September Love

“Mom, you’ve already raised your family. You’ve paid your dues,” Kate said.

“Not really,” Beth answered quietly, and both her daughters glanced at her sharply, on the point of arguing, but she spoke again.

“I’m married to Doug. I’m his wife. My ‘dues,’ as you call them, include helping my husband if he needs my help. And this time he does. And so does his precious three-year-old grandson. No. Don’t say anything. Just pause a second and think about that. I talked to our pastor when he was in the hospital, and he reminded me of one important fact.”

“But, Mom—”

“He said, ‘When you do it for the least of these, you do it for Me.’ Just think about that,” Beth said, hoping she sounded decisive.

VIRGINIA MYERS

has been writing stories since childhood. She has published ten novels, historical and contemporary, for the general book market. A few years ago she decided to write novels reflecting her growing religious faith. She has now written four faith-based novels.

Virginia has taught the art of novel writing in several Washington colleges, and a number of her students are now published novelists. She has lectured, participated in panel discussion and conducted workshops at several writers’ conferences and is a faithful worker in her church.

Having lived most of her life so far in a series of big cities, Virginia has now settled happily in the small town of Longview, Washington. This is the only town that has built a special bridge for squirrels from tree to tree over the street so they won’t get run over by cars.

September Love

Virginia Myers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

When you do it for the least of these,

you do it for Me.

—Matthew 25:40

To those many people

who raise their children’s children.

They go so much, much farther than the extra mile.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed reading September Love, a story I’ve wanted to write for a long time. Today in America there are more than three million children living with their grandparents. For whatever the causes—drugs, drinking, the general collapse of our moral structure—a whole generation of young people have simply abandoned their children to their parents to raise.

Then the grandparents, instead of living a leisurely retirement, must start all over—booster shots, PTA meetings, managing college tuition—during a time of life when they are less able to do it. These are the silent, unsung heroes of our turbulent time. I wanted to tell you a story about them. This is it. So the next time you see a harried grandparent coping with an energetic three-year-old, take a moment for a smile and a cheerful word. They deserve it.

Blessings,

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

At first Beth thought the thin blond girl was going to ask her for spare change. She had the look of a street kid, with her long, unkempt hair and her odd assortment of clothes. She wore a long, very faded, green-and-white print dress, topped by a man’s brown jacket, worn and much too big. On her bare feet were old floppy sandals. But street kids didn’t come into residential neighborhoods. They stayed in Seattle’s various business districts.

Beth sighed. If only she had come home from her errands a few minutes sooner or later, she might have avoided this. Then, as the girl came closer, she saw the small child, a little blond boy. He clung with grubby desperate hands to the flowing skirt, half hidden by it. She thought, He shouldn’t be barefoot. It’s too cold a spring.

She was immediately sorry for her rush of impatience. What right did she have to be impatient with this woman and her child? They were obviously destitute. She, in her classic gray spring suit, about to enter her beautiful old home, was blessed far beyond anything she deserved. She paused, beginning to open her handbag. True, the classic suit was in its second spring, and the lovely old home was now a bed-and-breakfast. And it had not been a good day. As her younger daughter, Jill, might have said, it had been a mega-stress day, full of problems and worry—and two new guests were due before five. For just an instant she longed intensely for Doug’s good-humored acceptance of life as it happened. He would bring out his favorite calm-down comment: “Lighten up, Beth my true love. The sky will not fall today.”

The blond girl, close up, wasn’t a girl. She was a woman of about thirty. When she spoke there was a whine in her tone and she looked exhausted.

“You must be Beth. You’ve simply got to be Beth. I’m beat. And you look just like my aunt said—dark hair with no gray, dark eyes and dressed like a model. I must say this—you’ve sure kept your looks.”

Who in the world was this woman? “Yes, I’m Beth,” she said cautiously.

The woman gave a sigh of relief. Clean, with her hair styled, she would have been pretty. Now, in sudden exasperation, she turned on the little boy and smacked at his grubby clinging hands.

“Leggo my dress. I’m tired of you hanging on to me.”

