Snow Angels (11 page)

Denny reached across the table, picked up a pitcher and poured a stream of syrup over his waffle, filling each crispy square with sweet amber liquid, giving himself time to consider Andy’s response to his question.

“So, that’s your plan? Say nothing?”

“Yep.” Andy tore the top off a packet of sugar and poured it into his coffee cup. “Best thing to do is let it lie.”

Denny nodded as he sawed his waffle into bite-size squares. “I see. So you’re going to pretend you were never in that hallway, never heard a word Riley said?”

“Confronting him would only stir up trouble,” Andy said.

Denny drew his eyebrows together into a bushy line. “The board supports you, Andy. You know that, don’t you? Sure, they’ve gotten a little carried away over the idea of building a new church, but that’ll pass. You’re doing a great job. Nobody is looking to replace you.”

“Riley is.”

“Oh, him,” Denny said dismissively before spearing two waffle squares onto his fork and taking a bite. “You don’t need to worry about him,” he said through a mouth full of waffles and syrup.

“Maybe. But…what if he’s right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been here for almost ten years now, pastoring this church as best I know how, which is basically the same way my dad did it for the thirty years before that. We’ve added some new programs, changed the music some, added a few guitars to the mix, but by and large,” Andy shrugged, “this church is pretty much the way it was when I was a kid.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“I’m just saying that…well…maybe Riley is right. At first, I was mad, seriously mad at him. But then I started thinking; he could be right. I accepted this pulpit because that’s where God was calling me, but maybe God is calling somebody else now, somebody with a different outlook, a different vision. Maple Grove is my home. I love it here, but I don’t want to stay if my doing so is going to hinder the church from reaching everyone it possibly can.”

Denny put down his fork. “Andy, what are you talking about? This church is growing…what is it? Something like 23 percent in the last three years?”

“About that,” Andy said with a nod, though he knew the actual percentage was just a hair over 25.

“Twenty-three percent. In three years. Andy, how many churches in this part of the state, not new, start-up congregations but old established churches, are seeing that kind of growth?” He stabbed two squares of waffle with his fork and, before Andy could respond, answered his own question.

“None. That’s how many. Not one.”

“But you’d expect that. The furniture factory brought a lot of new people into town.”

“Not that many.”

“Yes, but the Christmas pageant has helped, too. A lot of people come see it, have a good time, decide to visit regular church services, like what they see, and stay. That’s Kendra’s doing.”

Denny nodded. “Some of it, yes. Kendra has done a lot toward getting them in the door, but you’re the one who takes over after that and, as you said, they like what they see so they stay, and you’re the one…”

Andy shook his head, “Hold on, Denny. I’m just the guy who’s up there preaching. There’s a whole lot more to the church than that.”

“That’s true. I was talking to that new couple who started coming regularly a couple of months back, the Rumsfields.”

“Oh, yeah. I know the Rumsfields. George and Annie. Nice couple. Sweet kids. Natasha’s in fourth grade and Emily’s in third.”

“Right. And that’s why they came at first—because of the girls. George had never been a churchgoer, but thought he ought to set a good example for his children. Now he comes for himself because he likes the people, how we take care of each other, and how everybody made them feel welcome. Most of all, he said he likes your messages because you preach so plain. There’s no guilt, just that feeling of God reaching out in love.”

Andy ducked his head. “You know me, Denny. I’ve only really got one sermon in my back pocket, same one I learned in Sunday school when I was four years old: ‘Jesus Loves Me, This I Know.’ My personal theology sort of begins and ends right there.”

“Well, that may be, but it seems to be enough for George. He says that, for the first time, he’s started to think of God as more than just a distant idea, but as real and caring, a God who understands and wants to be present in his life.”

Andy was smiling now. “That’s great to hear.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a little black notebook, and scribbled a note to himself. “I’ll have to give George a call. See if I can meet him for a cup of coffee.”

“You and your coffee,” Denny said, and snaked the last bite of waffle through the remaining pool of syrup. “Don’t you ever eat?”

