BEN REMOVED HIS VESTMENT AND HUNG IT CAREFULLY IN HIS OFFICE closet. Then cleaned off his glasses with his hanky. He was grateful that the Lord had done his part, sending both Jessica and Sam to the service. But seeing them sitting rows apart, with not even a glance exchanged, had caused Ben deep concern. Now he was going to try to do his part. He hoped his plan wouldn’t misfire.
If only he had made headway with Lillian last week, he thought regretfully. But he hadn’t. Now it seemed time to approach the problem from some other front.
Sam arrived first and stood in the doorway. “You wanted to see me, Reverend?”
“Come in, Sam. Take a seat,” he said waving him inside.
Once Sam was seated he said, “Enjoy the sermon?”
“Yes . . . yes, I did,” Sam replied. “It got me thinking. Not just about what’s been going on in town. But about—a lot of things.”
“Good, that’s what I like to hear.” Ben suddenly saw Jessica in the doorway. She paused as she noticed Sam.
“Please come in,” Ben coaxed her. “And close the door. I don’t think I need to introduce you to my other guest,” he added as he sat down behind his desk.
“Hello, Sam,” Jessica said quietly. She sat down in the chair near him but didn’t look at him.
Sam looked at her, though, love and longing flashing in his dark eyes, Ben noticed. No, he was not too late. Not at all. This might not be as hard as he first expected.
He smiled gently at them, sending up a quick prayer that this meeting would help.
“I apologize for resorting to this—juvenile trick to get you together. But I wasn’t sure that you would come if I asked you to meet with me as a couple.” Sam and Jessica both studied the floor. “And that worries me,” Ben said sincerely.
“It worries me, too, Reverend,” Sam said. He looked about to say more, but glanced at Jessica and grew silent.
“Well, what’s been happening with you two?” Ben pressed on. “I hear the wedding has been postponed. Is that true?”
Jessica nodded. “We’re trying to work this out. At least I am,” she added. “But Sam just doesn’t understand what I’m going through, what I’m dealing with. He tells me I have to choose between him or my mother, when it’s not that way at all.”
“I love her,” Sam spoke up. “I want us to be married. But I want to believe she’ll have me with or without her mother’s seal of approval. Is that too much to ask?” Sam was struggling to keep his patience. “I can’t go forward if she’s not one hundred percent sure. She tells me she’s feeling pressure, she feels torn. Well, to me those are doubts. That’s not one hundred percent sure.”
“You’ve talked to your mother again, Jessica?” Reverend Ben asked.
“Yes. I went there last week. It didn’t go well. I want to give her more time. But I don’t know if she’ll ever come around,” she admitted.
“She may not,” Ben agreed. “I feel your mother is wrong and will eventually regret the way she’s behaving. But you may never get her blessings or approval on your marriage to Sam.”
He paused, watching Jessica’s reaction. Her eyes were downcast, her expression sad.
“I know that,” Jessica said quietly. “But I can’t seem to get past it. I just feel so—stuck. So backed into a corner.”
“Who backed you in there, Jessica?” the Reverend asked.
“My mother,” she replied, as if the answer were obvious. She glanced quickly to her right. “And Sam,” she added.
“How can you even say that? This mess isn’t my making.” Sam turned to Jessica, his voice rising. But Ben met his eye and he quickly calmed down.
Ben gave them a moment, then turned to Jessica again. “Did you ever play tug-of-war?” he asked. She looked puzzled by the question but nodded. “Well, you’re in a tug-of-war with your mother. One that you’re not likely to win,” he said. “But there is a way out of the game, a way to disarm your opponent.”
“How?”
“Just let go of the rope.” He paused for a moment. “Instead of battling with her, try to forgive her. Do you see what I mean?”
Jessica glanced at Sam for a moment, then turned forward again, settling in her chair with her legs tucked beneath her.
