Homeward Page 23

  “Why, thanks, Meggie,” said Cal. “Can I open it now, or do I have to wait?”

  “Doesn’t matter to me,” said Meg.

  “I say, let the old fellow do what he likes,” Abby teased, winking at her father.

  “And it’s about time,” he shot back, not missing a beat. He tore off the paper and stared in silence.

  “What is it, Granddad?” asked Clive, leaning over his arm to see. Matthew and Abby both peered over his shoulder as well. Meg used the opportunity to slip the smaller photo of Clive onto an end table she’d spotted through the open door to the living room.

  “This is just beautiful,” said Cal in a choked-up voice. “Thank you so much, Meg. I know just where I’ll put it.”

  “Yeah, that’s a great shot, Meg,” said Matthew. “I don’t even remember your taking it.”

  “Can we get a copy, too?” asked Abby.

  “Sure. In fact, I have another one back at the shop, a five-by-eight.” She looked over the collection of pots and pans. “Can I help you, Abby?”

  “Sure, Meg. You can start by putting this seafood salad on the table.”

  Soon the meal was ready. Besides the scrumptious-looking salad, Abby had prepared a baked salmon and fresh green beans with almonds, along with small red potatoes and a hot loaf of freshly baked French bread. Everything looked delicious. Matthew said a short blessing, ending with words of thanks to God for his dad. After the amen, Meg looked around at the family. They weren’t exactly typical—widowed dad, single aunt, teenager, and grandfather—and yet they seemed so perfect together.

  After dinner was over, Clive insisted on helping Abby in the kitchen. “You’re the guest, Meg,” said Clive. “You and the guys can go visit in the den. Go smoke a pipe or something.” Clive grinned mischievously.

  “Your home is really nice,” said Meg as Matthew showed her to the den, where a fire was crackling.

  “Thanks. Most of that is due to Abby’s artistic flair.”

  “Yes, it reminds me a bit of Sunny’s style. I like it.”

  “So are you getting all settled into the apartment over the gallery?” asked Cal. “Abby told me you had moved in there and that you’re keeping shop while Sigfried is gone.”

  “Yes, and tonight I was actually starting to feel a little bit at home,” said Meg, with a smile in Matthew’s direction.

  “That’s good. Although I expect Alexandra will be missing you some.”

  “I know. But I plan to visit Briar Hedge a lot. Especially once Siggie gets back.”

  “I have a crew all lined up to start work on the bog this weekend,” said Cal. “Then I’ve got a chemical guy scheduled to do some spraying at the end of next week. It’s late, but we’re using some of the milder stuff. We’ll follow that up with Round-Up; it’s okay to use that almost right up to harvest time.”

  “Really? But doesn’t it leave any residue?”

  “Not according to the EPA, and they’re our toughest critics. I’ve also ordered you some frost-detecting devices; they ought to be here by next week.”

  “How do they work?” asked Meg.

  Cal stood up as if he were giving a favorite lecture, and Meg saw Matthew toss her a small smile, as if he’d heard this one before. “Well, Meggie, there’s a specially designed thermometer that can sit in the right spots of the bog and still be easily read to let you know the exact temperature. That way you’ll know whether you’re in any danger of frost.”

  “Can’t you just use a regular thermometer?”

  “You can, but it’s just not as reliable. You see, the way the bogs are set up is a lot like a refrigerator.”

  “How’s that?” asked Meg.

  “Well, you see,” explained Cal, “there’s a lot of humidity down in the peat, and it circulates with the air. The combination of moisture and air makes the temperature drop like a refrigerator, so it can actually get to be freezing down in the plants, but the air temperature might only register at thirty-six, or maybe even as high as thirty-eight, degrees.”

  “I can still remember Grandpa getting worried about frost coming a few times, and for some reason it seems like it was in the summer.” Meg shook her head. “Is that possible around here?”

  “You bet it is, Meggie. Although it’s not real common. It’s those earlier producers that you have to be real careful of; your late berries don’t bloom until June. Still, it’s when the blossoms are on that you have to watch for the frost, even if it is summer. And even if the air temperature is above freezing.”