“I had breakfast before I left the house, about five hours ago.”

“At five
A.M
.? And you’re not hungry again?”

Andy shook his head.

“Well, good for you. Wish I could say the same. Anyway, Andy, my point is this; we’ve got a good, healthy church here. A growing one. And whether it’s because of the new factory or the pageant or the people or the preaching or some combination of all that—it’s working. And my feeling is: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The waffles gone, Denny took a big gulp of coffee to wash them down. “This church doesn’t need a new pastor, Andy. We’ve already got the best pastor in New England—you.”

Andy grinned. “You trying to get me to pick up the tab? Can’t do it, buddy.”

The older man held up his hand. “Yeah, don’t go brushing me off like that. I’ve been your friend for ten years and before that, I was your dad’s friend. We met in this diner for breakfast after Wednesday morning Bible study for almost thirty years, just like you and I do now. Except when your dad and I got together, he actually ate something.” Denny grinned and swiped a paper napkin across his lips before crumpling it and tossing it onto his now empty plate.

“Dad always said that you were his best friend and one of the smartest, wisest men he knew.”

“Any wisdom I got I probably picked up from your dad. He was a good man, Andy. And a good pastor. So are you. If you don’t know that by now then somebody ought to tell you. Don’t argue with me about it, just say thank you.”

“Thank you, Denny.”

“You’re welcome. Say, how’s Kendra? Just two more months’ till the baby comes, right? How’s she feeling?”

“Actually, it’s just about seven more weeks now. She’s fine. I mean, physically she’s fine, but she’s been pretty emotional lately.”

“Well, that’s to be expected, you know. Hormones and all. Sugar was just the same with ours. Once, when she was carrying Bill, I came in looking forward to supper after spending the whole day in the sugaring shed, boiling down sap for syrup, and found her sitting in front of the TV crying her eyes out over a macadamia nut commercial.”

Denny chuckled at the memory. “She just sat there sobbing and there wasn’t one thing I could do or say to make her feel better. I never did get to eat that night.”

“There’s some of that,” Andy said. “She was a mess after that scene with Thea. Thea was pretty awful to her. Kendra would have been upset no matter what; being pregnant just exacerbated the situation.”

Andy sighed and wrapped his hands tighter around his coffee cup. “And it’s not just the baby. I’ve been gone so much. You know how crazy things get at the church this time of year. So much going on. And then there’s this whole thing with Riley.”

“Kendra’s a good woman, sensible, but she’s human. Naturally, she’s going to be upset when she hears that somebody is gunning for you.”

“Yeah,” Andy said sheepishly, “that would probably be true, if I’d told her about Riley. I haven’t.”

“What?” Denny shook his head in disbelief. “Andy, when you sit down to counsel engaged couples and talk to them about the keys to a successful marriage, what’s the first thing you tell them?”

“I know. I know,” Andy said. “Honest and frequent communication. Believe me, I know. I just thought that…in this case…in this situation, it would be better not to talk to her about what’s been bothering me. You know, when Sharon left, I always thought it was because…”

Denny interrupted. “Andy, Sharon didn’t leave because you told her too much about what was going on at the church. Sharon left because…well, because she did. A woman doesn’t walk out on her marriage and four-year-old child because she’s upset that her husband has a tough boss and told her about it.”

“I realize that. I mean, it took me a while, but…Anyway, I’d decided to go home, bring her some flowers, and have a nice dinner with the family and then sit just sit and talk to Kendra, tell her about what’s been going on. But, wouldn’t you know it? Thea picked that same night to have her little meltdown, which is a whole different subject. Denny, one of these days you’ve got to sit down and tell me how you survived raising five teenagers.” Andy sighed.

“Anyway, when I walked in the house, Kendra was a mess. She was sitting on the kitchen floor and crying her eyes out. I just stood there, holding a bouquet of roses in my hand and feeling like an idiot.”

