The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake (30 page)
“So, let’s talk,” he said.
I took a deep breath and sighed. “We need to talk about Charlene Hopefield.”
Jack dipped his head, and it came back up again. “Oh, for crying out loud, Goldie. I haven’t seen that woman other than at school since I don’t know when. Since right before you found out.”
I reached over and took one of his hands in mine. “Which was how long ago?”
He looked down at our hands as I wove my fingers with his, then back up at me. “Months.”
“How many months, Jack?”
“I don’t know. Since... what... September? October? I didn’t exactly keep a calendar. That’s not the kind of thing a man does.”
“So at least three or four months?”
“If you say so.”
I thought for a moment. “It seems like it’s been longer than that.”
Jack gave me a look and said, “Tell me about it.” He winked.
“I need for you to be serious here.”
“Sorry,” he said, then shifted a bit in his chair. “So, what’s this about? You want to talk about Charlene? We’ll talk about Charlene. She was pushy and brazen and was like a woman obsessed where I was concerned. Honest to Pete, Goldie, and I’m coming clean here. I’ve had affairs, yes. And you’ve known that.”
I pulled my hand away, but he caught it and returned it to his. “
You’ve known that,” he repeated as he continued. “But never with anyone you might... might run into.”
“How gracious of you.”
“Don’t do that, now,” he said, squeezing my hand. “If we’re going to get through this, you can’t be snide.”
He was right about that. “Sorry.”
“But here she came, wearing her low-cut outfits and sexy perfumes—”
I raised my free hand. “Don’t say it, Jack. Please. I can only take so much.”
“Now I’m sorry,” he said, and I felt the pressure from his hand relax a bit.
I took another deep breath and nodded. “Charlene Hopefield can be malicious and underhanded when she wants to be,” I said.
“You have no idea,” Jack said, I’m sure without thinking.
I swallowed. “No,
you
have no idea.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “What are you talking about, Goldie? What’s your point? Charlene Hopefield was but a moment in my life. But you
are
my life. It’s over with Charlene, and I swear to you before God that I will never, ever break our marriage vows again. If you’ll just move back home and let me be your husband again, I’m sure I can prove to you that I’ve changed, Goldie.” He honestly looked pitiful. “I have.”
“But it’s
not
over, Jack,” I said, barely above a whisper.
“Now, wait a minute.” This time he pulled his hand away from mine. “Yes, it is. Yes, ma’am, it is.”
I clasped my hands together. “No. No, Jack. Charlene Hopefield is pregnant.”
I stared into my husband’s eyes and watched them grow wide. “She’s what?” he said as though he didn’t believe a word of what he’d just heard.
“She told me the night before we went up to Summit Ridge.”
Jack stood, walked a few steps away, then turned back to me. “She told you she was pregnant?”
“Yes.”
He placed his hands on his hips. “And that’s why you acted the way you did the day we went up to the cabin?”
“I admit that, yes.”
He walked back over to the table, placed his palms flat on its surface, and leaned toward me. “I got my cell phone bill, by the way.”
I shifted a bit but said nothing.
“Japan? Japan, Goldie? I hope you know I had to take money out of our savings to cover it.”
“I was angry,” I said. “I was angry with you that you had gotten Charlene Hopefield pregnant and that we’d never be able to fully put this behind us.”
Jack stood straight again. “And coming to me and just telling me never occurred to you?”
I smiled wryly. “I wanted you to suffer first.”
He nodded. “Mmmm,” he said, then crossed his arms and spread his legs wide in that “coach” stand I’d come to know over the years.
“Are you just going to stare at me or are we going to talk about how we’re going to deal with Charlene and her baby?” I asked.
He didn’t move. Not even a muscle. “I have no intention of dealing with her or her baby,” he said, keeping his eyes on me.
“But, Jack!”
Then he returned to his seat. He leaned over a bit, taking both my hands in his. “Goldie, Charlene Hopefield took eight weeks off from teaching last year. Do you want to know why?”
I’m sure I looked puzzled. “She needed a long vacation?” I asked.
“No. She was getting a full-blown hysterectomy.”
I felt my jaw drop. “A full-blown—”
“Charlene Hopefield is no more pregnant than you are.” He raised his brow. “Unless there’s something about you that I don’t know.”
I closed my eyes against the absurdity of it all. “Why that little...” I began, opening my eyes again. Jack was grinning at me, and I began to laugh and cry all at the same time. “I ought to call Japan on her phone,” I said, pulling my hands from his and wiping
the tears from my cheeks.
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, pursing his lips together. He folded his arms across his chest again and leaned back in his chair as though God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.
I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair, keeping my focus on my husband and his adorable face. “Jack,” I said finally.
“Goldie,” he toyed.
“Why don’t you go look in the backseat of my car?” I asked, keeping my words to more of a suggestion than a question.
He nodded toward the crumpled bag from Higher Grounds. “Did you bring more food?” he asked.
I gave him a half smile. “No,” I answered, shameless. “I brought an overnight bag.”
Jack leaned toward me. “Well, now. You don’t say?”
I kept my eyes on his before answering, “I will agree to come home but on certain conditions.”
“Which are?”
“I’ll stay in Olivia’s old room. We keep going to counseling and
... we talk. No more secrets. None.”
He stared at me for another long moment before leaning over the table and extending his right hand. I took it in mine, and we
shook on it. “Deal,” he said.
“Deal,” I said. Then I added, “It won’t be easy.”
“Nothing worth having ever is.”
He stood then and gave me a quick wink before walking away. I
heard the front door open and close. My cue, I thought.
I pushed myself away from the table, then stood and walked purposefully toward Olivia’s old bedroom.
I had come home.