The child, scowling and silent, let go and backed away a step, watching her intently. Then, as if this burst of anger had taken the last of her strength, the woman persisted tiredly. “And you married Douglas Colby?”

Sudden alarm bells sounded in Beth’s mind. She half knew and dreaded what was coming. Surely, this couldn’t be Kayla, Doug’s daughter. No. Definitely not. Doug had said that Kayla had a child, but that child was a girl who would be about eight. This child was a boy, not more than three or so. But her quick sense of relief was shattered.

“I’m Kayla, Doug’s daughter,” she said flatly, and Beth saw the little boy’s hands creep toward the flowing skirt and grasp it again, as if it were some sort of lifeline. Now she noticed that both his knees were skinned. Sometime some place today he had fallen and scraped his knees, but no one had cleaned them and put on protective bandages.

Beth swallowed her disappointment. Well, they didn’t call her “perfect hostess” for nothing. She must do her best for Doug’s daughter.

“Kayla, how lovely to see you. Doug and I were so sorry you didn’t get to our wedding.” It sounded hollow, but Kayla didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah,” she said. “Dad and I have our ups and downs. We’re not what you might call close.” She shivered, seeming to huddle inside the large jacket.

“Well, come in,” Beth said quickly. “I’m just getting back from some errands. Your little boy must be freezing. This is such a cold spring. Usually by April it begins to warm up a bit.” She fumbled for her key as they went up the steps to the big porch. She longed for the sense of security she always felt when entering the big front door with its heavy oak panels and oval of etched glass. This was the house she had fallen in love with thirty years ago.

Talk, Beth! Put Kayla at ease.

“One of the things that first brought your father and me together was the fact that we both had grown daughters, and both had been widowed.” September love, her daughter Kate had called her midlife marriage to Doug Colby.

Inside the hallway, she remembered Doug’s words after he had met both her daughters, Jill and Kate. “You and your husband did a wonderful job raising your girls. I’m afraid I failed there.” And Doug’s eyes, reflecting some inner sorrow, had seemed to be looking at something in another place and time. “I was away so much. On my job, you know. Whenever Kayla needed me…I wasn’t there for her.” Then quickly, defensively, he had added, “Kayla’s a lovely person, but she’s had…some problems. I blame myself, of course. I… Right now, I don’t even know where she is.” The admission had cost him a lot. They had just come from the big Thanksgiving dinner at Kate’s. He had seen her daughters at their best. Kate, so steady, so competent, so stable. And Jill, so bright and resourceful. And both married to good husbands and raising their own families.

“Well, now that you’re here, Kayla, you and your dad can catch up.” She knew her voice was too bright, but Kayla didn’t seem to notice. She was looking around the large entry hall.

“You’ve certainly got a big house,” she said. The child was looking around, too, still frowning slightly, pressing himself against Kayla’s leg.

“The house is old,” Beth explained. “Built back when architects didn’t mind wasting space. But I never think of it as wasted. I like some space.” She looked around the familiar hall. She had worked for years at the decorating, budgeting carefully to get the very best in antique-designed wallpaper for the large dining room, or the brass andirons for the several fireplaces, or the special paneling for her late-husband Ralph’s study. He had so liked to read in there. In the house’s heyday, before its bed-and-breakfast incarnation, it had been featured in several Gracious Homes of the Northwest tours for charity.

The grand old house had settled gracefully into its new life as a B and B when she had learned that the pension of a city librarian’s widow wasn’t going to be enough. And she had been determined not to be a burden on her daughters. For the first time in her life she had needed to earn money.

Not too many changes had been required, just a little remodeling to meet city codes. A small registration desk had been added to the front hallway, plus an attractive rack to hold Seattle postcards, printed recipes of house specialties, along with some tourist leaflets for the guests to take.

Beth led Kayla and her child into the large living room. “What’s his name, your little boy?” Beth asked.

“Oh, him? His name’s Adam.”

At the sound of his name, he looked up expectantly at Kayla and said the first word he had spoken so far. “Hungry.” His voice was somewhat husky, and his frown deepened.

