Chuck and
Susie's wedding. Chuck and Susie's wedding. Chuck and Susie's wedding.
Those four
words had echoed in her head all day Friday like a drum beat. She had
to go. She would rather be eaten alive by fire ants, but she had to go. If
she didn't, she would be the object of pity for the rest of her life.
She could
already hear the sad whispers that would follow her: "Tobi didn't go to Chuck
and Susie's wedding, you know." "It must have broken her heart, poor dear."
"Do you think she'll ever marry now?" "Oh my no, she'll eat her heart out
over Chuck for the rest of her life!"
Chuck. Tall,
sandy-haired Chuck Warren with his quick wit and warm laughter. Tobi had
thought the impossible dream was possible two years ago when he came into her
life at the ripe old age of 38.
And he seemed
to feel the same way about her until Susie - dainty, little, pixie-ish Susie -
appeared one morning in their singles Sunday School class. Chuck never gave
Tobi another glance after he saw Susie. And now they were going to be
married.
Chuck and
Susie were going to be married. Not Chuck and Tobi. Chuck and Susie.
How was she
going to keep from crying? What if she bawled all the way through the
ceremony? She would be better off not going at all. Maybe she wouldn't go.
It would be easy enough to say she'd had to work late. She did have to
work late. But who would she tell? Nobody would ask. They would assume she
stayed away because she was devastated.
So she had
to go. There was no way around it. She would find a way - some way - to
control her emotions. If she had to spend the entire evening pretending she
was on a space ship to Saturn, she would not let herself cry.
Twenty minutes
to 7:00 Friday evening had found Tobi inspecting herself critically in the
floor length mirror in her bedroom. The assortment of dresses, skirts and
blouses she had tried on and rejected festooned her bed. Finally she had
settled on a summery blue and green floral silk dress. It was the last
birthday present her parents had ever given her and the association was
comforting.
Tobi turned
her attention to her shoulder length, reddish blond hair next. It was soft
and thick and her most striking feature. She wore it long because she enjoyed
being able to change her look simply by changing her hair style. Not that she
was particularly gifted at creating new looks, but on special occasions, her
sister DeeDee could be very creative with new hairstyles. On most occasions,
like this one, however, she wore it loose with a slight curl at the ends and
it framed her face appealingly.
Just as she
was about to turn away from the mirror, Tobi noticed that her green eyes,
clouded with the heavy sadness strangling her heart, looked almost black. She
closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do about that.
She walked
outside into a bright, balmy May evening that, under normal circumstances,
would have sent her spirits soaring above the clouds. Now it added to her
gloom. "Even the weather has to be perfect for them," she fumed. "Why
can't we have some blowing dirt? Or a few hailstones? It's May in West
Texas, for Pete's sake. We could even have a torna..."
But she
stopped herself before she finished the thought. "October Kirkland," she
addressed herself sternly, as she drove the short distance to the church,
"I'll not put up with any more of those thoughts from you. Chuck and Susie
are your friends and I'll thank you to wish only the best for them."
She took a
deep breath, squeezed back a tear, and put a tight rein on her emotions. This
effort got her to the church, up the aisle and safely seated in a pew before
the rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm her again. Then the sight of
long, white candles, the faint fragrance of roses and the strains of "You
Light Up My Life," combined to hammer at her fragile composure again.
At the very
moment when it seemed a torrent of tears was determined to mark her for
permanent disgrace, a familiar voice whispered, "Hey, beautiful, you waiting
for me?"
She turned to
see... Kent Grantham? It was the same line he had been using two years
ago. Four years ago. Probably ever since he was in high school.
"Kent! What
are you doing here?" She threw her arms around him with genuine affection.
She hadn't seen him in two years and hadn't expected to see him again for the
rest of her life. Now, here he was at Chuck and Susie's wedding.
"By `here' do
you mean Deepwater? Or do you mean at Susie and the old bean's wedding?"
Apparently nothing about him ever changed - "old bean" probably still referred
to someone whose name he had forgotten.
"Both." She
withdrew from his embrace breathlessly - breathless with surprise and because
Kent’s presence always had that effect on her. It was probably his dimples.
Or maybe his movie-star perfect face. Or his dark, wavy hair and mischievous
eyes. Or... Never mind, she wasn't going to put herself through that grief
again. They lived in different worlds. She and her heart had settled the
matter a long time ago and she wasn't going to bring it up again.
But Kent
wasn't making it easy, fussing over her and telling her she was still the most
beautiful woman alive. Her heart fluttered in spite of her stern resolution.
"Would you cut
the cheap flattery and answer my question!" she insisted.
"Let's see.
What am I doing here? Is that the question you mean?"
She nodded.
"Well, Susie's
a distant relative of my mother's so, since I was in town anyway, I decided to
drop in on her stroll down the aisle."
"Why are you
in town?"
"Because of
Hugh. Helping him get settled in, you know."
"Settled in
where?" She frowned at the thought of Kent's stepfather, Hugh Mansett. He
was the pompous know-it-all who managed the newspaper at Foxhole, a bustling
little city south of Dallas. She had worked for him there for five years
until she caught him in a cover-up and he fired her.
"Settled in
here, of course." He noticed her puzzled expression. "You don't know!"
"Know what?"
"He's your new
managing editor. He has an old reporter buddy, name of Reuben-somebody here,
who told him about the opening. Hugh's tired of the rat race, wanted a
slower-paced lifestyle. So he's been checking out newspapers in the smaller
towns. Reuben gave him a ring a couple of weeks ago. Hugh came down to
interview and they hired him. Don't they ever tell you peons anything?"
"Peons! I'm
city editor," said Tobi. "The old coot told them not to tell me. He wanted
to spring himself on me just so he could see the expression on my face."
"Well, you
wouldn't have disappointed him. You're turning green," Kent observed with a
grin. "And you're probably right. I think I heard him snickering about it to
Mom - how he was going to have another go at that smart aleck Tobi Kirkland."
