The Way Home (27 page)

“Look what I just found . . . Mr. Rapp's watch! I knew it had to be somewhere around.”

Liza walked over, wide-eyed, and Jamie handed her the elusive timepiece. “Thank heaven! There it is. Case closed,” Liza announced. She stared up at him. “Where in the world did you find it?”

“In a pile of newspapers. It slipped out while I was stacking them.”

“I took some newspapers out of the room when we were looking for the watch,” Liza said. “I just thought I would start cleaning up a bit. It must have been tucked in there all the while.”

Claire nodded, relief and gratitude flooding through her as she realized her prayers had been answered. “It's amazing that you found it. It could have easily ended up in the dump.”

“Yeah, I guess it could have,” Jamie agreed.

Liza stared down at the watch again. “I'd better call Tucker. He can let the Rapps know.”

“Why don't you call the Rapps directly, Liza?” Claire asked.

“Oh, I don't know. I think Tucker should do that, since this whole business has gotten so . . . official.” She set the watch down on the table. “Besides, I don't want to deal with Mr. Rapp. I'm sure he'll say that it was found very conveniently, now that he got the police involved.”

Claire saw a look of offense flash across Jamie's face. “I just picked up some newspapers and it fell out. I swear it.”

“I know that, Jamie. But you heard the way Mr. Rapp went on and on. He may make his own assumptions.”

“Liza wasn't accusing you of anything,” Claire tried to clarify. But the suggestion had even gotten Claire wondering. Had Jamie found the watch too conveniently? He had been all alone out there. It would have been an ideal time to pull the watch out of hiding . . . if he had stolen it.

“Then why even say it? Why even bring it up?” His tone was sharp, wounded.

Liza seemed confused. “You heard the way Mr. Rapp was talking this morning. I'm just being realistic,” she tried to explain. “But now I am starting to wonder why you're so . . . defensive.”

“Because you're acting like you don't believe me. I found it in the newspapers. The Rapps were reading stacks of them all weekend.”

“We believe you,” Claire insisted. Though the more he protested, the more unsure she began to feel about the story.

Liza held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “It's been a long, stressful day. I don't want to argue about this anymore. I'm going to my office to call Tucker. When I get back, we'll serve dinner.” She swept the watch off the table and left the kitchen.

Claire glanced at Jamie. “You ought to change and wash up. Then let the guests know dinner is ready.”

He nodded and left the room. She could see from his tight expression, he was still upset. There was nothing she could do about it now. She would try to talk to him later when everyone had cooled down.

At dinner Claire heard the guests in the dining room talking cheerfully, but there was not much conversation at the kitchen table. Liza complimented Claire's dish, an herb-crusted cod fillet served over a warm lentil salad. Then she asked Jamie if he had much more to do in the barn, with the recycling.

“Not too much,” he said. “I can get it all out tonight.”

“I can help,” Liza offered. She was trying to make amends for their tense moment, Claire knew.

But Jamie was still sullen. “That's all right. I can do it. I do it every week, don't I? I'll finish right after dinner.”

And so he did, without even waiting for dessert, which Claire thought was unusual. But it had been a difficult day, and maybe the physical work calmed him and helped him sort out his thoughts.

Claire went out to the porch with her knitting after dinner. When Liza came out a little while later, Claire asked if Jamie was done with the trash yet.

“He finished a while ago. He went right up to this room,” Liza reported.

Claire was surprised. He usually liked to watch TV at night. It was just as well, she decided. He needed his space right now. It would be better to talk to him about this tomorrow, when he would be calmer and in a better frame of mind.

Chapter Fifteen

W
HEN
Claire woke up the next morning, she felt a certain heaviness in her heart, a worried feeling, and didn't immediately realize why. She'd had a bad dream, very upsetting, though she couldn't recall what it was about. She remembered the tension of the day before, Jamie being accused of robbing Mr. Rapp. That must have been what had upset her, she realized. Even in her sleep. But it was all resolved now. Mr. Rapp probably knew by now that his watch was safe and sound. They could forget all about it and go on as if the ugly incident had never happened. She certainly would.

She paused before getting out of bed and said a silent prayer, thanking God for resolving the problem so quickly.

Thank you, Lord, for your help in this matter, and please help us get back on track and have a positive, productive day.

Perhaps she shouldn't even bring it up to Jamie today, she thought as she got dressed. Even to apologize for sounding as if she'd doubted him. It was too upsetting, she decided. She wouldn't talk about it unless he brought it up first.

She walked into the kitchen and filled the coffeemaker with water. The beans were already ground, and she poured the coffee into the basket and turned it on. She turned to the table, to fill the milk pitchers that were already set out on a tray. That's when she saw it.

A white sheet of paper folded in half, right there, in the middle of the table where she wouldn't miss it. Her name, written in careful block letters across one folded side.

She could see, even from some distance, that it wasn't Liza's handwriting, a note reminding her that some guest was lactose intolerant or had an allergy to nuts.

No, it was Jamie's writing. She picked up the note and held it in her hand, then stared down at it. She felt that she already knew what was inside.

