Home Song

by Thomas Kinkade

  The white Bible, which she’d had as long as he’d known her, was open on her lap. She looked asleep. But before he could tiptoe over and turn off the light on her end table, she blinked and smiled at him.

  “I must have dozed off. . . . I didn’t even hear you come in.”

  “That’s surprising, since I just rattled every cracker box in the house.”

  He bent over the bed and kissed her hello on the cheek. She smelled like floral soap and toothpaste, a familiar combination.

  “Didn’t you have any dinner?” she asked with concern.

  “A late lunch. A very heavy late lunch,” he corrected himself. “I’m all right. What I need is a good night’s sleep.” He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes, feeling Carolyn watching him.

  “I left something for you on your chest. A letter from Mark,” she said.

  “Really?” He sat up and ran his hand over his beard. “What does it say?” he asked eagerly.

  “You can read it. It’s pretty long. For Mark, I mean,” she replied. He could tell from her tone that it had not been the answer they hoped for. Still, Carolyn sounded all right; maybe the news was not that bad.

  He walked over to his dresser and found the envelope which had been addressed to both of them, then he slipped out a two-page letter.

  His son could be eloquent when he put his mind to—or maybe his heart into—it. Ben could not help but be touched by the opening of the letter in which Mark was clearly making an effort not to hurt them. But while Mark acknowledged their eagerness for him to come home, he said he had changed his plans. Ben felt his heart drop as he continued reading.

  . . . Coming back East just doesn’t feel right for me now. I hope you can understand. The monastery was a good place for me to clear my head. I’d like to keep this feeling for a while. I’d like to be in an even quieter place where I have time and space to think and just—be. A friend of mine is living on a ranch in Montana and invited me to come out there and work with him. I’ve always heard that part of the country is a beautiful, wild place, and I’ve wanted to see it.

  I’m sorry to disappoint you. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned coming home at all if I didn’t know for sure. But I will be back someday. You know that. Probably sooner than any of us think, right? Until then, I think of all of you often and hope that you are well. Please give my love to Rachel and wish her the best of luck with the baby. With love, Mark.

  “He mentions Rachel here at the end,” Ben noted, his eyes still fixed on the letter. “I don’t think he realizes how soon the baby is due, do you?”

  Carolyn put her Bible on the table next to the bed. “I’m sure we mentioned it. But he’s not ready to come back.” She sighed. “It’s not the end of the world, I guess, if Mark comes in the spring or even the summer. At least he sounds as if he’s been thinking about it, too,” she said hopefully.

  “Yes,” Ben agreed. “It sounds as if he’s thinking about a lot of things.” He went over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you very disappointed?”

  She nodded and Ben could see she was trying not to cry. “I guess I got my hopes up. He didn’t realize, I guess, what it meant to me. To us,” she added, her voice thick.

  Ben took her hand in his and studied it. She had such fine hands, perfect for the piano, still supple and strong. “No, he didn’t realize,” he said, believing it. Mark didn’t understand half of what they felt for him. What child did?

  But it did seem cruel somehow to dangle that prize, then snatch it away. He felt disappointed—and angry. But he wanted to focus on Carolyn. Her mood had been so even lately, so upbeat. Would this news push her into a tailspin?

  She sighed and leaned back on the pillows. “Rachel will be disappointed, too. She was in bed today with another cold—or just plain worn out. I couldn’t really tell. I stopped by to see her and . . . I don’t know . . . she looked just awful. So pale and drawn.”

  “What about Jack? Isn’t he helping her?” Ben asked as he undid the buttons of his shirt.

  “I asked her the same thing. She said Jack has been doing practically everything around the house, but she feels exhausted. Her ankles are swollen, too,” Carolyn said. “I made her just sit in one spot all day and keep her feet up.”

  Ben heard the worry in her voice. Carolyn wasn’t the worrying type normally. But this was different—her only daughter having their first grandchild. Yet, in a way this was good, he realized. It gave her something to focus on besides Mark.