Tobi tried to
return his grin, but she was about to lose her supper, so she swallowed hard
instead. "You came to help Hugh get settled?" she asked. "I thought you
hated him."
"I did. But
life's too short. All that hatred isn't good for the health. Besides, I got
religion. I'm a new man now."
Tobi's heart
missed a beat. "What do you mean you got religion?" she asked. But the
volume of the music rose and candle lighters were walking down the aisle.
"Later," Kent
whispered.
The thought of
Hugh Mansett becoming her boss again was all Tobi needed to take her mind off
Chuck and Susie. In fact, she barely noticed the wedding. She had come
closer to hating Hugh Mansett than anyone in her life, except her ex-husband,
Lyle Harris.
What a
loathsome man Hugh had been to work for! A typical media big shot who cared
more about validating his own warped views than he did about printing the
truth.
While Chuck
and Susie said their "I do's," Tobi relived her last days at the Foxhole
Gazette. A local, so-called paleontologist had found a "missing link,"
some fossil creature he claimed was an intermediate form between an amphibian
and a reptile. In a social setting, Tobi overheard him bragging about the
hoax he was pulling off by assembling a fossil creature made of one animal's
limbs attached to another animal's torso and head.
When she
exposed the fraud to Hugh, he had thrown his head back and roared with
laughter. "That's a good one. We should have been doing it all the time -
creating our own missing links! We'll show those prissy little Christians -
always going around claiming that no missing links have ever been found!"
"Hugh, what
about journalistic integrity?"
"What about
it? We're only the press. We can't be experts on every subject. The
paleontologist is the expert. We'll print what he says is the truth.
And if it's not the truth, then he's the liar, not us."
"Yes we are
because I just told you the truth."
"Tobi, don't
you have anything to do besides mind my business? Get out of my face."
Although his
smile was still jovial, there were daggers in his eyes.
But Tobi
refused to back down. "As you know," she said quietly, "I'm one of those
prissy Christians you mentioned. If you print this lie, I'll go to KXBX. I
expect they'll be happy to report the whole story on their morning news show."
"Oh, I don't
think so," said Hugh. "How much credibility will you have as a disgruntled
ex-employee?"
"Ex-employee?"
"That's
right. You're fired. As of now."
Tobi shivered
and Kent put an arm around her. "You okay?" he whispered.
She nodded and
leaned against him. His closeness was comforting and familiar. He had
pursued her relentlessly back in their days as reporters at Foxhole, but she
had refused to be caught. Kent wasn't a Christian and had no interest in
spiritual matters; therefore, as far as she was concerned, romance was out of
the question. But they had been friends and their common contempt for Hugh
had united them during her years at Foxhole.
What had he
meant when he said he got religion? Had he received Jesus as his Savior? Was
it possible that she might have a future with him after all? She watched
Chuck and Susie exchanging rings. They seemed very remote and small. Why had
she let herself get so distraught over a man who didn't want her? Why should
she want him if he didn't want her?
She smiled to
herself in the warmth of Kent's encircling arm and tried not to think of Hugh.
After Chuck
and Susie had been pronounced man and wife and marched triumphantly out of the
church, Kent turned to Tobi with his captivating smile. "So let's ditch this
place and go get some coffee. What dy'a say?"
Tobi thought
about the reception - about Chuck and Susie looking into each other's eyes,
Chuck and Susie feeding each other cake, Chuck and Susie leaving for their
honeymoon - and sighed happily. "That's the best idea I've heard today," she
said.
They walked
out of the church hand-in-hand and Tobi smiled smugly to herself as she felt a
dozen pairs of eyes watching them. Let the biddies try and feel sorry for her
now! Kent made Chuck look as soggy as last month's lettuce.
"Where are you
parked?" asked Kent.
"On the back
side of the parking lot. I suppose you're still a male chauvinist who hates
to be driven by a woman?"
"Not at all.
You chauffeur. I'll relax and enjoy."
"Okay. This
way." Tobi directed him toward her red sports car and he opened the driver's
door with a flourish.
"They must pay
city editors well in Deepwater," he said as he got in beside her.
"Not really.
My parents bought this car about a year before they died. After they were
gone, the family insisted I take it because the crate I was driving was on its
last leg." Tobi smiled as she added, “Dad named the car Cherry and, when it
broke down, he said it was his Cherry Bomb.”
"Well,
Cherry’s a beauty,” Kent said. “Where's the night life in your hometown?"
"Cleo's
Kitchen has the best coffee in town," Tobi replied, pulling into the street.
"Sounds good,"
he said, watching the homes of Deepwater slide past in the gathering dusk.
Out of the
corner of her eye, Tobi watched him watching the passing scenery. She had
forgotten how black his hair was, how his dimples flashed every time he looked
at her, the square, clean lines of his jaw... Maybe, just maybe, it would be
worth working for Hugh Mansett again since his coming had brought Kent back
into her life.
At Cleo's,
Tobi and Kent slid into a dark, corner booth. The faint aroma of homemade
cinnamon rolls - the pastry that was the restaurant's specialty - wafted
pleasantly out of the kitchen whenever the doors were opened. The low murmur
of voices around them, the clinking of glasses and the tinkle of silverware
signaled that the other occupants of the restaurant were engrossed in their
own concerns. Kent and Tobi's little alcove was as private as if it were a
deserted island.
"You must know
I'm wild to hear what you meant about getting religion and being a new man,"
Tobi said.
Kent smiled.
"And I'm wild to tell you. It's all your doing, you know. I really missed
you after you left Foxhole. I thought about you all the time, but I couldn't
figure you out. You were the only woman I ever wanted that I couldn't have.
You weren't impressed by my looks or my money..."
"Oh, I was
impressed," said Tobi, "so I wouldn't let myself think about you. In the
romantic sense, I mean."