She drew in a sharp breath.
Dear God, why would Jamie leave me a note so early in the morning? Please let it say he's gone into town early or is just working outside already . . .

She fumbled for her reading glasses then opened the sheet.

Dear Claire,

I decided to go. I'm sorry but I couldn't wait to say good-bye. You were nice to give me this job. But I can see now things just won't work out here. I tried hard to do everything you told me. I even studied for that diploma test. But it just didn't seem to matter. Things just don't work out for me.

Claire had to stop reading a moment and put the letter aside. Her eyes had filled with tears and they spilled down on to the page. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and continued.

I was wrong to come here and look for you. Maybe if we had been together more when I was a kid that would have helped. But it's too late for me now. Nothing can change me. Not even God. I think it's better if I just go my own way. I have some savings and I'll be all right. Please don't worry. Maybe I'll write you sometime.

Jamie

“Oh, Jamie . . .” Claire dropped into a chair and cried with her head on folded arms.

What had driven him away? Had she doubted him when he so conveniently found the watch? She had also spoken up for him when Mr. Rapp made all those wild accusations.

But it must have been very hard being accused that way, being the center of so much suspicion, even questioned by the police. Especially for someone with such little self-esteem. She should have been more sensitive to that, done something more to reassure him . . .

She felt a soft touch on her shoulder. “Claire, are you all right?” Liza asked. “What's wrong? Are you sick?”

Claire lifted her head and forced herself to sit up. “It's Jamie. He's gone.”

Looking shocked, Liza quickly read the note. “Oh dear. It's all my fault. I should never have mentioned what I thought Mr. Rapp would say. But Jamie took it so personally. He totally misunderstood. I was going to talk to him today, to try to explain again.”

Claire nodded. They had both planned to reassure him. But it was too late.

“Should we try to find him?” Liza asked. “Maybe he's still at the station, waiting for a train. I can run into town and look for him.”

“I think he's long gone by now. Off to the city. Or wherever. He never mentioned exactly where that apartment was that he shared with friends. Just somewhere in South Boston. He had some savings. He may not have even gone back to Boston.” Claire felt herself about to cry again. She could hardly believe he was gone. It was such a shock. “I don't think he wants us to look for him,” she said honestly. “I don't think he wants to see us again.”

Liza sighed and sat down in the chair across from her. She reached out and took Claire's hand. “I'm so sorry, Claire . . . I don't know what to say. You can't blame yourself. You tried so hard to help him. You did everything you possibly could. Maybe he's just upset, and he'll come back once he's had time to think things through.”

Claire knew Liza was trying to help, to hold out some slim hope. But Claire doubted Jamie would return. The note sounded so final.

She tried to calm herself and get her feelings under control. She had tried to help Jamie, as best as she knew how. She made a plan to help him, step by step. But God had another one.

* * *

C
LAIRE
felt numb as she moved through the rest of the day—and the rest of the week. It was an effort to get out of bed every morning, no matter how much she asked God for strength and help in understanding what had happened. Her heart was in pain, almost as if she were in mourning. Jamie's departure was a great loss.

She did her work automatically, speaking as little as possible to the guests. Sometimes, she didn't even hear them when they talked to her. She kept expecting to see Jamie out in the garden or running up and down the stairs. Every time she heard the front door open and slam, she would automatically think,
It's just Jamie coming back in from collecting the mail or driving some guests to the station.

Then she had to catch herself. It wasn't Jamie. It would never be again.

It took about two days before she noticed. But one morning in the kitchen, her gaze fell upon the bowl of sea glass on the windowsill. She looked for the amber piece Jamie had found at the cliffs but it wasn't there. She always left it on top of the other pieces, where it could catch the light. She walked over to the bowl and sifted through with her fingers first, then gently dumped the contents on the table and searched more carefully, almost frantically.

But it was gone. No question. Had he taken it with him? Or had it caught the eye of some unthinking guest, who thought no one would miss a little chip of glass from this big bowl?

That was possible, too, Claire realized. Maybe Jamie didn't take it with him. She felt sad to realize it was gone. It was the only gift he had ever given her. On the other hand, she hoped that he had taken it with him, that the bit of glass did hold some meaning for him—a piece of this place he could look at and reflect on. And remember the safe place he had found for a while, the love and care she tried to give him. Maybe the bit of glass would give him strength when he felt down and needed some encouragement.

On Thursday night, Claire's good friend Vera Plante encouraged her to come to church. There was a meeting of the social justice committee. They hadn't met all summer, but the group wanted to get a jump on the fall. Ever since Claire had returned to Cape Light after working at the Crosby Street Center, she'd been an active member of this group. If she couldn't devote her life to helping those less fortunate, she got some satisfaction giving time as a volunteer or raising money for worthy causes.

The meeting was in the Fellowship Hall. Claire came in late and sat at the back of the room. Emily Warwick, who was also the town's mayor, was the moderator this year. She was doing a very good job, Claire thought. She was the very epitome of the old saying, “If you need something done, ask a busy person.” Claire didn't know how Emily managed it all, but somehow she did.