  “I never knew that, Cal,” said Meg. “But I’m sure glad that you’re helping me out in this.”

  Cal smiled and hooked his thumbs into his black suspenders. “It’s my pleasure, Meggie. My goal is to see that old bog get back to what it was when Stewart was alive.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “Okay, everyone,” called Clive as she walked in with a cake glowing with candles. “Time to sing!” They all sang boisterously, then enjoyed generous wedges of German chocolate cake topped with French vanilla ice cream. As they ate, they talked about everything from the latest shipment of farm implements to the art exhibit scheduled to open at Glass Cove next week.

  “Abby,” said Meg as she sighed with pleasure, “everything has been so delicious. And you’ve worked so hard; now you must let me help clean up the kitchen.”

  “That’s right, Sis,” said Matthew, quickly standing and gathering all the plates. “I’ll help, too. You sit here and relax a bit.”

  “Well, don’t mind if I do,” said Abby as she stuck her feet up on the ottoman with a sly grin.

  When they had collected all the dishes, Meg began rinsing while Matthew loaded them into the dishwasher.

  “This is a great kitchen,” said Meg, grasping the first topic of conversation she could think of. “Really state-of-the-art.”

  “It’s lost on me, but Abby has put it to a pretty good use. And Clive is becoming a fairly good cook, too.”

  “Lucky for you, eh?”

  “I can’t complain.” He patted his flat stomach. “But it plays havoc with the waistline.”

  She laughed and rinsed the final plate, appreciating the way he always made her feel comfortable whenever there was a moment of tension between them. “Thanks for inviting me tonight,” she said. “It’s always so great being with your family. You guys are such fun, like what a real family should be.”

  “Well, like any family we certainly have our ups and downs. But with God’s help, we’ve made it through the hard times.” He neatly folded a dish towel and laid it on top of the granite countertop.

  Meg glanced around the clean kitchen. “Looks like our work is done here. And I should probably be on my way, now that I’m a working girl again.”

  “Will you be okay tonight?”

  “I think so.”

  He smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

  “Were you worried that I would call you to come and rescue me again?”

  “More like hopeful,” he said quietly. Then he grinned. “Like I said, I enjoy rescuing damsels in distress. And besides, it’s good for my image.”

  Meg decided not to respond to the first part of his answer and picked up his light tone. “And would that be the evil-lawyer image?”

  “Right. Lawyers are always getting a bad rap. I need all the help I can get.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind the next time I need help.”

  “Good.”

  “Hey, where did this come from?” called Abby from the next room. “Matthew, did you see this?”

  Matthew and Meg walked out to see what she was talking about. Abby had the framed picture of Clive in her hands.

  “Meg, did you take this?” asked Abby as if accusing her of some horrible deed.

  “Yes,” said Meg hesitantly. “I wanted to leave it here, sort of as a thank-you for that great day of sailing.”

  “Let’s see, Sis,” said Matthew. Abby handed it to him, and his sandy brows knit together as he studied it.

 
“Meg, this is beautiful. Has Clive seen it?”

  “No,” Meg said. “Actually, I was hoping to slip out before it was discovered.” But before she could say another word, both Cal and Clive were examining the photo.

  “Thanks, Meg,” said Matthew. “It’s a real treasure.”

  “I hoped you would like it.” Meg couldn’t help the smile that escaped as she felt his praise warm her inside. “And now, I think I should probably get going. I’ve had a wonderful time. Thank you all for everything. And happy birthday, Cal.”

  Matthew walked Meg to the door and helped her with her coat. “You know, I think Sunny had a coat exactly like this one,” he said.

  “This is it,” said Meg.

  Matthew grinned. “Well, good for you, Meg. Sunny would like that, I think.”

  “I think so, too.” Meg felt a strange fluttering in her stomach as Matthew’s hands lingered on her shoulders, but then he drew away and wished her good night.