“You’re probably right, Reverend,” she admitted. “But would you at least give it one more try with me? Could you come and talk to her one more time with me? And maybe Emily could come, too.”
Ben was not surprised by the request.
Sam did not look pleased, but he said, “One more try wouldn’t hurt, I guess, if that’s what you think you have to do.”
“All right, call me later and we’ll try to set up a time,” Ben told Jessica.
“Thank you, Reverend,” she said as she stood up. Sam stood up, too. He leaned over and shook Ben’s hand. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“Thank you for coming,” Ben replied lightly. Since there was no mention of his subterfuge, he guessed they had forgiven him.
He watched them walk out, close but not touching. He could see the tension between them still—but also the love.
He straightened out his desk and gathered some belongings. Carolyn was expecting him home right away. Rachel and Jack were coming over.
Through the half-drawn curtain of his office window, he spotted Sam and Jessica again, out in the parking lot. They stood by Sam’s truck, talking in an animated fashion, and Ben wondered if they were having a fight. He rubbed his forehead, worrying that he had been wrong to force them together.
Jessica went very still, staring up at Sam. He stared back at her a moment, then seemed to swoop down and surround her in a huge, hungry embrace, kissing her full on the mouth till her head tilted back and she nearly lost her balance.
Ben turned away, feeling embarrassed. They seemed to be . . . working things out, he thought. And Sam, at least, had taken the words of his sermon to heart.
HARRIET DESOTO STOOD IN THE DOORWAY OF EMILY’S OFFICE, A BUNDLE of folders under her arm.
Emily could tell by her expression that she had been standing there some time—long enough to have overheard the phone conversation she was having with Luke. Emily waved her in, focusing on Luke again.
“I’ve told him about the reaction here. I’m sure he’ll agree to come,” Luke said.
“Maybe he could ask some of the counselors to come along, too. They could describe the program in detail, talk about the kids who get help, answer any questions. That sort of thing.”
“It might help,” Luke agreed.
“Great, why don’t we try for Wednesday night?” Emily said, glancing at her own calendar. “It’s not much time to prepare, but I think it’s important to do this as soon as possible.”
“Absolutely,” Luke agreed. “I’ll call Dr. Santori and get right back to you.”
When Emily looked up she knew from Harriet’s expression that she’d figured out who Emily had been speaking to, but not what it was about.
“I’ve asked Luke McAllister to give a presentation to the town about his project,” Emily told her. “He’s inviting the program director to come down and help him answer questions.”
“You did what?” Harriet stared at her. “I don’t think that was such a great idea.”
“Don’t you see? As long as people don’t know the facts, and what this program is all about, Charlie can say anything he likes. He’s spreading all kinds of misinformation and making the situation look worse every day.”
Harriet wouldn’t meet her eye. She pressed her lips together, looking annoyed. “I’ll tell you what’s going to look bad. You sitting there, shoulder to shoulder with McAllister and the lot of them from Boston.”
“This is going to help, Harriet.” Emily sat back in her chair, sending a clear message that she wasn’t going to be talked out of this.
“You might have checked with your campaign committee first,” Harriet muttered.
“I knew you’d all disagree and try to talk me out of it.” Emily put her reading glasses on and tu
rned to her computer screen. “Besides, I have the right to call a town meeting. It’s well within my authority as mayor.”
“Enjoy it while you still can, I guess.” Harriet dropped the folders she was holding on Emily’s desk and stalked out of the office.
SOPHIE WALKED AMONG THE TREES, THE FALLEN APPLES CRUNCHING UNDER her rubber boots. She picked up what she could and tossed them into the wagon she pulled, her fingers moving clumsily in the thick work gloves. The blackbirds would help clean up the rest.
A stiff breeze blew and caught the top of the hillside, tossing the leafy branches of the apple trees that still hung heavy with fruit. The trees were like her old friends, their thin arms waving hello to her. She loved to walk among them. The smell of the fallen fruit sweetened the cold morning air. The musky perfume sunk deep inside, restoring her.