"And the only
reason I couldn't get the first date with you was because I wasn't 'born
again.' In those days I always said to myself '...born again, whatever that
means!' But after you were gone and I was pining away for you, I decided to
find out what it meant."
"Who told
you?"
"I looked
through the yellow pages one day, picked a church and called the minister. I
told him I wanted to be born again. He told me what to pray and I did."
Tobi threw her
arms around him. "Kent, that's the most wonderful news I ever heard! I'm so
happy for you."
"Me, too. Mom
was too. Hugh threw a fit, of course, and we had words. Then I walked out.
But I realized later that I had to make peace with him. That's in the Bible,
isn't it? And I was tired of hating him, tired of the bitterness gnawing away
at my gut. So I told him I was through fighting with him."
"What'd he
say?"
"Well, you
know Hugh. He said to go ahead and be a panty waist if I wanted to. It's
been hard but, if I hold my tongue, we can stay in the same room for a whole
evening now and Mom is happy about that."
"I'm really
proud of you," said Tobi, beaming at him and trying to control an onslaught of
pounding emotions, as she asked meekly, "You pined away for me after I left?"
His gray eyes
twinkled. "I nearly turned into a Ponderosa."
"I missed you,
too," Tobi said shyly, "but I never expected to see you again. Where are you
living now? What are you doing?"
"I'm in Dallas
doing public relations for Heartland Electronics. It's a lot more fun than
journalism and my income makes a reporter's salary look like a kid's weekly
allowance."
"Or a city
editor's," said Tobi ruefully.
Kent grinned.
"No doubt. But, then, you don't have to stay in the newspaper game, you
know. How about if I look around the metroplex and find you a real
job? I have a few connections."
"A few?
You're probably as connected as the internet!"
"So what do
you say?"
"My family's
here," said Tobi, "and I like having a support system. I'll have to think
about it but, if Hugh's about to take over the paper, I may not have to think
long."
"You really
hate him, don't you?" asked Kent.
"Hate? I
believe it's wrong to hate anyone, but I can't imagine working for him again.
It's going to be my worst nightmare. But I'm proud of you for putting your
bitterness behind you."
"It's a
miracle, no doubt about that, but he's still not my favorite person. Let's
talk about something else."
So they talked
over the "good ole days" on the Foxhole Gazette. But Tobi's mind was
churning with the idea of moving to Dallas and exploring a new relationship
with Kent. Yesterday she would have sworn she would never live in Dallas.
Today it was the most enticing possibility she could imagine.
Kent kissed
her lightly on the lips when she returned him to his car, something she had
never allowed him to do before. "I'll be taking off in the morning," he told
her, "but I'll keep in touch. Let me know when you've had your fill of Hugh
and I'll find you a dream job."
"A dream job
as your wife," Tobi muttered to herself as she drove home.
At bedtime,
exhausted from the tensions of the day, Tobi scooped up the garments she had
tried on and discarded earlier in the evening and piled them on her dresser.
Several slid to the floor, so she draped one over the back of the chair in
front of the dresser and heaped a couple more on top of the bureau. Tomorrow
was soon enough to deal with them.
Wearily she
pulled back the quilt her Grandmother Kirkland had made for her many years
ago. It was her grandmother's own design and depicted fields of pink and
yellow tulips with dark green foliage on a white background. The quilt served
as Tobi's bedspread, but it was too hot for late spring so she folded it at
the foot of the bed and collapsed on top of the sheets with her brooding
thoughts. Chuck was gone forever. And she missed him heart wrenchingly. But
Kent had reappeared. A new Kent. A born-again Kent. Had he suddenly
appeared, just when it seemed all was lost, to save her from the dreaded fate
of being forever single?
Tobi opened
her Bible to Psalm 18, as she often did when she needed to be reminded that
the God of Heaven was on her side - cheering for her, loving her, powerfully
lifting her over or gently guiding her through the raging storms of life.
"I will love
thee, O Lord, my strength," she read. And floodgates opened. All the pent up
tears of the day poured out of her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.
Tobi slid out
of bed onto her knees and prayed as she wept, "Lord, I can't remember the last
time I told you I love You. But I do. I adore You. You are everything to
me. Please help me never to go through another day without telling You that I
love You.
"There have
been so many shrieking emotions swirling in me today that I'm beginning to
feel like a tornado. I'm sorry I was in a snit about Chuck all day. He
really isn't worth it, is he?
"No, I'm
sorry. That's not what I mean; I know You love him. But I shouldn't have let
myself get so upset about him and Susie. I'm obviously not right for Chuck or
we would be together. And yet, I know I would still be in mourning over him
this very minute if Kent hadn't showed up.
"And about
Kent. Has he come swooping into my life like a super hero to rescue me from
the drudgery and despair of my world? It seems too good to be true. Please
help me not to get so excited about him that I put on blinders. He's not my
super hero and never can be. You'll always be my only Super hero.
"And I need
Your help desperately Monday morning when that thug Hugh Mansett walks into
the newsroom and starts trying to ruin my life again. I don't want to hate
him. I know it's a dreadful sin to hate anyone, so please help me to find
some good in him.
"I ask all
these things in Jesus' name. Amen."
Chapter 2
Saturday: Blind Date
With a sigh,
Tobi tore her thoughts away from the unnerving events of the weekend and
returned to Monday morning. She tried to concentrate on Reuben's article. It
was an intriguing story - but complex too - about a local scandal. It should
have gripped her. It should have been routine for her to read it and follow
it and be certain that every nuance was right, that the story unfolded as
simply as a blossom emerging and that no one involved would have grounds for
legal action against the newspaper.
But her mind
failed her. Her eyes took in each word and sent it skimming along the proper
neural pathways to be assessed and processed. But the neat, tidy concepts
from Reuben's article kept colliding with frantic perceptions about weddings
and guns and wind-swept hillsides that were hurtling about her mind like
crazed pinballs. And with each cerebral collision, her thoughts shattered and
multiplied and skittered off in a thousand new directions. No matter how many
times she whacked herself on the side of the head and started over, she simply
could not follow Reuben's story.
