The Way Home (14 page)

“‘—and wisdom to know the difference,” she finished for him. “The Serenity Prayer. I recited it last night to help me get to sleep.”

He reached out and touched her arm. “I feel for your dilemma, Claire. I truly do. When my son, Mark, was wandering all over the country, squandering his youth and his health, and so angry at me and Carolyn he would barely speak to us, I was practically tearing my hair out. I'm not saying it's easy. It's the hardest thing in the world to see someone you love wasting their life, going down the wrong path. But you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. You can't save Jamie. He has to save himself. He has to want to make something of his life. It won't be easy for him. He'll need something deep inside to draw on, something more than your support. Even more than your love,” he added quietly.

Claire nodded. “I know that's true. But it makes me feel sad and defeated. And hopeless,” she admitted. “I had such high hopes when I found him standing there in the garden. It seemed he had stepped out of a dream. But I shouldn't feel entirely hopeless,” she corrected herself. “Wherever there's faith, there's hope.”

“That is true, Claire. Don't ever doubt it. Don't stop praying for Jamie. Don't stop loving him. But stop blaming yourself. Stop holding yourself responsible for his behavior. Jamie has to see that he's responsible for his own choices and the consequences, good or bad.”

Claire knew that was true. The consequences for this choice were going to be dire. He would lose his job. It made her so sad. As if some rare treasure had slipped through her hands. Wasn't there some way she could hold on to him? Hold on to this opportunity to help him?

Jamie, why do you do things like this? Why do you have to ruin your chances?

Reverend Ben's light touch on her arm pulled Claire from her thoughts. “Claire, are you all right? What were you thinking just now? Can you tell me?”

Claire sighed, then nodded. If there was one person in the world that she could confide in, it was Reverend Ben.

“I'm afraid, Reverend Ben. I'm just so afraid for him.”

Chapter Nine

W
HEN
Claire returned to the inn, Liza was sitting in the kitchen, sipping coffee and checking her laptop. “Were you out on the beach, Claire?”

Claire nodded and smoothed her hair back into place. “It was misty, but the fog seems to be burning off. I met Reverend Ben. He was fly casting, going after striped bass. I don't think he caught anything . . .”

Her voice trailed off as she slipped on her apron and tied the strings. She knew she was just putting off the inevitable question about Jamie, but couldn't help it.

“Jamie must have come home late,” Liza said. “I'll go up and wake him. We have a lot to do today.”

Claire took a deep breath. “Jamie didn't come back last night. His room is empty, just the way he left it.”

Liza looked surprised. “Did he leave a message?”

Claire shook her head. “Unless he called while I was out walking . . . no, I haven't heard from him.”

“There are no new messages. I just checked.” Liza's tone was edged with concern. “Something could have happened to him. There might be a reason why he's delayed.” She looked back at Claire. “Do you know where he went, what his plans were?”

“He said something about going to see a baseball game. But the Red Sox aren't in town right now. I think he must have gone to see his friends, at the apartment where he was living, in South Boston. He must have stayed over with them.”

“Partying,” Liza said bluntly. “He's probably sleeping off a hangover somewhere while we're sitting here, worried that he's in a hospital.”

“I know.” Claire had already gone through this chain of thought, about a hundred times. “I did try his cell phone this morning, but he didn't pick up.”

Liza stood up and closed her computer. “I'll call him again then. I have the number in my office.” She sighed and gazed at Claire across the table. “I'm sorry, Claire. But if he doesn't have a good reason for this, I have to let him go. You know that, don't you?”

“I understand.” It was hard for Claire to say the words, but she knew she had to. “You don't have to apologize. I'm sorry now that I persuaded you to hire him.”

“That was my decision. For the most part, he's done a good job,” Liza said. “It's just this unpredictable . . . goofing off. I don't feel as if I can trust him. He's unreliable, not mature enough or something. It's as if he has two personalities. Do you think when he acts so amiable and hard-working that he's putting on an act for us? I honestly can't figure it out.”

“I don't know. He was always that way a bit when he was a boy,” Claire admitted. “Moody. Helping out in the kitchen one minute, disappearing the next. But he was so young and had such a difficult life back then. I always thought it was just his way of surviving.”

Claire didn't know what else to say. She couldn't explain or defend him. Liza's description was accurate, but it was painful to hear it laid out so plainly. Claire knew Jamie wasn't perfect, but who was? There was also so much good there, so much courage and resilience. And love. He had wanted to love his father. He had wanted to love her. She couldn't stop hoping that the good in him would grow and someday overcome the flaws.

