by Jenna Mindel
“We’re not only calling their bluff, but laying the groundwork for our case if they ever follow through on contesting.”
Rose was done lying down and taking it. This was her diner, Greg’s legacy, and she’d fight to keep it. “Okay, do it.”
Rose heard Helen leave through the back door. She heard more noises in the kitchen and wondered if Helen had forgotten something, but then Greg entered with a tall glass of milk in hand. A real glass. Another reminder of Cam pinched her heart.
Cam had brought those glasses in for his iced tea. He’d said that he couldn’t do plastic and ventured to guess the customers thought the same thing. Rose had laughed at him. She wasn’t about to switch from plastic to glass. It was too expensive and real glasses broke too easily.
Everything in her life seemed to break easily.
Rose hadn’t expected Greg home quite this soon, but waved him in. “How was it?”
“Great.” Greg looked at her, confused. “Where’s Cam?”
How was she going to explain this one? “He’s gone, Greg. He had a meeting with a sponsor and won’t be back—”
“Who’s going to cook?”
“You know that Cam and I had interviewed cooks so he could go back to fishing. He went back.”
“But that’s not till August.” Her son lifted the lid of the acrylic baked-good case and reached for a cookie. His attention zeroed in on the newspaper she’d left lying there, the article about Cam still faceup. Greg grabbed it. “What’s this?”
Rose darted to snatch it away, but it was too late. Helpless, she watched the color drain from her son’s face as he read the headline. “Greg—”
He pinned her with accusing eyes. “You made him leave, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t make him leave. He had a meeting—”
“You hired a new cook and said he’s not coming back. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” Her son’s voice grew shrill.
She touched his arm. “Listen to me—”
“No. You listen.” He pulled away from her. “You always make them leave. You made Cam leave just like you did Dad!”
She sucked in air, but couldn’t seem to breathe. “Greg...”
“Leave me alone.” He threw the paper down and shoved hard off the stool, tipping over his glass of milk. It rolled and fell to the floor, smashing as it hit.
“Greg!”
He dashed for the front door, unlocked it, threw it open and ran outside.
Rose let him go. She stared at the spilled milk dripping onto the floor where shards of broken glass lay in a white puddle. That was why she didn’t want real glasses in her diner. Her body shook as tears seared her cheeks.
“Why’d You bring me here only to ruin everything?” Leaning against the counter, she wailed against God.
There was no answer. Only drops of milk hitting the floor.
Rose slipped onto a stool, hung her head and wept.
* * *
Cam paced his hotel room. His meeting had gone great, but he found little joy in gaining a huge sponsor. He couldn’t share his news with the one person whose opinion mattered more than any other. It was too late to call Rose and he doubted she’d talk to him anyway.
He hated the way they’d parted. He hated that she’d seen that article. Hated it even more that it was all true. It didn’t matter that there hadn’t been any proof found to substantiate the rumors. It didn’t matter that he’d been disqualified from that tournament for a breach of practice rules. He’d cheated, plain and simple. It hadn’t been the first time, but he vowed it would be the last.
God had offered up the chance to prove he could do it, too, and provided the financial backing for next year. An iced tea company had signed him, as well, and his business manager said there would be more.
The electronics giant wanted him to attend an outdoor expo this upcoming weekend as a spokesperson for their GPS mapping and sonar imaging products. There was no point in going home. Not yet anyway.
He grabbed his cell phone and called his mom to let her know his change in plans.
“Cam?” His mom’s voice sounded fuzzy.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” He glanced at his watch. It was after ten.
“It’s okay. What happened?”
“I have a couple of sponsors with more on the radar. I’m working a nearby outdoor expo this weekend in Kansas City, so I won’t be home for a bit. How’d the new cook do?”
His mom sighed. “She’s fine. She’ll be good. Cam, Rose is really torn up. Why would you do such a thing?”
An image of Rose crying turned him inside out. “I’ve made mistakes, Mom. Mistakes that I’m trying to fix.”
“Where does that leave Rose? Monica said that she wanted you to stay and run the diner with her.”
Why did his sister have to tell? He’d burned that bridge. He’d never forget the look in Rose’s eyes, as if he’d become some monster right in front of her.
“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want that anymore. Look, Mom, the Deans are threatening to contest Linda’s will unless Rose sells them back the diner.”
At his mother’s sharp intake of breath, he added, “Keep an eye on her for me. I’ve got my manager checking some legal channels, but there’s little I can do. Make sure she and Greg are okay. Make them dinner or something. Rose can’t really cook.”
“Already ahead of you. Monica took over lasagna tonight.”
“Thanks, Mom. If you see Greg...” Cam ran a hand through his hair. Would Rose let him see the kid again? His gut turned. “If you see Greg, tell him... I don’t know what to tell him.”
“When the time’s right, you will tell him yourself. Don’t worry, we’ll stick close to Rose.”
Picking up the pieces of the mess he’d made. Cam’s throat thickened. “Thanks, Mom. Got to go.”
He didn’t wait for her goodbye and ended the call. Hanging his head in his hands, Cam prayed. Hard. He asked God to comfort Rose and speak to her heart, but his phone buzzed with an incoming call, interrupting his pleas.