Finally, she
gave up, slumped back in her chair and gazed around the newsroom. It was a
huge, windowless room that seemed dingy and cave like, even when every
fluorescent light in the ceiling was blazing. It was furnished with identical
desks equipped with identical swivel chairs and computer terminals.
Around the
room her co-workers were toiling away like enterprising beavers, absorbed with
the urgency of their own little microcosms in the daily sprint to deadline.
Reuben and two other reporters were hammering out articles for the Monday
edition. Otto, the photographer, was submerged in the dark room developing
last minute photos. On the far side of the room, members of the advertising
department were making phone calls or bending over the ads they were
designing.
Tobi frowned.
They seemed almost too busy. Were they avoiding her? Were all those
pairs of eyes studiously focusing on their individual activities to make sure
they didn't accidentally connect with her eyes? Had she turned into some kind
of pariah?
Well, if she
had, it was their fault. Tobi's attention returned to the closed door
of the publisher's office. They had made her guilty with their ominous
silence. If only she could hear what was being said. Was anybody on her
side? And why was it taking so long!
Clayton
Archer, the publisher, had every big shot on the paper in his office - the
department heads from production, the pressroom, advertising, circulation and
the business office. She was friendly with all of them, but would any of them
go out on a limb for her?
Too bad she
had lost her temper Saturday night over a layout. Nobody had yelled, but
tensions were high. Because of Donna, as usual. What a bumbling boob! Why
did they let her make mistakes over and over again? She must be related to
somebody important or they would have fired her by now.
Tobi made a
wry face. "Shut up, Tobi!" she ordered herself. "Donna's not your problem
today and she wasn't your problem Saturday. It was a nightmare weekend, and
you let yourself get flustered. You were the bumbling boob."
Saturday -
what a miserable day that had been!
Tobi had pried
her eyes open grudgingly late Saturday morning to behold all her best clothes
draped across her bureau, dresser and chair. As if on cue, the chant inside
her head began again. "Chuck and Susie's wedding. Chuck and Susie's
wedding. Chuck and Susie's wedding."
"No!" she
yelled out loud, burying her head under her pillow. "It's over, Tobi. Over
and done. Let it go. Think about Kent. Kent Grantham is back. Kent Grantham
is saved. Kent Grantham thinks I'm beautiful."
She sat up
wearily. But what if Kent wasn't really saved? What if he were pretending
just to... Just to what? Make her life miserable? Why would he do that?
She sighed.
She had married a jerk once. She wasn't going to let herself get so goofy
over Kent Grantham that she made that mistake again. Not that Kent was a
jerk. Hopefully. After all, he was a Christian now. But then, so was Lyle.
Or so he said.
She got up,
jammed her hair into a ponytail, and pulled on a pair of old jeans. In the
kitchen she made a breakfast of biscuits and apple juice while her thoughts
tumbled over each other with nervous energy. What if Kent never called? What
if Hugh was even worse to work for now than he had been two years ago? What
if she couldn't take it? Should she call Kent if he didn't call her? And
what if she did move to Dallas and start dating Kent, and it turned out he had
never really accepted Jesus? And why...why...why did she keep coming back to
that?
Somehow she
had to escape from her thoughts before they made her nuts! At that moment,
with her teeth closing on the next bite, her eyes fell on the big bookcase in
the corner of her living room. It was crammed with books that needed to be
dusted and rearranged. What a great way to keep her hands and thoughts
occupied for a few hours.
Abandoning a
half eaten biscuit, Tobi marched into the living room and began removing books
by the armload. She dumped them onto the furniture and piled them high on the
carpet. When the bookcase was empty, she dusted it thoroughly and
affectionately.
Her Dad had
found this bookcase in a used furniture store and refinished it for her. She
had been overwhelmed with its size when he appeared on her doorstep with the
massive piece of furniture and two burly movers. But, seeing the excitement
on her beloved father's face, she had hidden her doubts and enthusiastically
directed the men to place it in the corner of the living room. There it had
quickly become a fixture and, as soon as Tobi realized she had room for all
her books in one place now, her feigned enthusiasm became genuine.
When the
bookcase was dust free, she turned her attention to the stacks of books.
First a set of encyclopedias. They were antiques - hopelessly outdated -
having been purchased by her mother before she married. But they contained
children's stories and poetry and whole sections of science and history,
written especially for children. Tobi had been fascinated with them when she
was small. Perhaps it was through these dear old tomes that she had first
begun to love the written word. She dusted each one carefully - resisting the
temptation to sit cross-legged on the floor and read - and placed them on a
middle shelf where they were easily accessible.
Her eyes fell
next on a plethora of volumes about marriage and children, which she had
purchased in her younger days when she had naively assumed she would have a
normal life with a home and family. These she dusted quickly and carelessly,
before shoving them onto a bottom shelf where she wouldn't have to see them.
Alongside the
encyclopedias, Tobi placed her collection of Bible reference books and an
eclectic assortment of volumes she had used or might use in research.
Sometimes it seemed to her that the curse of being a writer was her endless
fascination with various subjects and the compulsion to obtain and hoard
information about those subjects, just in case she wanted to write about them
some day. Some nebulous day.
Other sections
of her library included her college textbooks, general reference, fiction,
humor, biography, literary classics and children's stories (most retained from
her childhood library.) As hard as she tried, Tobi was unable to resist
occasional intermissions where she stopped to read a paragraph, a section or
even a whole chapter. At some point hunger pangs drove her back to the
kitchen for a can of soup, which she nuked in the microwave. Then she
returned to her mission.
Eventually she
placed the last book on a shelf, and dropped contentedly onto the sofa to
rest. It hadn't been such a bad day, after all, she decided, glancing at her
watch.