Liza glanced at Claire and tucked the laptop under her arm. “I'll go call him. I hope he picks up,” she added. “Then we have to get to work around here. We have a lot to do by tomorrow.”

And without any extra help,
Claire added silently.

She felt so sorry for putting Liza in this situation. Liza had a good heart. It would be hard for her to fire Jamie, even though it was the right thing to do.

And she felt so sorry for Jamie, even after this bad behavior. She couldn't help it. As irresponsible as he was at times, this job was his lifeline. He was just too immature to realize it.

But she had to remember Reverend Ben's advice. She couldn't help Jamie until he was committed to helping himself. Maybe once he suffered the consequences of acting out like this, he would wake up and smell the coffee. She surely hoped so.

* * *

C
LAIRE
worked with Liza the rest of the day, getting the inn in shape for a big wave of weekend guests. The two women worked like a well-oiled machine, instinctively knowing what needed to be done without much need to speak.

Which was just as well, Claire reflected. Liza's concern and confusion about Jamie seemed to have crystallized into anger. Claire dreaded his return, as much as she waited for it. She listened all day for him to come through the front door, or even call. Then she would catch herself and try to take a step back from the drama, silently reciting the Serenity Prayer. She could not control this situation or protect Jamie from the outcome of his actions.

She and Liza were eating supper in the kitchen when she heard the front door of the inn open and quietly close again. Liza had heard it, too. Claire watched her sit back and put her fork down, her lips pursed.

“Jamie, is that you?” Liza called out.

“Yeah . . . it's me . . . I'm back.” He soon appeared in the kitchen doorway. Claire glanced at him then down at her plate. She felt a cold weight in the pit of her stomach, as if a stone had lodged there.

Jamie sought her out with his gaze.
Looking for the weak link,
Claire realized. She met his glance and looked away. She would let Liza handle this. They both knew it was her territory.

He took a glass from the drain board and filled it with water. He looked rough, as if he hadn't shaved or showered, still wearing the clothes he had left in.

“I'm really sorry I'm so late getting back . . . I was hanging with my friends and I must have eaten some bad food. A bad hot dog, or something . . . We went to Fenway and I got so sick, I couldn't even move . . .”

Claire felt almost sick with disbelief.
How could he lie like that? Did he think so little of her, of both of them?

“The Red Sox didn't play in Boston last night, Jamie. They're in Texas this week,” she said quietly.

She saw surprise flash across his features, shock at being caught. He didn't think two women would have known that.

“Yeah, that's right . . . They weren't in town. We got screwed up with the schedule. We went over there, though, and bought some food on the street.”

“Bad food?” Liza stared at him. “That's why you're a day late getting back here?”

Jamie looked at Liza. He held a hand up, as if testifying in a court of law. “Honest, I swear, I was sick as a dog. My friends could barely drag me back to their place. I was puking my guts out for, like, hours . . . I thought I was dying or something. They were saying maybe I had appendicitis and I should go to the hospital. But I knew it was the food. After I got sick, I was wiped. All I could do was sleep. I kept telling them to call you and tell you what happened. But those idiots didn't listen to me. They didn't even wake me up. I told them I had to get back this morning for work, and they just let me sleep all day . . . I was way too messed up to take the train last night, honest.”

He sounded so annoyed at his friends. As if it was all their fault that he was a day late returning.

Liza came to her feet and faced him. “You were given one day off, Jamie, not two. If you were really unable to return, you should have called us.”

“Yeah, I know I should have called you guys. Totally. I'm so sorry. But my phone went dead and I told my friends the number and thought they were going to let you know what happened and—”

“I don't believe you,” Liza said before he could go on again.

Jamie shrugged and tossed up his hands. “I don't know what to say . . . I don't know how I can prove it. I don't have a note from a doctor or anything . . . But I was really sick,” he insisted. “I'll work double tomorrow. I'll work extra hours. It's not like there are any guests here right now—”

“We needed you here today, not tomorrow,” Liza cut in. “More than that, you should have called. That was completely irresponsible. And disrespectful,” she added. “Not that it would have made things much better. But that would have been the right thing to do, the responsible thing. I've already talked to you about taking off time without permission,” she reminded him.

Jamie nodded, looking serious. “I know. I remember . . . But it was like a sick day. I mean, if I was here and I got sick, I wouldn't have been able to work anyway. So what's the difference? I just thought, like, what can I do? I can't work, so I'd better just hang here until I feel normal, you know?”

Claire felt so sad listening to his excuses, so disappointed in him. Did he think they could be so easily manipulated?

