Reflection (35 page)

“There's Rachel,” he said to Drew.

Drew looked in her direction. “Where? Oh, the woman with Helen?”

“Uh-huh.” He could feel Drew assessing her. He was certain she'd pass his scrutiny, although he didn't particularly care one way or another. He could no longer see her with any objectivity. She looked good to him, that was all he knew. She was losing the weight that seemed to annoy her, and her hair reflected the lights from the ceiling high above them.

“So, how are things going with her?” Drew asked. “How was the infamous D.C. trip?”

Michael sighed. “We remain careful friends.”

“Are you trying for sainthood or what?” Drew laughed.

Michael shook his head. “You need to have pure thoughts to be a saint. My actions might be noble, but my thoughts are going to hang me.”

“I can see you two together,” Drew said. “I can see you writhing on that big old sofa in your den.”

“Get off it, Drew,” Michael said, but he could see it, too. “I think you need a woman of your own. You're a little over involved in this fantasy.”

“I've probably had a woman more recently than you have,” Drew said smugly.

Michael looked at him quizzically. He hadn't heard Drew talk about a woman for a long time.

“I could give you some lessons in discretion,” Drew offered.

He might need them. Despite his talk with Lewis, the more he thought about changing his life to include Rachel, the more seduced he felt by the fantasy. Yet the obstacles—those he could see and touch, like Jason and Katy and the church, as well as those intangibles that gnawed at the edges of his heart—were overwhelming.

Drew began reading the program, but Michael couldn't shift his gaze from Rachel. Anyone watching him would know that his sitting apart from her was not a matter of choice.

Helen leaned over to whisper something in her granddaughter's ear. Telling her secrets? he wondered. He had the feeling Helen had more than one. He had known Peter Huber well. Peter had been sharp-witted up until the end. He would not have alluded so specifically in his will to music that didn't exist. Did Helen know where that coveted piece of music was? As soon as Rachel thought Helen could handle it, he would question her about it again. They had only two weeks left until the hearing, and he knew the bulldozers would be flattening the forest within a few days after the vote.

Michael's attention was suddenly stolen from Rachel and Helen by Jacob Holt's entry into the auditorium. Jacob headed toward one of the few empty seats up front only to be intercepted by Lily. She sprang from her own front-row seat, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him toward the edge of the stage. She began talking to him intently, her face close to his, gesturing with her hands. There was color in her cheeks and her usual smile was missing. Holt listened to her for a moment, then responded with a word or two and a shake of his head. He broke away from her and headed toward the empty seat only to have her grab his arm again. Michael watched in perplexed fascination.

Finally, Jacob Holt said something that ended the conversation, something assertive, firm. Lily closed her mouth into a tight line and let go of his arm. She watched him walk to his seat.

Michael turned his head toward Rachel to find her eyes on him. She was looking at him as if to ask, “What was that all about?” He shrugged in response and shifted his concentration to the program in his lap, smiling to himself, happy with that two-second interaction with the woman who was turning his life upside down.

RACHEL HAD BEEN AFRAID
to attend the charity program. She was growing increasingly reclusive, and the article in that morning's paper had done nothing to enhance her comfort in public. She'd felt herself clinging to her grandmother as they'd walked through the hallway on the way to the auditorium, as if she felt safe only under the umbrella of Helen's protection. And that protection seemed invincible. People liked Helen Huber. They greeted her warmly, commenting on how well she looked, how lucky she had been to survive the lightning. Rachel listened, nodding and smiling, staying close to Gram's side until they had reached their seats.

They were sitting two rows behind Lily. Rachel had considered approaching her former student to say hello, but the thought filled her with fear, and not only for herself. The last time they'd been in public together, at the farmers' market, Lily had suffered for it. Rachel didn't want to put her in that position again. By now she wouldn't be surprised if Lily was ready to turn away from her as others had.

