The Way Home (10 page)

Jamie reappeared in the kitchen. “Everyone's eating,” he reported. “No more special requests, at least for now.”

“Good. I appreciate your help, Jamie,” she said. “Would you like to come to church with me?”

She glanced at him, wondering what he would say. She wasn't sure where that question had come from. It had no sooner popped into her head then she found herself speaking it aloud.

He shrugged again and stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Okay. I guess I'll go . . . Is it in town?”

The hopeful note in his voice could not be ignored. He hadn't left the island since Monday, after the incident with her Jeep.

“Yes, it's in Cape Light. The old stone church near the harbor.”

“What time do we need to be there?”

“The service starts at ten o'clock. We should leave here about nine thirty. I'm going upstairs to change.” She glanced at him. “You might want to clean up a bit, too.”

She didn't want to seem critical, but she thought he could do a little better than the worn jeans and faded T-shirt, even considering his limited wardrobe. And he needed a shave. After all, dressing appropriately and showing respect for sacred places was part of being an adult.

When she came down at half past nine, Jamie was waiting for her on the porch. He wore the plaid cotton shirt he had worn on his first day of work and a pair of khaki trousers she had never seen before. He had also shaved, she noticed, and combed his hair.

As they approached the Jeep, she offered him the keys. “Would you like to drive? I'm a little tired from rushing this morning.”

He looked surprised but pleased. “Sure, I'll drive. No problem.”

They got in the car and slipped on their seatbelts. Liza had spoken to him on Wednesday about disappearing with the Jeep and also about a schedule for time off. Claire had not brought the subject up again. It was not really a question of rules, but one of trust and respect. That's what she was concerned about, and that was much harder to discuss.

They didn't talk much on the way to town. Claire directed him down Main Street to the church, and he found a spot easily in the lot.

“Wow, this place is old.” He stared up at the building as they approached the big arched wooden doors. “How long has it been here?”

“Well, the first church in Cape Light was built by the colonists, sometime around the year 1600,” Claire explained. “That one burned down, though, and this one was built in the early 1800s. The typical church for our denomination is the classic white clapboard with a high steeple. But by the 1800s, the people in Cape Light knew the storms off the sea could be fierce. Since they wanted their church to be near the water, they built it from stone, low and sturdy. It's stood firm ever since.”

Jamie touched one of the big gray stones near the entrance as they passed. “Looks pretty solid to me.”

Claire smiled, pleased that he was impressed. To her the stone church was a beautiful symbol of God's love, a solid, unwavering structure, a shelter from the storms of life. A safe haven where she could always find peace, stillness, tranquility, a sense of belonging, and even a touch of mystery.

The wooden doors stood open and they entered the narthex. Tucker Tully, the head deacon, came to greet them and handed them each a program. He wore a white carnation in his lapel and a button that read,
Best Dad in the World
.

“Happy Father's Day, Tucker,” Claire said. “I hope you have a good day.”

“I can guarantee that already,” he said as he showed them to two seats at the back of the sanctuary.

Claire had not forgotten about Father's Day. Though her own father had passed on eight years ago, she still recognized the day in her own way. Every year she brought a bouquet to his grave, in the cemetery on the other side of the island. But more important, she looked over photos that reminded her of the happy, loving times they had shared, especially when her mother was alive as well. And reminding her of his full and productive life. She had been blessed to have such a gentle, loving, intelligent father. He had taught her so much. She still missed him.

Many people were not as fortunate. Jamie, for instance. She guessed he had mixed feelings about this day and all the tributes to fathers. She knew it had to be a hard day and her heart went out to him. But she wasn't quite sure how to help him with that, or even how to try.

The choir soon entered, singing the opening hymn. Reverend Ben followed slowly and stood to one side of the altar, waiting for them to finish.

“Good morning, everyone,” he greeted the congregation. “I especially welcome all the fathers here this morning and wish you all a happy day.”

Soon after the opening prayers and introit, Reverend Ben announced the scripture readings. Claire liked to follow along in the Bible, and opened to the chapter and verse. The second reading was one of her favorites, the parable of the mustard seed, from the Gospel of Mark.

Reverend Ben still read in a strong, clear voice that rang through the sanctuary with authority, and he still led the church with his quiet, gentle strength. He was in his mid-sixties now, Claire knew, and had even tried to retire once, after a heart attack. But the congregation wouldn't let him, and once he regained his strength, he realized he wasn't quite ready to leave his post. Claire was glad of that. She knew he had to retire one day, but she couldn't imagine this congregation without him.

