September Love

“How…how did things come out?”

He released her hands and got up. “Pretty well, I guess. With Kayla I’m never sure. But this time I think she really means it. Endicott’s death got to her, I believe.”

“Who’s Endicott?”

“Adam’s father. Mitch Endicott.” He went over to the refrigerator. “I’ll start the breakfast preparations while I tell you. No, don’t get up. You’ve done enough today.” He took the melons out of the fridge and put them on the long drain board.

Beth sat back as he took things out of cupboards and drawers and rolled up his sleeves. She loved to watch his big hands working. The big hands that could saw logs for the fireplaces or wield a tiny paintbrush to put sunlight on leaves or, as now, use the small scoop to create melon balls for breakfast.

“Kayla wants to go back into rehab. This time for the complete cure. She knows it won’t be easy, mainly because she’s tried before and failed. The rehab treatment takes about three months and will cost the earth. But I can afford it—though my emergency fund is taking a bit hit.”

“But if she really means it and is successful, won’t it be worth it?” Beth felt a surge of relief. She had a quick mental image of Kayla, not an alcoholic. Kayla not depending on Doug, but competent, successful. Kayla taking her little boy and going away.

“More than worth it. But she wants us to take care of Adam while she’s away. She can’t take a three-year-old with her into rehab.” He turned from the sink, the melon baller held loosely in one hand. “What do you think about that?”

“Of course we can take care of Adam,” she heard herself saying firmly. What am I thinking of? I have a business to run! And at the same time she had a recollection of Adam clutching the red sneakers to his chest. Mine. Well, Doug was worth it. If he wanted Adam to stay here for three months, so be it.

“I didn’t doubt it, love. I know you too well for that. And when I saw Kayla in Jill’s blue outfit, I figured it was practically a done deal. And, you know, I believe it will come out right this time. I feel sure it will. She’ll stick with it. She means it. I don’t know if you can understand this or not…how much this means to me. Your girls, Kate and Jill, don’t seem to have any problems at all. They seem so right with life. I want that for Kayla, too.” His voice was unsteady again.

“Kayla’s life is screwed up because of me. Don’t shake your head, Beth. I know what I know. You may have wondered why I’ve never talked about my first marriage, but it wasn’t…very good. My fault, too, I guess. I did have a good, solid live-at-home job, lecturing on economics at our local college. But I didn’t like academia. I didn’t like…my marriage. I wanted out. At the time I was thinking of no one but myself. I couldn’t walk out on the marriage commitment, but I got a job as a textbook representative because it demanded that I travel. It got me away. It set me free. When Kayla needed me—and she did—I was never there for her.”

He worked silently for a time. Beth didn’t know what to say. When he finished with the melons he put down the scoop and began gathering up the rinds for the disposal. The kitchen was filled with the drone of the grinding. Beth stared at the large platter of melon balls. The bright orange cantaloupe, the red watermelon, the pale green honeydew. It looked like a picture and would be tempting on the buffet in the morning. She watched as Doug carefully covered it with plastic and put it in the refrigerator. Then he took the two bun warmers out of the cupboard and put them near the electrical outlets so she could fill them with Kate’s tiny, home-baked muffins in the morning. At last the grinding noise stopped.

Doug had never talked to her before about his first marriage. Nor had she talked to him about her long marriage to Ralph Bennett. Nor her guilt because she had never loved Ralph as he had loved her. Perhaps everyone felt guilty about some things—things done wrong, or things not done when they should have been done. She got up and went to him, taking his big hands and raising them briefly to her lips. Her heart ached for him. She knew what it was like to feel guilty.

“Beth, are you sure about this? I’ll help out more than I have been doing, but running a busy B and B and looking after a three-year-old kid won’t be a piece of cake.”

Beth put her fingers over his lips. “Don’t worry. We can do it. We will do it.” But even as she said it, there was that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. How ridiculous. Really ridiculous. Of course they could do it. It was only for three months. So why wouldn’t the sickness go away?

Chapter Three

Mrs. Driscoll was happy with her muesli and nonfat milk breakfast because of the melon balls and the “little tastes” of this and that from Bert’s overloaded breakfast choices. He had scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and a large collection of muffins, heavily buttered.

“My doctor told me to cut way back on fat, but those little sausages looked so good. Bert, let me have a little taste of yours.” Whereupon Bert would move three or four of his sausages from his plate to hers.