It was five
until four! Impossible. She leaped to her feet and checked the clock in her
bedroom. It said four until four! Oh no!
She glanced
into the mirror and was horrified at the thought of going to work looking so
disheveled. But she had no choice. She took a deep breath and forced herself
to relax. "Never mind," she consoled herself, "everybody wears grubbies on
Saturday."
Of course, she
didn't normally. But today she would. What could it hurt? She smoothed down
the wisps of hair that had gotten loose from the rubber band and sprayed them
into submission. Then she dusted herself off, washed her hands, hopped onto
her bicycle and pedaled six blocks to the newspaper building. Of course she
could have saved a few minutes by driving, but she needed a bit of exercise in
the fresh air to prepare her for the long evening ahead.
The big
newsroom seemed like a different place than it had been the previous day.
Everyone was working hard, putting out pages and moving toward an early
night. At this rate, the editorial staff would be home by midnight.
At 6:00, Tobi
broke for dinner. She always ate with her sister's family the Saturday nights
she worked, which had been every week lately. Now that Hugh Mansett was
joining the staff - she grimaced at the thought - maybe she would get a
Saturday night off. Small comfort, considering that she would have to work
with him all week.
Well, there
was time enough to worry about him later. She wasn't going to let the thought
of Hugh Mansett spoil her evening. She pedaled her bicycle through the warm
May evening and smiled with anticipation at the thought of walking into
DeeDee's big kitchen and smelling the homey aromas of dinner in the oven.
DeeDee would
be wearing tight blue jeans and a crisp blouse. Her short, auburn hair would
gleam with hints of copper and her hands would be busy every moment. Her
husband Ben, who was a detective with the police department, was tall, blond
and easy-going. He teased Tobi mercilessly and she teased back. He was more
like a brother to her than her real brother Julius. And the kids, Alison and
Davy Scot, would vie for her attention as if she were a long lost relative.
Well, maybe she was. She had only moved back to Deepwater two years ago when
Alison was 14 and Davy 6.
Tobi hummed to
herself and thanked God for her family. She had been a goose to put herself
into such a dither all day. Why would Kent say he was born again if he
wasn't? After all, he could have played that game five years ago in Foxhole
if he'd wanted to. But, as much as he had professed to love her, he had never
pretended to be interested in spiritual matters. So it must be true now.
At DeeDee's
house, she knocked on the back door and stepped inside with a bright smile on
her face. But the smile faded abruptly. A strange man was sitting at the
kitchen table, drinking iced tea and grinning broadly at her. He was handsome
in a rugged sort of way that she found extremely attractive. He had dark hair
receding from his forehead and laugh lines around hazel eyes. His shoulders
were broad and, even though he was seated at the kitchen table, she sensed an
air of strength about him.
"Tobi, you're
right on time!" said DeeDee excitedly. "I'd like you to meet Joel Trent.
He's Davy's soccer coach. I've been wanting you to meet him for a long time."
"You've been
wanting...? You have?" Words were unmanageable. A picture flashed into
Tobi's mind...of herself...with her hair pulled back unbecomingly from her
face, except for those occasional fly-away wisps that floated about randomly,
giving her an unkempt look. And she was wearing her oldest jeans and a faded
shirt.
Had DeeDee
lost her mind? What was she thinking to bring this magnificent man around
when Tobi looked like a hobo? It was unthinkable. Unbelievable. Unbearable.
The kitchen
was beginning to wobble. It made Tobi dizzy. What should she do? What
could she do? What if she bolted through the back door and returned to
the newsroom? No, that wasn't the answer. Then her behavior would be as
unseemly as her appearance.
She stood
immobilized in the middle of DeeDee's kitchen, feeling like a goldfish in a
bowl with her mouth moving but no sound coming out, and waited to die of
embarrassment. But Joel, seeming not to notice her discomfort, walked over
and held out a hand. "Hi, Tobi, I've been looking forward to meeting you."
"You have?"
Tobi frowned quizzically at DeeDee as his hand swallowed hers.
DeeDee scowled
back and Tobi stammered, "I mean, I'm pleased to meet you."
Ben Walling
came through the kitchen then and, with a "Hello" for Tobi, he took Joel out
to the backyard where he was grilling hamburgers. As soon as the door closed
behind them, Tobi turned on DeeDee. "Are you out of your mind!" she gasped.
"Who is he? What is he doing here? Why didn't you tell me he was coming?"
"If I'd told
you he was coming, you wouldn't have come."
"You've got
that right. And I wouldn't have turned up looking like I spent the night
under a bridge."
"You do look
pretty awful," agreed DeeDee. "Are ya'll having a costume party up there
tonight instead of putting out the Sunday paper?"
"I spent the
whole day rearranging my bookcase if you must know and the time got away from
me. When I looked at a clock, it was nearly 4:00 and I didn't have time to
change."
"Rearranging
your...oh no...what's wrong?"
Tobi glared
defensively. "I didn't say anything was wrong."
"After Mom and
Dad died you rearranged that bookcase 35 times..." DeeDee said. Then she
broke off and added, "Oh..."
"What do you
mean, 'Oh...'?"
"It's Chuck,
isn't it?"
"Chuck who?
Chuck is the least of my problems. Now."
"And the chief
of your problems would be?"
"Hugh
Mansett."
"Here, make
yourself useful. Slice some tomatoes for the burgers," DeeDee said, handing
her a couple of the red fruits. "Who's Hugh Mansett?"
Tobi washed
the tomatoes and took them to the sturdy butcher-block island in the center of
DeeDee's kitchen. "The jerk who fired me from the Foxhole Gazette."
"What about
him?"
"He's about to
come on as the new managing editor of the City Crier."
DeeDee caught
her breath. "You're kidding! How do you know?"
"His stepson
Kent showed up at the wedding last night."
DeeDee stopped
bustling around the kitchen and studied Tobi. "Kent? Didn't you used to have
a thing for him?"