“‘. . . Then He said, “To what shall we liken the kingdom of God? Or with what parable shall we picture it?” '” Reverend Ben paused a moment to let his listeners absorb the echoing words. “‘ “It is like a mustard seed which, when it is sown on the ground, is smaller than all the seeds on earth;” '” he continued, “‘ “but when it is sown, it grows up and becomes greater than all herbs, and shoots out large branches, so that the birds of the air may nest under its shade.” '

“This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God,” Reverend Ben concluded.

Claire closed the red Bible and glanced at Jamie. She couldn't tell if he was enjoying the service or just sitting there to appease her. Maybe he was just so bored and church was at least some place to go and something to do.

She recalled taking Jamie to a church near Crosby Street when he was younger. But they had only gone together a few times—on Christmas and Easter, maybe?

She did recall he sat quietly and had not fidgeted, like some children. She remembered that he liked the candles and the stained glass windows there. But she couldn't recall much more than that. She wondered now if that was the last time he attended a service. She had a feeling that church was not part of his life now.

Reverend Ben stepped to the wooden pulpit and settled himself, preparing to begin his sermon.

“Father. A simple word that can have so many different meanings. For each of us, a particular image comes to mind, of our own father, living or deceased, present or absent. A figure in our childhood and often, all through the years since. The word stirs our memories and our hearts.

“Today is the day we honor fathers everywhere. Fathers that raised us, and for some of us, the men who stood in that place. Our grandfathers, too.”

Claire was concentrating on Reverend Ben's words and didn't immediately realize that Jamie was restless, shifting in his seat, unable to get comfortable. He took a deep breath and turned his head, looking back over his shoulder at the door.

She leaned toward him. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I'm okay . . . It's a little stuffy in here.”

Claire didn't think so. It wasn't a very hot day, and the doors and windows were all open. Large overhead fans spun in quiet, slow circles, creating a pleasant breeze.

But Jamie did look drained and pasty under his tan.

“. . . But there is one Father we all know and love. The same Father to all of us, showing each of his children the same magnificent love and understanding. The same forgiveness . . .”

Jamie bowed his head a second and pressed a hand to his forehead. Claire touched his shoulder, wondering if he was going to faint. “Jamie, put your head between your knees and take a few deep breaths,” she said quietly.

He turned his head sharply and stared at her, practically wild eyed. Or had he started crying? “I have to get out of here. Sorry.”

He stood up abruptly. A hymnal that had been on the seat next to him fell to the floor with a dull thud.

He stumbled out of the pew and down the aisle, then out the sanctuary doors.

He was suddenly gone and she wasn't sure what to do. To stay in her seat—or chase after him?

Chapter Seven

T
UCKER
caught Claire's eye, then mouthed the words, “I'll go check on him.”

Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She had a feeling Jamie needed space right now, some privacy. But she still wanted to know he was all right.

Tucker returned a few minutes later. Reverend Ben had finished the sermon and the choir was singing a hymn. Tucker walked up to Claire and touched her arm. “He's fine,” he whispered. “Just needed some air. He's out in the park, waiting for you.”

Claire felt relieved. “Thank you, Tucker,” she whispered back.

She was tempted to go out to him a few times as the service continued. Then she decided it was best to leave him with his thoughts awhile. A few minutes in the park, watching the harbor, might do Jamie good.

When the service ended, Reverend Ben stood in the narthex, near the center doors to the sanctuary, and greeted the congregation. Claire usually liked to get in line to say hello and thank him for his thoughtful sermons. But now she slipped out the side door and headed along the path to the green, checking the benches for Jamie.

She walked down to the harbor. The benches, which stood in a long row, were all filled, but there was no sign of Jamie. She turned and walked around the small park, past the big gazebo where community concerts were held all summer and past the path to the shady playground on the far side of the green.

He might be waiting for me at the car,
she realized. Claire then followed a path that led back to the church. She could see the Jeep in the lot, practically the only vehicle left. But Jamie was not in it or anywhere around.

She settled herself on a bench in the shade, wondering if she should call his cell phone. She decided to wait. There's no reason to panic, she told herself. He must have just taken a walk in the village.

Claire sighed and looked out at the water. The bay was filled with boats, many crowded against the public dock, and more moored out on the water. The green was filling up now, families and old people, couples holding hands. She scanned the faces walking near the water but still didn't see Jamie.

When she looked back at the church she noticed Reverend Ben coming out a side door near his office. When he saw Claire, he waved and walked toward her.

“Hello, Claire. Everything okay? You don't have car trouble, do you?”

Claire realized she was a curious sight, sitting in the park alone at this hour on a Sunday. If she made it to church at all during the summer, she usually bustled right back to the inn.

“Oh, no. I'm fine. Just waiting for somebody. Happy Father's Day,” she added, trying to change the subject. “Any special plans?”

Reverend Ben had two adult children and grandchildren. Was it three or four by now? Claire couldn't recall.