“That's enough, Jamie,” Liza said abruptly. “This isn't working out. I have to let you go.”

His face went pale with shock. He stared at Liza, then at Claire. Claire felt a piercing jolt in her heart. She didn't want to watch this scene unfold, but she had to support Liza. She could hardly get up and leave now.

“You're letting me go . . . like . . . firing me?” He leaned closer, then suddenly stepped back, touching his forehead with his hand. His eyes grew wide and glassy. “I can't believe it . . . I was really sick. I mean it. Ask my friends if you don't believe me . . .”

“Jamie, just stop. I know you're lying. Yes, I am firing you. Is that clear enough?” Liza was angry now. Claire could see it was hard enough for her to tell Jamie to go. She didn't want to argue with him.

“What do you mean? I've been working really hard, breaking my back around here. Doing everything you say . . .” He sounded angry now, too, and frustrated with them. “How can you just say, like, out of the blue, ‘Hey, you're fired, man.' When it was, like, one little stupid thing I did wrong.”

Liza faced him squarely. “Don't you dare shout at me. If you think that was a minor issue, it just goes to show how wrong you are for this job. And you were warned.”

He pressed his hand to his mouth a moment. Claire watched the anger drain from him, his body growing slack.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry . . . please don't fire me. I really need this job. Just give me one more chance? Please? . . . I'll do whatever you say. You don't even have to give me any days off at all. For the rest of the summer, I swear. And I'll take less pay,” he added, trying to catch Liza's eye again. “I won't screw up again . . . I really promise.”

“No. I'm sorry,” Liza said. “That's my decision.”

Claire felt so bad for Liza.
She wouldn't be going through this now if it wasn't for me,
Claire thought. But it was so hard to watch Jamie struggle. To hear him beg to hang on to his job.

He suddenly turned to Claire. “Is that what you think, too, Claire? Do you think I'm lying? Do you think I should get fired? For doing one little thing wrong?”

“Oh, Jamie . . .” Claire shook her head. “You've done this to yourself. Can't you see that?”

He stared at her a moment, surprised that she wasn't sticking up for him. “Okay. I get it. You're on her side. You say you want to help me, but not that much, I guess.”

Claire felt stung by his words. She couldn't take a breath for a moment. Her heart was bursting. She felt like she might cry.

Liza stepped between them. “That's enough, Jamie. Go up and pack your things. I'll take you to the station tomorrow morning. First thing,” she added emphatically.

He let out a long breath then turned and left the kitchen. Claire heard him go up to his room with slow, heavy steps.

“Well, that's over with. I didn't think he'd argue with me nearly as much. But I've never fired anyone before,” Liza admitted. She sat down again, nearly collapsing into the chair. Claire could see how hard the confrontation had been for her.

“I'm sorry, Liza. I'm so sorry it came to this.”

“I know, Claire. It isn't your fault.”

Claire sighed. “I bear responsibility here. I do,” she insisted. “I wish I had been tougher from the start.”

“How tough do we have to be?” Liza asked, sounding a bit exasperated.

Claire met her glance but didn't answer.
Jamie is . . . Jamie,
she wanted to say. She should have known there would be some acting out. Some testing. She should have warned Liza. She should have seen it herself from the start. Maybe it wouldn't have come to this.

Claire rose and began clearing the table, though neither of them had eaten much dinner. They had both lost their appetites now. She hung over the sink, dawdling with the dishes. She thought she might cry and didn't want Liza to see.

“Claire? Are you all right? I'm sorry, Claire but . . .”

Claire shook her head, her back to Liza as she stacked the dishes into the dishwasher. “I understand, I do. I'm sure it wasn't easy for you. But . . . oh, nothing. Never mind.”

“But what? What were you going to say?”

“It doesn't matter. I don't want to interfere. I've interfered enough already.”

“Claire, please . . . Do you really think he deserves another chance?” Liza asked, guessing what Claire wanted to say. “After coming back an entire day later than he should have? Not even a phone call, to let us know. And then he comes in here and just makes up a bunch of inane excuses. With a totally straight face. As if anyone would believe that story.”

“I know.” Claire couldn't defend any of it. “But if we send him away from here, what will become of him? He'll have no job, no money, no place to live . . . Where will he go? Back to that group of low-down friends who made him lose this job in the first place, I'll bet.”

“No one
made
him lose this job, Claire. He did that completely on his own.”

Liza's tone was sharp.
She's angry but not at me,
Claire reminded herself.
At Jamie
. But it felt like the same thing.