft, warm hand wrapped around his, and he relaxed.

  “I’m here, Joel. Is the pain very bad?”

  “Awful.”

  “Perhaps you need more morphine. Nurse?”

  “Wait, no … before they dope me up again … and I forget everything … thank you.”

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me. I want to be here.”

  “How long …”

  “Five days since the surgery. They … they weren’t sure you’d wake up.”

  He heard the tightness of tears clutch her voice as she fought them back.

  “I’m here.”

  “Thank God.”

  He heard the nurse approach and felt Clemmie begin to move away. He tightened his hold on her hand. “Don’t go.”

  Her other hand covered his. “I won’t.”

  His lucidity gave way to the drug pulling him back into the dark of oblivion.

  So his life progressed. He awoke at times more aware, at other times feeling as if he were in a strange dream that made no sense. Sometimes the pain was unbearable. Others, it was more manageable, and on those days, Clemmie read to him from her book, a little at a time. He couldn’t always follow the story, but just the sound of her low, gentle voice soothed him. By the time she reached the end of the novel, he was able to understand and felt satisfied that Christian had met his goal and found God.

  Sheridan also came to visit, as kind and concerned as Clemmie, and she often kissed his cheek in parting, telling him he must rest and get better. She would make some man a fine wife one day, he thought after one of her visits.

  At times the drug tricked his mind and he felt confused. He was sure he’d called Sheridan Clemmie more than once and had done the same to Clemmie. He just hoped both women understood if he did and weren’t hurt by his lack of clear thinking.

  Clemmie felt breathless after her run up the stairs. How, oh how could she have overslept? It was past noon!

  She hurried along the corridor to Joel’s room, stopping short at the sight of Sheridan sitting close to him, on the edge of his bed.

  “You know I’m always here for you, Joel,” Clemmie heard her say.

  “Don’t leave … I was a fool, not to know … not to admit how I feel….”

  “Shhh. It’s all right. You rest n
ow. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I want you with me … always … a lifetime.”

  Clemmie watched in stricken horror as Sheridan took his hand in hers and bent to touch her lips to his, keeping them fixed there.

  Standing in utter shock, Clemmie felt as if she’d been socked in the gut, worse than any injury from the fights she’d been in as a little tomboy. Quickly, lest Sheridan notice her, she backed away from the door and retraced her way to the entrance, her steps growing faster until she was almost at a run. Tears blinded her as she rushed from the building and hurried to cross the street. A piercing squeal of brakes made her stop in horror when she realized an oncoming car came only a few feet from hitting her.

  Shakily, she stepped back to the curb. Once the glowering driver passed, she made her way across, careful this time, her heart so heavy she wasn’t sure how she could walk with the weight of her understanding. Joel had clearly made his choice. She had known this could happen the moment she laid eyes on Sheridan and realized they’d once been more than friends, and she must come to terms with his decision.

  But the sight of their kiss brought such fiery pain to her chest she didn’t see how she’d be able to visit again, not with Sheridan there. And from the loving and personal revelations she’d heard, Joel’s choice of a girlfriend never planned on leaving his side.

  Clemmie had promised him she would be with him through the entire ordeal, and she had. But clearly he didn’t need her anymore.

  “I can’t believe you’re going home in less than a week!” Hannah complained. “It seems like yesterday when you got here.”

  Clemmie finished looking through the box of movie star photos that were Hannah’s treasure. Their perfect faces and slim bodies made her feel inferior, but she was what she was. It cheered her only a little to learn that Myrna, Claudette, and Greer were all redheads, too. She visited the movie theater only on rare occasions and had never seen their movies, though she’d heard about them, of course.

  “Have you talked to Joel since he was discharged from the hospital?”