“Rachel and Jack are having us over for a barbeque,” he said, mentioning his daughter and son-in-law, who lived in town. “And I might do a little surfcasting later. I have a feeling my special gift today is another new rod and reel set,” he added with a laugh.

Ben was an avid fisherman and one of his favorite pastimes was surfcasting. Claire had often seen him on the beach near the inn in the early morning or late afternoon, out in every season.

“I'm looking forward to seeing my grandchildren,” he added. He took out a hanky and cleaned his glasses. It was warming up outside, even though they sat in the shade of the tall, old trees. “How's everything at the inn? Are you busy up there yet?”

“We have been. A full house, two weekends in a row. Liza is very pleased. We even hired a helper. His name is Jamie Carter. He came to church with me this morning. Maybe you noticed him?”

Ben nodded. “I did. I noticed he left early. Was he feeling all right?”

“He needed some fresh air. He felt a little queasy. But I suspect it was something more. I think he was upset by the sermon,” she admitted. She wondered if she should tell Reverend Ben the whole story. She didn't want to keep him if he was trying to get home to his family.

“My sermon? What did I say?” Reverend Ben seemed concerned.

“It wasn't anything you said exactly . . . just the topic, I think. Fathers,” she added quietly. “Jamie has had a very troubled past, a bad family life. I met him when he was nine years old. I haven't seen him in over ten years. But somehow, he found me and came out to the island two weeks ago. Just appeared one morning when I was weeding the vegetable patch.”

“Really? What a surprise for you . . . How did you know you each other? Where did you meet?”

“Oh, it's a long story. I'm not sure you have the time right now to hear it.”

“I'm not in any rush.” As if to prove his words, he sat on the bench beside her and slipped off his suit jacket.

“I'm not sure if you remember, but about ten years ago, you had a guest preacher here from Boston, and I was very moved by his sermon about the work he did in the Crosby Street Center.”

“I do remember,” Ben assured her. “You moved to Boston to work there. Is that where you met Jamie?”

“Yes, he came there almost every day, after school. Or wherever he'd been instead of going to school,” she added. “There were a lot of volunteers there and a lot of children who needed attention. But Jamie and I had a special bond. Of course, he was looking for a mother figure. He never really knew his mother. She left the family when he was only two years old. His father was a troubled man who left him with his grandmother. Jamie barely knew him, either, though Mr. Carter would come and go from the family home, visiting every few months.”

“How sad. It's hard to see how some children are neglected and emotionally abused.”

“It was more than emotional abuse. Jamie's father was an alcoholic who physically abused him. I tried to help him, to intervene, but even though he was taken out of the house, he was eventually sent back.” Claire sighed. “It was very . . . complicated.”

“These situations always are.”

“Despite everything, Jamie loved his father. At that time, anyway. He talked about his father a lot and got very excited about his visits. He even begged his father to take him along whenever he left. I could see that he yearned for his father's love. Jamie would tell me how he was leaving soon, to live with his dad. He always sounded very sure of that. But when the day came, his father always left without him, sometimes slipping out of the house without even saying good-bye. To avoid a painful scene, I suppose. Though no matter how he did it, those partings always left Jamie brokenhearted and deeply upset. I could see his face across a room, and I would know instantly that it had happened again. It would take him weeks to come back to himself. He's never really gotten over any of it, if you ask me. Now, I would guess that even the word ‘father' brings up such a toxic mixture of disappointment and pain, it's no wonder he felt sick this morning.”

Reverend Ben nodded thoughtfully. Claire could see the sympathy in his blues eyes.

“What a sad story. So you tried to help him back then, and you're trying to help him now with the job at the inn. Is that it?”

“I'm trying,” Claire said. “I was so happy when he found me, Reverend. You can't imagine. Back then, I considered adopting Jamie, or being his foster parent. But when my father got sick I had to come back home, and I lost touch with the boy. So when he appeared at the inn like that, it seemed as if God had finally answered my prayers and reunited us. But it isn't as easy as I thought it would be.”

“Of course it isn't. Life is seldom that simple or easy,” he said knowingly. “Your reunion with him after all this time, that is remarkable.”

“Isn't it? There was an article about the inn in the
Boston Globe
a few weeks ago, and he said he saw me in the photo. It made me think he had come back into my life for a reason. That God was giving me a second chance to help him.”

She glanced at Reverend Ben to see if he agreed. “Quite possibly,” he said, “though God works in mysterious ways. His will is rarely as simple or straightforward as we would like it to be.”

Claire knew that was true. “I've asked God for guidance, to help Jamie. Aside from giving him a job, I'm not sure I've made any difference in his life so far. It isn't nearly as easy to talk to Jamie these days as it was years ago. I think he's happy to have the job and earn some money. But he hides so much of himself these days. He thinks I don't even realize it, but I do. It's hard to connect, to build trust again.”