“But you talked to her later, after she calmed down.”

“Sort of…not really.”

Denny shot Andy a look.

“I know! I know! You don’t have to say anything. Things have been crazy since that night, but I’m going to talk to her. I already decided. Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I’m going to make some time to sit down with Kendra and have a good long talk. I promise.”

“Well, you’d better, buddy.” Denny growled. “Andy, for such a smart guy, you can really do some dumb things.”

“You only just realized that?”

Andy twitched a little, feeling the ringer go off on his cell phone.

“Hang on a minute, will you, Denny? You know, I liked it better when Maple Grove didn’t have a cell tower. Swore I’d never get one of these things, but with the baby coming I thought I’d better.” Andy dug the phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

“It’s Kendra. I should take this.”

He flipped open the phone.

“Hi, babe. What’s up?”

Denny picked up the check the waitress had left on the table, looked at it, and got his wallet out. But he stopped short when he glanced up and saw the look on Andy’s face.

“Kendra, that can’t be right. Are you sure? Tonight? She’s coming tonight? Okay. Yes. I’ll be right home.” Andy pressed a button to end the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“What is it?” Denny asked, worried. “Is the baby coming?”

Andy got to his feet, left some money on the table, and started heading toward the door. “No. Not the baby. Sharon.”

“A year?” Thea asked, her eyes wide with admiration. “They actually paid you to just hang out and write poetry in Scotland for a whole year?”

Sharon smiled and when she did, the bronzed skin around her eyes drew together like folds in an origami fan, simultaneously exotic and balanced. Even her wrinkles seemed to suit her, at least, that’s what Kendra thought.

Sharon was eight years Kendra’s senior, but age had not diminished her beauty. Her salt-and-pepper hair was short and spiky, standing up or out at odd angles as if Sharon possessed some inner current of energy that could not be contained within her body and so it spilled out through every hair on her head and into the atmosphere around her. Her eyes were deep blue, wide and wondering, just like Thea’s, and fringed with long, black lashes that needed no mascara and topped with full, evenly arching brows that showed no signs of tweezing. Sharon’s beauty was truly natural and seemingly effortless. Only her clothing, the soft, twisted cream and gray yarns of her hand-knit sweater, perfectly accented by the rich eggplant-colored scarf wrapped carelessly around her neck and the hammered silver earrings that dangled from her ears, showed that she ever gave more than momentary consideration to her appearance. And yet, she was lovely.

Even with all she had to do to prepare the meal, Kendra had taken extra time deciding what to wear, finally settling on gray maternity slacks with a long black sweater, paying special attention to her makeup and jewelry, and even squeezing her feet into a pair of black patent leather heels she hadn’t worn for months. But in spite of all this, sitting across from Sharon at the Thanksgiving table, Kendra felt like a dull, apologetic little wren perched next to a stately and honey-voiced snowy owl.

Sharon’s eyes twinkled, further charming the already charmed Thea. “Well, an artist-in-residence is expected to give a few classes and lectures, public readings, that sort of thing, so I did a
little
more than ‘hang out and write poetry.’” Sharon’s eyes grew serious. She leaned toward her daughter as though sharing some important secret. “But not
much
more.”

Sharon laughed and Thea joined in. Kendra and Andy smiled politely and continued eating.

“During the summer, I was only required to give one reading. The rest of the time was devoted to writing. I rented a flat in a wonderful little village, Buckie, on the Moray Firth. The flat was tiny and tidy with a sweet little garden in back and a marvelous view of the sea in the front. Such a perfect solitude. And when I tired of my own company, there were plenty of nearby villages to explore and people to talk to. One Saturday, I went to Elgin for the car boot sale…”

Thea interrupted, intrigued by the foreign-sounding phrase. “Car boot sale?”

