A New Leaf

by Thomas Kinkade

  “Death remains a fearful moment, a tragedy to us, a mystery that confounds our limited understanding. ‘Poor Gus,’ we say. But when we look at this mystery through the lens of faith, we see it differently. We see that we must put our limited, flawed logic aside and hold fast to our faith. Like a hand in the darkness, the Lord’s hand will lead us forward into the everlasting light. Through the power of that guiding touch, that faith, we can believe and rest easy in our hearts, knowing Gus Potter is saved and waits for us at the hand of our Lord. . . .”

  Sophie nodded and began weeping. Her daughters, Evelyn and Una, one on each side, put their arms around her shoulders.

  Ben swallowed hard, fearful that he, too, might start crying and not be able to finish.

  “As many of you know, I have stood up here and delivered many eulogies for beloved members of this congregation. But Gus Potter was special.

  “By some standards, Gus was an ordinary man. He never ran for election or had his picture in the paper or made any startling discoveries. He worked hard all his life, finding great joy in caring for his family and tending the orchard. He was an honest man, a steadfast and loyal friend. A scout leader when our boys were young, a loyal Red Sox fan. Never a great fisherman, but sometimes a lucky one,” Ben added with a small, sad smile.

  “An ordinary man, some would say, but by the standards that really count, he was truly extraordinary. Gus was a man who lived his faith every day. He was a model of kindness and goodness to us all. Now he will live in our hearts and in our prayers. Let us give thanks today for having known him, for having been blessed by his grace and humanity. Let us also pray for the salvation of his eternal soul and his deliverance into the hands of our almighty Father. We ask this in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ.”

  Ben paused but could not bring himself to look out at the congregation or even at Sophie and her family. He didn’t know if they had found any solace in his words, but surely he had tried his best to comfort them and honor Gus’s memory.

  Gus was buried in the village cemetery outside town, on a sloping green hill studded with headstones that protruded from the ground like rows of crooked teeth. Some were so old that the names and dates carved in the stone were completely worn away.

  After the burial, the mourners gathered at Sophie’s house. Friends from the church brought food and cakes and helped to serve the Potters’ guests. It was a somber gathering, as such events always are, Ben noticed. Yet, here and there, in a small child’s laughter or when a happy memory about Gus was shared, Ben sensed the irresistible forward motion of life, pushing on, out of the shadow of death and loss.

  As the house began to empty out, he looked around for Carolyn and found her in the kitchen, helping to clean up along with Jessica Morgan; her sister, Emily Warwick; and Grace Hegman.

  He walked up to his wife and touched her on the shoulder. “I’m just going to speak to Sophie for a moment, and then we’ll go.”

  Carolyn nodded. “All right, Ben. I’ll be here. You come and find me when you’re ready.”

  A few minutes later Bart Potter found him. “She’s gone upstairs to rest, but I know she wanted to speak to you.”

  Sophie’s son led the way upstairs to the master bedroom, the room Sophie and Gus had shared all their married life. Bart was a big man, dignified and elegantly dressed in a dark suit that looked custom-made. Ben knew he was a successful corporate attorney, a partner in a large Boston firm, but he could still remember Bart knee-high to a grasshopper, a mischievous boy with strawberry-blond hair like his mother’s and a perpetually dirty face.

  “I don’t want to disturb her if she’s sleeping,” Ben said quietly, as they came to the half-opened door. “I can come back later, tonight perhaps, if she’d like to talk.”

  “Is that you, Reverend? I’m not sleeping,” Sophie called out from the room.

  Bart offered the minister a small smile. “She always had wonderful hearing. We could never get away with a thing.” He touched Ben’s arm briefly, then turned to go back down.

  Ben entered the room slowly. Sophie sat in an armchair by the window. Sunbeams filtered through lace curtains, casting her in a golden light.

  “I just needed to be by myself for a while.”

  “Understandably.” Ben sat on the edge of the bed, facing her.

  “Quite a crowd at the funeral. Everyone came to say good-bye. That was nice. Gus would have liked that.”

  “He was loved. We’ll all miss him very much.”

  “I liked what you said at church, Reverend. It reminded me not to be so mournful. I’m mournful for myself, of course. But not for Gus. He’s with the angels now, smiling down on me. I can feel it.”

  Her quiet voice was calm and confident and oddly reassuring. How ironic, Ben thought, that she should be the one comforting him now.

  “Good. I feel it, too,” he said honestly. He paused, wondering if it was too soon to ask her the question on his mind. On everyone’s mind today, actually. He decided to go ahead with it. “What will you do now, Sophie? Do you know yet?”

  She sighed and shook her head, looking more downhearted now than when she’d spoken of Gus moments before.

  “My children think it’s best if I leave and put the place up for sale. It’s not what I want, of course. Everyone knows that. But they’ve got me in a corner. They’re worried about me . . . and I am old. I feel about a hundred and one with Gus gone.” She paused, her eyes moist with tears. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not up to keeping this place going on my own anymore. They don’t want to find out, anyway. That path is too dangerous, they say.”

  “I see. . . . That’s too bad. But perhaps they’re right.”