“I'm surprised to hear you say that, Claire. I know you're a patient person, one of the most patient I've ever met. And it doesn't sound as if Jamie has been at the inn very long,”

“I am patient, Reverend. And he hasn't even been at the inn two weeks,” she added. “But every night I wonder if I'll wake up and find he's gone without a word of warning. Just the way he arrived. I feel as if I'm working against the clock. And I'm not allowed to show it and possibly scare him off.”

She glanced over her shoulder, suddenly realizing Jamie might be near and listening. She scanned the faces of people walking or sitting nearby but still didn't see him.

Reverend Ben nodded. “I understand. It sounds as if he's had a difficult time and it's hard for him to trust anyone—even a nurturing presence from his childhood, like you. I'm sure he doesn't realize it, but all these years you've been in his mind as an idealized figure, a safe haven. He probably expected you to just take care of him, like you did when he was a child. He doesn't expect—or want—you to ask anything of him. To expect him to change or improve himself.”

Claire hadn't seen the situation quite that way, though she did realize that Jamie looked to her for comfort and care and even a kind of unconditional love.

“All you can do is be there for him,” Reverend Ben continued, “and show him you are still the same consistent, loving presence you were ten years ago. There's a reason he came all the way here to see you, Claire. Don't forget that—or discount it.”

Claire knew this deep inside, but it helped to hear Reverend Ben say it aloud.

“He did come a long way to find me. He didn't need the newspaper article. He could have come years ago. He always knew where I lived. But for some reason, the spirit moved him to find me at this point in his life. And I still care about him deeply,” she added. “He wasn't wrong about that.”

“You've already helped him by being that person, Claire. Don't doubt it.”

“Thank you for saying that. It helps me feel a little less frustrated and confused. It's just that I want to do so much more for him . . .” Claire's voice trailed off as she caught sight of Jamie walking by the benches that faced the water and heading toward the church. “There he is now.” She stood up and waved. Jamie waved back. “I'd like to introduce you if you have a minute.”

“Certainly, I'd like to say hello.”

Jamie walked up to the bench and then stood with his hands stuck in the front pockets of his jeans. “Hey, Claire. Waiting long?”

“Not that long. I haven't seen Reverend Ben in a few weeks. We had a good chat.”

“Hello, Jamie. Good to meet you.” Reverend Ben rose and shook hands with him.

“Nice to meet you,” Jamie said, sounding a little shy. He was probably wondering if they'd been talking about him, Claire realized.

“I was telling Jamie how the church was rebuilt after the fire, but I couldn't remember the exact year.”

“Eighteen-oh-four,” Reverend Ben said, glancing at the church now. “I have to confess, it could be more comfortable and convenient, with all-new plumbing and whatnot. But we like it. We try to take good care of it.” He turned to Jamie with a smile. “Claire tells me that you're working at the inn. How do you like it?”

“It's fine for a summer job. There's always something different to do and new people around.”

He's not doing cartwheels but at least he's honest,
Claire thought.

A few moments later, Reverend Ben said good-bye. Claire and Jamie got into the Jeep, and Claire let Jamie drive again. He seemed to enjoy it so much.

“Back to the inn?” he asked as he fastened his seatbelt.

“I guess so.” Claire glanced at her watch. They didn't serve lunch on Sundays, just a big early dinner. “Are you hungry? Do you want to stop for a bite in town?”

“I'm okay. I picked up something in town when I was walking around.” He turned to her. “I didn't mean to leave you waiting there. I wasn't sure what time church got out.”

“No problem. It was good to talk to Reverend Ben.” Claire had been watching out her window and turned to him. “I hope you're feeling better. Did the sermon upset you?”

“It was just stuffy in there. I couldn't get any air. I'm not used to sitting still that long.”

Claire nodded but didn't reply. She glanced out the side window again. They were crossing the land bridge that connected Cape Light to the island. It was a clear day and the water was relatively calm, small waves lapping against the rocks that were piled up against each side of the two-lane roadway.

“I have a good idea. We should take a ride out to see the cliffs. You've been here almost two weeks and you still haven't seen them. That's unforgivable.”

He looked surprised. “Don't you have to get back and cook something?”

“We have some time. Just go left when you come off the bridge, the same way you would go to get to the inn. But go straight through the village center and then turn left again at the crossroads.”

Jamie was a good driver, she thought. He didn't drive too fast, at least not with her in the passenger's seat. He slowed down even more as they drove through the island's small village, where the General Store, the medical clinic, and Daisy Winkler's tearoom and library circled a cobblestone square.