A Matter of Destiny (12 page)

That's what he was, wasn't he? She kept wondering what Joe was doing in California.

Bea had prepared a delicious meal, as always. They had ham, sweet potatoes, homemade rolls, three salads, and two vegetables. No one felt like moving afterwards, and it took at least an hour of moaning before the discomfort of being overstuffed began to subside.

"You've outdone yourself, Bea," Harry said, tickling his wife.

Bea blushed, then offered dessert, apple, cherry, and blueberry pie, all from fruit she'd picked herself last summer.

Sharon was ready to go home late the next afternoon. She'd enjoyed the visit with her folks, but felt their eyes on her constantly, as if they were looking for a sign she might break.

And under those circumstances, she might.

All in all, things had gone well, and the boys seemed content. That was what mattered most.

Sharon was disappointed when there wasn't a note waiting from Joe, like there had been on Thanksgiving. He must not be back. She called the Banners while the boys went through the kitchen cupboards, looking for food, any kind.

"Paula, Merry Christmas," she said when her friend answered.

"The same to you," Paula said in a subdued tone.

When Paula didn't continue, Sharon asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," Paula replied with a forced brightness.

Sharon didn't know what else to say without getting Paula in trouble with her husband. "Call me back when you can, okay?"

"I will," Paula said, and hung up.

It was a relief when school began again and Sharon went back to work. She hadn't seen Joe at all and was beginning to worry about him, wondering if he'd decided to stay in California. She could've asked someone, but didn't. Then, when she was leaving work the second day back, he came toward her down the long hallway.

Her heart leapt at the sight of him as her gaze took in his appearance. He seemed distant, as if his thoughts were a thousand miles away.

"Hello, Sharon," he said without his usual smile.

"Hi," she returned, careful to match his somber mood.

When she asked him about the holidays, he said, "They were fine, how about yours?"

"Quiet," she said, unwilling to offer more since he didn't appear interested.

When they stepped out into the frosty January weather, he asked, "How about some hot coffee? Not here, but at the cafe."

She nodded and went with him to his car. What was wrong? Had something happened while he was gone? "Shouldn't I drive, too? Then you won't have to bring me back here."

He agreed absentmindedly and unlocked the door.

As she followed him to the nearest cafe, she realized she'd never seen him without a ready quip. She missed his teasing remarks and hoped everything was all right.

After they'd settled in the padded booth and ordered their coffee, Joe looked at her directly for the first time.

"I'm going back to San Diego in June."

The blunt statement stunned her. A lump formed in her throat, and she had to force a question around the obstruction. "But, why? What about your job here?"

"I signed a one-year contract. I needed to get away from California for awhile, but my father's been sick, and I feel I should be there."

Sharon felt as if the fluorescent lights had dimmed, but it must be her imagination. Maybe the sun had disappeared behind a cloud.

"Why did you want to leave in the first place?" She had to know. When he didn't answer right away, she lifted her gaze and saw that he was studying her.

He looked out the window. "It was a chance to try something different, I guess." He paused and took a gulp of coffee. How could he possibly explain to her in a way that made sense? He'd already made up the part about his parents.

Joe regretted the lies, and he seemed to be getting a little too good at it. He did feel it was best to begin letting go now, for them both.

Sharon's voice was very soft. "Did you leave in the first place because of a woman?"

"No," he said, then realized that Sharon must think a woman had broken his heart. If only she knew. It was almost laughable if it didn't hurt so much.

Before he could say anymore, the waitress brought the coffee pot by for refills and suggested some sweet rolls to go with it.

Sharon shook her head, and Joe politely waved the woman away.

"What are you thinking?" he asked when she remained silent.

"I'm sorry about your father," she said, and he nodded.

An awful thought occurred to him. What if she tried to track him down in San Diego later, out of friendship. He guessed that Hollow Bend would have to go through the forgetfulness process after all.

He'd been hoping he
would
be remembered, but it just wasn't possible.

What else could she say, Sharon thought? He had to go; she could see that. They both had obligations to others. When they'd finished their coffee, they went outside together.

Stopping at her car, she said, "I wish you could stay." He didn't know how difficult it was for her to admit that.

"Do you really?" His voice was rich with feeling. When she nodded, he gently caressed her cheek before opening the car door. "So do I, Sharon, so do I."

Well, he'd done it. He'd taken the first step toward separating himself from Sharon and her family. He was far more upset about leaving than Sharon was to see him go; he was sure of that. And he'd discovered no new answers to all his questions.

Joseph was unclear at this point where his mission would take him. He understood the importance of fulfilling his teaching contract, but didn't feel the Quinns needed him as much as they had at first. All he could do was wait and see, and have faith in the outcome.

He might as well experience as much as he could in his brief stay in Hollow Bend, Idaho. Maybe he'd learn something that would help on his next assignment. Right now, he didn't want to think that far ahead.

