A Different Light (11 page)

“But the others—Harlan, Jim …” She reminded him
of the others who fully expected to get the nod, and who would not be pleased with his choice.

“You let me worry about them.” He waved dismissively. “I will explain it all to them in terms they can understand. They’ll accept my decision, I assure you.”

“Dan, I really don’t think I want to do this. I don’t think I’d be a very good mayor. I’m not qualified, I don’t …”

“Athen, do you trust me?” he interrupted her.

“Certainly I trust you, but …”

“Then trust me in this. I know exactly what I’m doing.” His gaze was confident as he studied her face. “It’s only two years out of your life.”

“And then what happens?” She asked the question he seemed to be waiting for.

He hesitated momentarily, as if debating between a choice of responses, then smiled that gentle smile.

“Who knows what can happen in two years? Perhaps you’ll want to run for reelection. Perhaps Harlan will have matured enough at that point. Perhaps someone else would be a better choice. But that’s a decision for another day. Today’s decision is in your hands. Take the day off, Athen, give it very serious consideration. Take tomorrow if you need it. But come back before Friday morning and tell me you’ll accept.”

“What happens on Friday?” she asked as she rose from her chair.

“On Friday I will have to tell Council of my choice. You know that the candidate is always introduced formally at the Labor Day rally. That’s next Monday, honey. We’re running out of time.

Monday. Less than a week away.

“Go now.” He stood up and escorted her to the door.
“Think of John, and the sacrifice he made for Woodside Heights. Think of the years of service your father gave this city, of how proud he’d be that you hold the office he himself once thought of running for.”

The surprise must have showed on her face because he smiled and said, “You didn’t know that your father came very close to running for mayor?”

“No, he never mentioned it. Why did he change his mind?”

“Who knows?” He shrugged. “But think of what it would mean to him if you were to run, and win. And think of the great sacrifice John made in protecting the people of this city. I know you’ll make the right decision. And remember, I’ll be right behind you every step of the way.”

She cleared off her desk as in a daze, gathered her purse, and started off to the elevator.

“You don’t look so good, Athen.” Edie peered over the top of her glasses as Athen pushed the down button and waited for the car. “You feeling all right?”

Athen shook her head and walked through the doors the second they opened.

“SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK,
John?” Athen asked in the empty room. For the past twenty minutes, she’d been sitting in the middle of the floor and talking nonstop, going round and round. What Rossi said. What she said.

What should she do?

Something about Dan’s proposal—something she could not put her finger on—nagged at her. A question she couldn’t find the words to ask stirred somewhere in the back of her mind, making her uneasy and restless. She stood and walked to the window and looked out across the
yard. It was naked now without the magnolia, and barren without the masses of blooms John always planted. It was just one more reminder that he was gone.

Athen sighed. She paced. She could not clear her head.

If John were here, he would tell her to get on her bike and go for a long ride and think it through—and he’d be absolutely right. It was just what she needed. Unfortunately, the last time she saw her bike it had been in pieces, flying through the air toward the Dumpster. But there was nothing stopping her from buying another—maybe one of those cool new Raleigh eight-speeds she’d noticed when she took Callie’s bike in for a new wheel the day before the storm.

She glanced at her watch. She still had part of the morning and most of the afternoon ahead of her—plenty of time to run to the bike shop and still have time to try it out. She changed into shorts, T-shirt, and sneakers, then tied her hair into a loose tail. If she found a bike she wanted, she could ride it out to see her father.

She grabbed a half-full package of three-day-old rolls so she could stop and feed the ducks after visiting with Ari, then headed for the car. She’d tell her father everything, and maybe, once she’d laid all her thoughts out rationally, the right decision would come to her.

The trip to the bike store had been quick and painless. The store manager was evidently having a slow day because he offered Athen a truly sweet deal on the bike she had her eye on. Excited and pleased, she bought it, fastened it to the bike rack on her car, and drove home. Then, tossing the stale rolls into the small vinyl bag behind the seat, she rode slowly down the driveway, getting the feel of the new tires. She stopped once to adjust the seat before heading out to Woodside Manor.