  Meg tried not to think about Matthew on her way home, but it was almost impossible not to. Something was happening to her heart, something she wasn’t ready for. She was almost certain that Matthew wasn’t ready for it, either. His life seemed pretty full and complete to her. Nice and neat. He didn’t need someone like her, whose life was currently rather fragmented and almost over the edge at times. Between her commitment to the cranberry bog, her responsibilities for the gallery, and her burning need to find out more about Sunny and her father, her life was too full to be upset by a romance right now. Right now, she needed to trust God and to have peace in her life. That would be more than enough. And yet, she couldn’t help but sigh as she thought of the warm feeling she had when she was with Matthew. It was much more than she’d experienced with Jerred. Maybe she would be ready to explore those feelings—someday.

  She walked up the steps to the apartment. All of last night’s apprehension and fear seemed to be gone. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Ah. This felt like home. She hung up the beautiful coat in her closet, and then one by one hung up the rest of the garments that were scattered over the bed. At first she put Sunny’s things on one side and hers on the other, but finally she mixed them all up together. Then she stepped back and smiled. Perfect.

  Meg had already decided she would sleep in the bedroom tonight. It no longer frightened her. In fact, it was becoming quite comforting. She got ready for bed, noticing the spare sets of sheets stacked neatly in the linen closet as she reached for a hand towel. The narrow closet smelled of dried lavender. Meg removed a set of sweet-smelling sheets and carried them to the bed. She stood there for a moment, then laid the sheets at the foot of the bed and pulled back the quilt. She sat down and began running her hand across the sheet. Back and forth, back and forth, she rubbed her hand over the smooth percale. She didn’t know how long she sat there, but after a while she realized she was growing cold and tired.

  Sunny had slept here. Right here, in this bed. No, it was her mother who had slept here. Her very own mother. Finally, Meg curled up in her mother’s bed and cried herself to sleep.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  Meg awoke strangely refreshed the next morning. Almost invigorated. She opened the shop and went right to work mounting and framing some of the other photos she’d picked up yesterday. Some were from sailing, and some from the bog, and she even did a couple that she’d taken of Ashley’s bunnies. When she was finished, she hung them on the wall next to the ones Sunny had saved. Meg stepped back to assess her work. She thought they looked okay, but then she had never been much of an art critic. She would wait and see how the customers reacted, and if anyone turned up their nose, she would quietly remove them all when no one was around.

  Erin and Ashley came in again for the morning, and Meg used the time to do some laundry and check on the progress of the moving van coming from San Francisco. An impatient woman from the moving company told Meg that everything should be there, safe and sound, by tomorrow or the next day at the latest.

  Meg brought in lunch for the three of them and arranged it nicely on the little table in her apartment. After they had finished eating, Ashley got up and started creeping around, looking in corners and around doors.

  “What are you doing, Ashley?” asked Erin as she sipped her coffee.

  Ashley looked up at them with a puzzled face. “Looking for Grandma.”

  “Oh, honey,” said Erin. “Grandma is with Jesus now, remember?”

  Ashley smiled and nodded her head. “Is Jesus here?”

  Erin looked at Meg, and they both smiled. Poor Ashley looked even more puzzled.

  “Yes, Ashley,” said Meg. “Jesus is here.”

  “And Grandma?” asked Ashley with big eyes.

  Erin explained that Grandma had gone up to heaven to be with Jesus but that Jesus could be anywhere, which meant that Jesus was here with them, too.

  Erin and Ashley went home in the afternoon, and Meg puttered about the gallery, dusting and straightening just the way Siggie had told her to. In the middle of the afternoon, an older couple came in. Meg didn’t recognize them, but there were a lot of people in town she hadn’t met yet. Finally, the man approached her.

  “My wife and I are interested in something,” he said, “but we didn’t see a price tag on it.”

  “Why don’t you show me what it is,” said Meg. “I’m still new at this, but I’ll do the best I can.” She followed him over to where his wife was standing. The gray-haired woman was staring at a neatly framed enlarged photo of Ashley wearing a big sun hat, holding a wilted bouquet of wildflowers, and sitting in a wheelbarrow at the cranberry bog. Meg had taken it the day before Sunny died.

  “How much for this photo?” asked the woman without moving her eyes.

  Meg bit her lip. “Um, let me go check on that,” she said. She needed a moment to think. She hadn’t even considered putting prices on her pictures. She had never thought anyone would want to buy them.