"A thing?"
"Oh, you know,
a crush?"
"Actually, he
had the crush on me. He wasn't saved, so I wouldn't date him."
"Don't give me
a snow job," said DeeDee waving her knife at Tobi. "I remember the look on
your face when you talked about him."
"Never mind
him!" said Tobi irritably. "You didn't answer my questions about this soccer
coach of Davy's. Where do you get off setting me up for a blind date and not
even telling me? I may never trust you again!"
"Quit
squawking," DeeDee commanded. "He's the greatest man I ever met except Ben
and he wanted to meet you. So I decided to do you a major favor and introduce
you."
"Major favor,"
Tobi muttered mockingly. "Some major favor!"
"How was I to
know you'd turn up looking like a bum? If I'd told you, you wouldn't have
come."
"Yes, and I
would have been spared the embarrassment..."
"Hey, who's
hungry?" Ben yelled. "We've got burgers on the picnic table out here!"
"Where are the
kids?" Tobi asked, suddenly noticing how quiet the house was.
"I farmed them
out so we could have a quiet meal and you could get acquainted with Joel."
DeeDee handed Tobi a basket of buns and a platter of fresh vegetables, while
she balanced a bowl of potato salad, a bowl of chips and a tray of
condiments. "Now come on. And be nice!" She hissed the last sentence
through clenched teeth as she pushed open the back door.
"Kent got born
again and he's still crazy about me," Tobi hissed back. "I don't have to be
nice if I don't want to!"
While the men
watched, DeeDee turned on a dime and whispered into Tobi's ear, "If you've got
the sense of a brain dead goose, you'll be nice to this man. He's fabulous!"
"Would you
girls tell your secrets on your own time," Ben called. "I'm starving." He
was tending the last hamburgers on the grill and Joel hurried over to help
DeeDee with her load.
The Wallings'
big back yard was a lovely setting for a picnic. The lawn was lush and fruit
trees along the south and east borders were fully leafed out with tiny peaches
and plums the size of pencil erasers marching up the branches. The flower
beds next to the house held perfectly groomed dwarf yaupon bushes and a mass
of salmon colored geraniums.
The patio that
ran half the length of the house was usually cluttered with Davy's toys, but
this evening it was immaculate. Only the picnic table, Ben's grill and four
lawn chairs adorned the slab of concrete. With Joel's help, DeeDee and Tobi
found a place for all the bowls and platters on the table and Ben pronounced
the last two burgers done.
"And none too
soon," he added. "I'm hungry enough to eat the whole cow." He joined DeeDee
on one side of the picnic table and Joel sat down on the other side. Then all
three of them looked expectantly at Tobi, waiting for her to perch next to
Joel.
She returned
their gaze, trying not to look as flustered as she felt. "I left my tea
inside," she said. "Be right back."
Feeling three
pairs of eyes heavy on her back, she escaped into the kitchen as DeeDee
called, "Hurry!"
By peering at
an angle out the kitchen window, Tobi could see the picnic table where Ben,
DeeDee and Joel were chatting amiably. Watching them, she prayed, "Dear Lord,
I don't know what DeeDee thinks she's doing or why You're letting her get away
with it, but if You'll help me eat this meal and keep it down, I'll thank You
forever."
Knowing she
couldn't be gone any longer without drawing unwanted attention to herself, she
was about to open the back door when she remembered the tea she had come for.
Imagining what Ben might say if she had returned without the glass, she
grabbed it, hugged it and added a fervent P.S. to her prayer. "Thank You!"
Afterward,
Tobi could not remember the conversation at that meal. Ben prayed over the
food first; she knew that. And there was some talk of soccer and politics and
the weather. But then the conversation turned to Tobi. Ben and DeeDee were
determined to draw her out and coax her to "perform" for Joel. And she grew
more and more hostile to cover her mounting self-consciousness.
First Ben
brought up the series of articles she did comparing teenagers' perspectives in
the '60s and in the '90s for the Foxhole Gazette that won her a press
award. Then DeeDee gushed about the flair she had exhibited in her five years
as a kindergarten Sunday School teacher. Ben recalled her GPA upon graduation
from college. At that point, Tobi's chagrin was so intense that she ceased to
comprehend the volley of words whistling past her ears. Later she asked
DeeDee sarcastically, "Did you and Ben happen to mention that I was grand
champion speller in the third grade? Or that I won the lead in the class play
in the sixth grade?"
Through it
all, Joel was perfectly genial. But he never seemed to take his eyes off
her. She squirmed under his admiring gaze and by the time Ben was dishing up
homemade ice cream, Tobi was at the end of her endurance.
"No ice cream
for me," she said. "I have to get back to work."
"No you
don't!" DeeDee countered. "You can stay a few minutes for dessert."
"No thanks,"
Tobi said shortly. She didn't dare put another thing into her churning
gastric juices or she might embarrass herself.
She stood up
and Joel rose at the same time. "You know, I'd better run along, too," he
said. "I have some paperwork to finish at the hospital."
"The
hospital?" Tobi asked in spite of herself. She didn't want to know anything
else about this man or ever see him again. So why was she asking?
"Tobi, haven't
you been paying attention?" DeeDee asked, like an embarrassed mother
correcting her child. "Joel is CEO at Carlyle Memorial. He's doing a
brilliant job out there for this community."
"Thanks,
DeeDee," Joel grinned. "It always helps to have fans."
Tobi ducked
her head so she wouldn't have to look at that ever-present grin. Didn't this
man ever frown? Or sigh? Or snarl? Or just look...normal?
She thanked
DeeDee for dinner perfunctorily. Joel thanked her profusely. Then Ben and
DeeDee bid their guests a reluctant good bye and opened the gate to let them
out of the back yard. To Tobi's surprise, Joel prepared to mount a shiny
silver racing bike that was parked near hers. "You ride, too?" she asked.
"Every chance
I get," he said. "Trying to stay healthy."
