A House Divided

by Sydell Voeller

  She nodded, struggling to make peace with her conflicting emotions. Truth was, the more she considered this new arrangement, the more her head throbbed. While the prospect of his living so close by brought a modicum of comfort, it also terrified her.

  How could she continue struggling to hold him at an emotional arm’s length when he would soon be practically camped out in her very backyard?

  Chapter Seven

  After Rebecca had picked up Wendy from her sister’s place and they’d returned home, they found Benny stretched out on the couch, watching the evening news on TV. They visited for a while, making small talk. Then Benny and Wendy played checkers at the kitchen table while Rebecca fixed a quick supper of baked chicken, red potatoes, and green salad. From close by where she worked, she couldn’t help eavesdropping on their conversation. Her daughter’s voice was spirited and eager. Benny’s was gentle and playful, filled with what seemed a fatherly concern for her.

  Meanwhile, she and Benny had only talked briefly about Mark’s refusal.

  “I’ll fill you in on the rest of the details after Wendy goes to bed,” she’d told him under her breath. “It’ll be easier to talk about it then.”

  “Wow, Benny, this is almost like old times!” Wendy said with a giggle as she insisted she would win at every next round of checkers.

  “Old times, for sure!” Amusement filled his voice. “But just don’t you go getting’ any ideas about beatin’ the pants off me, darlin’. When it comes to a good old-fashioned game of checkers, I promise you I haven’t lost my edge yet.”

  “When do you have to go back to California?” Wendy asked warily. “You’re not gonna rush off and leave Mama and me now, are you?”

  “Well, now, that depends. I’m here for business, you know, and once that business is wrapped up, I’m gonna have to be on my way again.”

  “Oh, Benny.” Wendy’s voice took on a sudden regret that gave Rebecca an uneasy feeling inside.

  “I like having you around, Benny,” Wendy persisted. “Do you always have to do business stuff? Can’t you just stay long enough to have fun, too?”

  The child needs a father, Rebecca mused with a growing lump in her throat. No, not just any father, she quickly amended. She needed August. Her father.

  “Well, darlin’, I can’t make any promises one way or the other. But I will tell you something. When it’s time for the movie shoot, then I’ll probably be sticking around a whole lot more.”

  “Do you think I can get a role in the movie just like Mama did a long time ago?

  He chuckled. “That depends, I guess, a lot on your mother.” He sent a look to Rebecca above the top of Wendy’s head. “You’ll have to take that up with her.”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Rebecca said, smiling. “Besides, Wendy, you’re more than half the age I was when I accepted the very small part in the first movie. You’ve got plenty of time to join the Hollywood crowd. Okay, you two,” she quickly added before her daughter could protest. “Dinner’s almost ready. Wash up and sit down.”

  After they’d finished eating and cleaned the kitchen, they watched a Disney movie on TV. Then Rebecca tucked Wendy into bed.

  “Mark’s not going to budge an inch, I’m afraid,” she said to Benny later. “His mind’s made up and there’s no changing it.”

  “Looks like we’re back to Plan B then. I’ll tell the clerk at the motel where I’m staying to keep my reservation open-ended. Then I’ll get busy first thing in the morning. I’ll find another house if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “I guess I probably jumped in with both eyes closed when I signed the three-month rental agreement with Mark,” she said, biting her lip. “I naively believed I could change his mind.”

  “Naïve or not, your good intentions were right on. Keep your chin up, doll. It’ll eventually work out.” He got to his feet, closed the distance between them, and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “Besides, I really can’t let my best buddy’s little sweetheart struggle all alone, now can I?”

  “Oh, Benny.” She sighed. “You know I’ll be fine. Wendy and I’ll both be fine,” she amended. “We’ve been on our own for a year now. Somehow, we’ll keep ourselves going.”

  “And ol’ Benny here, he’s gonna make sure of that,” he said with a widening grin. “But for now, there’s work to do, and not a second to waste, so I’d best be off. See you just as soon as I have some good news, doll.”