  Ben covered her hand with his own. It was hard to think of Sophie gone from here and the orchard gone, too, even though he knew it was probably the best and safest solution for everyone.

  Sophie didn’t look at him. She dabbed her eyes with a flowered hanky then stared out the window at the rows of bare apple trees.

  “I’m going to live with Evelyn in a few weeks. Miranda is going to stay and help me pack up a few things. I’m not going to take much to Evelyn’s, but I don’t want to leave my good things around with the house empty.”

  “Yes, I understand.” Though the situation was what he had expected, Ben felt a wave of sadness at hearing Sophie outline her plans so plainly.

  “The place will go up for sale eventually. And that will be that.”

  The reverend didn’t answer at first. Finally, he forced himself to say what seemed to be the right thing. “This is very hard for you. I’m sorry, Sophie. But your children want to take care of you now. They want what’s best for you.”

  “I know. I know . . . I just wish it wasn’t so.”

  They sat together for a few minutes more, and then Ben embraced her as they said good-bye. “You’ll keep me up-to-date with what’s happening here, right?”

  “Yes, I will, Reverend.” She sighed and glanced in the mirror, adjusting a few pins that had come loose from her upswept hair. “I suppose I should go down now and say good-bye to everyone. This is the last gathering we’ll have in this house, I guess. It’s funny but somehow I always thought we would go out on a happier note.”

  So did I, Ben thought sadly. Without making any reply, he took her arm and escorted her from the room.

  THE GOOD NEWS WAS THAT MOLLY’S PARENTS WERE FINALLY COMING home from Florida tonight. A lot seemed to have happened to her since they’d left in mid-February. Though her mother could be intrusive at times—with the best of intentions, of course—Molly had really missed them.

  The task of picking them up at Logan Airport in Boston had somehow fallen to her, which wasn’t such good news. Molly didn’t drive into Boston often, and the Big Dig project had made navigating the city a near nightmare. Add to that Friday night traffic. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

  But Sam had gone out of town for a few days to take a construction job in Vermont, and Jessica, who offered to go to the airpo
rt, wound up stuck with a business obligation. It was just as well, Molly thought. She was their daughter; it was her responsibility. The problem was, that didn’t leave anyone to watch the girls. And with her parents and all their luggage, there wasn’t room in the hatchback for two extra passengers.

  Molly had not spoken to Matthew in over a week, but he did come to mind as someone who owed her a baby-sitting favor. Well, he came to mind a lot, she had to admit. But this seemed like a good excuse to call him.

  When she explained her problem, he was more than happy to help her out. He’d even sounded happy to hear from her, she thought. Or maybe she had just been imagining that part? The question lingered as she took a bit of extra care on Friday night with her outfit and makeup.

  The girls were waiting in the kitchen with their jackets on as Molly checked her purse one last time, making sure she had all the essentials: cell phone, flight information, change for tolls, a bottle of water, something to read in case the flight was delayed.

  “You’re just going to Boston, not the moon, Mom,” Lauren groaned.

  “Shush, you just made me forget something.”

  The phone rang and Molly stared at it. They really did need to leave. She didn’t want to be hung up on a phone call with some client or chatty friend. Then she wouldn’t have any extra time to see Matthew.

  “Let’s just see who it is,” she told the girls. A moment later the machine picked up, and she heard Phil’s voice on the line.

  “Hi everybody. It’s me. I wondered if I could take the girls out tonight instead of tomorrow. This guy at work gave me some tickets for the In-Tranzit concert in Southport. We can still make it in time. Give me a call on my cell phone right away, okay?”

  Lauren jumped to pick up the phone, but Molly blocked her way. “Come on, let’s go,” she said curtly.

  Lauren and Jill stared at her, not moving a muscle.

  “What about Daddy? We have to call him back,” Jill said.

  “We’ll call him later,” Molly promised, “from the car.”

  “But what about the concert? I want to go.” Lauren stared at her as if this had to be the most obvious thing in the world.

  “You can’t go. It doesn’t work out.”

  “What do you mean? Why can’t we go out with Dad while you’re at the airport? What’s the difference?”

  Molly managed to keep her voice calm as she said, “The difference is we’ve already made plans. First of all, Lauren, Dr. Harding and Amanda are expecting you to visit them tonight. Second, it wasn’t right of your father to call and invite you out at the last minute.”

  “But he just got those tickets, and everybody wants to see In-Tranzit,” Lauren objected.

  “I want to go to the concert, too,” Jill chimed in. “This isn’t fair. We’ll never get a chance like this again. We have to go!”

  Molly put her hands to the sides of her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Was this the right call? Was she being too tough on Phil about this scheduling thing? He had toed the line since their confrontation two weeks ago. But this maneuver was just like him; he was back to his old tricks. Even if he got the tickets on the spur of the moment, he should have never left a message like that. He was hoping the kids would hear it and wear her down. It was his usual game, and she wasn’t going to let him win, Molly decided. The girls would be angry with her but what else was new?

  “I’m sorry. I know you don’t understand, but your father knows when he is supposed to see you. Tonight is not one of his nights.” Molly spoke in a firm voice, glancing at each of the girls in turn, trying to give the look that said she wasn’t going to change her mind. “We’ve made our plans and that phone call doesn’t change them. Let’s go.”