“It’s like a flea market. All kinds of vendors selling everything you can imagine. Some trash and some treasure. That’s how I met Bruce and Margaret Cormac. They owned the used-book stall. Such a darling couple. We got to be very good friends. Bruce gave me this lovely old book full of Robert Burns poems. I’d read Burns before, of course, but somehow opening that book, seeing those same familiar verses printed on those yellowed pages and realizing how much those words had spoken to people over the centuries…” Sharon stopped short.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep going on and on about this.”

Kendra swallowed quickly and cleared her throat. “Oh, no. Not at all. It’s very interesting. So is that why you decided to call your poetry collection
A Walk With Robbie?
”

“No. I just write what I write and leave the rest of it to the editor. She particularly liked that poem and thought it would also make a good title for the collection.”

“And that’s the book that won all the awards?” Thea asked eagerly.

“Just one,” Sharon said modestly, “the Lightflower prize. It’s been nominated for a few others but…we’ll see.”

Kendra glanced at Andy, wishing he’d say something. “That must be very gratifying,” Kendra said, “having your work recognized with a national award.”

Sharon smiled sincerely. “It is. I mean, a person doesn’t become a poet because they crave recognition. Even the most celebrated names in modern poetry are virtually unknown to the general public, but it is nice to know that some people appreciate my work. Still, at the end of the day, it’s the art itself that matters, not the recognition,” Sharon said, turning her fork to the side and slicing the triangle tip off her pie prior to eating it. “You’re an artist, Kendra. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Kendra’s just a dancer, not an artist,” Thea said, giving Kendra a dismissive glance before turning back to Sharon with eyes full of adoration. “Not like you.”

Kendra took a sip of water, trying to pretend she hadn’t been hurt by Thea’s comment, a comment that stung all the more because it was exactly what Kendra had been thinking herself.

Andy looked up from his plate. “Thea!”

Sharon jumped in, gently correcting her. “You’re wrong, Thea. Kendra is an artist every bit as much as I am. Artists are keen observers, people who see and feel things in a different way than most, and use their special gifts—whether it be painting, or writing, or dancing—to help others understand the world more deeply.”

For the tenth time that day, Sharon had gotten them past an awkward moment and, also for the tenth time, Kendra secretly wished she could dislike her, but she couldn’t. Ever since she’d met Andy and heard the story of how Sharon had so abruptly left her child and marriage, Kendra had imagined the woman must be the worst kind of thoughtless, self-absorbed monster, but she wasn’t. Not that an awkward hour sitting around the Loomis dinner table had given Kendra special insight into exactly what had motivated Sharon to abandon her daughter all those years before, but it wasn’t out of narcissism, Kendra was certain of that.

“Anyway,” Sharon continued, “I’m not sure that it’s me that should have gotten that prize. If anything, the credit should go to Scotland. The scenery, the history, the people! It was inspiring! I’ve never written so well or so easily. Every person I saw on the street, every bird that sang, every ancient stone and ruin seemed replete with meaning and narrative. All I had to do was pick up my pen and copy down the stories—adding a few commas so people would know it was poetry, of course.”

How does she do that?
Kendra asked herself.
How is she able to work words like “replete” and “narrative” into a sentence and make them sound as natural as any other word?

“It sounds beautiful,” Thea said dreamily.

“It is. I plan to go back as soon as I can. The only thing I didn’t love about Scotland was the food. They don’t seem to hold vegetables in quite the esteem they deserve. Speaking of which,” she said, turning to Kendra. “That was an amazing meal. Everything was just delicious! I particularly enjoyed the squash. What did you put in it?”

“Maple syrup. Rosemary. A few other things. I can copy down the recipe if you’d like.”

“Would you?”

“Sure.”

Sharon took another bite of her pie and then looked at her wristwatch. “This has been so nice. Thank you so much for having me. I don’t want to eat and run but I’m a little tired. I was so excited about seeing Thea today that I could hardly sleep.”

“You just got here! Don’t leave yet!”

“You heard her, Thea,” Andy said. “She’s tired and needs to get some rest.”