Somehow—though he wasn’t exactly sure how
—
Britney had talked Clay into joining her and her family for a weekly Bible study they held in their home.
“I don’t know,” Clay had stalled, standing on the other side of the card shop counter from her earlier in the day. “Bible study...”
But then Britney smiled her radiant smile, and he felt his knees go weak. “I promise you not many people are there,” she told him. “So if you think you might be put on the spot in front of a bunch of folks...”
Clay nodded his head. “So, like, who will be there? Is it the same people every week? You don’t handle snakes or anything, do you?”
Britney laughed at his humor, endearing her to him all the more. “No, nothing like that, but if you want, maybe we can fly some in from... where? Alabama or somewhere like that?”
Clay crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, so give me a roll call.”
“I’m there, of course. Mom and Dad. My brother and Michelle Prattle.” Britney grinned and wiggled her shoulders a bit. “Don’t tell,” she said in a near whisper, “but I think Adam is going to... you know... pop the question pretty soon.”
“Really? To Michelle?”
“No, to Velvet James. Of course to Michelle!” She wiggled her shoulders again like a child in front of a toy store window. “Isn’t
that awesome?”
Clay agreed it was. “Okay, so who else?”
Britney had run down a list of about four more names, pouted,
then smiled, and he had acquiesced.
Hours later, he was leaving his first honest-to-goodness “home group.” Britney’s father had led a study and discussion on Genesis 31. Jacob leaving the “world” behind and “going home.” Something stirred inside him... something strangely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Something he’d felt years ago while sitting in
Vonnie’s Sunday school class. What was it?
On his way home he drove down the street where the Dippels lived. Way past dark, he noted, and Goldie’s car was parked in the
driveway.
Her car was in the driveway, and all the house lights were out.
It looked, Clay surmised, as if Mrs. D. had gone home too. He slowed his Jeep until it came to a stop at the stop sign. Though no traffic was heading his way, he remained where he was. And he wondered what it would be like to have someone to go home to...
Donna
When had Clay taken this picture?
I wondered as I sipped my first cup of joe with a copy of yesterday’s
Gold Rush News
spread before me. There I was on the front page in an article entitled “Hero of Summit View.”
I was backdropped by the majestic mountains and dressed in my uniform, with my arms folded across my chest. It looked as though I was contemplating the future as the wind blew through my curls.
Clay. He was always snapping photos, but this one looked like it was from the
Mayberry RFD Gazette
. All it lacked was an American flag and Andy Taylor’s grin.
The subheading read “Local Hero Saves Summit View Couple.” Goldie and Jack were pictured in a small photo below mine. The article went on to describe how I’d rescued Tina Long and risked my life to save her baby.
Another article authored by Clay was on the front page of the living section. It featured a picture of Lisa Leann with her Christmas tree tea table, along with a story about the Christmas tea. The article had even contained a write-up about the shenanigans of my mother and sister. I don’t know how Clay had done it, but I’d come out smelling like a rose.
Then there was Clay’s editorial on the second page of the paper. It told about the civil lawsuit I was facing. Clay had even managed to dig up the one witness to the tragedy, a Mr. Leonard Davidson, who was pictured leaning against his Jeep. He was quoted as saying, “I served in ’Nam, and I can tell you that officer’s actions were the bravest I’ve ever seen. Not only did she single-handedly rescue that mom, but she then risked her life to save the baby. That officer deserves a medal, not a lawsuit.”
I looked back at the paper. Normally, I detested reading about myself, but now, fighting the legal battle of my life, the articles were a godsend, perfectly timed with my hour of need.
The phone rang. I picked it up.
“Hello, Donna?”
“Vonnie!” I looked at the white kitchen clock that hung above my refrigerator. It was 8:30. “I don’t normally hear from you so
early in the a.m.”
“I knew you’d be up, getting ready for your deposition. And I
wanted to see if you saw yesterday’s paper.”
I wiped a few crumbs from my honey-coated biscuits off the article I’d been reading. “Yeah, I was just looking at it.”
Vonnie proudly read, “Donna Vesey, who teamed with snowmobile expert Wade Gage, was the first officer on the scene of the massive snowslide to help rescue a local couple, Jack and Goldie Dippel. From the safety of her Summit View home, Goldie Dippel later said, ‘If it weren’t for Donna, Jack and I would still be snowed in at Summit Ridge. Donna risked her life to save ours.’”
I felt a blush burn beneath my coating of makeup that Lisa Leann had shown me how to apply just the day before. I took another sip of my coffee and told Vonnie, “Clay’s been a pal to write this. Maybe it will even help, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“What I don’t get,” Vonnie said, “is you saved that woman’s life and in the process almost lost your own. I mean, it’s very sad about her losing her baby, but you weren’t the one who drove her car off the road and into the river. You did everything possible to help.”
“God knows I tried.” I looked at the clock again. “Oh, it’s getting late, and I still have to figure out how to apply Lisa Leann’s mascara without poking my eye out.”
“Oh dear, how did your makeover go?” Vonnie asked.
“Fine, as long as I don’t mind my new industrial strength glow,” I said.
Vonnie giggled. “Before you go, I wanted you to know that the whole family prayed for you this morning: Fred, Mom, me, and David.”
“That’s sweet,” I said.
“David says you two are doing lunch today. I think he has a surprise for you.”
“Really? Did he get that job with the Summit View paramedics?”
“I’m not spoiling his good news. Call me later, okay?”
We’d said our good-byes, and I soon found myself standing in front of my bathroom mirror trying to wipe a mascara smudge off my cheek with my finger. This makeup stuff was harder than it looked. Of course, it would help if my palms weren’t so sweaty and my hands weren’t trembling. I took a deep breath. I didn’t know
how I’d make it through this day.