At that
moment, Ben's grumbling voice drifted over the high fence, "I spend the whole
day manicuring this yard like it's some rich widow's fat hand and she doesn't
even like him!"
"Ben! Hush!"
DeeDee exclaimed in a horrified whisper. "They might hear you!"
Tobi groaned
and tried to cover her embarrassment. "Listen, I want to apologize for
DeeDee, setting us up that way. She should have told us."
"She did tell
me," said Joel. "I've read your articles in the paper and wanted to meet
you. I'm sorry I ruined your evening."
Tobi's face
flushed. Everything she’d said tonight was wrong. "It's not your fault," she
said quickly, trying to redeem herself. "But you know how blind dates are.
They're always awful."
"Really? Do
you go on a lot of blind dates?"
"No, but
everything you read in magazines and books - well, you know, they always turn
out ghastly."
"Oh, you're
one of those," he said bluntly. And for once there wasn't a Cheshire
grin on his face.
"One of those
what?"
"One of those
people who believes everything you read in the media." And with that parting
shot, he pedaled away, leaving Tobi with her mouth hanging open.
"I do not,"
she muttered to herself, swinging onto her own bicycle. "What kind of fool
does he think I am? Believe everything I read! Arrogant pig!"
She pedaled
off furiously in the opposite direction, still talking to herself and wishing
her stomach would quit feeling queasy every time she remembered Joel Trent's
grin.
At the
newsroom, bedlam had been restored. A photograph was missing, Otto couldn't
be located, the presses had developed an ominous squeak and production was
short staffed, due to a sudden illness. That's why the incident occurred with
Donna. At 11:30, long after all the pages should have gone to press, Donna
was still laboring over the last two.
"Aren't you
done, yet?" Tobi fumed. "We're going to be here all night at this rate."
"I'm doing the
best I can," Donna answered with tears rolling down her cheek. She had been
crying before Tobi came in and now the trickle turned into a river.
"Get off her
back!" Reuben said, coming up behind Tobi. "What do you want? She's having
to do everything by herself."
"You get off
my back!" Tobi retorted. "Where's a knife? I'll help."
"You know
that's not allowed," said Donna meekly.
"Yeah? Well,
tell the new boss about it Monday. That ought to make Hugh Mansett's day.
Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll fire me. Again."
The three had
finished the evening in a strained silence and it was well past midnight
before Tobi got home. It was going to be tough getting up for church in the
morning.
Wearily she
opened her Bible to Psalm 18 again, feeling as if she needed its comfort more
tonight than she had the previous night. She read through the whole chapter,
barely seeing it, and then returned to verse 2. "The Lord is my rock, and my
fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust..."
On her knees,
she hugged her Bible and poured out her heart to God, "Father, I haven't acted
as if I even know You this evening. But You are my Rock. You are my place of
safety and my mighty Deliverer. Help me to rest in Your strength and trust in
You, even when everything else in my world feels as rickety as an old ladder.
"Lord, I'm so
sorry I was hateful tonight with Donna. And Joel too. And DeeDee. I don't
know what's wrong with me. And I don't understand - why did DeeDee have to
bring that man around!
"What is it
about him, anyway, that annoys me so much? And why should I care? Lord, I
don't ever want to see Joel Trent again. I don't even want to think about him
any more. Please help me to quit seeing that great big grin under that bushy
mustache.
"Lord, I love
You. I adore You. I worship You. And I trust You. Thank You for being
everything I need. In Jesus' name. Amen."
Chapter 3
Sunday: Hello, Hugh,
Goodbye
As bad as
Friday and Saturday had been, Sunday had been worse than both put together.
Tobi didn't want to think about Sunday. Besides, it was Monday now and she
had responsibilities to fulfill. Reliving the worst weekend of her life
wasn't one of them.
She took a
deep breath and turned to Reuben's story again. She would start at the
beginning - get a running start at this thing. But it didn't work. She
couldn't get her mind to grasp even the first sentence.
She closed her
eyes tight, determined to shut out every distraction. But when she opened
them again, she was staring at the publisher's door instead of her computer
screen. How long was it going to take them to make up their minds? What ever
happened to "innocent until proven guilty"? They'd been holed up over an hour
now. And her stomach was gathering more butterflies every second.
A door opened
behind her and two women from production walked past Tobi toward the break
room. One of them had always been particularly friendly, but today she didn't
have so much as a hello for Tobi. Tobi watched their backs. They had fallen
silent until they were out of earshot and then they resumed an animated
conversation.
Wrinkles
deepened in Tobi's forehead. These people really were shutting her out! She
settled back in her chair and imagined she was an owl with big yellow eyes,
inspecting this busy beaver colony. One of the beavers was bound to slip up
eventually. One of them would look at her. Then what? Would that person
smile before going on about their business? Or would they duck their head in
a guilty gesture and pretend she didn't exist?
Minutes
dragged by. One person, then another, looked up, called to a colleague across
the room or simply stretched and yawned. But their gaze always stopped short
of Tobi. No one slipped. No one let their eyes stray randomly in her
direction.
So she tried
to bore a hole in Reuben's back with her big, yellow imaginary eyes, but he
was oblivious to her attention. "Come on, accuse me!" she wanted to shriek at
the whole room. "But don't ignore me."
And then,
before she could stop them, her eyes propelled themselves to the one door she
had avoided all morning - the managing editor's door. Hugh Mansett should
have been behind that door right now. But the office was dark. She squeezed
her eyes shut to prevent tears. How had her life turned into a horror story?
And how had a weekend that started out so badly managed to get worse?
She should
have known the moment her alarm clock shrilled at her Sunday morning and she
heard gales of wind rattling her window panes that it was going to be an
appalling day. Her room was still littered with the dresses she had tried on
and tossed aside on Friday evening. Only the floral silk she had finally
chosen was hanging up, unwrinkled and wearable. She shrugged. Who was going
to notice if she wore it again? Who would care?