  “All right. You take care.”

  “I will. You, too.”

  After he’d left, she stared absently out the window at the gathering twilight. She thought about Mark, his insistence on holding onto the property, the meeting, and finally and his revelation about the note. So much had happened in the short time since she’d arrived back in Oregon.

  But whoever had written the note surely wasn’t a threat, was he? Surely he posed little danger in stopping Mark with his plans for the halfway house. Yes, Mark was indeed going to get what he wanted. With alarming clarity, she realized her dreams were slipping right through her fingers. And the worst part was, she was powerless to stop them.

  * * *

  The following week, Benny stopped by the Freemont Historical Home Society, procured a list of old homes that qualified for historical status, then got to work. Yet either the owners weren’t willing to make their property available—their reasons were numerous and varied—or the houses in question didn’t resemble the old

  Glasgow Place enough. “Nary a possibility,” Benny told Rebecca on Saturday afternoon when he’d stopped by to give her an update. “I’ve been here a full week now, and there’s no point in stickin’ around Freemont any longer.” Disappointment, plus quiet desperation, was written on his face.

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “Hang tight for now. There’s still time. Tomorrow I’ll mosey farther north into Washington and see what I can find out. Maybe something might turn up in Long Beach or Oysterville. I hear there’re some awesome old homes up there.” He grinned. “And I also hear the fishin’ ain’t too bad, either.”

  She put on a brave smile. It had been wonderful to see him these past few days—almost like old times, except August was no longer with them, of course. “You’re right. There’s still time. Good luck, Benny. Please call me the minute something promising turns up, okay?”

  “I’ll do that, doll.” He grinned at her and winked. “And don’t look so glum, okay? I’m gonna find us a place if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Good girl.” His grin grew wider. “Take care of yourself and Wendy, too. And if you need me, I’ll only be a phone call away.”

  * * *

  “Sorry I missed the town hall meeting last week,” Joan said as Mark paused by the reception desk in his office. She’d been off work the entire previous week with the flu, and this was the first time they’d spoken in nearly ten days.

  “No need for apologies,” Mark said, rocking back on his heels. “The meeting was intended mostly for the neighbors, anyway, and the attendance was good.” He crossed his arms over his chest, noticing she looked a trifle pale. “Feeling better now?”

  “Yes, thanks. But I have to admit, that was a nasty bug.”

  “I’m glad you’re over it.” He grinned. “The temp gal the agency sent was lousy.”

  Her face lit up like the brightest bulb on a Christmas tree. “It’s nice to hear you missed me, Mark.” She arched a shapely eyebrow. “Maybe I should get sick more often.”

  Ignoring her last comment, he glanced around the waiting room and noticed it was empty. The scent of recently brewed coffee wafted from the employee’s lounge, but he decided to pass on it. Caffeine was the last thing he needed right now. His nerves were already too much on edge.

  “Getting back to the meeting,” Joan said, “I felt so bad about having to miss it, I sent my younger sister, Ann, in my place. I wanted someone in the family to represent me in my show of support.”

  �
�Well. That was thoughtful, Joan.” Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the thought of where their conversation might lead, Mark searched for his next words. “I guess you’d call that going the extra mile.”

  Her answering smile turned coy, but he pretended he hadn’t seen it.

  “So how did the meeting go?” she asked. “Ann said it was a huge success, but I’m curious to know from your point-of-view.”

  He shrugged. “Good—and then again, not so good.” Other than Rebecca, he’d told no one about the threatening note, not even Pastor Al, whom he considered one of his closest friends.

  “Oh?” Her eyes widened as she rested her chin in her bridged hands. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning there were mixed reactions.” He rubbed the tight spot in the middle of his forehead. “But I expected that, of course. Now if everyone, especially the naysayers, will come back for the coffee hour in a few weeks, maybe I’ll stand half a chance to convince them more completely.”