She could feel Michael's presence behind her, though she tried to keep her furtive, backward glances to a minimum. It was difficult. She wanted to see his son, too. Jason was supposed to be with him tonight, but Michael was flanked by adults on either side. One of them, the man in the green Hawaiian-print shirt, she guessed to be his friend Drew.

Celine Humphrey sat several seats to her left. Rachel had called the elder the day before, asking if it was time to start working on the Rwanda supplies, and it had been obvious from Celine's response that the work had already begun. “But you're welcome to come help us on Saturday,” she'd said. “We'll be sorting through the donations.”

Rachel had said she would be there. She felt no encouragement from Celine and certainly no warmth, but she was determined to become involved in spite of her.

Lily took the stage at seven-thirty. “I'd like to welcome everyone to the first annual ASPCA benefit variety show!” she said.

A huge black dog bounded out from the side of the stage and came to a neat heel at Lily's side, and the audience applauded and whistled.

“This is Mule,” Lily said. “I found him at the ASPCA four years ago and rescued him just before he was about to be put to sleep.” She scratched the dog behind his ears. “Between ten and twelve million dogs and cats are euthanized—that means killed—in the United States each year, and another ten million die from abuse and neglect.” Lily rattled off a few more statistics and encouraged responsible pet ownership as well as support for the shelter. Then she took on a more jovial tone. “Enough of the serious stuff,” she said. “Our first act tonight is the Pembroke Dog Training Club's junior program.”

A group of kids filed onto the stage, heeling—or attempting to heel—all manner of dogs. They demonstrated basic obedience training, and by the end of the exhibition, Rachel was longing for her own dog. She hoped Chris was giving Phoenix a lot of attention.

Following the young dog trainers was a routine by a local senior citizens club, describing the joys of pet ownership through song and dance. Watching them, Gram was near tears with laughter. It was Lily's dog show, though, that had everyone rolling on the floor. It was impossible to know if Lily had trained the five dogs to misbehave so spectacularly or if they were simply as rebellious as their trainer. Rachel laughed so hard her cheeks hurt.

Finally, the stage was darkened, and mysterious music filled the auditorium. Everyone fell silent, waiting. When the lights came up, Ian Jackson stood in the center of the stage, dressed in black pants and a black turtleneck. His straight black hair was tied back in its ponytail. He looked the part of a magician, Rachel thought, and as he launched into his act, she knew he was well seasoned in that role. He pulled eight white doves from a small purple basket, balanced silver balls in midair, and made long red streamers leap across the stage. Then he said, “I need a helper. Who can help me out up here?”

The kids in the rear of the auditorium waved their hands wildly, yelling, “Me, me!” A few of them were on their feet, a couple on their chairs.

“Back there.” Ian pointed. “Jason Stoltz. Come on up here, Jace.”

Rachel winced when she heard the moan of stunned disappointment from the rear. “Why him?” one of the kids asked, too loudly.

Jason walked up the aisle toward the stage, looking none too happy about being the chosen one. He was Michael through and through. Michael at twelve. The gawky slenderness brought tears to Rachel's eyes. She wished she could get to know him.

Jason stood awkwardly at Ian's side while a young woman wheeled out a large crate, painted sky blue and dotted with gold stars.

“Well, Jace,” Ian said, patting the lid of the box. “Do you ever feel as if you'd like to disappear?”

Jason laughed. “Yeah.”

“Like right about now?”

The audience chuckled, and Jason nodded. “Yeah,” he said again.

“Well, hop up in here, and I'll see if I can help you out.”

Jason climbed onto a footstool and into the box. Ian closed the lid on him and fastened it with a clasp. Rachel grimaced at the thought of being confined in that tiny space. She didn't dare turn around to look at Michael.

“Some people say that magic is nothing more than sleight of hand or mere legerdemain.” Ian spoke with a cocky confidence as the woman turned the box around and around in circles on the floor. “But I believe there really is such a thing as pure, unadulterated, genuine, bewitching
magic
.” He dismissed the woman to the side of the stage and, with a great flourish, opened the box. It was empty.

The audience gasped its appreciation. Some people applauded.

