Twilight (48 page)

As weary as the children napping in the backseat, Laurie pulled into Montrose and drove to Mother’s house. It was only two weeks past Easter, but it amazed her how quickly real estate could turn in Orange County, how quickly everything that had been hers and Brian’s could now belong to strangers, except the children’s things and the few items she’d put into storage until she was settled. It was a cash deal, quietly and swiftly completed. She was a wealthy woman, with money enough to … to what?

She car r ied Maddie as Luke stumbled sleepily beside her to Mother’s door, the afternoon light hazy on the walk. She reached up and rang the bell, then smoothed Luke’s hair and gave him an encouraging smile. They’d find another place at the earliest opportunity. A nice place, no junky rental this time. Maybe she wouldn’t stay in Montrose. But she had so many unresolved issues—she had to start somewhere.

Mother opened the door, eyes pained and mouth tight. She had not taken the news of the broken engagement well.

Laurie hadn’t expected her to. She raised her chin. “May we come in?”

“Of course.” Her mother turned aside. “Lay her down in the guest room.”

Guest room. But they were family. Did Mother know it? Did she know there was something missing that they could have had all these years?

The room smelled of lemon oil and rose potpourri. Laurie laid Maddie on the bedspread and pulled the blue crocheted afghan over her. Luke had already wandered to the TV. Laurie went out and found her mother still in the entry as though she’d forgotten where else to go. She waited for some further explanation, Laurie knew, but she wasn’t ready yet. “May I leave them a little while? I … want to see Grams.”

At Mother’s silent nod, Laurie went out, stifled to the brink of suffocation. Was there any person alive she hadn’t disappointed or infuriated? Laurie fumbled with her keys. She hadn’t actually planned to go to the graveyard. But there, in Mother’s house, she’d felt the full impact of this final failure.

She had to get out, go somewhere. Even dead, Grams was her port, her dock, her guywire. She knelt at the grave, the grass a thick blanket beneath her knees, the dampness seeping through her jeans. There was no mound, of course, only the stone, the new kind that didn’t even stand up but lay flush with the grass.
Grace Emaline Welks. Beloved wife and mother
. And grandmother. It ought to read grandmother.

“Oh, Grams …” Laurie covered her face. She had loved Grams so much. Just as she loved her children. She wasn’t incapable of love; she was only afraid. Afraid to let anyone hurt her, judge her, reject her. Grams wouldn’t. Her children wouldn’t. But a man could. Would God?

God
. Cal’s words, spoken through his tears when they last parted, had been planted deeply in her thoughts. “Grams, what do I do? How do I learn who I am to God?” The question had persisted through all her preparations, the sale of her property, furnishings— nearly everything but their clothing and toys for the children. It had persisted through the long hours on the road. Through the nights in the hotels. Through her dreams, through her musings.

She touched the smooth stone, warm from the hazy sun. “Who am I, Grams? What am I?”

“You are fearfully and wonderfully made.”
The memory was vivid.
“Say it, Laurie. Fearfully and wonderfully made. Before the dawn of time God knew you. There’s nothing wrong with you. You are just as God made you.”

“Then why is everything I do wrong?”

“It’s not wrong in God’s eyes. He hates sin, yes, but not our mistakes. Does a mother hate her child for stumbling when she takes her first steps?”

“My mother does. Daddy does.”

“But not Jesus, Laurie. In His eyes you are precious. He’s bought you with his blood.”

Laurie pressed her palm to the stone. Precious. To God she was precious. She had worth.
“Jesus gave His life for you.”
God had made her, had known her before the dawn of time. And Jesus had died for her. Her heart swelled. No matter how she failed, He loved her. Enough to die for her.

Love so incomprehensible filled and surrounded her. As she had been willing to die for her children, so much more had Jesus done for her. She had quailed and fought against it, yet He had submitted, denying His power, giving himself over to wicked men. Like a sheep He had been slaughtered, for her.

She grasped at the faith of her youth, found it there inside. Her heart broke at the rebellion that had kept her from seeing. Yet even as it broke, her heart was filled with comfort, deep and sustaining. Her breath eased out of her lungs. Then she was seized with an almost violent need, a need to throw off her past and become what God had intended for her to be.

She stroked the gravestone. She’d had it all, all she needed, before Brian. His wealth, his prestige, his power; it was all an illusion. Nothing compared to the knowledge that God loved her, that she was precious in His sight.

“Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight; Jesus loves the little children of the world… .”
She could almost hear Gram’s scratchy voice singing. She’d had the truth but ignored it. Jesus loved her through everything.

And Cal. Hadn’t he mirrored that love and acceptance? Even risked his life for her? In a very real sense, he had been Christ to her. But she was too afraid to accept it, to return it. So she’d lost him.

But she hadn’t lost her Lord.
“He will never leave you, Laurie. Nothing can separate you from the love of God.”
Not even herself. On her knees, she begged God’s forgiveness. “I’ve been so blind. But you’ve made me see. I’ll never turn away again.”

She stood up and looked down at the grave. “Thank you, Grams. Thank you, Jesus!”

She drove back to Mother’s with a joy she could hardly comprehend. Nothing had changed. She was still adrift, uncertain what to do next, where to go. Her children were hurting and confused. Too many changes, things beyond their understanding. They’d lost their father, and she’d been a stranger to them these last months. But now hope kindled. The Lord would see her through.

That hope staggered, though, when she reached the house. The very air was oppressive, as if something was trying to suck the life from her. When she entered the kitchen, Mother was waiting, two cups set out to be filled with tea. Laurie wanted to tell her the epiphany she’d had, the truth she’d found.