“What a lovely room. Lovely chairs,” Kayla said, ignoring Adam, a sigh in her voice. “Mind if I just collapse awhile?” She sat down in one of the deep chairs.

“Hungry,” Adam persisted, standing close to her.

“Kids are always hungry.” Kayla opened her large satchel-like tote of limp gray vinyl. “You can have the rest of the fries.” She rummaged in the big bag and pulled out a greasy paper bag. “I’ll level with you, Beth. I’ve just about hit bottom again. I guess Bottom is my hometown. But I had enough after bus fare to get us something to eat in a burger place. I tried to make it last awhile, but Adam whined all the way from Phoenix. Kids are bottomless pits. Here.” She handed the greasy bag to Adam.

To Beth’s dismay, the little boy took it eagerly and sat down on the floor beside Kayla’s feet. Carefully, with deep concentration, he opened the bag, took out a limp string of potato and ate it hungrily. Then he poked his dirty little fingers into the bag again.

Beth bit back a dozen questions. What could she say to Kayla? This was Doug’s daughter. A daughter who had some problems. She felt a kind of inward weeping. I will help you. I have food. I will feed your child. I will give you a place. I will fix your lovely hair. I will find you something to wear. I will… I will… I will… Unable to speak for a moment, she looked at Kayla.

“Yeah. I know I’m a mess,” Kayla said dully. Then, as if she had read Beth’s mind, she added, “I don’t suppose you have a place I could wash up. And I’d like to clean Adam up. You know my dad…doesn’t even know he has a grandson—” Her voice broke.

Beth, unable not to, went to her side and put her arms around the thin shoulders.

“Of course you can wash up. Adam, too. And why don’t I fix you a snack? It’s a long time until dinner.” She was thinking swiftly. Only three of the bedrooms were taken for tonight. There was that big room at the back, with an adjoining bath. She could put Kayla and Adam in there for the night. It was reserved for tomorrow. Then she would move them to what she called the “bed-sitter.” It was the small, ground-floor room that had served as her sewing room when she had had time to sew. She had made it into a small, extra place for the peak season when everything in Seattle was full and someone called desperately from the airport. There was a sofa bed and no bath. But behind an ornamental screen there was a basin with hot and cold water.

“Where is your luggage, Kayla?” she asked. Kayla would certainly need a change of clothing, and the child… She glanced again at the little boy. He was digging fruitlessly into the now empty bag. All the limp fries were gone. Determinedly, he began to lick the remaining salt from his grubby fingers.

“I did have luggage when I started out,” Kayla was saying. “Believe it or not, I did come prepared. But I fell asleep in one of the stopovers and somebody ripped it off. So we came in what we had on. This is it. What you see is what you get.” There was an attempt at bravado that didn’t quite come off. Kayla was embarrassed.

“I can help out there, I think,” Beth said briskly. “My daughter, Kate, lives only a few blocks from here. She’s collecting for the annual spring rummage sale at church. I happen to know that some very nice things have been donated. I’ll give her a call while you’re cleaning up. You look like you’re Jill’s size. Jill is my younger daughter. I think that she gave her blue challis. It’s lovely.” She noticed how blue Kayla’s eyes were and was filled with sadness. Kayla’s such a lovely person, Doug had said. Doug mustn’t find her like this. And certainly his first sight of his grandson mustn’t break his heart.

“Come upstairs. My big back bedroom isn’t taken for tonight. You and Adam can have that. It had a large dressing room from when people used dressing rooms. I had it remodeled into the most gorgeous big bathroom you’ve ever seen. And while you’re doing that, I’ll make Adam a snack.”

“Oh, Beth, that sounds wonderful.” Kayla followed her to the stairs. Adam scrambled up.

“Mommy!” In a panic he rushed to grab her skirt.

Kayla turned. “It’s okay. I’m just going to take a bath. Beth will give you something else to eat. It’s okay to go with Beth.” She turned. “Kids this age are a pain. He won’t let me out of his sight.”

One of the dozens of questions in Beth’s mind popped out. “I thought Doug told me you had a little girl….”