Soon she was peddling tentatively through the park. Back in the day when she was in shape, she’d made the ride in under a half hour. Today it took closer to forty minutes. When she arrived at Woodside Manor, she wheeled slowly around the parking lot, making huge circles on her bike. For a few moments, she sensed a piece of her old self returning. She wondered if her father would notice.

Unfortunately, she would have to wait to find out.

Diana’s blue car was parked in the first space nearest the path. Was she spending her lunch hours out here now?

Athen sighed. She wasn’t about to interrupt them. She pedaled over to the pond and stopped under the tall trees. Standing the bike at the edge of the parking lot, she unhooked the black seat bag and took out the package of rolls. The ducks were all clustered on the opposite shore, so she took the footbridge to the other side of the pond.

As she approached, the birds flocked to her, quacking and running on their webbed feet. Long since accustomed to treats being offered by human hands, they clustered around her without hesitation. After she’d dribbled the last crumbs into the open beak of a small brown duck that waited at her feet, she shoved the empty plastic bag into her pocket.

She glanced at her watch and looked across the pond to the parking lot. The blue car was still there.

“Here, give them some of this.” A voice from behind her startled her, causing her to jump.

“Sorry if I scared you.” Quentin Forbes held out an open bag of popcorn. “I thought you’d have heard me coming down the incline.”

“I guess my mind was wandering” was the best she could manage. She had been right. He
was
everywhere.

“Fickle little buggers, aren’t they?” He grinned. “One minute they’re at your feet, the next minute they’re quacking for someone else. Here, hold out your hands.”

He poured popcorn into her outreached hands. A crowd of quackers followed the transfer of food from one to the other until they were both surrounded. They tossed the small white kernels until both the bag and their hands were empty.

“That’s all for today, folks. See you next time.” He rolled the paper bag into a ball and tossed it easily and accurately into the trash can twenty feet from where they stood.

The ducks ambled back to the water’s edge.

“Do you come here often?” she asked to make conversation.

“As often as possible.” He nodded solemnly. “The popcorn man hates to disappoint his feathered friends.”

She smiled and started to walk up the incline toward the footbridge.

“Hey, Athen,” he called. It was the first time he’d called her by name. “Have you had lunch?”

Mesmerized by blue eyes, she shook her head no.

“Join me in the park for a hot dog,” he offered casually. “Maybe I’ll even throw in a Popsicle for dessert.”

Athen glanced over at the parking lot, but Diana’s car still had not moved.

“Well, I guess I’ve some time to kill,” she said.

“Ah, now, that’s a gracious acceptance to a gracious offer,” he noted dryly as he joined her at the top of the incline.

“Oh, I’m sorry. What I meant was, I’m here to visit my father.” She blushed when she realized how rude she had sounded. What was it about this man that caused her to blush every time they spoke? “He’s at Woodside
Manor.”

“Is he ill?” he asked.

“He had a stroke three years ago,” she explained. “I’m just killing time because … well, because he has another visitor right now.”

“Another family member beat you to it?”

“I really have no family, at least in this country. My mother died when I was five. I have no sisters, no brothers. My father’s visitor is a … friend.” She couldn’t help adding, “Of
his,
not mine.”

“So what do you like on your hot dog?”

“Mustard would be fine.”

“Mustard? That’s all?”

She nodded.

“Some fries? Something to drink?”

“Sure. Thanks. Diet anything would be great.”

“You got it.”

He took off over the hill to the vendor’s stand. A few minutes later, he was back, waving her to join him at one of the wooden picnic tables.

He plunked the paper plate holding her hot dog—mustard only—fries on the side, and a can of Diet Pepsi in front of her. She watched wide-eyed as he assaulted the first of his three hot dogs. Chili, mustard, relish, sauerkraut all glopped from the bun in clumps.

“How can you eat that with all that stuff piled on there?” Her appetite diminished with every bite he took.

