A Shore Thing (36 page)

Gage had been questioning God a lot lately, wondering why he was brought here only to see his hopes wither with the first shady detail. But then he found Callie and he watched his sister’s enthusiasm grow while describing her dream job at the castle on the hill. Despite the otherwise dreary outlook for his firm, strangely enough, Gage felt nothing but hope.

Chapter Thirty-eight

Squid gave his final message to the kids, and I had to turn away to keep from crying. He’d made the right decision, stepping away from ministry for awhile as he sought to build a life with Peyton and his new child. But I’d miss him. The kids would miss him too.

As he finished with the kids, I had waited at the back of the chapel, reading over the proverb I had quoted to him the other day, the one that says the Lord determines our steps. Until then, I’d never looked at the one right before: “Better a little righteousness than much gain with injustice.”

It occurred to me that although I believed the developers of the Kitteridge property had been unjust, I was not completely in the clear. I had jumped the gun when I’d first heard about the property’s sale. What might have happened if I had approached both Tim and June the very moment I learned about it? If only I had gone to them first.

It was now early evening. Parked in front of Sheila’s house, I debated my readiness to face everyone. The article in the paper didn’t mince words yesterday and with the campaign shot, I could only imagine the comments I’d have to face. Leaning my elbows onto the steering wheel, I massaged my eyes.

My cell rang and I glanced at the number. Gage. How could the thought of one man bring on such polarized emotions?

“Hi.”

“Callie, hi, it’s Gage.” He paused. “Are you home from camp?”

I rubbed my eyes harder. “Not yet. I stopped at my sister’s for dinner.”

“So I guess you’ve seen the paper.”

I looked through my windshield at the muted sky. “First thing Saturday morning.”

“Not Pulitzer prize worthy, but the kid laid it all out there. Are you okay?”

I paused to think about that, picturing Gage’s penetrating eyes watching me. I wanted to tell him that I’d moved on, that I’d survive this. Of course, I would. But the whole thing still sat like an indigestible lump in my abdomen. “I’ll survive.”

“Callie, you gave it your all. The community couldn’t have asked for more, and once things settle down, they’ll find that out.”

I closed my eyes. “Thanks but that doesn’t matter now anyway. You won, Gage.”

“No one’s winning this one, Callie.”

A smirk tugged at my cheek. “I wouldn’t say that. You came here for a purpose, and now that purpose is in the works. So, good job.”

Gage let out a sigh that revealed his exasperation. “We may have started out as opponents, but surely you know you mean more to me than that.”

“Do I?” That sounded harsh, but Justin told me the same thing until one day he woke up with a changed mind. Would I ever trust in what Gage, or any other man, said? Besides, what if I had been the person to win this fight? Would Gage be professing his affection for me right now?

Silence held the line. I swallowed, waiting. Finally Gage spoke. “Don’t you feel the same for me, Callie?”

My heart pricked at the heaviness in his voice and I wanted to answer him. Only I couldn’t find a way. “I’m sorry. Gage, I just can’t, not now. Please, give me some time.”

We hung up and I continued to lean my chin against the wheel, tending to the knot in my stomach. Bobby peeked out the door and smiled at me, waving me in. The spirit was willing, but the flesh—not so much.

Still, knowing that baby Callie was beyond those doors got me out of the car.

“Hey.” Bobby kissed me on the cheek. “Thought I heard something out here.”

“Just planning my grand entrance.”

“Nothing personal but you have a tough act to follow.” He winked. “Greta and Callie made quite the entrance already.”

Inside, I dropped my purse and darted across the room past Jim and Nancy and Vince, and knelt next to the same chair where Greta’s water broke the previous week. It smelled freshly laundered. “How’s my baby-kins?” My voice had inexplicably risen to a squeak.

Greta smiled serenely, her skin more radiant than ever. Low doses of sleep apparently agreed with her. “She’s an angel.”