  “The end of the pregnancy can be very hard for some women,” he said. “Maybe she should stop working now. Or at least, cut back her hours.”

  “I told her that, too. She has cut back to part-time, but I’m afraid that’s not enough.”

  “Come on, dear. She’ll be fine,” Ben assured her. “The baby will arrive, and we’ll forget all about Rachel’s swollen ankles. That’s always the way.”

  Carolyn crossed her arms over her chest, not looking comforted at all. “I suppose I’m worrying too much,” she admitted. “It’s hard for me to see her like this, though. I can’t wait until the baby is here, safe and sound.”

  “Me, too,” he agreed.

  “Then maybe Mark will come home,” she added wistfully.

  Ben didn’t reply. He leaned over and held her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SARA, I’M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU.” JESSICA PULLED OPEN her front door before Emily and Sara even had a chance to knock.

  As Sara walked in, Jessica hugged her close, then quickly stepped back. “I’m sorry . . . I couldn’t resist. It’s silly, really, isn’t it? It’s like I’ve never met you before, and I just saw you the other day in the Clam Box—but I didn’t know,” Jessica tried to explain.

  Emily watched Sara shyly smile at her aunt. “I know what you mean. It’s sort of strange for all of us, I guess.”

  “But strange in a good way,” Jessica pointed out.

  “Absolutely,” Emily agreed.

  Emily told Jessica about Sara the night she found out. During that tense, awful period while she waited for Sara to read the diary, it was Jessica who was her greatest comfort. Emily would always be grateful to her sister for that. And for taking Sara into her own heart with such warmth and sincerity.

  “What time did you tell Mother?” Jessica asked Emily.

  “I said around eight. She thinks I have a late meeting.”

  “We have a few minutes, so come into the bedroom,” Jessica said, walking ahead. “I want to show you both something.”

  Emily followed her sister, with Sara trailing close behind. In the center of the bed lay a large, flat carton, a scrap of dark blue velvet peeking out from one end. The bridesmaid gowns had come. Emily felt unexpectedly excited.

  Jessica flipped open the lid and pulled out the gown. She held it up against her body. “It’s great, isn’t it?” she said. “Look, they changed the sash to the darker satin, just as we asked, and took off those ugly beads around the neckline.”

  It actually looked better here in Jessica’s bedroom, Emily thought, than it did in the dressing room of the store, which had been bursting with dresses in all shapes, sizes, and materials.

  “Even Molly didn’t complain,” Jessica said. “And she loved the coordinating gowns for Lauren and Jill.”

  “I think we made a very good choice,” Emily agreed, feeling pleased. The wedding was really starting to come together.

  “It’s very pretty,” Sara added. She reached out to touch the velvet. “I love the color.”

  Emily and Jessica glanced at each other. Jessica took the dress and held it against Sara. “Oh, look at that . . . it’s perfect for her. She’ll need a smaller size, though.”

  “She’ll look gorgeous in that. With her hair up maybe,” Emily said with an affectionate, tender look at her daughter. She bunched up Sara’s long ponytail and held it up behind her head.

  “Very elegant,” Jessica agreed.

  Sara glanced at them, confused. “You’re just kidding,
right?”

  “Would you be one of my bridesmaids, Sara?” Jessica asked sweetly.

  “Oh . . . I couldn’t. Really,” Sara said, looking self-conscious.

  “Oh, please do it. I would just love it if you would. And Sam would love it, too!” Jessica exclaimed.

  Emily watched Sara struggling with the question. She could understand why Sara might feel shy or hesitant. She also knew that she would be so proud and happy to follow her daughter down the aisle.

  “Please, Sara? I’d love for you to be there with us, like a real family,” Emily said softly.

  “I won’t take no for an answer,” Jessica insisted with a smile.

  Sara pursed her lips and looked down at the dress again. “Okay. If you really want me to.”

  “I really do. You can’t know how much,” Jessica said. She hugged Sara close for a moment, then glanced at her sister, smiling over Sara’s shoulder.