“It’s the only way to kill the taste of the hot dog.” He grinned, wiping mustard from his bottom lip. “You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks.” She grimaced.

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” She nodded. “So, what about
you? What brings you to the park every day?”

“I spend a few hours in the library.” He motioned with his head toward the redbrick building at the other side of the field. “Doing a little research for a book I’ve been working on over the past few months, checking into some local connections with the Underground Railroad.”

“Ah, Ms. Evelyn.”

“She’s a prime source,” he agreed. “Did you know that when she was a teenager she wrote down the stories she heard from the old folks up on the hill? She interviewed her grandmother—she lived to be over a hundred—
her
mother had made her way north with her two sisters. It’s all there, in the old woman’s own words. Ms. Evelyn wrote down every word just as she’d heard it. A few years back she typed it all up and gave a copy to the library. It’s wonderful material.”

“You came here just to do research for a book?”

“Not exactly. I sort of stumbled onto that when I got out here.”

“From …?”

“St. Louis. That’s where my family is from, originally. I grew up there, only left to go to college, but I went back after graduation. Worked there. Married there.”

“Where’s your wife?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, I guess right now she’s in Central Europe someplace.”

“Don’t you know where she is?”

“Cynthia works for
American Perspective
…”

“The magazine?” Athen was unavoidably impressed.
American Perspective
was big-time.

He nodded. “She’s a photographer. A very good one, I might add. Maybe too good. A year ago they offered her
the European desk and she took it.”

“And you and Timmy couldn’t go?”

“Go where? She lives out of hotels. She goes where the news is. Follows the big events.” There was more than a trace of bitterness in his explanation. “That’s no life for a child. Even if she had time for him, which she admits she doesn’t.”

“Doesn’t she miss Timmy?”

“If she does, she’s doing a fine job of hiding it. She’s only been back once, to sign the divorce papers. You can probably imagine how that makes my son feel.” He crushed the empty soda can easily with his left hand.

“I’m sorry.” She could think of nothing more appropriate to say.

“So was I.” He tossed the can at the trash bin and missed.

The conversation had taken a bleak turn. Witnessing his pain had disturbed her. She leaned back and peered through the trees. She was grateful to find the blue car nowhere to be seen.

“I guess I should get going and see my father before it gets too late.”

“I’ll walk you to the bridge.”

He cleaned up the trash and her empty soda can and tossed them into the garbage.

“Why’d you come to Woodside Heights?” she asked.

“My mother remarried last year and moved here. Her husband lives in town. Tim and I stayed in St. Louis for a while after Cynthia left, but, well, I guess there were too many memories there. I thought it would be a good time for Timmy to get to know my mother and my stepfather a little better.”

“What about work?”

“Well, as of next week I’ll be working for my stepfather.”

“Doing what?”

“Don’t know exactly yet. There are several options open,” he said vaguely. “What about you? Do you work?”

“I work for the city.”

“And in your spare time you’re a seasoned gardener,” he concluded.

“Oh … well. About that …” She wondered how to admit she didn’t know a hollyhock from a ham hock without making herself look silly.

He laughed, and the light mood returned as quickly as it had earlier fled.

“It’s okay, Athen,” he whispered. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“You knew it all along.” She laughed. “How did you know? I thought I’d done a pretty good job covering up my ignorance.”

“Well, let’s start with the fact that you were using a six-inch trowel designed for transplanting little seedlings to dig up a plant three feet wide.” His eyes were merry again, making her smile when they met hers. “And these”—he reached for her hands—“are not the hands of a gardener. No calluses. No chipped nails, other than the ones you got fighting with the gypsophila out at Ms. Evelyn’s.”

He held her hands for the briefest moment before letting them drop. They walked the rest of the way to the pond in amicable silence.

At their approach to the bridge, the ducks sang out and hurried up the ridge, begging hopefully.

“Nothing this time, pals.” He displayed empty hands.

“This has been nice, Quentin, thank you. It was just exactly what I needed today.”