“Bert, those scrambled eggs look so fluffy…”

Breakfast at Beth’s B and B was a time of pleasant confusion, much talk and laughter, and comings and goings. Beth enjoyed this fully. It was a nice feeling to give people a good breakfast and send them off in happy anticipation of their day’s adventures in a new city—and one of the things she enjoyed most about her work.

Kayla, true to her word, was up early, having dressed Adam and brought him downstairs. Then she helped in the kitchen. Relaxed and at ease, she was a happy addition to the group, getting up quickly now and then to refill the coffee carafe or fetch more muffins from the kitchen. Beth could sense how pleased Doug was at Kayla’s efforts. Please, God, let this be right for Doug. And let it be right for Kayla, too. Soon.

Justin Bryant was the last to leave. Beth hurried to the kitchen to get the two sack lunches she had prepared. She sometimes did this for guests who wanted to eat on the run. He and an associate were going out of town on business for the day. He had told them all with great gusto of his hopeful plans. They would go out to the country to see an attic full of “old things.”

“Every antique dealer’s dream come true,” he said. “A granddaughter is getting rid of her late granny’s stuff—and estate matter. We’re hoping to see an attic full of priceless antiques that the granddaughter thinks are junk, that we can pick up for pennies. But it will probably be an attic full of junk granddaughter thinks are priceless antiques. Wish us luck.”

Beth laughed and handed him the two sack lunches, for which he always paid generously. “Roast beef,” she said. “The sack with the B on it is the one with barbecue sauce. I remember you said your friend can’t eat anything spicy.”

When the guests had gone for the day, she, Doug and Kayla settled down with comfortable sighs and Adam came back to the table. He had stolidly disposed of the large breakfast Kayla had placed before him. But he had a habit of sliding down from his place and wandering off for a while. Then he would come back, let Doug help him back up on the booster seat to resume his meal. Later, tactfully, Beth thought she’d better persuade him out of this habit. Since he ate much of his food with his fingers there was the matter of greasy fingermarks on walls and furniture. Now she watched his sober efforts. He was immaculately clean, neatly clothed, well-fed and safe. Doug must be happy about that.

As they were leisurely drinking second cups of coffee, the kitchen phone rang and Doug got up to answer it. She and Kayla could hear him talking and laughing, and when he came back he was still smiling.

“That was Jill,” he said, sitting down. “They’re both coming over for lunch. But they’re bringing it.” He turned to Kayla. “Jill and Kate are Beth’s daughters. You’ll like them. They’re a lot of fun.”

“I know I will,” Kayla said, smiling warmly, but Beth happened to be looking at Kayla’s expressive eyes. She sensed Kayla’s instant withdrawal. How difficult would it be for Kayla to meet women of her own age who had solved their problems as they arose and hadn’t made the mistakes she had? Was this going to be another difficulty? Both girls had accepted her marriage to Doug and liked him very much.

“Are they bringing their children?” Beth asked. “They have three each,” she added for Kayla’s benefit, “and Kate will have another in a few months.”

“Three each,” Kayla said. “I have trouble taking care of one.” She made a move to leave the table. “You wanted to change our room,” she reminded Beth.

“Right,” Beth said quickly, sensing that Kayla suddenly wanted to escape. “We’d better get on with it.”

“Mommy!” Adam said in panic as Kayla left. He slid down from his place. He followed closely behind them as they went upstairs to strip the bed and put on fresh linen for the guests tonight.

Beth could hear Doug whistling and the clatter of dishes as he cleared the table.

Kayla turned out to be an excellent helper, scouring the tub and shower, working quickly and efficiently. When Beth commented admiringly, Kayla answered, wringing out the cleaning cloth, “I had a job once as a maid in a motel. I learned a lot about cleaning fast.”

She frowned slightly, and Beth wondered about Kayla’s hectic and uncertain existence. What a way to live.

“Incidentally,” Kayla added. “I’ve never mentioned to Dad some of the jobs I’ve had, so this is just between us, okay?”

“Fine,” Beth agreed. “Past history is past history.”

Beth’s cleaning service came once a week for vacuuming, mopping, polishing—all the heavy work—but the daily bed making, bath cleaning and tidying up, Beth did, and today she found Kayla a real help. They finished in half the time and began to move Kayla’s and Adam’s things into the small downstairs bed-sitter.