  He hoped his affirmations sounded more optimistic than he felt. Involuntarily, he touched his hip pocket again where his wallet was tucked away. All week he’d been so painfully aware of the note inside, he had almost convinced himself the entire world had x-ray vision and could see it. No, he wouldn’t burn it as the writer had insisted. Troubled as he was about its content, he refused to allow himself to be manipulated that way. Maybe it was just a scare tactic as Rebecca had suggested, but the time might come when he’d have to go to the police.

  “I’ll be there next time, no matter what,” Joan promised. “After all, if I’m going to keep working for you, I feel I have a personal responsibility to back you up.”

  Although he still couldn’t help but feel she was going a bit overboard in terms of her “support”, he filled her in on his plans for the coffee hour. Glancing outside the window at the darkening sky, he added, “Let’s just hope and pray for good weather. I’m planning for this second meeting to be outdoors in the backyard.”

  “And how are the tours going at the old Glasgow place?” she asked. “They must certainly be stirring up lots of interest.”

  “I’ve cancelled them. No longer a good idea . . .” He stopped short, fearing he’d already said too much. Almost backed into a corner again. “And speaking of that, I’ve moved into the caretaker’s quarters. If you need to get a hold of me after work in an emergency, just call my pager. I won’t be available at the condo, at least not for a while.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You’ve moved? How come?”

  “It’s just temporary.” He told her about the visiting missionaries, hoping that was convincing enough. She certainly seemed filled with questions today.

  “Oh, by the way,” she said, “I’ve got tons of leftovers from the beef barbecue my sis hosted at her place yesterday. It was my dad’s fifty-fifth birthday, and the whole family got together. Want to come over tonight and have a bite to eat with me?”

  “Sorry, Joan.” He attempted his most congenial smile, but his face felt tight. “You know how I feel about mixing business with pleasure.”

  Then why don’t you feel the same about Rebecca and your business relationship to her? The thought nagged at him.

  That first morning after he’d moved in to the guest quarters, he’d risen early and sat by his kitchen window, coffee cup in hand, staring across the back yard, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. In fact, it seemed a well-ingrained habit by now, always watching for her to leave or come back. What was the matter with him?

  Joan’s voice brought him back with a start. “Have we discussed your business-with-pleasure philosophy before, Dr. Simons?” She batted her eyelashes. “If so, I must be having a major brain cramp.”

  “Perhaps we haven’t,” he mumbled. “But anyway, now you know.”

  “Touché,” he thought he heard her say under her breath.

  “Your one-thirty patient’s due in less than five minutes,” she reminded him. She got to her feet and sashayed to the photocopy machine.

  He noticed her spine stiffened. Her jaw was clenched.

  “And it’s high time we both get back to work,” he added. He shook his head and turned down the hall and into his office. Yep, work. That was always the answer to all of life’s ills.

  * * *

  Rebecca entered the back door at the Chamber of Commerce, a small, one-level brick building. Today, the second Wednesday in July, marked her first day on the job, and she’d felt as if the time would never arrive.

  Financially speaking, it had been a long month–and–a half, but maybe she could breathe a little more easily now. At least she’d managed to pay for the car repairs and Wendy’s new window-seat cushions. Missey and the girls had found a lovely blue, yellow, and red plaid fabric that complemented Wendy’s moon-and-stars wallpaper, and Wendy had come home from the shopping trip one very happy camper.

  Rebecca strode into the employees’ lounge, faced the mirror on the back of the door, and pulled a comb through her hair. Then, smiling her best smile, she stepped into the front office.

  “Good morning, Rebecca.” Madge Thompson, the Chamber manager, stood up from her desk and walked over to greet Rebecca. Madge had been the one who had hired Rebecca almost a decade ago, and the older woman was responsible for her working there this time too. Years ago, Madge and her mother had been members of the Freemont Garden Society, and Rebecca remembered that Madge’s influence in the community was long-standing.

  “Anything look much different around here?” Madge asked with a chuckle.