  Emily swallowed back a lump in her throat. She had not felt this content in a very long time.

  EMILY’S GOOD FEELINGS LINGERED, BUOYING HER UP AS THE THREE WOMEN walked up the path to Lillian’s house. Emily paused before knocking on the door. “Now, please remember, Sara—” she began.

  “I know. She’s liable to get nasty, and I shouldn’t take it to heart,” Sara replied in a rote tone.

  Emily had to grin. Was she sounding so much like a mother already?

  “All right. Sorry if I sound like a broken record.”

  Sara leaned over and gave her arm a squeeze. “Why don’t you knock so she knows we’re here?” she suggested gently.

  They waited only a few moments before Lillian appeared. “What is this?” Her sweeping glance took the three of them in.

  “I thought you were bringing me some groceries, not another contingent to badger me about this wedding.”

  “I have the groceries, Mother.” Emily raised the white plastic bag like a peace offering. “Why don’t you let us in?”

  Lillian stepped aside, grudgingly allowing them to enter. She shut the door and turned to Jessica. “Well, look who’s here—the bride to be. How nice to see you again, Jessica,” she said in a chilly formal tone.

  “Hello, Mother,” Jessica said mildly. Lillian stared at her, but when Jessica didn’t say anything more, she made a frustrated sound in her throat and headed for the living room.

  “Hello, Lillian,” Sara said, catching her grandmother’s attention.

  Her mother seemed confused to find Sara there and yet, not unhappy, Emily noticed. As she carried the groceries into the kitchen, she could still hear their conversation.

  “Sara, how are you? I expected you last week, to go through the things in the attic. But maybe you’d forgotten.”

  “No, I didn’t forget. I’m sorry I didn’t call, though. I did get a little busy.”

  Lillian nodded. “Yes, a little busy. Everyone is so busy these days—too busy to call or stop by.”

  Emily came back in the room. Her mother was staring at Jessica again, but Jessica ignored her.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Mother? We need to tell you something,” Emily began.

  “Why do I have to sit down? Is this bad news?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Emily said sincerely. “But it will probably surprise you.”

  Lillian stood up tall, as if to defy Emily’s suggestion.

  “Well? What is it?” she demanded curtly. “The three of you look like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. I’d like to be in on the joke, too.”

  Emily rested her hand on Sara’s shoulder as she gazed at her mother. “This is my daughter, Mother. Your granddaughter.” She paused, waiting for her mother’s reaction.

  Lillian blinked. “What do you mean, your daughter?” she asked harshly. “How could that be?”

  “Sara is my daughter, the child I gave up for adoption down in Maryland,” Emily explained calmly. “She came up here in May to look for me—but she just told me a little over a week ago.”

  Lillian narrowed her eyes and her mouth trembled. She shook her head, as if to say “No,” then turned around and took firm hold of the chair behind her. “I think I will sit down, after all,” she said on a long breath.

  “Are you all right?” Jessica asked with concern, walking toward her.

  “Don’t you dare fuss over me,” she warned her youngest daughter. She swallowed hard and lifted her head. “I don’t believe her,” she said flatly, glancing at Sara. “She must be . . . some sort of imposter. You’re a fool to believe her,” she warned Emily.

  Emily felt her temper rising but struggled to control it. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mother.”

  “Really? Has she shown you any proof of this at all?” Lillian demanded. “This happens all the time, you know. I’ve read about it. She’ll be asking you for money next, mark my words.”

  “Mother, please, stop right there,” Emily said. She felt Sara touch her arm and turned to her. Sara shook her head, as if to say, Don’t bother. I’m okay.

  Emily had expected something like this, but it was hard to take, nonetheless. She forced her voice to an even pitch. “After all this time and all I’ve been through over this, Mother, I hoped you would at least try to be understanding.”

  “I understand this,” Lillian said slowly. “Whether she’s really your child or not—and that, to my mind, remains to be seen—you will entirely ruin your chances for reelection if you allow word of this to get out.” She paused, her cheeks flushing with emotion. “You would be a fool to do that, Emily. A genuine fool, if you ask me.”