  With her head bowed, Jill sighed and shuffled toward the door. But Lauren didn’t budge. She crossed her arms over her chest and met Molly’s stare.

  “You’re so mean! You never want us to see Daddy. If it was up to you, he’d never be allowed to take us anywhere.”

  Molly stood openmouthed, feeling as if she’d been slapped. Somehow Lauren’s defection made her even angrier at Phil. She struggled to hold her temper and not overreact.

  “Lauren, that is not true and you know it. Any more backtalk like that and you’re going to be in real trouble.” Molly paused and took a deep breath. The girls stared at her. “Go ahead. I need to lock up.”

  Lauren made a sour face, pursing her lips in a frown, then stormed past Molly and out the door. Jill quietly followed.

  As Molly had promised, she called Phil from the car. She was glad when his voice mail picked up so she didn’t have to speak to him. The girls didn’t say a word to her during the drive to Hawthorne Street. Their silent treatment worked. Though she was convinced she was in the right, Molly somehow felt awful.

  As soon as they got to Matthew’s house, Lauren and Jill ran upstairs to join Amanda in her room. Matthew and Molly watched them from the foyer, then Matthew gave her a quizzical look.

  “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

  Molly wondered if she should tell him what was really going on. Men didn’t like women who whined about their ex-husbands. Everyone knew that. But right now she felt like whining her head off, and the look of concern in Matt’s warm brown eyes melted her reserve.

  “No, I’m not okay,” she admitted. “I just had this thing with the girls over Phil right before we left the house. It really rattled me. Lauren said I was mean and horrible and I never want them to see their father.”

  “Wow, that does sound bad. Here, come inside and we can talk.” He put his arm lightly around her shoulders and led her into the living room.

  Despite feeling so upset, Molly liked the feeling of Matthew’s caring embrace and felt a little pang of loss when he stepped away.

  She sat on the edge of the sofa. “We were just about to leave for your house when the phone rang. I let the machine pick up. It was Phil. He left a message that he had some free tickets and wanted to take the girls to a rock concert in Southport. But I didn’t want them to go.”

  “Because you had planned to bring them here, you mean?”

  “Well, partly. But also because I’ve told Phil that he can’t just call up like that or drop in any time he wants and think the girls will always be at his beck and call. We’ve worked out a schedule, and I want him to stick with it.”

  She let out a long breath, realizing that she’d been talking a blue streak.

  Matthew sat in an armchair across from her, his brow set in a look of concern. He didn’t seem bored with her venting, but his expression wasn’t one of complete sympathy, either.

  “So, what do you think? Am I a mean mother? I just want Phil to hold it together for five minutes and act responsibly. He shouldn’t have left a message like that. He knew he would just be causing problems for me.”

  “Well, you’re right. It was careless of him. Maybe he was so excited to get the free tickets, he didn’t stop to think it through. He does seem . . . impulsive.”

  Molly glanced at Matthew, not sure he really understood why she was so upset and angry.

  “I know it’s hard when your kids get mad at you like that,” he added. “It hurts a lot because you feel like you’ve been tying yourself in knots to do what’s best for them.”

  “Yes, exactly.” Molly nodded, feeling a bit calmer.

  “Phil should be more mindful of his schedule and more considerate of you that way. You might need to talk to him again about it.”

  “Looks like I will. I’m not sure if he’ll ever get it, though.”

  Matthew didn’t reply. He sat looking at her, then glanced down at the floor.

  Molly felt uncomfortable. “You look like you want to say something to me, but you’re not sure you should.”

  He gave a short laugh. “You’re right. I’m not.”

  “Go ahead. I’m interested in your opinion. Just say what’s on your mind. I won’t get upset,” she promised, though she had the distinct feeling that she would.

>   “You’ve only told me a little about Phil, but from what I can see, there seems to be more going on here between the two of you.”

  Molly sat up straighter, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “What are you talking about? I don’t have feelings for him anymore—romantic feelings, I mean.”

  “But you’re still angry at him. Not just about what he did tonight. About the past. And that’s not good.”

  Molly felt stunned and embarrassed by his quiet words. It felt as if he could see right through her.

  “Phil was a bad husband and a bad father,” she said. “You don’t forget that so easily.”

  “No, of course not. It sounds as if you had every right to be angry at him.” Matt’s tone was compassionate and understanding. “But you’ve been divorced now, what, seven years?”

  Molly nodded. She met his gaze and looked away. It did sound like a long time when Matthew said it.

  “I’m not trying to criticize you, honestly. But he’s trying hard now. Anybody can see that. Give the guy some credit. Don’t make it even harder for him.”

  Molly felt herself flushing with anger and disbelief. How could Matthew take Phil’s side in this? What was going on here, some man club thing?

  “I don’t think you get it at all,” Molly said curtly. “Phil can’t just knock on the door one day and wave a magic wand and expect me to forget everything. He’s done this before. Sooner or later he always gets tired of playing Dad and disappears again.”

  “Gets tired of it? Or are you trying to make it so hard for him that he gives up?” Matthew asked quietly.