Adam fell in love with the bed-sitter on sight, especially when she and Kayla opened the queen-size sofa bed to put on the sheets and blanket.

“Izziz our house now?” he asked, looking around the small room. There was the made-up sofa bed, a small chest of drawers, a pretty chair and the wide window seat that magically opened up to reveal the big empty space below the seat. He had already discovered the basin with running water behind the folding screen. He was standing in the center of the room, legs spread out, hands on hips, like a tiny lord of the manor. Beth had to admit he was kind of cute.

Kayla laughed at him. “This is our house for the time being. You know, I told you this morning that I had to go away for a while, but just a little while. Beth’s going to take care of you. Remember what I told you. Don’t play dumb now.”

Because suddenly the little lord of the manor was scowling fiercely.

“It’s just for a little while,” Kayla repeated placatingly. “I’ll be back. You know when I leave I always come back.”

Beth wondered how many times Kayla had left him “for a little while.” With whom had she left him? How well had he been cared for? It took an effort to remain silent. Kayla wouldn’t be gone for a little while. She’d be gone for three months in rehab. Three months would be forever to a small child. Well, somehow she would have to deal with it. Anything was possible…for Doug.

When they finished in the bed-sitter, Doug remembered the box of toys Beth kept for grandchildren’s visits. He brought it into the room. Adam was fascinated. Had he never had toys of his own? Beth wondered. Doug sat down on the floor to show him how to connect the bits of yellow plastic with which Ben, Jill’s little boy, built and dismantled wonderful structures when he was here.

They had almost finished in the bed-sitter when the doorbell chimed twice in quick succession. Eleven-thirty. That would be Jill, Beth thought. She always pushed the bell twice. Hard. Please, God, let this work out.

There was an interval of happy chaos as Beth and Doug introduced everyone. She watched carefully, hoping that Kayla would not be intimidated by her daughters. Jill, tall and beautiful, with her striking dark hair and eyes. And Kate, only five feet tall and to anyone but a mother probably rather plain, and very pregnant.

They came in carrying plastic and foil-wrapped containers, which Doug took charge of and carried to the kitchen for their lunch later.

“Everything in plastic goes in the fridge,” Kate called after him. “The big box has tomorrow’s muffins for the B and B folks.” Then they all settled in the large living room. Adam, suddenly surrounded by strangers, stayed close to Kayla’s legs, looking at everyone with a steady frown. A sudden thought popped into Beth’s mind. What had made this little boy suspicious of the whole world?

“I should have brought Meggie,” Jill said, smiling graciously at Kayla. “Then Adam would have someone to play with. She’s four. But I left her with my support group. We all help each other out with baby-sitting now and then. We’re all former career women who have put our work on hold until our kids are grown.”

Kayla looked at her blankly, and Doug intervened to explain that Jill had been a successful restaurant owner early in her marriage.

Beth mentally sighed. It wasn’t working. Lunch was going to be a disaster. Both her girls were trying too hard to be nice to Kayla, and Kayla was trying to respond, her little boy pressed against her legs looking like a small thunder-cloud. Neither Jill nor Kate could forget that Kayla hadn’t shown up for the wedding and—clearly—her arrival now had been a complete surprise to Doug. Kayla was tense and on guard, obviously feeling inferior to all these people and their successful lives, and resenting it deeply. I’d better talk to the girls about this, Beth thought. But what can I say to them? Each daughter, in her own way, was doing her best in an awkward situation.

What would Cyrus say? Suddenly she was thinking of her pastor. Dear God, help Cyrus get well soon. Cyrus had always been there for them, all of them. If only she could call Cyrus’s well-known number, knowing he would pick up the phone at the other end. Ah, Beth, how can I help you, my dear? Then she could pour out her worries to him, counting on his kindness, his loving knowledge of the predicaments human beings got themselves into, his willingness to advise, to guide, to help. By sheer willpower she shut out thoughts of Cyrus and made herself pay attention to the here and now.

They labored through lunch. She could sense Doug’s discomfort. Jill, whose talent for working with people of all sorts in her business, was still being too cordial. And Kate, who couldn’t hide her obvious growing irritation as Adam ate his own lunch in installments. He kept getting down, wandering away, then coming back to the table. Each time, Doug had to get up to lift him back onto the booster seat on his chair. Kate’s children were better rule-obeyers than Jill’s, or anyone else’s, for that matter, and she managed to do it in such a way that her children didn’t seem to resent the discipline.