But Mother’s face was so grim as she took the kettle from the stove. “Are they keeping the site up?”

“The site?”

Her mother poured water over the tea bags already draped into the cups. “The grave.”

Laurie took the cup Mother handed her. “Yes.” She supposed they were. She hadn’t noticed anything amiss, though she hadn’t gone there to scrutinize the landscaping. She’d gone there to be near the one person who had given her unconditional love. No, not the only one.

“So your engagement is broken for good.”

A rope of tension started down the back of Laurie’s neck, as she struggled to retain the peace. It had always been that way, sensing God’s love with Grams, then losing it the moment she walked into her own home. Not this time! This time God’s love was real, potent, viable. “Yes. I’ve sold everything.”

Stuart had made only one attempt, one phone call asking to work things out. She had told him calmly that her mind was made up. He hadn’t argued.

Mother drifted into her chair, a dry leaf without the will to oppose the forces that carried her down. “I suppose you’ll be seeing Cal Morrison.”

Laurie looked up from her cup. “Why do you suppose that, Mother?”

“Because you love him.”

Laurie’s fingers tightened on the handle. She raised the cup and drank. How strange for the truth to come from Mother’s lips after all the years of telling her why Cal was wrong. If only those simple words could change it all. She set the cup on the table, watched a drip slide down its side. “I doubt that’s enough anymore.”

Mother’s tone had a bitter, despairing tone. “It better be. You’ve given up everything else for it.”

Laurie understood the condemnation, but it didn’t hurt as it once had. God knew. She had given up the things that didn’t matter. Now she needed to find what did. Luke came and stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder. Laur ie’s heart jumped. God’s acceptance embodied in her small son. No wonder Jesus said, “Let the children come to me.” He knew. He saw their precious spirits. And she realized again that what she felt for Luke was no more than God felt for her.
Thank you, Lord! Thank you
.

If there was heaven on earth it was the woods at twilight. Cal had found the grandfather oak and hunkered onto its knee. Annie was off for the moment proving her prowess, and he felt the silence deepen. There was just enough chill to accent the dampness, the afternoon haze becoming an evening mist.

Cal’s wool jacket pearled the droplets as he sat, eyes upward toward the leafed branches above. The sky held that indeterminate hue between steel and charcoal. The stars would be milky smears of light when they came. Annie padded softly back and licked his hand.

Cal reached for her ears without changing his view. He wanted to see the first one, the first star. No, he didn’t believe in wishes, but there was still something magical, something that stirred inside when that first prick of light showed the heavens beyond earth’s domain.

Under his hand, Annie’s ears perked, and Cal looked in the direction she’d turned. A wood muse with Laurie’s face pressed aside a damp branch and stepped over the brush. Maybe just searching for the first star could make dreams come true.

Cal kept his head against the trunk and watched. As a hallucination it was better than any the drugs had induced. Not that he’d had any of those lately. He was so squeaky clean the guys were calling him the Reverend. But he’d accept this trick of the light, this wood magic, this twilight gift.

The swelling in his throat made him swallow hard when the apparition caught sight of him and adjusted her path. She stopped beneath the silver maple, with its leaves curled like chrysalis buds just opening into jagged fingers. Her eyes were dark and solemn. Her hair hung loose. His imagination had conjured her exactly as he liked her best, jeans and an oversized shirt.

She took a step and another, coming closer than any dream he’d had before. He stayed where he was, lounged against the oak, its solid mass a witness to the depth of its roots. It was real and he was real. But what he saw …

She wrapped her elbows with her hands. “Hello, Cal.”

Her voice put that tremor in his chest, made him aware of each breath. If he spoke would she vanish? Had he fallen asleep in the woods?

She ran her fingers along a slender twig of redbud full of pink petals. “Do you want me to leave?”

He rested his forearm over his knee. “No.”

Annie padded over and Laurie stroked her head. Surely Annie could tell an apparition. But then she might be part of the dream as well.

Cal brushed a tiny gray moth away from his cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“I came back.”

“What about your engagement?”

She shook her head. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

The oak bark was rough against his back, the mist chilling his neck at the collar.

She let go the branch. “I hope you don’t mind that I came without calling.”

That’s how she always came, when he drifted off to sleep or sat mesmer ized in a daydream. Why should this one be different? Although she didn’t always talk. He shouldn’t waste the opportunity.

“Why did you?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

She folded her hands, looking up into the darkening sky. He’d pushed and she might vanish, fade into the night sky with one last sad look. She didn’t, but he could see her struggle.

He caught his tongue between his side teeth, not wanting to antagonize her, yet unwilling to play the same old game. “Say it, Laurie.”

“Does it matter so much?” Her voice was rough and breathy.

“That from a lover of words? ‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference …’ ”

Her eyes widened. “You read it?”

“It was kind of sleep inducing at first, but after a while I caught on. I even got to where I could almost smell the woods the old guy described.”

Laurie folded her hands together, smiling slightly. “You would.”

Cal raised an eyebrow, waiting.

She drew a deep breath, then released it. “I’m afraid that if I do …”

He pushed himself up from the tree root. If she vanished, so be it. He crossed the distance, reached for her. She had substance. He ran his hands from her shoulders down her arms, smelling the wet cotton and … Beautiful.

He tucked one finger under her chin and raised her face. A tear broke free from her eye and ran down her skin. “Say it, Laurie.”

Her lips parted, and she breathed, “I love you.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her mouth, sinking his fingers into her hair. “You can’t take it back.”

“I don’t want to.” She pressed in close and more tears fell, landing between his finger and thumb as he cupped her cheek. “I don’t know if I can do it right.”