The door flew open and in strode Mom and Dad. “Well, hello, my sweet familia!” Mom pushed her way past Bobby’s waiting kiss and two-stepped across the room. “There’s my babs!” She reached down and plucked Callie from her mother’s arms, gently cradling the newborn in her own. We all watched as Mom cooed into the tiny pink face.

I glanced at Greta, my voice hushed, although unsure why. “I can’t believe you are here. After all you went through!”

Greta shrugged. “I’d do it all over again.” She leaned into me. “And you would too.”

I tried to hide the doubt in my expression. Mom hadn’t missed it though, and spoke up. “Yes, that is absolutely right and besides, it’s really not that bad.”

“Not that
bad
? Mom, you’re kidding, right? You said that childbirth damages you forever!”

She shrunk back. “Me?”

“Don’t you remember how you talked about all the ripping and tearing. The excruciating needles?”

Jim groaned, and Vince ducked out of the room.

Mom winced. “Darling, I don’t recall any of that.”

“How about this—you once said that women were forever altered by the audacity of childbirth!”

Mom gasped and looked to Dad. My normally placid father slapped his knee and laughed. I couldn’t believe his callous reaction. “What could be so funny about that?”

My mother shook her head, smiling. “Callie, those were lines from a play. You must have heard me rehearsing my lines.”

I froze in place and felt as if my body had shrunk to half its length. I was ten again and looking up at my mother as she paced the living room, throwing out words that had been embedded in my psyche for twenty years. Lines from a play?

Giggles filled the room as I slowly realized that some playwright wrote one of my biggest fears in life. Probably a male one. My insides overheated until I was sure the skin on my cheeks would burn right off.

Sheila placed a hand on me. “Thanks for the reminder about what I should say around the children.” Even she laughed at me.

Over dinner my siblings continued to enjoy rehashing the exchange between my mother and me. Admittedly the whole thing was kind of ridiculous. It’s as if my whole life I’d allowed this tiny fear to grow into a thick-rooted weed, so much that I never even considered having children of my own. And yet I adored kids.

Funny how misperceptions could alter a person forever.

Sheila passed a platter of cookies. “I hesitated to bring this up, but now seems like the right time. Callie? How are you doing now that the SOS campaign has apparently ended?”

I shrugged, as if it didn’t matter more than it did. “I’m disappointed, of course, but I’ll survive.”

Jim spoke up. “Like I always said, it was a lost cause.”

My mother frowned at him. “What has happened to you, Jim, to make you such a prune face?”

Blakey giggled. “Prune face. That’s funny, Grandma.”

Mom stroked my nephew’s face as Jim’s chest gathered steam. His fist rested on the table with his fork piercing the air. “I’d like to point out that I am the most educated one in this room and that I—”

Dad tossed a cookie at Jim, startling my older brother as it landed on the chest of his linen dress shirt and slid into his lap, leaving a dusting of crumbs behind.

Jim’s mouth flew open, wider than before. “What was that for?”

Dad sat quietly, chewing his food. He took a sip of coffee and set it back down before looking around the table. “Everything in this family seems to hinge on success, rather than on doing what is right, or more importantly, godly. I don’t know where you got those ideas because it surely wasn’t from me.”

Mom gasped and patted Dad’s shoulder. “See why I love this man?” She turned to him, her gaze unyielding. “You are so wise—and sexy!”

Bobby and Vince groaned and the table, everyone except for Jim, fell into laughter. My own shoulders lifted, not completely, but as if something weighty and cumbersome had taken flight, leaving behind a few odd pieces of my parents’ mismatched luggage. Something about what my father said reminded me of the night Squid told the staff and board how he had struggled with the camp theme. Of course, none of us knew the depth of Squid’s struggle and yet, wasn’t I the one to point out that faith meant living for God?