“Hey, Michael,” Ian called out from the stage, “are you wondering if you're going to get your son back?”

People turned to look at Michael, and Rachel didn't miss the opportunity to do so herself. He was grinning.

“I have faith,” Michael said.

“The preacher has faith,” Ian said. “And…it's either magic or a miracle!” He pointed toward the rear of the auditorium. Everyone turned to see Jason walking through the rear door. The applause thundered, and Jason was laughing as he walked up to the stage.

“How on earth…” Gram said.

“Amazing.” Rachel applauded.

Ian put his arm around Jason once the boy had reached his side. “You're not a twin, are you, Jace?” Ian asked him.

“No.” Jason shook his head. He was wearing Michael's grin.

“Dynamite,” Ian said. “You go on back to your seat now. And you can be my assistant anytime.”

Ian ended his routine with a few more tricks, and Lily took the stage again to thank everyone for coming. When the houselights came on, Rachel and her grandmother got to their feet and filed slowly out of their row.

“What a knockout haircut!”

Rachel turned to see Lily approaching her. The younger woman had made her exclamation so loudly that most of the people around them stopped to stare, and Rachel knew she was blushing as the young hairdresser gave her a hug. Lily was a trip, thumbing her nose at Reflection's judgmental few.

“It was a super show,” Rachel said.

“How'd he make Jason disappear like that?” Gram asked.

Lily shrugged. “It's
magic
, Helen.”

The three of them chatted for a few minutes, although Rachel found it difficult to concentrate on the conversation. Michael and Drew were in her line of vision. They were talking with a man and woman on the other side of the auditorium, and they were laughing. It was good to see that smile on Michael's face.

“Well, I gotta run,” Lily said. She drew Rachel into another embrace, surprising her when she whispered into her ear. “There's something I want to tell you,” she said. “Call me tomorrow.” She pulled away abruptly and leaned over to kiss Gram's cheek. “Hey, Helen,” she said, “you watch out for those old lightning bolts, okay?”

“I will,” Gram promised. “You can count on it.”

Lily moved away to another group of people, leaving Rachel to wonder what she wanted to talk to her about.

She glanced across the auditorium to see Michael looking at her. He waved, an act of bravery in this crowd, and she returned the gesture. That was as much of him as she'd be able to have tonight.

“YOUR SON IS BEAUTIFUL
,” said Rachel.

Michael leaned back on the sofa and smiled into the phone. “Thanks. He did look kinda good up there tonight, didn't he?” He'd been surprised when Ian called Jason up to the stage. Ian must have given Jason some sort of instructions earlier, but Michael still saw his own trepidation mirrored in his son's eyes. It had gone well, though. “He even refused a ride home. Wanted to walk with some of the kids.”

“That's great.”

“Gives me some time alone with you, finally.”

“Well, if you can call this time alone.”

He laughed. “Frustrating, tonight, wasn't it?”

“An understatement. It was hard to be that close to you and not be able to talk to you.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In the library, sitting in the fake-leather chair, sipping a cup of Earl Grey. Gram's gone to bed. I have the house to myself.”

“Wish I were there with you.” He let the words out, unwise though they may have been.

“I wish you were, too. It was so nice the other night, sitting with you on that loveseat in the hotel.”

“With Ursula's hidden camera over our shoulders.”

“Well, even if she had one, we didn't do anything we need to be ashamed of.”

“True.” But he knew that didn't matter. The article had done him irreparable damage. He thought of telling her about that morning's conversation with Jason and his visit from Lewis, but he didn't want to mar the warmth and comfort he was feeling just then.

“Lily told me to call her tomorrow,” Rachel said. “She said there's something she wants to tell me. Do you have any idea what it might be?”

He heard the screen door open and the click of Jason's key turning in the lock. “She probably wants to convert you,” he said. “Thinks you'd make a good Mennonite.”

Rachel responded, but he didn't hear her. His eyes were on his son, who had walked in the door and was trying to hurry past him.

“Jace?” he said. “Come here.”