Home Song

by Thomas Kinkade

  “Eavesdropping, you mean?” he asked with a small laugh.

  “I guess you could call it that. One of my favorite hobbies, actually.”

  They had reached the apple trees and turned down the first row. “I have the same habit,” he admitted. “But mostly just from police work. They teach you to study people, to figure someone out in a glance.”

  “Really? Maybe you should try writing a book or something,” she teased. She chose a tree and reached up to pick an apple.

  He smiled back at her. “It takes more than that. You need ideas, stories.”

  “I bet you have loads of stories,” she replied, then instantly regretted it.

  “That I do.” His tone was light, but his expression more serious, she noticed. She dropped an apple into the bushel, avoiding his gaze.

  Finally he said, “So did the stuff I told you the other night bother you?”

  “No,” she said honestly. “Not at all.” She had thought about it a lot over the past few days. She had thought about him. But she wasn’t quite ready to admit that.

  “Is there—something else?” she asked, suddenly worried that there was more he had to confess—darker, more frightening things.

  Luke’s mouth turned down at the corner, as if he were struggling not to smile. “No, that was it,” he promised. “Ahh . . . there’s a good one.”

  He spotted an apple, then reached for it, his arm coming around her shoulder so that she was suddenly trapped between him and the tree. He twisted it off the branch with perfect Sophie technique, then stood staring down at her. His face was so close, she could almost feel his breath on her skin. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

  But he stepped back and dropped his apple into the basket. The sound startled her, making her realize she had been holding her breath.

  “Today is not the kind of day to talk about the past,” he said in a decisive tone.

  “It isn’t? Why not?” she asked.

  “Well, for one thing, it’s too sunny out. And for another . . . I have this idea I’m working on.”

  “Oh, really?” Sara could tell by the tone of his voice and the sudden light in his gray eyes that “this idea” was important to him. “What’s your idea about?” she asked curiously.

  He picked another perfect yellow-and-red apple and shrugged. “Well, it’s about what to do with all that property I bought.”

  “You mean, like building a hotel or houses?”

  “No, nothing like that. The truth is, when I bought it I wasn’t planning on anything, really,” he said, turning to her. “Then, when I went out to dinner with those friends I told you about, this guy I know who quit the force gave me this idea. There’s a foundation in Boston that works with city kids at risk. You know, kids who could do better if they had more encouragement, better role models—that sort of thing.”

  Sara stopped picking apples and gave him her full attention.

  “They have so much pressure on them in those neighborhoods to do drugs and drop out of school,” Luke explained. “Even the really good kids, who have potential, get dragged under.”

  “I know what you mean,” Sara said. “A lot of the kids in Baltimore have the same problem.”

  “Right. So this program—New Horizons, it’s called—it gets kids out of that atmosphere for a break. They come to a place like this, and they get counseling and tutoring. They go hiking and do things they’ve never done and get to see the world from a new perspective. They get to see they have choices,” he explained. “Maybe they also get some experience in a useful skill, like carpentry or plumbing. I mean, not every kid is going to be a brain surgeon, right?”

  “I hardly know anyone who is.”

  “How true.” Luke met her gaze and smiled at her. Small lines fanned out at the corners of his eyes, and deep creases etched his lined cheeks. She felt herself staring at him, then tried to hide her reaction, seeking cover behind a tree branch.

  Yes, he is attractive, very attractive. And he hardly ever smiles, so when hedoes it’s a little—overwhelming, she told herself. But let’s not get carried away here . . . please?

  “Well, you get the idea.” Luke picked up the bushel and walked toward the next group of trees.

  Sara quickened her pace to follow. She had never seen him so animated or heard him string so many sentences together. He was positively elated—for Luke, she thought.

  “So what happens next?” she asked.

  “I donate the land and then turn the place into one of the New Horizons centers. They have them all over the country. We could use the cottages and maybe build one more larger, central building. I’ve already spoken to the program director and a lawyer who will draw up the papers.”

  “Wow, that was quick,” she said, impressed.

  “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” He met her gaze and flashed a grin. “I met with the New Horizons people twice, on Thursday and Friday. Once we started talking, things seemed to fall into place pretty quickly. The renovation on the cottages will have to start soon so the place will be ready for spring. I stopped at the Village Hall when I got back this morning and checked about building permits.”

  “When you get an idea, you don’t waste time, do you?”

  “Hey.” His voice went soft with concern, and he touched her wrist. “I didn’t mean you have to move out or anything. You can stay as long as you like. If you don’t mind the noise, that is.”

  “Well.” She wasn’t sure what to say. “I guess I’ll just have to see how noisy it gets.”

  She stepped up to the next tree and reached for an apple, conscious of Luke watching her. Something subtle had shifted between them, though she wasn’t quite sure what. She and Luke had always had one thing in common. They were both outsiders, arriving in the village at just about the same time and staying on without any real plan.