Weary from the
late night at work, Tobi had to force herself to get up and get dressed. A
peek in the mirror revealed that her hair, looking as limp and weary as she
felt, appeared the approximate color of carrots. Her eyes were dark and her
fair complexion paler than usual. She turned away from the mirror, not
wanting to see any more. The specter of herself was already going to haunt
her day.
Outside the
howling wind was full of red dirt. It snatched her dress and hurled her hair
into snarls. She pushed tangled strands out of her face and drove to church,
fighting gusts that rocked the little sports car.
At the parking
lot, she braked while a young family walked in front of her. Two little girls
in frilly dresses skipped ahead. Then came the mother and father, walking
hand-in- hand. A smile began to form on Tobi's face as she watched the
charming family, but the smile vanished when she noticed that the mother was
wearing a corsage.
Mother's Day!
She had forgotten it was Mother's Day.
Tobi rested
her forehead on the steering wheel and tried to decide what to do. Like an
obedient, little puppet, she had gone to church every Mother's Day her whole
life. Every year she sat in a pew with a tight, little smile pasted on her
face and listened to a pastor rhapsodize about the joys and privileges of
motherhood. It had been bearable when her own mother was alive but, after the
accident that killed her parents and as the passing years removed her hopes of
becoming a mother herself, it grew harder and harder for her to sit through
another Mother's Day service.
A light honk
behind her reminded Tobi where she was. Glancing in the rear view mirror, she
saw two cars waiting for her to move so they could park.
Well this year
she'd had enough. Tobi lifted her foot off the brake, drove through the
parking lot and pulled back into the street. She'd managed not to cry last
year on Mother's Day, but by the time the service was over, her whole face had
ached with the effort. She wasn't going to put herself through that torture
this year. Besides, what if she couldn't hold back the tears this time?
Today was supposed to be a happy day. She wasn't going to spoil it for
everyone else with her selfish blubbering.
Her little red
sports car raced along the deserted Sunday streets on its way to... Where was
she going? And what did she think she was going to do when she got there?
Cry. Cry and
rant and rave and scream. Where could she go where nobody would hear her no
matter how much noise she made?
Gusts of wind
grappled with Tobi for control of the car. Grains of sand pummeled her
windows with a tedious rat-a-tat-tat as if the air were full of miniature
cannons discharging endless rounds of pellets at her. Tobi leaned forward to
peer through the grimy haze and clutched the steering wheel with bloodless
fingers.
Where could
she go? She didn't want to see anybody! She wanted to be alone with
this gnawing emptiness and shriek at it until it was filled, at least, with
noise. She gritted her teeth - she would fill the emptiness with sound and
fury.
Homerun Hill.
Of course! Homerun Hill was the perfect place for her today. The little rise
on the far side of the baseball field, where balls were often lost after being
smashed out of the park, was a popular place for hikers, but it would be
deserted this windy Sunday morning. Out there she could scream and howl along
with the blustering wind and no one would ever know.
Holding back
her tears, Tobi drove east through town, asking herself the questions she had
asked and answered a hundred times before. Why me? How did I let myself get
to be 40 without having a family? I'm old enough to be a grandmother and I've
never even had a baby. What's wrong with me?
The first
tears escaped and trickled down her face. She knew where she had gone
wrong. She had figured it out years ago. After it was too late to salvage
the situation.
She had spent
her 20s going to college and establishing her career. Then at 30, she
suddenly realized she wanted a family too. But who would she marry? Whereas
she had known a variety of eligible men during her college days, now she knew
only one. Lyle Harris.
So she married
Lyle when he proposed. And they lived happily ever after until he found a
blond air head he liked better. Then Tobi returned her energies to a career
that had become her enemy. If this precious career hadn't consumed her heart
and soul in those early years, maybe she would have had the good sense to get
married while she was young and had some options. Maybe then she would have
found an actual man to marry, instead of a jerk.
Fortunately,
she had arrived at her destination, because the tears were streaming down her
face now, blinding her. She pulled her car behind a clump of cedar bushes and
cried with her head on the steering wheel until the last tear in her body had
trickled down her face. Then she got out of the car and walked toward Homerun
Hill.
Immediately
she realized her mistake - her flimsy shoes and silky dress were not designed
for hiking. But she struggled along, stumbling over rocks and snatching her
dress back from bristly bushes, too sick at heart to notice physical
discomforts. And now she was talking out loud.
"Why didn't
anybody tell me?" she demanded. "If I'd known I was going to have to choose
between marriage and a career, I'd have chosen marriage. Why didn't I know?
Why couldn't I have figured it out for myself?
"I could have
raised a whole family by now. But no, I had to spend my life getting ahead in
a job. A stupid job. Who needs it? Chasing money all day every day! What
kind of life is that?
"I wish I
could get my hands on Betty Friedan. And Molly Yard. And that other
one...what's her name? That Gloria Steinem. I wish I could get my hands
around their necks and tell them what I think of them. A career! Ha! They
can take their stupid careers and blow them out their ears. What good is a
career if you don't have a family?"
By now, Tobi
was weeping again and panting too hard to talk, but she pushed on up the
trail, mentally detailing everything she would like to tell the women's
libbers of the world. The wind threw her hair into her face so often she
could scarcely see and she stumbled suddenly on the gravelly path.
Staggering, she was unable to regain her balance until her right hand came
down hard on the ground and brought her face to face with a decomposing skunk
carcass.
She screamed
and leaped back. But the stench of death had already reached her nostrils,
exploded inside her head and surged down numberless nerve cells throughout her
body. Tobi lurched backward, shuddering with a nameless horror, until an
unnoticed object rolled under her feet, pitching her into the cushioning arms
of a scrubby cedar bush. She let herself sink to the ground where she wept in
great gasping sobs.
At last, the
fetid presence receded, and Tobi found herself wondering if the