Stopping for a moment to catch her breath, she unbuttoned the top of her canvas barn jacket. It was an old one of Gus’s, which didn’t fit her badly, except for the sleeves that had to be rolled up. Pulling the wagon over the ground, bumpy with tree roots, was hard work. The load was growing higher. What a waste, she thought. I could have made a hundred pies from all this fruit.
She sat on the bench and looked out over the orchard. The mist was burning away, and she felt the warm sun on her skin. It was a deep pleasure to her, just to sit here in the quiet and look out at her land. She had been raised on the orchard, never lived anywhere else. She took it for granted, like taking air into her lungs or seeing the sunlight.
Now the load of spoiled apples looked to her like all the long days of every season that she’d taken for granted, just rushing through the hours unconsciously, as if it would never come to an end. Her children growing up from babies to adults while her back was turned, cooking something on the stove. She had seen her husband for the first time under these trees. She had been out here working in the spring, the boughs full of white blossoms and the smell of the flowers so heavy it would make her head ache some days. Her stepbrother Carl had brought Gus around. They had just gotten out of the army and both needed work. She had inherited the orchard and was running it all on her own. Gus was the handsomest man she had ever seen. The first time he smiled at her, she nearly fell off her ladder. She was twenty-nine, already an old maid and sure she would stay that way. She never thought Gus would be interested in her, especially since he was six years younger.
And now here she was, fifty years later, thinking that she never expected him to get sick first, either.
“Sophie! Hello—” She heard the Reverend call out to her from a long distance and saw him wave as he climbed up the hill from the house. She stood up and waved back, then picked up the wagon handle and headed down to meet him.
“Good morning, Reverend. Sorry I missed the service yesterday. Do you go out and track down all your missing sheep on Monday mornings?”
Ben laughed. “I’m hardly here to scold you, Sophie.”
“I know that.” She smiled. “Come on into the house. I’ve got some nice apple pie.”
“I’ll take some coffee. It’s a bit early for me for pie,” he said, patting his stomach. “I’ve barely had breakfast.”
Sophie parked the wagon by the toolshed. She glanced at the Reverend over her shoulder. “You mean to tell me you never had pie for breakfast?” She shook her head. “You’ve lived a sheltered life, Reverend Ben.”
He nodded, following her, and took off his hat as they entered. “No argument there,” he agreed.
Sophie moved about the kitchen, heating the coffee and setting out cups. The Reverend sat at the table, watching her. She knew what he had come here to talk about. It was hard, though. Easier to keep her hands busy so her head didn’t have to think too much.
“It’s quiet here today,” he said.
“It’s always quiet on Mondays. Sometimes school groups come up, though.”
“How are you managing alone out here?”
“All right.” She nodded firmly. “I ran the place on my own before I married Gus, you know,” she reminded him. She set a cup down in front of him and a plate with a fork and napkin, too. He always said he didn’t want anything, then ended up enjoying it.
“I wouldn’t do it again by myself, of course. I’m not planning on that, so you don’t need to look so worried, Reverend.”
He didn’t answer right away. “Have you given much thought to what you will do? Once Gus is out of the hospital, I mean.”
“I can finish up the picking season on my own. That’s no problem,” she said, pouring out the coffee. “Having Sam and the other men from church here was a blessing. If they come by again to paint, that will help me.”
“I’ll arrange it for you. No problem,” Reverend Ben promised.
“I’ve been trying to persuade one of my kids to take the place over. You know, keep it in the family. They all love coming for a visit, but nobody wants to move back now. They’re too involved with their own lives, you know. I raised them to know their own minds, so I really can’t blame them.”
“Very wise of you,” Reverend Ben said.
“I guess we’ll stay the winter. I hope it’s not a bad one, either,” she added, already feeling a chill in her bones from the memories of winters past—snow piled up to the windowsills and the ground hard with frost well into April. “I can take care of Gus and then we’ll have to see,” she said resolutely.