When the meeting was over, coffee and cake were served.

Vera took Claire aside. Vera had come to know Jamie well while tutoring him, and Claire had called her right away to tell her the sad news.

“How are you holding up? Doing any better?” Vera asked kindly.

Claire tried to smile. “I'm coming along, day by day. It's going to take some time.”

Vera nodded. “Maybe you'll hear from him once he gets settled somewhere. Maybe he'll keep studying for the GED. You never know.”

Claire nodded, though she didn't think either of those things would happen. Vera was just trying to be nice and make her feel better.

Claire left the gathering early. She felt tired and wondered now why she had bothered to come. She had been so distracted, she'd hardly heard a word that anyone said. She walked out of the church but instead of going straight to her car, she sat on a bench in the park and gazed out at the water.

Was this the same place she had been sitting when she took Jamie to church on Father's Day? She looked around. Maybe, she thought. She couldn't remember. The thought made her sad. He wouldn't come loping through the park tonight, looking for her, the way he had that sunny day in June. She doubted she would ever see him again . . . and that made her so sad, she began to cry and couldn't stop herself.

“Claire . . . what's the matter? Are you crying?”

Claire looked up and saw Reverend Ben, standing beside her.

She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes with her hand. “Reverend . . . you surprised me. I didn't even hear you coming.”

“I was walking to my car and saw you here.” He sat down on the bench and leaned toward her. “What's the matter? What's troubling you? Is it a problem with that young man who's living at the inn?”

Claire nodded. “A big problem. He's gone. He left on Monday morning. He didn't even say good-bye. He did leave a note though.”

Reverend Ben was surprised. “Why did he go? Did he say?”

“No, but I think I know. There was a problem at the inn on Sunday. A guest accused Jamie of stealing an expensive watch. We couldn't find it anywhere. The guest even called the police and filed a report at the station. Liza and I didn't think Jamie took it. We both believed him. That night, though, when Jamie was bundling the newspapers for the recycle truck, he found the watch. He said it slipped out from between a stack of papers and just fell at his feet.”

Reverend Ben listened with a serious expression. “Did you believe him?”

“I did,” Claire insisted. “Though thoughts do cross your mind. It's only human to . . . to wonder. And Jamie has made some missteps in his past. When he was a boy, he had little run-ins with the law—shoplifting small things, painting graffiti. I thought he had gotten past all that, especially these last few weeks. He was working so hard at the inn and studying for his GED. I thought he had really turned a corner.”

“It sounds as if he did. But I still don't understand why he left,” said the reverend. “The watch was found, the police and owner informed, I assume?”

“Liza took care of all that. But she did say, just before she called Tucker Tully, that she didn't want to speak to the guest directly because he would probably say Jamie found the watch awfully conveniently. Or something like that. Well . . . Jamie misunderstood what she meant and thought she was doubting him. I knew he was very hurt, but in the moment all I could think of was how happy I was that the watch was found, and Jamie would be all right. I was planning to talk to him the next day, and so was Liza . . . but by the time I got up, he was gone. I never had the chance.”

The reverend nodded. “I see. He was hurt. He felt . . . ashamed. Humiliated. Angry. Being unfairly accused is an awful experience. And it sounds as if this young man is rather fragile emotionally, doesn't have much confidence or sense of self to draw on.”

“Yes, that's it. That's the trouble. He was just starting to feel better about himself and more hopeful about his future. Reverend Ben, it seems so unfair. Things were going so well. Why did God let this happen? I thought God wanted me to help Jamie. Why else would he have brought us back together again, after all this time?”

“You know,” Reverend Ben said, “when people are trying to change their lives for the better, the road to becoming whole isn't always a straight one. People tend to fall off the path now and then, or take wrong turns. Especially if they've been damaged, they can't always make all the right choices.”

“I do know that,” Claire said heavily. “I suppose I just want a straight, easy road for Jamie.”

“Of course you do. But, Claire, you have to remember that it's Jamie who's got to find that road and the way to stay on it. All you can do is love him and remember that we are asked to trust God. No matter what. Even when we don't understand why something like this has happened. Especially then,” he added.

“‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart. And lean not on your own understanding.'” Claire recited the scripture she knew by heart. “Proverbs, 3:5.”

“That's right. God's ways are often mysterious to us, even unfathomable. But try to trust that it's all for a purpose,” he advised her. “I still believe that God brought you together with Jamie for a reason, Claire. You did help him. If he's truly grown and learned some lessons here, then perhaps he'll move forward in the right direction, using the tools you've given him so far. Maybe someday, you'll even see him again.”

Claire nodded. “I dearly hope so. In the meantime, I can still pray for him. I pray for him all the time.”

Reverend Ben nodded and softly smiled. “He needs your prayers now, more than ever. I'll pray for him, too,” he promised.

“Thank you, Reverend,” Claire said. “That is a comfort to me.”

Reverend Ben soon walked her to her car and they said good night. On the way home she considered his words. She did think Jamie had grown and developed some real character. She hoped it would serve him in the world, wherever he wandered, and she clung to the slim hope she would see him again.