Kayla’s blue eyes suddenly clouded. “I have. I mean, I had. My Becky. She’s with her father. I…I lost custody when my marriage went haywire.” She sagged against the banister. “I don’t know what Dad has told you about me, but…” She paused a moment and then, as if she were speaking to a group, she said, “My name is Kayla. I’m an alcoholic.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry but that’s the way it is. But I’m going to try again. I’ve got responsibilities. I’ve got Adam to look after. And now you know the worst. Where is that lovely bathroom?”

“It’s right down this hall,” Beth said in sympathy. “You have a view of the back garden—for today, anyway. Your father painted a picture of the back garden. My daughter, Kate, has it. It’s hanging in her living room.”

Beth opened the door of the big room, furnished with the antique brass bed with the hand-pieced quilt covering. The marble-topped dresser was catching a thin sunbeam from the nearby window. The vase of old-fashioned roses looked lovely. She heard Kayla sigh softly.

“And the bath is in there. This is a double, so there are plenty of towels for both you and Adam. I noticed that Adam has skinned knees. I always keep those little colored bandages on hand for when my own grandchildren visit. I’ll get you some of those.”

“Lovely,” Kayla said, her eyes sweeping the huge bathroom with its deep tub and separate shower. She reached out to touch, almost lovingly, one of the downy aqua-colored towels. Then she turned her attention back to Adam, who was again clinging to her skirt. “Adam’s poor knees are my fault. I was out of money by then and couldn’t even afford bus fare. A nice old guy who was leaving Seattle gave me this street map. I thought we’d never make it. Adam is so slow. I guess sometimes I walked too fast and he couldn’t keep up and he fell a couple of times. Really did mess up his knees.”

Beth’s throat ached at the thought of the frantic little boy trying to keep up. His lifeline, the green-and-white skirt, getting farther and farther away down the strange street.

Kayla bent over, talking directly into the small frowning face. “Look, I’m going to take a bath, see? I’m not going anywhere. You go with Beth. She’s got— What have you got to feed him, Beth?”

“Cookies,” Beth said. “I’ve got cookies, Adam. And milk.” This child needed milk, and lots of it.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. “Okay. Cookies.” And he held out one dirty little hand.

Beth took it in hers, clasping it warmly. This is Doug’s grandson. And again she felt a sense of inward weeping. It shouldn’t be like this. Her beloved’s grandson should be happy and healthy and secure. Living in a stable home, with loving parents. She went slowly down the stairs, matching her pace to his short little legs that couldn’t keep up.

“Adam, do you like peanut butter?” she asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I can make you a peanut butter sandwich, if you like.”

He stopped, and she glanced down. He was looking up at her, angry and disappointed. “You said cookies!” he accused.

“Yes. Cookies, too.” How many times had this small child been disappointed? It didn’t bear thinking about.

In the kitchen she quickly found one of the wood booster seats her son-in-law, Greg, had made for short grandchildren. She put it on a kitchen chair. She lifted Adam up and sat him on the seat, wishing fervently that she could wait just long enough to wash him, but she knew with certainty that her promise of food must come first. And from somewhere in her mind rose the conviction: I will never break a promise to this child.

She didn’t call Kate until Adam was devouring his small feast with total concentration—the peanut butter sandwich on her delicious home-baked bread, a house specialty, with a stack of three sugar cookies waiting. She even found in the back of the cupboard the two-handled mug she had used when her youngest grandchild, Meggie, had needed two hands to drink her milk. Then she rang Kate from the kitchen phone.

“Kate, darling, this is Mom. I need a favor.” Some inner caution stemming from a need to save Doug’s pride about his problem daughter made her less than candid. “You remember Doug talking about his daughter? Kayla?”

“Yes. She didn’t come to your wedding. I remember.”

“Well, she’s here now, late but welcome. But she had some bad luck. Her luggage is missing. She’s kind of travel-stained, and I was wondering…didn’t Jill donate her blue challis dress for the rummage sale?”

“Yes. She did. Do you want that for Kayla? It’s clean.”