  Now it seemed Luke had found a plan and was about to make a real commitment to Cape Light. It was an even greater commitment than buying his land, which he could have sold or let a rental agent handle. With this new idea he was putting down roots, she realized. While she was still adrift, liable to sail off at a moment’s notice.

  “You seem really fired up about this idea,” she said. “It sounds like a big commitment.”

  “It will be. Very big.” He watched her as she leaned over to pick up the bushel. “Here, I’ll carry that,” he said. He bent to take it from her, and their hands met for a moment on the rim of the bushel. Sara stood still, then let go.

  “How about a break?” he asked, nodding toward a bench next to a water spigot.

  They walked over to the bench, where Sara took a drink from the spigot. She sat down next to Luke, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. The air was heavy with the scent of fruit that had fallen to the grass all around them, and the sky was a startling shade of blue.

  “You know, I realized something when I went back home. There was a lot of truth to my father calling me a failure,” Luke said.

  Sara found herself instinctively rallying to his defense. “You’re not a—”

  “No, it’s okay,” he said, cutting her off gently. “I did fail at being a cop, but maybe I wasn’t meant to be a cop. Maybe I was meant to do something else. This is worthwhile work. It’s almost like police work, only I’m getting to the kids before they go out on the streets and get into trouble. I think I like this idea even better,” he added.

  “I do, too,” she agreed.

  He leaned back and stretched his arm along the back of the bench, not quite touching her but creating a feeling of closeness between them. Sara suddenly did feel close to him. He was trying hard to figure something out. To get up and keep going, even though he’d been hit hard and knocked down.

  “I hope this works out for you,” she said sincerely.

  “Yeah, I hope so, too.”

  “You know, people around here might not be so receptive to a center like that,” she mentioned, trying not to sound too negative. “You might have some resistance from the v
illage.”

  He glanced at her. “I know, especially since I don’t have the greatest reputation around here. But it’s been done other places. Local people balk, and then they settle down. I’m going to keep it low-key at first. You’re the only person I’ve told so far.”

  Their eyes met, and she felt touched by his admission. Then she felt herself blush. He didn’t mean anything by that, she told herself. I’m just the first person he ran into since he got back.

  “Does that mean it’s a secret?” she asked him.

  “Sort of.” He shrugged. “The guy in the building permit office at the Village Hall knows, of course. . . . Are you good at keeping a secret?”

  Sara thought of the secret she’d been keeping from everyone in town, Luke included. “Actually, I am. I think you’d be surprised,” she added, rising uneasily from the bench.

  He didn’t reply, just watched her walk toward the trees again. After a moment he rose from the bench, picked up the bushel, and followed her.

  “Granny Smiths?” he asked as she walked toward a tree of bright green apples. “They’re too sour for me.”

  “They’re not for everyone,” she agreed. “But I like them.”

  “You like the unusual things, do you?” he asked, making her feel self-conscious again.

  “I don’t know. . . . It’s not something I do on purpose.”

  “That makes it even more interesting.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. Luke finally broke it by asking, “So how is it going at the diner?”

  “The usual, except Charlie’s even harder to take with the election coming up.”

  “I noticed. Ever think of taking another job? Doing something with your writing?”

  She glanced at him. “Like what?”

  He shrugged as she dropped two more apples into the basket. “If this program starts up, maybe you could get involved, teaching creative writing or something like that. It would be more interesting for you than working at the Clam Box.”

  “I’m sure it would be, but I don’t know that I’d be very good at it.”

  Sara knew she was making excuses. The bottom line was, despite Luke opening up to her—and despite her very real attraction to him—she couldn’t get so involved with anything or anyone while she was in Cape Light. It wouldn’t be fair to encourage him, she thought. She had no idea how long she’d stay, and he had no idea why she was really there.

  “Just think about it,” he urged her.

  She glanced at him, then turned and walked to another tree, feeling she needed to put a little space between them.

  “I like your plan. It’s a great idea,” she said carefully. “But I don’t think it’s something I can get involved with. For one thing, I have no idea how long I’m going to be here. I could leave tomorrow.” Sara ran her hand through her hair. “I just don’t know.”

  Surprise flickered through Luke’s eyes, then his face got that shuttered look. “No problem.” His voice was cool, detached. “It was just a suggestion. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  She could tell she had hurt his feelings.

  “Look, it’s not you. I really like you,” she admitted in a rush. “I mean, I respect you and what you want to do here. But don’t include me. My life is just really messed up right now. I know it might not look that way from the outside. But trust me, it is.”

  “Okay.” He looked at her and shrugged.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, though she wasn’t quite sure what she was apologizing for.

  “It’s all right. I get it. You don’t have to say any more.” He put the bushel down and looked down at her. “I hope you figure it out . . . whatever it is.”

  “Thanks, so do I. I’m working on it,” she added.

  “Good, then.” His manner was offhand, yet the energy between them felt very heavy to Sara.

  She glanced into the basket. “It’s nearly full,” she said.

  Luke gave her one of his half-smiles. “You mean, maybe we should leave some apples for other people?”

