Home Song

by Thomas Kinkade

  “I did what I did and I believed it was for the best. The best for all concerned. I thought that you would go on with your life, Emily. That’s what I would have done.” She glanced up at her daughter and nodded firmly. “But you’re different from me, clearly. You’ve been brooding about it all these years, obsessed with it. I never realized until just recently how much—pain it still gave you.”

  “Yes, I was stuck back there. But now Sara is here and I can move on.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed. “There’s been so much time lost, though. I can never get that back again.”

  Lillian nodded thoughtfully. “No, you can’t put spilled milk back in a bottle. What’s done is done. I’m glad that your daughter found you. She’s a fine girl.”

  Emily turned to her mother, feeling shocked by the admission. It was as close to an apology as she would ever get, she realized.

  “Thank you. I think she is, too. Very fine,” Emily agreed.

  Lillian leaned back and yawned. “I’m very tired now. I need to rest. This has been a most exhausting day.”

  Emily took her cue and got up from the bed. She shut off the lamp on her mother’s bedside table, then leaned down and kissed her dry cheek. Lillian surprised her by reaching out and squeezing her hand, then surprised her even more when she did not let go.

  “Good night, Emily,” she said quietly.

  “Good night, Mother,” Emily whispered back. She stood there holding her mother’s hand, releasing it only when she saw her mother’s eyes close and heard the slow, heavy breathing of her sleep.

  REVEREND BEN WAS OFTEN INVITED TO A WEDDING RECEPTION AFTER HE performed a ceremony, but even if he joined the party, he usually didn’t stay the entire evening. But Jessica and Sam were different. He felt very close to both of them and privy to the ups and downs of their romance, so it had seemed fitting that he and Carolyn had stayed to the very last dance.

  But by Monday evening he was feeling the effects of his late night out and walked up to his doorway with heavy steps. The house was dark. Carolyn wasn’t home yet from Rachel’s, he realized. Then just as he put the key in the door, her car pulled into the driveway.

  He opened the door and waited for her. She hurried up the path, carrying a large basket of laundry. She looked weary, too, he thought, but happy.

  “Here, let me take that for you,” He grabbed the basket and leaned across to give her a hello kiss.

  “Just put it in the laundry room, dear,” Carolyn instructed. “I’ll get to it later.”

  “How was Rachel today?” Ben asked, taking the basket.

  “She’s coming along, getting her color back. She was allowed to get out of bed a little today, but I made sure she didn’t overdo it,” Carolyn added as she hung up their jackets on the coat tree in the foyer.

  “I’m glad you’re going there every day, Carolyn,” Ben said as she joined him in the kitchen. “Rachel needs someone to make sure she rests and follows the doctor’s orders.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m watching her like a hawk,” Carolyn promised. She sat at the table and leafed through the mail. “I’m just so relieved that the danger is over. She has another doctor’s visit at the end of the week, but it’s just routine. They’re practically positive now that the baby is fine. Thank God,” she added sincerely.

  “I’ll say Amen to that,” Reverend Ben added. “Practically every pregnancy has some crisis, when you stop to think about it. Let’s pray this was ours, and now all we have to look forward to is that wonderful baby being born in a few weeks.”

  “Yes, it won’t be long now. I hope I’m not too exhausted by then to enjoy it, though,” Carolyn said. “I think I’m just tired tonight from the wedding. But it was lovely.”

  “Indeed. I enjoyed every minute of it. It was wonderful to see Emily and her daughter together in the wedding party, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, yes. She’s been through so much.” Carolyn shook her head. “Emily looked positively thrilled, I’d say.”

  “She’s made a whole new start these past few weeks. In just about every way,” he added thoughtfully. “So, what’s for dinner? Shall we get a bite in town? You look too tired to cook tonight.”

  “That’s sweet of you, but just let me check the freezer. I think Emily sent over a casserole when Rachel was in the hospital. Maybe we can have that.”

  Carolyn reached into the freezer and found the covered Pyrex dish. She took it out and removed the foil, then stared down at it on the countertop.

  “What do you think?” she asked her husband dubiously.

  He looked at the frozen dish as well and didn’t reply for a moment. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure.” Carolyn moved closer and gave the food a sniff. “I’m sorry . . . I just can’t tell.” She laughed and glanced at him. “Shall we try it?”