“Your dad’s right,” Sharon agreed. “But, I tell you what. You’ve got the day off from school tomorrow. What say I pick you up and we can go do some Christmas shopping and then I’ll take you out to eat.”

Thea’s face lit up. “Chinese food?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

“And after that, let’s go and get manicures!”

Sharon laughed, splayed out her long, elegant fingers and looked at her fingernails—smooth, ivory ovals without a hint of polish. “Well, that’d be a first for me but, sure! It’ll be fun. We’ll have a real girls’ night out. I mean…” she glanced at Andy and then at Kendra. “If that’s all right with the two of you. I don’t want to impose on your plans.”

“We don’t have any plans,” Thea assured her quickly before turning to her father. “I can go, can’t I? Please, Dad.”

Technically, Thea was grounded until Monday. That was the punishment Andy had meted out to her for the incident with Josh Randall and for speaking to Kendra so rudely and for lying to them. But Sharon’s unexpected arrival had complicated things.

Neither Andy nor Kendra had been anxious to include her in their Thanksgiving plans. For a brief moment, Andy had considered telling Sharon that she wasn’t welcome at dinner, but Kendra had talked him out of it. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about this, especially because Thea had made the invitation without consulting either of them, but now that Sharon was here, Kendra didn’t see as they had any choice but to invite her to dinner and to try to act as normal as possible.

If that’s what Thea wanted, could they really deny her the right to see her mother? Perhaps. After all, Sharon had relinquished custody over Thea years before, and who was to say that she might not try to reclaim it now? If they tried to prevent Thea from seeing her, Sharon might do exactly that. It was a tense situation, but Kendra had felt they had no choice but to make Sharon as welcome as possible. In the end, Andy had agreed. After all, it would only be for a little while. And there was something else too; hurt as Kendra was by Thea’s behavior in the last few weeks, she was truly happy to see Thea so happy. Kendra knew that in spite of her grown-up looks and adolescent affectations, a part of Thea was still an abandoned four-year-old, wondering if her mother had left because of something she’d done wrong. Maybe Sharon’s visit could help heal some of that pain. And if that caused Andy and Kendra some tension and anxiety, it was a price worth paying.

And it was only for a few days. Then Sharon would fly back to San Francisco and they could all go on with their lives.

“Come on, Dad. Please?” Thea pleaded.

Andy looked at Kendra who gave him a quick nod. “All right. That’ll be fine.”

Sharon smiled. “Are you sure? Really? I don’t want to get in the way of your plans. If tomorrow’s not convenient, we can do it another day. I’m going to be around for a while.”

The baby kicked, hard, catching Kendra by surprise. She jumped a bit and instinctively put her hand on her stomach. “You are?”

Sharon frowned and looked at her daughter. “Thea, didn’t you tell them?”

Thea shook her head nervously.

“I have an offer to teach at the college. Actually, since the Lightflower prize was announced I’ve had a few offers. This wouldn’t have been my first choice. I’d pretty much made up my mind to say no, but when Thea found my Facebook page and got in touch, I decided to reconsider.

“I’ll be at the Toll Bridge until Monday, but after that I’m moving into a furnished cottage I found online. Not in Maple Grove, but close. Over in Keswick. I’ve rented it until the first of the year; just to give myself time to see if I want to stay in Vermont or not.

“And,” she said, reaching out and caressing Thea’s cheek, “To give me a chance to spend time with Thea and, of course, to see her play Mary in the famous Maple Grove Christmas pageant.”

Thea squealed. “You’re going to come to the pageant! Do you mean it?”

“Absolutely! Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Thea let out a whoop, jumped up from her place at the table and threw her arms around her mother.

Andy gripped the end of the table and opened his mouth as though to say something. Kendra shook her head, warning him not to speak rashly.

The telephone rang.

Even on a holiday, ignoring the phone wasn’t an option in the Loomis household; too many people in Maple Grove depended on Andy. Even so, he let it sound off a couple of times before taking his napkin off his lap and pushing back his chair.

“Excuse me. I have to answer that.”