When he saw that the number belonged to Rose, his heart leaped. “Hello?”
“Cam?” Greg had his mom’s phone.
“What’s up, bud?”
The kid was quiet for a few seconds. “I, um, just wanted to call.”
Cam sighed. “Where’s your mom?”
“She’s sleeping.”
So, Rose didn’t know about this. Cam needed to tread lightly. He certainly didn’t want to make things worse. “Everything okay, Greg?”
“Did you leave because of that story in the paper?”
Cam closed his eyes. The kid had seen it then. If Rose had shown it to her son, that was a really low blow. She wanted nothing more to do with him, but did she have to ruin Greg’s view of him, too? “I had a meeting with a new sponsor, plus I have some expos I have to attend.”
“Why’d they say that stuff about you?”
Cam’s gut turned. Could he use this as one of those teachable moments with Greg? Show the kid what not to do? But how would he ever know if he’d handled it right if he wasn’t around enough to find out?
Taking a deep breath, Cam wasn’t sure where to start, but he was done ducking the truth. “Because I’ve made some really bad choices, Greg. My whole life, I’ve done things that were wrong, and I can’t just take it all back. I wish I could, but I can’t. I let my family down, your mom. Even you. And I’m sorry. God’s forgiven me but He’s also given me the chance to make some things right again.”
“Aren’t you coming back?” The kid’s voice sounded watery.
“Not for a while.”
“What about my mom? Do you still like her?”
“I love your mom—” That rolled off his tongue so easily.
He loved Rose.
It wasn’t the love-thy-neighbor kind of
love, either, even if that was what he’d meant to convey to the kid. “I love you, too, bud, but we knew I’d be going back to fishing. This time, I need to do it the right way, understand?”
“Yeah.”
When the kid sniffed, Cam’s heart broke. “It’s late, Greg. I got to go, buddy. Listen to your mom, okay? This isn’t easy on her.”
Another sniff.
“You okay?”
“I wish you didn’t leave.”
“I’ll be back. Don’t forget, we’ve got more fishing to do.” Cam hoped that might still happen.
“Yeah, okay. Bye, Cam.” Greg didn’t sound like he believed him. Why should he?
“Bye, bud.” He disconnected with an even heavier heart.
That kid needed him. Cam’s past had messed with his chances to be there for the boy. Cam wanted to watch him grow up and help him navigate those rough teenaged waters.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Cam wondered for the umpteenth time if returning to the pro fishing circuit was the right thing to do. What if all this was about his own pride? If he’d stayed, he might have helped Rose fight the Deans. He could have stood by her, been the kind of man she needed. The kind of man she deserved.
But after that article had been flashed in her face, the end result might still have been the same. He’d lost the fragile trust Rose might have had in him and there was only one way to win it back. He had to prove that he was different than before. A better man. A man she could trust.
Cam grabbed the hotel Bible from the top drawer of the nightstand. For one thing, God was real to him now. Opening the pages, he used the exercises Rose had showed him. He’d been plodding through those workbooks, but the words still jumped around on the page, some even upside down. He snapped the book shut. If he was ever going to make something of himself, he needed to read better.
Opening the internet browser on his phone, Cam looked up those classes Rose had told him about. There happened to be a facilitator in western Missouri, maybe an hour or so away. He saved the number in his contacts list and made a mental note to call tomorrow.
He loved Rose and he wanted her back, but he had to prove to her that he was worth taking back.
* * *
The following afternoon, Rose stared at the computer screen ablaze with photos of professional bass fishermen. She’d read the article, but wanted to dig up every tidbit of information she could on Cam before Greg got home. Twisted, maybe, but she had to know more. Too bad she hadn’t done this after they’d first met. She might have kept her distance a little better and protected her heart. Greg’s, too.
Today had been agony, with reminders of Cam everywhere. If it wasn’t her new cook at the grill doing things differently, it was every person she’d waited on asking where Cam was. She’d responded cheerily enough about his return to fishing, but the fake smile she’d worn all day made her face hurt. Remorse made her heart ache. She was sorry she’d met Cam, sorry she’d reinvented herself for him when he hadn’t been worth the effort.
Rose closed her eyes tight.
That wasn’t quite true or fair. She’d crawled into looking plain in order to hide. Since meeting Cam, she’d felt more alive than she had in years. He had brought her back to who she’d once been, before all the hurts and disappointments ate away at her confidence.
They were both hiding. Afraid of so many things.
Fighting the quicksand of self-pity, Rose turned to prayer and begged God to show her what lay ahead. How many times had she prayed this very prayer, knowing those answers wouldn’t come? God wasn’t a crystal ball. He was a lamp unto her feet that shone only so far. Lately, only a few forward steps.
God wanted her trust and her dependence.
Her forgiveness.
She sucked in a sob when those words whispered through her thoughts. No. How many times must she forgive being left and lied to?
Seventy times seven.
Rose shook her head against that snip of scripture that came to mind. Some things were just too hard.