A week later, David found a job. When he told Sharon where it was, she gasped, "Bailey's Mill? Isn't that dangerous work?"

David's expression was set. "Not really."

He was wearing one of his father's plaid shirts, and Sharon wished he wouldn't.

David shifted his weight and hooked his fingers on his belt buckle. "I want to take the job, Mom."

"What will you be doing?"

"Mostly clean-up, under the green chain."

Her brows knitted together. "Under the chain? I remember your father saying..."

"No, Mom," he interrupted. "I'll be working after school when they change shifts and the green chain shuts down. Then I'll sweep before coming home."

Sharon realized he needed to keep busy and that she should try to sound encouraging. "All right, David, if that's what you want."

As determined as he was, she decided to go along with his plans, but knew she'd worry, regardless.

Sharon finally cornered Paula at the grocery store. Her friend looked tired and unhappy. "All right, what's going on?" Sharon asked without a greeting.

Paula gave her a faint smile. "And hello to you, too." They hugged one another briefly, and Paula went on, "I'm sorry I haven't called, but I hate dragging you into my troubles."

Sharon's mouth dropped open. "Are you kidding? After the way you stood by me when Tom..." She didn't finish, but had apparently made her point.

"Okay, I'll be over soon, and we'll have a real gabfest. Satisfied?"

Sharon was doubtful it would ever come to pass. "All right, if you promise. I miss you, Paula. If that's selfish, then so be it, but friends help each other. I want to be there for you, too."

Paula crossed her heart and her eyes, and they laughed together before parting.

One day after school, Joe caught up with Sharon in the parking lot. She'd worked later than usual. Smiling up at him, she was glad she'd worn her houndstooth slacks and black sweater under her heavy cranberry carcoat.

Joe looked rugged in a tan shirt with brown slacks and a dark corduroy sports jacket.

She'd reluctantly convinced herself that his heart belonged in California, so was surprised when he asked, "Can I talk you into taking me to the 4-H Dance this weekend? I heard that's when they kick off the beginning of the 4-H projects for the year. My students were talking about it."

"Me take you? What kind of invitation is that?"

He stopped at her car and leaned against it, making it look like a toy. "Well," he drawled, "seein' as you're an oldtimer in town, and I'm a newcomer..."

"Oldtimer! Well, I like that." Sharon put her hands on her hips, and Joe laughed, the happy sound music to her ears. A warning bell rang in her head as she gazed at him solemnly. "I don't know if I should go to a dance."

Joe straightened and his expression grew serious. "I understand it's more like a community gathering for young and old alike. I wouldn't have asked if I'd thought anyone would think badly of you."

Sharon hesitated. He was right, of course. It wasn't like a real date, and it would be fun. "Do you mind if the boys go with us?" She saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes before he agreed.

"No, I don't mind. We'll take the dog, too, if you like, unless he's gained another forty pounds."

She giggled at the picture his suggestion made. "That won't be necessary. I think we'll leave him home. But don't eat dinner that night," she warned. "Myrt always brings her famous chicken salad sandwiches. And then there're brownies, chips, hot

dogs..."

He held up his hands. "I won't eat a bite. Pick you up at eight?"

She nodded, and he bowed in his own debonair way before heading for his car. Sharon was so relieved to see him in a good mood, when he'd seemed so depressed after Christmas. Maybe his father was feeling better.

All right, Joseph told himself. You were being a coward by staying away. There must be more to this mission if Serena had him scheduled through the school year. Even though angels had free will, the same as humans, they weren't always privy to The Plan.

Often, he had to take one day at a time, so he wouldn't get too overzealous in solving an earthling's troubles. Besides, his studies of this particular social function might come in handy on a future project.

He had to laugh at himself for the excuses he made to be with Sharon.

By Saturday night, Sharon was a jumble of nerves. She kept telling herself it was just because she hadn't seen so many people at one time since the funeral. But Luke and David kept eyeing her speculatively when she came to the head of the stairs three times, wearing a different outfit each trip.

"Jeesh, Mom, you look great. Quit changing clothes," Luke said impatiently.

Sharon turned and disappeared back into her room. The pile of discarded garments on the bed grew even larger when she peeled off the outfit she wore and tossed it on top.

Finally, she settled on a royal blue and gold dress in aztec design with a gathered peasant blouse and ruffled skirt.

She twirled around, watching her reflection in the mirror, deciding to leave her hair down. The image she saw wouldn't convince anyone she was a middle-aged widow in mourning, though.

Should she change again?

It was too late. She heard Joe's voice downstairs and checked her makeup one last time.

Sharon reached into a bottom drawer and pulled out her royal blue shawl and matching purse. She was thankful for the early spring weather. Her shoes were gold sandals. It had been a long while since she'd cared what she wore.

She wanted to feel pretty and happy; was that so wrong?