  “You know, none of these photos have prices on them,” Meg heard the man say as she walked back to the counter. “Maybe they aren’t for sale, Martha.”

  Meg finally decided on what seemed like a fair price and quoted it to them as if she had just read it from a catalog. She was ready for them to laugh and walk out, but instead the man plucked it off the wall and carried it to the cash register.

  “We’ll take it,” he said, pulling out his billfold. Meg tried not to gape as she counted out the bills and handed him a receipt.

  The woman leaned over to Meg. “When I saw that picture, it reminded me of my childhood. It’s as if the photographer captured something more than just a cute picture.”

  Meg smiled as she carefully wrapped the framed photo.

  “Thanks,” said the man.

  “You’re very welcome,” said Meg. “Come in again.”

  As they left, Clive came in. “Hi, Meg. I’m here for my job interview.”

  “You don’t really have to interview, Clive. If you want to work here after school, you’re hired as of now.” In the window behind Clive, Meg noticed Abner’s Suburban cruise by. She winced. It seemed like whenever she saw the huge vehicle, it meant trouble.

  “Great. But I can only come on days that I don’t have track. Today and tomorrow they’re resurfacing the track, and it’s a big mess over there. So here I am.”

  “Good.”

  Meg showed Clive around and explained the basic processes for everything. As she’d expected, Clive caught on fast.

  “I can work weekends, too, Meg. Either here or out on the bog—wherever you need me. Grandpa said that I could help this weekend, ’cause he’s got a weeding crew coming in.”

  “I know. I’ve already arranged for Erin to watch shop for me here. I plan to go out and help, too. It’ll be fun seeing the bogs pulled into shape so fast.”

  “Yeah, especially after seeing how long it took us to do just one bog.”

  Meg nodded. “Clive, do you feel comfortable watching the shop for me until closing? I have an errand to take care of.”<
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  “No problem. It doesn’t look like we’re exactly swamped with customers right now.”

  Meg laughed. “No, it doesn’t usually get too busy in here. But I’ll leave you my cell-phone number in case anything comes up or if you have a question.”

  Meg tucked a small photo that she’d framed that morning into her purse. It was a goofy shot of Jason and Clive pulling weeds at the bog. Meg hopped into her Jeep and headed out toward Briar Hedge, but she didn’t stop at Grandmother’s. Instead she drove past the bog and up the hill. She was thankful she wasn’t driving her Jaguar anymore, because the road got bumpier the farther she went. She hadn’t been out this far since she’d been a kid, but she didn’t suppose it would be too difficult to find her cousin’s house, since no one else lived on this road. Not that she was hoping to see Abner. If she hadn’t spotted his Suburban drive past in town, she wouldn’t have come out. Ever since her chat with Jason, she had been determined to pay Phoebe a visit. Hopefully she’d be gone before Abner returned.

  The white double-wide mobile home looked out of place against the forested hill, sort of like a Styrofoam cup tossed into a lush garden. The yard was littered with bits and pieces of rusting machinery, a pile of old lumber, and several tires. She parked and walked up to the front door, glancing nervously over her shoulder.

  “Meg?” Jason opened the door with a puzzled brow before she could ring the bell. “Whatcha doing here?”

  She handed him the photo. “Hi, Jason. I thought you might like this. And I wanted to meet your mom, if it’s okay. I noticed your dad was in town and thought I’d take a chance.”

  “Thanks, Meg. This is great,” said Jason, staring at the photo. His cheeks and ears had turned a bright shade of red, but he was grinning. “Yeah, it’s probably a real good time to stop by. Dad was on his way to meet his buddies. No telling when he’ll be back. Let me go check with my mom, though. Okay?”

  “That’s fine. And if it’s not a good time for her, I’ll understand. I know this is spur-of-the-moment. And actually, I wanted to ask you something too, Jason.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I wondered if you were ready to start working part-time at the gallery—after school sometimes, and occasionally on weekends. I don’t know how many hours there will be, since Clive is going to help out, too. But I thought you might want to work a few hours at the bog as well, unless that’s a problem with your dad.”