  Rebecca laughed too. “No, not much. Things just don’t seem to change much, do they? But it is wonderful to be back again.” Rebecca glanced about the office and noted that she and Madge were the only ones that had arrived so far. Norm Thompson must be running a bit late today.

  “I clocked in a few minutes ago,” Rebecca said. “Is there anything else I need to do before I start my day? Make coffee in the employees lounge, maybe? Pick up the mail at the post office box?”

  “No, I’ve already taken care of that, thanks. Just make yourself at home.” Madge motioned towards the front of the office, a cubicle behind a long counter. Your desk, like most everything else, is right where it always was.”

  “Thank you.”

  “While I’m thinking of it, be sure to fill out the time sheet I left there for you, plus the Social Security forms. And oh yes, of course, you’ll be in charge of answering all incoming calls. Headsets are next to the phones if you want to use them. And if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Got it,” Rebecca said as she took her place behind the counter. She glanced over at the reception area and noticed an artificial palm in front of the ceiling-to-floor windows. A display of pamphlets from local agencies stood against the opposite wall. Yes, small changes only, nothing much more than that, she noted. That’s what was so wonderful about coming back . . . the security, the small town hominess, the familiarity . . .

  “So how are the tours at the Glasgow house going?” Madge asked.

  “I’ve only done one so far, but it went very well, thanks.” Again, the thought of the threatening letter sprang to her mind, but she bit back the temptation to tell Madge that Mark had decided to cancel the tours. That would undoubtedly lead to a conversation about the proposed halfway house, one she’d just as soon avoid, especially on her first day back to work.

  “I understand things are in quite an uproar in your neighborhood, especially after the meeting Dr. Simons held at his church,” Madge said. She flashed Rebecca a tight smile. “Oh, by the way, sorry I didn’t stick around and say hello afterwards. I was on my way to a bridal shower.”

  “No problem. Weekends can get busy for everyone,” Rebecca said politely, though inside, her spirits had taken a nose dive. So much for wanting to stay clear of a potentially heated issue. She shifted in her chair. What exactly had Madge heard? Had talk about the petition reached her ears, grown totally out of proportion? Had the writer of the threatening note stirred the neighborhood gossip
pot, perhaps? Still, Rebecca reminded herself, now that she was finally employed by the Chamber, it behooved her to take an active part in fighting Mark’s project. The best interests of the city depended on the Glasgow house’s preservation.

  “I’ve also heard a group of local teenagers have started a petition to fight the proposed halfway house,” Madge hurried on.

  “Yes, that’s what someone at the meeting stood up and announced,” Rebecca reminded her as diplomatically as possible. “I . . . I think it was Matilda Rivers.”

  “Oh yes! Matilda, of course. A most upstanding citizen here in Freemont. Anyway, I’ve heard that several adults have taken it into their own hands to continue the efforts throughout the entire town.”

  “So how’s it going?” Rebecca asked with a wobbly smile. Her throat tightened. She might have succeeded in play-acting a decade ago, but she felt she was doing a pretty lousy job of it right now.

  “They’ve managed to come up with several hundred signatures so far. In no time, they’ll probably top a thousand or more.”

  Several hundred! Those were encouraging odds for those opposing Mark’s efforts, but oh, poor, Mark! Her heart went out to him. She wished now the petitions would have materialized without her encouragement, to have her name completely wiped away from any association with it. How else could she absolve herself of the niggling guilt that continued to gnaw inside of her?

  Norm McIntosh appeared from somewhere in the back of the Chamber, his beefy face flushed. He was either highly perturbed, or he’d been rushing to get there on time. “I think I should make it known, I’m one of those folks who have been circulating the petition.” He faced Rebecca squarely, his gaze narrowed. Obviously he’d overheard most, if not all, of their conversation. “Oh, so good to see you again, Mrs. . . . Mrs. . . . er . . . ”

  “Mrs. Lorenzo,” she reminded him. “Rebecca Lorenzo.”

  “Of course! Mrs. Lorenzo.” He cleared his throat. “I presume you’re happily settled into the old Glasgow house by now?”