“Yes, I do. She wants to tidy up for her father. And wasn’t there some stuff in there that Ben had outgrown? Kayla brought her little boy with her.”

“I thought Doug said Kayla had a daughter.”

“She has. But she also has a little boy. About three. His name is Adam.” She glanced over to the kitchen table where Adam was pausing to lick some peanut butter off his hand. He heard his name and, just for an instant, the frown was gone and he gave her a timid smile that she knew she would cherish. Recklessly, she plunged ahead. Kate was such a practical, sensible person.

“Look, what I really need is a lot of things, well, several things. Kayla is about Jill’s size, but thinner. Will you look through what you’ve got and pick some out? She has nothing but what she’s wearing. See what you can do for Adam, too. Just until she can make other arrangements?”

Kate’s unquestioning “Okay, will do. What else?” made her wonder again how she could have had two such wonderful daughters.

“You do most of the pricing at these sales, don’t you?”

“Yes. You mean you want to buy this stuff?”

“Right. It’s iffy if Kayla will get her luggage back. So she’d better have something to wear until she can start replacing things.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll do it now, and send one of the boys over with the stuff.”

“Thank you, Katie. This is really a help. I’ve got two guests coming in before five so I’m going to be busy.”

“Wait. Don’t go yet,” Kate said. “Did you visit the hospital today?” And as Kate said it, the afternoon’s other worries came crowding back. Kayla’s arrival had pushed them aside for the moment.

“No, but Bessie called me. It’s not good, Kate.” Even as she said it, her voice broke. “I don’t think Cyrus is going to recover soon.” She paused, a thousand and one images welling up in her mind. Their pastor, Cyrus Ledbetter, had always been there for all of them. He had married her to Ralph Bennett years ago. He had baptized both their daughters. He had supported them in joy and in grief. And he and Kate had a special relationship. They had worked so hard together to establish the church school, Gilmartin Academy. The very idea that he might not always be there was unbelievable.

As they ended their conversation and rang off, Beth recalled the other problem she had pushed aside. Kate was in the midst of her third pregnancy, and things were not going very well for her. Beth had the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that always came when people she loved were at risk.

Still standing by the phone, she watched Adam. No longer wolfing down food, he had lain his head on the table and was finishing his cookies, half lying down. He must be exhausted. Did he have regular naps? Did he have regular anything? He was using one grimy hand to slowly break up his last cookie into small pieces, which he put tiredly into his mouth. His eyes were heavy. Any moment now he would simply fall asleep where he was.

Beth hurried to make a snack for Kayla. She had forgotten to ask what she might want, so she improvised. While she made a quick grilled cheese sandwich and sliced an orange, she watched Adam fall asleep. When she had these and a small pot of tea on a tray ready, she went to him and gently placed her hand on his tousled head. Instantly, he struggled out of sleep.

“Is it Adam’s nap time?” she asked.

He sat up quickly. “Mommy?”

“Mommy’s upstairs taking her bath. Do you want to go up?” she asked reassuringly.

“Mommy,” he said again, and started to get down, almost falling. Beth caught him and held him close for a moment.

“Come on. We’ll go up to see Mommy. Let me get this tray.”

Holding the small tray in one hand, she reached out the other, and Adam confidently put his small hand in hers. It was the beginning of trust. Well, Adam, you can trust me. She was surprised at the fierceness of the thought as it crossed her mind. Then, just as fiercely came another thought. Don’t get too attached to this child.

Upstairs again, Kayla was glowing. “Beth, you have no idea how good it feels to be clean again. Lucky I keep my hair dryer in my tote, isn’t it?” She started eating hungrily of her snack. “This is so good!”

Beth brushed aside the idea that the lost luggage was a myth. There had never been any other luggage. The ugly tote was all there was. “I can cut those split ends off for you, if you like. I used to trim my daughters’ hair all the time.”

“I’d love it if you would, as soon as I finish this. I want to look nice for Dad.”

“Fine. I’ll put Adam down for a nap. He was falling asleep at the kitchen table.”