Lunch ended on a rather contentious note. Doug had looked at his watch for perhaps the fifth time.

“We’ve got to cut out, love,” he said to Beth. “Kayla and I have an appointment. We’re going to have to leave the clearing up to you.”

“That’s all right,” Beth said quickly, trying not to sound relieved. “We’ll make out fine.” She stopped herself from asking about the appointment, but Kayla spoke out, more loudly than necessary. There was defiance in her tone.

“My dad and I have an appointment at a rehab clinic.” She turned to Jill and Kate, adding deliberately, “I have a drinking problem. I don’t know if Dad has mentioned it to you or not.” Then, as if this hadn’t been enough to startle both Jill and Kate, she added coldly, “I’m a drunk.”

“Oh, come now,” Beth said weakly, as she saw the stunned expressions on her daughters’ faces. Doug had never actually explained to them what Kayla’s problems were.

Jill, always the quickest in the Bennett family, tried to rescue the situation. “Good,” she said decisively. “If you think it’s become a problem, then treatment is probably your best course. Good for you.” She reached over and patted Kayla’s hand.

“It’s a preliminary interview,” Doug said uncomfortably. “We’ll be back later, but we need to make arrangements and so on.”

Kate had recovered her poise. “How long will it take, Kayla?” she asked politely.

“The brochure said three months,” Kayla answered, and then added with a hint of venom. “Beth’s going to take care of Adam while I’m gone.”

“We’d better get going,” Doug said hurriedly, getting up.

But as Adam realized that Kayla and Doug were leaving without him, he began to cry. He had to be pulled away from Kayla.

After they had gone and Adam had quieted down—Jill was very good with small children—Beth prepared herself to answer questions. They came immediately.

“Did she call? Write? Give you any notice at all? Did she just show up? What kind of person just shows up?”

“Mom, those rehab places are expensive! Doug’s not rich by any means.”

“If Kayla’s reduced to wearing rummage sale castoffs—and yes, we noticed the dress—who is going to pay for three months in a rehab facility?”

“How are you going to care for a three-year-old child and run a B and B? Moth-er!”

Beth recognized the exasperation in the “Moth-er” and spoke commandingly. “All right! Let’s clear away this stuff. I’ll explain everything.” She did her best to downplay the inconvenience and explain how important it was to Doug to help Kayla, that Kayla was a widow now, that Adam’s father had died. And that Kayla was serious and intended to recover. This was important. She omitted how and where Mitch had died for the moment.

“It’s only three months, after all,” she ended, but neither daughter was satisfied. They had always been a close family, and protective of one another. They were both worried about her now, and wondered how she would cope. They knew how happy she had been with her new marriage, how well she and Doug got along. They calmed down, but with an obvious effort.

Fortunately, Adam then became sleepy by his toy box. It was Jill who went looking for him and put him down on the sofa bed for a nap. While she tended to Adam, Beth and Kate were left alone in the kitchen.

“How have you been doing?” Beth asked. Kate hadn’t been much help with the clearing up, which was unusual for her. She seemed tired and lethargic. Her baby wasn’t due for another three months, and Kate had gotten easily through her previous pregnancies.

“Okay, I guess,” Kate said. “I was lucky before. Maybe I’m really too old now, but Ian and I—” She shrugged, adding, “I wish—”

“Probably the same thing I do,” Beth said, turning from the dishwasher. Now was a good chance to change the subject. “I’d give a pretty penny to talk to Cyrus today. Have you heard how he is?”

“Yes. I call the hospital every day. He’s stable and as well as can be expected. He had a good night. You know how it is. Depends on who you talk to. They’ve sent—” She paused because her voice was suddenly unsteady. “They’ve sent for his son and daughter.”

“Oh, no! Not really! Is it that serious?” Then immediately, she added, “Where will they stay?”

“I told Bess down at the church office that we have a spare bedroom. Several other people have volunteered, too. Or they could just stay at the rectory, I guess.”

“I can’t offer,” Beth said. “The B and B is booked solid through the whole summer. People tend to come back. Probably because of your muffins, Katie.”

That got a wan smile.

