Kimberly Stuart (21 page)

I shut the book and held it to my chest. After a cascade of minutes spent staring out the window by the bed, I let myself fall onto the pillows and blankets, still clutching the book to me, still clinging to hope.

Curtain Call

The sun had set by the time we pulled up. A gradual wash of dark blue to pale yellow stretched from one horizon to the other, exuberant purples, reds, and oranges playing in between. I held a twenty over the front seat.

“Thanks, Tom. Keep the change.”

His eyes widened slightly and he nodded. “Thank you.” The door creaked as he leaped out to retrieve my small suitcase from the trunk. He rolled it carefully over to where I stood, eyes trained on the flowered front porch in the distance.

“You in town for long?” Tom asked softly. It was the longest sentence I'd ever heard from him.

“Hmm.” I looked at the sky, pondering the weight of that question. I turned my gaze to Maplewood's only cab driver. “I'll let you know.” I smiled at the knowing look on Tom's face as he walked back quickly to his side, tipped his cap, and coaxed the station wagon into a slow lumber back down the highway.

I started down the long driveway toward the house and hoped those plans to prosper and not to harm me were just about ready to kick in.

I left my bag at the foot of the porch stairs and tiptoed up. The house was darkening right along with the sky and I wondered if I'd have to wait on the swing. I knocked softly on the front door. Through the open windows I could hear strains of music lilting out to the front yard. After another round of knocking, louder this time, I tried the doorknob and wasn't one bit surprised to find the door unlocked. I let myself in.

The music seemed to be coming from the kitchen, which was near the back of the house. I walked through the living room, past the oak staircase, down a short hallway and into the kitchen. The room faced west and so still enjoyed the warm light of a sun not yet set. My voice filled the air from the speakers of a Bose on the counter. A stack of Sadie Maddox CDs sat on the counter, recently opened by the looks of the cellophane wrappers littering the space in front of the stereo. The speakers pointed out a gaping window, my voice carrying Copland's “Simple Gifts” out of the house and into the open air.

The kitchen door led to a brick patio surrounded by more of the lush green and Technicolor planted on the front porch. Mac sat in a teak patio chair, ball cap on and arms folded, his legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He sat with his back to the window, looking down into the small valley that yawned behind his home.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before pushing open the screen door.

Mac looked up.

I stood near the door, waiting for his reaction.

“Hi,” he said. I thought I saw a softness in his eyes before he clenched his jaw and looked back toward the valley. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh, dear.” I walked slowly toward him and gestured toward an empty patio chair sitting next to him. “May I?”

Mac nodded. “Of course.”

We sat without speaking, watching the greens deepen as the sun dipped below the trees.

“Nice music,” I said, nodding toward the open window.

“Like that?” he said. A twinge of mischief in his voice made me relax a little. “I got them on deep discount.”

“You get what you pay for.” I allowed myself a small smile. “What happened to ‘I Like My Women a Little on the Trashy Side'?”

He grinned, though still not in my direction. “Still got it. I can put it in after this, if you'd like.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” I realized I was worrying my watch and bracelet with my fingers. “Mac,” I said, turning to him. “I'm so sorry.”

He turned to look at me.

I cleared my throat. “I was wrong about quite a few things and I think I hurt you.” I searched his eyes. “Did I?”

He nodded slowly. “You did.”

I kept his gaze. “I've spent my entire life working really hard to keep myself at the center of the universe. Turns out, it's not as good an idea as it once seemed.”

Mac cocked his head to one side. “Go on.”

“Listen,” I said, suddenly impatient. “The crux of it is I read the Bible.” I tried really hard not making those last two words sound like I was rolling my eyes, but Mac laughed anyway.

“Did you, now? And what did
the Bible
have to say that you found interesting?”

“Well, I found this part where God is saying that He has a plan for me. A good plan. And that if I seek Him, He'll let me in on it.” I shrugged. “My plans haven't been going so well, so I think I'll give Him a turn.”

Mac nodded, taking in every word as if he'd said these very things before.

I sighed. “I guess it just rang true. Like the homeless John the Baptist.”

Mac's forehead wrinkled. “You met John the Baptist?”

I nodded. “I'm telling you. You can see
anything
in New York.”

He shook his head at life in the Big Apple.

I continued. “It rings true like Jayne and her reaction to Handel, like a great sermon I heard, even though it came from a questionable messenger. And you.” I turned to him, a lump forming in my throat. “You, Mac Hartley, ring true.”

He smiled. “Can I gloat?”

I arched an eyebrow. “Not unless you want me to speed dial Tom for a quick cab ride back to the airport.”

Mac stood from his chair and my heart jumped. He walked over to me and offered me a hand. I stood up and he wrapped his arms around my waist. I gave up trying to look composed and let my eyes fill with tears.