“Have you heard yet when Gus will be home?”
“The doctor says maybe next week. The infection is clearing, but they still want to watch him.” She cut a thick wedge of pie and put it on the Reverend’s plate.
“And what about his heart problem? How will they treat it?”
“They’re only talking medications so far. They say he’s too weak right now for an operation. He can’t tire himself, of course. He has to slow down, live a different kind of life altogether,” she said, sitting down beside him.
“That will be hard for him.”
“Don’t I know it. Hard for both of us,” she said honestly. “I don’t want to sell this place. I’ve been here so long, you would think I’d be rooted to the ground myself by now. I always thought I would die here,” she said with a shrug. “It feels like it’s just too late to move away.”
The Reverend reached out and covered her hand with his. “It must be very frightening for you. I can’t imagine it myself.”
She nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat. “At least Gus and I will be together. That’s the main thing now—that and getting him back on his feet again. Whatever comes our way in the spring, we’ll face it together.”
“You have Gus, you have your children. You have me, of course, and all your good friends in town,” the Reverend reminded her. “And you have the Lord, Sophie. He knows you’re frightened. Trust Him to help you get through this and show you what He has in store.” He took a bite of the pie. “This is wonderful.”
Sophie nodded. “Now you make me even sorrier that I missed the service Sunday.” She saw him smile and then she smiled, too. “I know what you’re saying, but I forget sometimes. That’s why God set aside one day a week for going to church. To remind you of these things, right?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“My mother always told us, ‘Work hard, pray hard, and leave the rest to God.’ That’s all I can do now.” She sat back, her lips set in a tight line. “People see me living up here on the orchard my whole life, and I guess they think, ‘Poor woman. Up there with all those apple trees day in, day out. Why, she’s barely set foot outside this town. Nothing very special has ever happened to her.’ But lots of things have happened to me, Reverend, extraordinary things. Miracles, really, you could call them. Why, just the way Gus showed up here when I had lost hope of ever finding a husband. That was sort of a miracle, don’t you think?”
“Yes, you could say that. Love is always a miracle, I believe.”
“What I’m trying to say is, I’ve felt God’s presence in my life. When I remember tha
t, my faith is strong. I know I can trust Him to help us find our way now.”
The Reverend smiled slowly, and leaned back in his chair, making Sophie feel as if she were his star pupil who had just worked out the answer to some particularly complicated equation.
When the Reverend got up to leave, Sophie went into her pantry and fixed a box for him, filling it with apples and squash, jars of apple butter, honey, and a fresh-baked pie. It was their usual routine, him refusing at first, saying it was too much, and her insisting until he accepted. This time he didn’t argue as hard, she thought, and she saw a certain sadness in his eyes as he thanked her.
She pretended not to notice, though. She knew he was thinking that pretty soon, this too would come to an end. She didn’t want to dwell on it anymore today.
She pulled on her jacket again and walked the Reverend outside to his car. The sun had rolled up over the hillside, warming the world in its wake, and Sophie felt eager to return to her work.
BEN SPENT A BUSY MONDAY, HIS VISIT WITH SOPHIE CROWDED OUT BY THE demands of his day. But she came to mind again that evening as he carried the half-empty carton she’d given him up to his own house. He had stored the jars of preserves and honey on the shelves of the church food bank, and given the pie and most of the apples to the church secretary.
There was still plenty left, though, he thought as he presented the box to Carolyn in the kitchen. “I was out at Sophie Potter’s, and she gave me one of her care packages.”
Carolyn was working at the sink, pulling apart a head of lettuce. She shut off the water, kissed his cold cheek, and quickly dried her hands on a towel. She didn’t even spare a glance at the box, he noticed, as she brushed by.
“Look, a letter from Mark,” she said, handing him a tan envelope with their address scrawled in a familiar slanted script. He slipped the letter out of the envelope, which had already been torn open.
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