To his credit, Dad didn’t let up. Always the calm one in our sea of chaotic personalities, he held Jim’s attention. “Son, I’m very proud of you for all that you have achieved. Very proud. But I ask that you take another look at how you measure success. Callie tried her darnedest to make a difference in the community. Maybe she made some mistakes along the way—we all do, everyday—but she makes me a proud papa.” He secured me with his gaze. “I hope you know that.”

Another piece of baggage disappeared from my shoulders.

Later as I stood at the door readying to leave, Sheila handed me my purse and kissed me on the cheek. “What’s that for?”

My sister surprised me by cupping my cheeks with her hands. “For being you. I’m sorry that things haven’t worked out the way you had hoped, Callie, but I too am proud of you for trying.”

I could barely stammer a thank-you.

At home Moondoggy rocketed through his doggy door and flung himself at me. I stood in the living room, holding his head as he leaned against me, and scratching behind his ears. “So good to have you to greet me, you know that?”

He plopped his front paws back down on the floor and sat, signaling dinnertime. I filled his bowls with food and water and stopped short because there painted above his bowl were the words: “Be comforted, little dog, thou too in the Resurrection shall have a tail of gold. ~ Martin Luther.”

Suz. Must be what my artist friend—Gage’s sister—meant in her message when she said she hoped I didn’t mind the liberties she had taken. Although she mentioned using the phrases I had pinned on the wall, this one was new to me.

I padded down the hall, chuckling to myself and thinking of Moondoggy and his tail of gold. Suz’s hands had worked their magic in my little home and I adored her. I hoped my precarious relationship with Gage wouldn’t stand between us.

Once again, I stopped short to take in more of Suz’s handiwork flowing along the hallway wall: “I have loved you with an everlasting love.”

The base of my throat grew thick as I traded laughter for what prickled in that place behind my eyes. I reached out my hand and touched the painted letters with my fingers. This familiar phrase I recognized, yet how long had it been since I had read those words—and believed them?

A vortex pulled me in. Did I believe those words? Or was I like my brother Jim, who seemed to think that accomplishments earned me access to streets of gold?

I leaned against the doorframe, lost in an endless wash of thought. I had done what I could, but maybe it was finally time to let go of this fight. Even June had accepted the finality of their plight and when Tim was well enough, her daughter planned to move them in with her.

Really, not such a bad idea at all.

Fatigue twined through me. Stepping into the bathroom, I flicked on the light, and allowed my eyes to adjust to the recently painted room. A soft hue of Bright Pearl shone on the walls, but I stepped back. Suz had once again used her artistic flair to freehand a verse onto my wall, above the mirror: “He has made everything beautiful in its time.”

That last piece of baggage, the one that continued to weigh me down, disappeared, and as it did, I felt myself release the project that had ruled my waking moments for the past several months. Maybe even years.

GAGE

SUZ BENT OVER HIM, a fist in her side. “You didn’t tell her that you quit the project?”

“The lady couldn’t have cared less.”

“She would have cared. You should have told her, Gage.”

Gage shrugged. “I may not have to. One of Callie’s friends gave me a call yesterday. Asked me to drive up to the camp for a meeting.”

“What for?”

“Don’t know really, but I can design bunkhouses as good as the next guy, so it’s a start.”

Suz’s expression continued to twist. “I’m sure you can, and they’ll be sustainable cabins with radiant heating and solar panels, I’m sure.”

Gage clucked his tongue. “You mock me.”

Suz dropped her arm at her side with drama. “Oh, Gage. What are you going to do? Start designing with the camp as if nothing’s happened? Don’t you think Callie’s going to be suspicious when she sees you spending more time on that hill than on that bluff?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Gage Mitchell, you don’t know what a good catch you are!”

Gage cracked a smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

“I’d like to have some nieces and nephews, and you aren’t a spring chicken, you know. Gah! Men!”

“Hey, why am I the bad guy here? Callie asked for some time, so I’m giving it to her. If anyone is tough to figure out, it’s you women.” He winked.