He leaned down to kiss me on the cheek, intersecting with a salty tear rolling down my face. “What's the first step of the plan?” he asked softly.

“I've been offered a year-long position at Moravia,” I whispered, willing him not to move an inch.

“Way out here in the sticks?” he said, brushing another kiss, this time on my forehead.

“Mm-hmm,”
I said, eyes open and watching his take me in. “You people could use some high culture.”

He nodded, kissed me on the other cheek. “This will never work, you know.”

I traced one finger slowly down his cheek. “I know,” I said with all seriousness. “You'd better work on a Plan B.”

“Isn't that what this is?”

I let him gather me to him, my face on his chest, smelling the clean scent of his hair and skin. Behind us, the sun glittered on the horizon, turning the world all shades of light and dark, readying itself for the advent of a new day.

… a little more …

When a delightful concert comes to an end,

the orchestra might offer an encore.

When a fine meal comes to an end,

it's always nice to savor a bit of dessert.

When a great story comes to an end,

we think you may want to linger.

And so, we offer ...

AfterWords—
just a little something more after you

have finished a David C. Cook novel.

We invite you to stay awhile in the story.

Thanks for reading!

Turn the page for ...

• Tips

• Playlists

• Interview with an Eyewitness

Tips

Jayne's Manhattan Travel Tips

• A black fanny pack goes with everything.

• Bring your tenni-runners. You'll walk
a lot
.

• Dress in layers. You never know when you'll see your hotel room or friend's apartment again.

• Be adventurous when dining but pack plenty of granola bars just in case Japanese noodle houses don't end up being as fun as they sound.

• Don't be scared of the subway. A self-defense class at your local public library will give you extra confidence when you encounter shady characters.

• If you don't understand the topic of conversation, smile and look pleasant. New Yorkers could use a little friendliness.

• Do
not
expect to see famous people. You'll probably just be disappointed.

Sadie's Maplewood Survival Tips

• Everything moves more slowly than in normal places: time, seasons, vehicles. Get used to it, because this is an impenetrable fact of life. You will not hurry anyone up just because you see efficiency as an inalienable right.

• Potlucks are as risky as they sound: You may or may not be lucky enough to find something worth its calories.

• Two words: Air Purifier.

• Crusty bread = day old, not artisan.

• If someone invites you into his barn, have him provide a written disclosure of what you are about to see.

• Get a good haircut, mani, pedi, massage, facial, and wax
before
you leave home.

• In general, yes, the people are smiling at you and they are not selling anything.

• Stand firm in your fashion choices. It
will
be lonely at the top.

Playlists

Sadie Maddox: Greatest Arias of All Time

“Nessun dorma,” Puccini's
Turandot

“The Trees On The Mountain,” Floyd's
Susannah

“Let The Bright Seraphim,” Handel's
Samson

“Viens, Mallika … Dôme épais, le jasmin” (Flower Duet), Delibes's
Lakmé

“O mio babbino caro,” Puccini's
La bohème

“Chi il bel sogno di Doretta” (Doretta's Dream Song), Puccini's
La
rondine

Mac Hartley: Favorite Country Songs Ever

“She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy”

“Trashy Women”

“A Little Less Talk and a Lot More Action”

“I'm Gonna Miss Her”

“Gone Country”

“Only On Days That End In ‘Y'”

“All My Ex's Live in Texas”

“Aggravatin' Woman”

Interview With An Eyewitness

State your full name, age, and political party for the record, please.

Drew Jonas Hartley. I'm six years old. My birthday is November 4. I want a Transformer and a lightsaber and a puppy … What was your other question?

Political party?

Yes.

Favorite things to do?

I like to swim, play with my brother, and watch movies. We have lots of DVD movies like
Toy Story
and
Polar Express
and
Willie Wonka
. Have you seen those? Because you can borrow them. We also have lots of baby movies like
Cars
. I used to like
Cars
but now I don't because I'm not a
baby
.

I see. What about playing outside in the fresh Iowa air?

Yeah, I play outside. My mom makes me because she says my brain will turn to mush if I watch TV all day. I don't exactly believe her but I do it anyway. And outside's pretty fun, especially with my slingshot. And my BB gun, which I don't have yet but will when I turn ten.

Sounds dangerous. Let's talk about Miss Sadie. How was it living with an opera legend?

What's an opera legend?

Sadie Maddox. She's a famous opera singer.

Oh, yeah, right. There is no way that lady is famous.

Why do you say that?

Because she's just Miss Sadie. She has crazy hair in the morning when she comes downstairs. And she can be
super
grumpy. She does let us have all the cookies if Mom and Dad aren't looking. But she is
not
famous.

You're sure?

Positive. I have
never
seen her on TV or a DVD.
[Whispers.] She didn't even know who Buzz Lightyear was.

Fair enough. Drew, thank you for your time.

You're welcome. Now can I have that Snickers?