Her phone rang. Checking the number, she picked up, grateful for something else to focus on. Her lawyer had express mailed a letter requesting the Deans stop harassing her or face a legal action. There was nothing more she could do but wait it out.
That placed her right back where she’d started. Linda’s estate should be closed in the next couple of months. Any contesting after that would be a moot point.
Rose thanked him and disconnected. Glancing at her recent call list, Rose noticed a phone call made last night, after she’d gone to bed. Her breath caught when she recognized the cell number as Cam’s. She heard footsteps coming up the steps and glanced at the door.
“Hey, Mom.” Greg entered the apartment.
“Did you call Cam?”
Her son took a belligerent stance, ready for her to make something of it. “Yeah.”
“Oh, Greg, why?”
“I didn’t get to say goodbye. You made him leave before I got home.”
Rose sighed. It didn’t matter that Cam had had a plane to catch; Greg was still mad at her. How this was her fault, she couldn’t figure.
Her son went to the fridge and opened it. “He’s got a sponsor now, so he’s not coming home.”
“I see.” Rose’s spirit sank lower.
She’d sort of hoped that his meeting would fail so he’d have to come home, but then, she’d given him no reason to return for her. Maybe that was for the best.
“He loves you, Mom.” Greg carried a gallon of milk in one hand and a plate of leftover lasagna from Helen in the other. He set everything on the counter, then grabbed a glass from the cupboard overhead.
“Where would you get that idea?”
“He told me.” Her son popped the plate in the microwave and hit Start, then clicked on the radio. Contemporary Christian music poured out, competing with the whir of the microwave.
Rose sat as if struck, until fire seeped through her. “He had no business telling you that!”
Greg looked surprised by her sharp tone. “He said he was sorry for what he did.”
Using her son that way... Rose fumed. “No more calls to Cam, you got me?”
“You can’t do that!”
She could and would. “I mean it, Greg.”
Her son glared at her. “He’s my friend, too, and he promised to take me ice fishing.”
“That’s months away.”
“So?”
“So...” Rose searched for reasons that didn’t come.
She wanted to yell back that Cam wasn’t a good example of what a man should be. He was no role model, but images of Cam and his family taking Greg under their wings to play horseshoes and fishing flashed through her mind. Greg looked up to Cam, even seeking out his counsel instead of hers regarding last weekend’s camping trip. Cam had been so proud of Greg catching fish...
That seemed like eons ago.
The microwave beeped.
Monica had brought over a huge pan of lasagna that Helen had made for them. They cared about her and Greg. Truly cared.
Silence settled like a thick blanket, heavy and dragging her down.
I’ve made mistakes, bad ones.
Cam’s words smote her, but the defeat in his eyes when he’d said them had haunted her all night long. Should she really be casting these stones?
The song playing on the radio in the background suddenly seemed louder and sounded so familiar. She realized it was the same tune that Cam had often hummed while he worked.
Listening to the words about grace and mercy and sin being washed white by Jesus’s blood at the Cross, Rose was humbled. What if God had withheld His forgiveness from her? Where would she be?
Tears filled her eyes and she ground them away with the heels of her palms. She refused to cry in front of her son, but it didn’t look like she had much of a choice
. She couldn’t hold them back.
“Don’t cry, Mom.”
She felt his hands on her shoulders and whispered, “I’m trying to protect both of us. Don’t you see?”
“Sometimes you have to take a chance. That’s what you told me about moving here.” Her boy, so young and yet wise for his soon-to-be twelve years, wrapped his arms around her. “It’ll be okay, Mom. You’ll see.”
Rose twisted in her chair so she could hug her son. She held on tightly while more of the words of the song washed over her. Hope and holy ground. All she need do is surrender.
God had blessed her with such a good boy. Greg was growing into a strong young teen she could be proud of. Her heart nearly burst when she thought about it—Greg had challenged her lack of faith and helped her to see.
Rose needed to trust in the Lord like never before. Trust that the diner would truly be hers to keep and trust that it would be okay. Maybe her son knew something she refused to consider. Cam wasn’t Kurt. Cam was Cam, and if she truly loved him, she needed to release whatever happened with him into God’s capable hands and trust that He knew best. God certainly knew her heart’s desire. Cam did, as well.
Giving her son a squeeze before letting go, she whispered, “Thanks, Greg. I needed to hear that, and I’m going to hope and trust that you’re right.”
“’Course I am.” Her son smiled, looking so much like his father, but Greg had sounded exactly like Cam.
Chapter Fourteen
Cam crossed a busy Main Street. The summer crowd remained in full swing and would be for another month yet. Cloudy days brought out shoppers and tourists that clogged up the sidewalks. Parking spots were coveted. He’d seen several folks drive slowly, looking for openings that weren’t there, only to circle round again. He knew how it felt. Right now, he felt like those people in their cars, circling in hopes of finding rest and a place to park it for good.
It had been three weeks since he’d last been home. Three weeks since he’d left the diner, feeling as if a rug had been pulled out from under him. Three long weeks shouldn’t have fazed him, he’d traveled constantly for most of his adult life, but this time away had been tough on many levels.