  “We could,” she said. She checked her watch. “Whoa, I’d better get home. I have to be at work by three. I’ll have just enough time to change and get into town.”

  “Sure, I didn’t realize it was so late.” He looked over at her, as if about to say something more, then just started back to the 4Runner.

  They drove back to the cottages in silence.

  Did I hurt him? Sara wondered. Or did he decide that I was too young or messed up or something? I don’t want to get involved with him anyway, so what am I worrying about?

  She looked up and saw that they had arrived at the cottages. Luke stopped and they both got out. He grabbed the bushel of apples in the back and carried them to her door.

  “What are you going to do with all these apples?”

  “Give you half?” she asked hopefully.

  He laughed. “I’ll take a few but not half.” He picked out a few apples and put them in his pockets, then balanced a few more in his arms. “Why don’t you bring them into the diner? Maybe Charlie can make something out of them.”

  “That would take some imagination. I don’t think it would work out,” she said blandly.

  He gave her that smiling-in-spite-of-himself smile again and stepped back, putting space between them.

  “Thanks for the apples,” he said, starting back to his cottage.

  “You’re welcome,” she called after him.

  Luke McAllister was an unusual man, she thought as she let herself in. She couldn’t quite figure him out, and she wasn’t ready for a relationship. But she liked him. And as he had pointed out, she didn’t like the usual things.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JESSICA? THE TRUCK’S LOADED. ARE YOU READY YET?”

  Jessica heard Sam call out to her from somewhere near the front door of her apartment. Meanwhile the woman on the other end of the phone continued her smooth, persuasive pitch.

  Jessica could hardly follow her. It was Monday evening, and she felt tired after starting off the work week. She sensed Sam hovering nearby, eager to get started on their project for the night, moving yet another load of furniture into the house.

  “—and the salary is quite high, considering your experience. Probably double what you’re making now.”

  “Double?” Jessica repeated. She wondered how this woman, a headhunter with an executive search firm in Boston, could possibly know what she was earning. But these people had their sources.

  “And the benefits are outstanding. Three weeks’ vacation, full health coverage, dental, life insurance, 401(k)—”

  “But I would have to be in Boston full-time, right?”

  “No one’s going to give you that kind of money working part-time, dear,” the woman replied in an amused tone.

  “Of course not. I just wanted to make sure that’s what you meant.” Jessica glanced up to see Sam in the kitchen doorway, a curious look on his face. She wondered how long he’d been standing there.

  “So can we set up an interview? They’ve already seen your résumé. They’re very interested,” the woman assured her.

  Sam was still watching her, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Uh, no. I don’t think so. I’m not interested in relocating back to Boston right now,” Jessica said. “But thank you for thinking of me—”

  The conversation quickly concluded and Jessica hung up.

  “Sorry. Some woman from a headhunting firm got me on the phone, and I couldn’t get off. I’m not even sure how she got my home number.”

  “Headhunting?” Sam echoed. “You mean, like a job offer?”

  “A bank in Boston is looking for a chief loan officer. They saw my résumé and wanted to interview me.” Jessica walked past Sam into the living room, looking around for her jacket and purse.

  “There must be a good salary to go with that title,” he speculated.

  “Very good,” Jessica agreed. “Twice what I’m making now.”

  “So what did you say?�
��

  She glanced at him. “I told her I wasn’t interested. You heard me.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did,” he admitted. “But I’m not sure you sounded all that sure about it.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course I’m sure about it. How could I take a job in Boston when I’m living out here? I’d have to get up at five o’clock in the morning to get to work on time—and who knows what time I’d get home. We’d barely see each other.”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant.” He glanced at her as she put on her jacket. “Oh, just forget it.”

  She wondered what he did mean. Sam was acting so funny tonight, distracted and not talking much, flying off at the slightest thing. He was usually so even-tempered, Jessica hardly knew what to make of it.

  “So are you ready to go?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s going to be dark in a little while. At this rate we won’t be able to unload the truck.”

  “In a minute. I think we should talk. Is something wrong?” she asked quietly. “You seem upset.”

  “I’m not upset.” He crossed his arms over his wide chest. “How about you? Are you upset?”

  “Me? What would I be upset about?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Turning down that big job offer maybe?”

  She felt confused. “No, not at all. I didn’t even think twice about it.”

  “Don’t say that, Jessica. You were on the phone with that woman an awfully long time. You must have had some interest.”

  “I was curious, that’s all.” Jessica shrugged. “Besides, once she got started it was hard to get rid of her. Like one of those telemarketers or something.”

  “Sure, it happens all the time to me,” he said sarcastically. “People calling me up, making big job offers. It’s hard to shake ’em.”

  Jessica searched Sam’s expression. His eyes were dark, unreadable; his familiar features lacked their usual warmth and light. Something was wrong here, very wrong.

  “Come on, Sam. What’s really bothering you? That I didn’t just hang up the phone the minute that woman told me who she was?”

  He stared at her and expelled a long harsh breath. “That would have been one way to handle it.”