  “As if I have something to be ashamed of,” Emily said with a long exasperated sigh. “Look at her,” Emily demanded, pointing to Sara. “She’s a wonderful young woman. A living, breathing miracle. My child,” she said in happy astonishment. “This is the greatest thing that ever happened to me, Mother,” she added quietly. “Can’t you understand that?”

  Lillian gave Emily a hard look, then her cold glance moved to Sara. “Why did you ever come up here? There’s nothing to be gained from these—reunions. Doors are closed for a reason.”

  Emily moved forward to reply, but Sara stilled her with a touch on her arm again. “I don’t think so, Lillian,” she replied quietly. “I didn’t come here to cause anyone trouble. I think you know that, too.”

  Lillian glared at her, then looked away. “Oh . . . just get out, all of you. I’m tired. I’ve had more than enough of this.”

  Emily glanced at Jessica. The worry in her sister’s eyes mirrored her own.

  “Okay, we’ll go now,” Emily said. She met her mother’s gaze. “Do you need anything?”

  “Not from you, Emily. You’ve given me a granddaughter tonight. I’d say that’s more than enough.”

  “DAN, I NEED TO SPEAK WITH YOU.” EMILY MET DAN AT THE FRONT OF THE newspaper office, just as he was opening up. He glanced at her curiously as he unlocked the door.

  “All right, Emily, come on in.”

  He closed the door behind them, then dropped his briefcase near his desk. “What is it?” he asked quietly. “You look upset.”

  “It’s nothing bad—something very good, actually.” She turned away from him, gathering her thoughts. She had carefully planned what she wanted to say to him, but now that he was staring at her that way, it was making her forget.

  “Charlie Bates has decided to drop out of the race?”

  She smiled. “Even better for me, I’d say.” She saw his eyebrows go up a notch. He sat back on the edge of his desk, his gaze fixed on her.

  “This is something you’re going to hear about,” she said. “And rather than have you weed through a tangle of gossip, I thought you should hear the real story from me.”

  Dan crossed his arms over his chest. “All right. I’m always up for a good story.”

  “Well, let’s see—” Emily was finding it hard to begin. “I was married right after high school. I eloped, actually. Did you know that about me?”

  “Yes. I think I did,” he said, looking cur
ious about where this was going.

  “My husband—his name was Tim Sutton—he died in a car accident. We were married not quite two years. After he died, I came back here to live. I went away to college, actually, and came back after that.”

  Dan’s expression turned serious. “I didn’t know you were a widow. I’m sorry. That must have been terribly difficult.”

  “Yes, it was. I was pregnant. I had the baby about two weeks after . . . after the accident,” she said, pushing herself to continue. She felt his steady gaze bearing down on her, and she willed herself not to look at him.

  Now for the very hard part. The big admission. Her dark secret. She knew she shouldn’t worry about what Dan might think when she told him, and yet she did. Somehow Dan’s opinion of her had become very important.

  “I gave the baby up for adoption. I’m not proud of that. I’m quite ashamed, in fact, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do.” She took a breath and then gave him a brief version of why she gave up her daughter, never really spelling out her mother’s role in it.

  Dan listened sympathetically, then asked, “Why are you telling me this now?”

  Emily felt her heart lift as she said, “Well, what’s happened now is that my daughter has found me. It’s Sara,” she said, meeting his gaze again. “Sara Franklin.”

  “Sara . . . the waitress?” He suddenly came to his feet.

  Emily nodded and smiled. “Uh-huh. Isn’t she wonderful?”

  Dan looked astounded. He shook his head as if he felt dizzy or couldn’t see straight. “That’s an amazing story, all right.” He looked at her again. “When did you find this out?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. It took us a while to get things sorted out,” she said with a breathless sigh. “But it’s working out well, so far. I know it will take time for us to build a real relationship,” she added, on a realistic note. “But we’re working on it. Day by day.”