September Love. Virginia Myers
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to the side street. I never know what to do in a situation like that. It worried me. There was such a hopelessness about it. It was as if once she started crying she couldn’t stop. And there was nothing I could do. I felt so desperate. Finally, she managed to get control. Or maybe she had just worn herself out. I kept thinking I should be able to…I don’t know. As a father I’m just not…” There was such regret in his voice, it tore Beth’s heart.
“You were probably better than you thought as a father,” she said. “Raising children is a never-ending challenge. And we all think we should have done better.”
“Well, I certainly could have done better. Kayla isn’t the only one paying the price. Much as I hate to admit it, she’s way out of her depth in parenting, too. Poor little Adam. He’s being cheated, big time. I guess that’s what it means when it says in the Bible about the sins of the fathers being visited on the second and third generations. On the rare occasions when I was home, I couldn’t wait to get back on the road again. And leaving always meant I was leaving Kayla when she might have needed me. And now, after all this time, I can see the result of my running away. It has become the burden of a little three-year-old kid named Adam—one of the most insecure kids I’ve ever seen, who can’t even begin to understand—”
“Doug. Don’t do this to yourself. You couldn’t have been that bad a father. Kayla must take some of the responsibility. She’s an adult. Did you mention any of this to Pastor Cooper?”
“No. It simply didn’t occur to me. He’s a nice enough guy, but, really, I don’t think it would ever dawn on me to take him any personal problems—not the way I would with Cyrus.”
“Yes,” Beth said, suddenly distracted. “He said he doesn’t think Cyrus can come back as pastor.”
“I’d heard that from some other people. I guess we’re stuck with Pastor Cooper. Actually, he’s okay, really. You just have to get used to him. And there was another thing,” he added, looking at her keenly. “I got the distinct impression that he could become interested in Kayla. He’s a single guy, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s single.” Beth started to laugh. “And you think he might be looking for a wife? That’s usually a woman’s reaction when she sees a single man.”
Doug grinned sheepishly. “Well, he’s single. And Kayla is a lovely young woman. He did ask me about her. Rather persistently, I would say. I think he noticed she’d been crying but was too tactful to mention that.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him she was a widow. I guess I just let him assume she had reason to cry now and then. I didn’t go into any detail.”
“That was probably best,” Beth agreed. “At least until we know him better. Kayla is entitled to some privacy,” she added.
They fell silent as they heard the front door open. It was the Driscolls, coming back from wherever they had been. They could hear Mrs. Driscoll’s plaintive voice and the deep murmur of Mr. Driscoll reassuring her about something.
Doug raised his eyebrows. “When are they leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” Beth whispered, as they heard the Driscolls going upstairs. When the sound faded, they settled into silence again.
Beth finally asked, “When will Kayla go into rehab?”
“Tomorrow. I take her over tomorrow morning. That was her decision. She was fine during the interview. She said the sooner she got started, the better.”
“That was sensible. I think—” She paused as someone was coming down the stairs with a heavy tread, loud and purposeful. Both Beth and Doug turned to the hall door as Mrs. Driscoll came majestically in, very obviously upset. Doug stood up as she entered, and after a moment, Beth did, too. What now?
“Ah, I was hoping to find you both. I don’t understand this!” She gingerly held out a limp, half-eaten piece of old toast. “You said you had a good cleaning service. If so, why in the world would I find this in our room? Really!”
Beth reached out, and Mrs. Driscoll placed the piece of toast on her palm. “I…I don’t understand it either,” Beth said uncertainly. “Where did you find this?”
“In our dresser drawer. The bottom one. Bert and I always use the bottom drawer because most people use the top one. I believe that the bottom one is cleaner. This piece of toast was in our bottom drawer.”
“I don’t…understand,” Beth repeated helplessly.
“Well, I think I do,” Mrs. Driscoll said portentously. “I think it was that little boy. I saw him in the hall this morning. He had a piece of toast in his hand. I do not approve of children leaving the table carrying food. I’m sure he’s running about in the guest rooms, leaving bits of food here and there.”
“I’m sorry,” Beth said. “I’m really sorry. I’ll see that it doesn’t happen again.”
“I should hope not!” Mrs. Driscoll turned and angrily left the room.
As she left, Beth and Doug turned to each other in confusion. Then, they both saw it at the same time. On a lower shelf of a bookcase in a back corner. Half hidden behind the bookend—unmistakably—was a small cookie.
“Adam?” Beth said faintly. So that was why Adam wandered away from the table during meals. “Can Adam be hiding bits of food? Why would Adam hide bits of food?” But even as she asked it she knew the answer, and felt a little sick.
It took an effort but Doug replied. “Because he expects to be hungry, Beth.” His voice was oddly grim, not sounding like Doug at all. He turned away and she couldn’t see his face. “It would seem that my grandson—in his three-year-old wisdom—is trying to provide for his very uncertain future in the only way he knows how. He’s learned a tough lesson. If you have a piece of food today, hang on to it. Because tomorrow you’re going to need it.
“I did this to him, Beth.”
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