“I’ve met the substitute pastor. Flip Cooper.” Kate’s tone was decidedly sour.

“Flip? His name is Flip? Are you kidding me?”

“It’s a contraction of Philip, which is a perfectly good name for a pastor. But I think he thinks ‘Flip” is clever. He seems awfully, uh…young for a pastor.”

Beth had to laugh. “Kate, you sound absolutely testy.” And Kate laughed with her.

“I guess the poor guy has a hard path to walk here, coming in to substitute for Cyrus. Everybody loves Cyrus. We all go back so far together.”

“When did you meet this, uh, Flip?”

“I’m still going down Thursdays to help with the food bank stuff. He was there. You won’t believe what he wears for casual clothes.”

“Maybe you’d better not tell me. Not until I get used to calling my pastor ‘Flip,”’ Beth said.

Then Jill came back into the kitchen. “Adam’s off in dreamland,” she said. “How long does he sleep—about an hour?”

“About that, I think. Now, listen, girls. I want this to work. I know you both have reservations, but your mother can be very resourceful when the need arises. So bear with me. He is Doug’s grandson, don’t forget. That’s important to me. Doug adores that little guy.”

Jill said softly, “He’d be hard not to love. Poor little mite. If I…can help in any way, Mom, anytime.”

“Me, too, Mom. You know that.” Kate reached out to her and they suddenly clasped hands. Then Kate, who had always been “Daddy’s girl” while Ralph was alive and had been so devastated when he died, surprised her, adding, “I know how much Doug means to you. And the more I know him, I get the oddest feeling that he and Dad would have been good friends. I mean, if Dad had known him.”

Deeply touched, Beth turned away. She didn’t want to be reminded of Ralph—good, kind, faithful, loving, grateful Ralph. He was at peace now. Let him rest.

“Thank you, Kate. I agree. I think they would have talked books until the small hours of the morning.”

“That’s right,” Kate said, smiling. “Doug spent his work life among books, too. I’d forgotten that. He looks like such an outdoors type.”

Her daughters left soon after lunch. They had accomplished what they had come for. They had met Kayla. Beth sat down at the kitchen table, trying to quell her uneasiness. Neither daughter had liked Kayla, although they had tactfully tried to hide it. And both of them were worried now about how she would cope with the situation.

But she would. For Doug’s sake.

The silence now in the large house had an eerie quality, and she felt a sense of foreboding. Will I be able to handle it? I’ve already raised my children. I haven’t had the care of a small child for years. Can I keep up with a lively three-year-old boy with all my other duties? And a problem child at that, a child already filled with deep anger at a world he has come into and found hostile, and far too young to understand why?

Oh, dear God, let me be able to do this.

The front door chimes rang out. What now? She got up quickly, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t ring again and wake Adam up. But of course the person did ring again, just as she reached the front hall. It couldn’t be guests this early. She opened the door.

He was young, tall and rangy, with an unruly mop of reddish blond hair and clear, very light brown eyes. He was dressed in a once-white T-shirt that had seen better days and old, limp jeans that had been cut off at the knees. His bare muscular lower legs ended in the oldest, dirtiest running shoes she had ever seen. Propped against the porch railing was a battered bike, apparently his mode of transportation.

“Yes?” she inquired politely.

“Hi. Is Mr. Colby in? Doug? I wanted to catch him down at the church but I missed him. I’m Flip Cooper, uh, Pastor Cooper. I need to talk to Doug about new ninth grade science books. I’m told he knows all there is to know about textbooks.” He ended on a questioning note, as if he wasn’t quite sure of his welcome.

“Of course,” Beth said, hoping her surprised expression hadn’t intimidated him. This is our new pastor? Unbelievable! She opened the door wider. “Please come in. I’m afraid you missed Doug again. He and Kayla—that’s his daughter—he and Kayla have gone out. But they’ll be back soon. Would you like to wait?” She hoped that he wouldn’t and that he hadn’t heard it in her tone. Put on your perfect hostess smile, Beth. What a contrast he was to Cyrus. What had the Elders been thinking of? He was just a kid, not more than twenty-five surely. Well, he’d have to be older than that, to have gotten through college and seminary. He must be at least thirty. Don’t ask the pastor how old he is. “Or, if you’re busy,” she continued, “you can just leave a message with me and he can call you.”