  He picked up the foil and covered the food again. “Emily is a lovely woman. A wonderful mayor, too, I’d say. But she’s not much of a cook.”

  “Good intentions, though,” Carolyn added.

  “The finest,” Ben agreed. He turned and picked up his car keys. “Unfortunately, I’m a bit too hungry to dine on good intentions,” he added with a laugh. He lifted his arm with a flourish, gesturing for her to proceed him. “After you, dear,” he said gallantly.

  “Thank you, sir. Don’t mind if I do.” Carolyn grabbed her jacket and purse in the foyer and then considered the melting mystery casserole. She would send the empty dish back to Emily with a grateful, carefully worded note. When you were a minister’s wife such gestures came with the territory.

  WYATT FORBES HAD DAN’S SMILE, EMILY THOUGHT, AND THE SAME SQUARE-shaped face and blunt chin. But he stood a few inches taller with a lankier build, his hair dark brown and worn in a shaggy style.

  “Come on in. My dad is in the den. Just warning you, he’s in a real foul mood,” he added with a grin.

  “So I’ve heard,” Emily replied.

  Then she saw Dan, sitting in a wheelchair. She had heard all about the injuries to his arm and leg yesterday, but no one had mentioned the black eye or the cut on his forehead.

  “Oh, dear, you look awful,” she burst out, then instantly regretted it.

  Dan laughed and touched his sore eye with a fingertip. “Oh, this, you mean. . . . You should have seen the other guy.”

  Emily sat down in a chair next to him and gave him the gifts she brought, a book—a famous newscaster’s biography—and a box of fancy chocolates.

  “Thanks. I’ve been wanting to read this,” he said, holding up the book.

  “But you didn’t have the time?” she asked cautiously.

  He shook his head. “You got it. I do now, I guess.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “I’m still not sure,” Dan admitted. “A line on the mainsail tangled, so I went up there to straighten it out. No big deal. But I stupidly forgot to secure the boom, and it swung around and knocked me right off my feet. It would have been better actually if I had fallen overboard, but I fell into the boat. Right on my head,” he added, rubbing a lump above his brow.

  “Did you black out?” Emily asked with concern.

  “For a few minutes, I guess. I’m lucky I wasn’t out on the water. Tucker Tulley happened to be on the dock and saw the whole thing. He got help right away.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dan.” Emily reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “You must be so disappointed about your trip.”

  “Disappointed is not the word for it,” Dan said darkly. He let out a long, harsh breath that made Emily feel as if she were sitting next to a restless tiger.

  “How long will you have the casts on?” she asked quietly.

  “Six to eight weeks, depending,” he replied glumly.

  “Until the end of January?”

  He nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Well, you can still go then, can’t you?”

  “I guess so. Provided I’m not in an insane asylum.” He glanced at her and she nearly smiled, but when she sa
w the unhappy look on his face, she didn’t dare.

  “Oh, it’s not so long,” she tried to console him. “It will go by quickly.”

  “No, it won’t, Emily. It will go by very slowly,” he argued back. “And I’ll definitely go mad stuck in this stuffy little house all day.” He sighed again and pressed his palm flat against the arm of the wheelchair. “Sorry for being so horrible. I don’t mean to sound angry at you. . . . If I can manage to be more civil, will you visit me sometimes?”

  Emily felt her pulse quicken at his question—and at the light in his gaze when he looked at her.

  “I think I can manage that,” she said slowly.

  “I know you’re always so busy,” he added apologetically. “And you work awfully long hours.”

  “This is a new administration,” she told him. “Nine to five, all the way. . . . Do you play chess?”

  His expression brightened. “I used to. I even have a board and some nice alabaster pieces around here somewhere.”

  “Dust it off. I’m quite good,” she promised.

  “So am I,” he replied with an appraising glance.

  He sat back in his chair and sighed, then slapped the side of the long cast on his leg. “Ah, me. You just never know what’s going to happen, do you?”

  “No, you never do,” she agreed. “You realize that you really know something about life when you know that you just don’t know anything. Know what I mean?”

  He smiled. “It’s scary, Emily. But I actually understand what you’re saying.”

  Emily laughed, then she felt suddenly self-conscious and looked away, her mind and emotions whirling.

  Well, Lord, I’m just sitting here watching and waiting and not knowing anything at all, Emily thought. I thought You closed this door on me, but looks like the wind—or something—blew it open again.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s Imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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