The Red Gloves Collection (30 page)

Sarah focused on the path in front of her and shook her head. When she reached the windowsill, she turned to Beth and held up a single finger. “That will come.”

She stared out the window at the park until her eyes found the bench—the park bench that meant the world to her. And with all the energy she had left, she began to hum the melody, the notes that would always fill her heart and soul.

The notes to
Sarah’s Song.

Throughout the humming, Beth remained at her side, quiet, respectful. When she’d hummed the last line, Sarah pulled her eyes from the park bench and nodded at Beth. “That’s all. I can go back now.”

Beth helped her, and when Sarah was too tired to swing her legs up onto the bed, Beth lifted them. Once the old woman was settled back beneath the covers, Beth hesitated and then gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “The music is beautiful, haunting.” She glanced at the window and then back. “But why no words, Sarah? Didn’t the song have words?”

“Indeed.” Sarah yawned and squeezed Beth’s hand. “I’m tired, dear. I think I’ll take a nap.”

Beth nodded, but she wouldn’t let the idea go. “What about the words?”

“Later.” Sarah could feel her eyes beginning to close. The familiar peace surrounded her again—a peace that defied all understanding. God was doing something here, something in young Beth’s heart. And that was knowledge enough for Sarah.

She was almost asleep when Beth asked her question one final time. “When, Sarah … when will the words come?”

Slowly Sarah opened her eyes. “Day Nine.”

There. She let her eyes close again. That would bring Beth back for sure. Not because she wouldn’t survive without knowing the words to the song. But because God had placed a special truth deep inside Sarah’s heart: A miracle was underway, a miracle for Beth Baldwin.

And God would bring her back if He had to move heaven and earth to do it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I
T WAS
T
UESDAY,
December 21, and the good weather had finally given out.

That morning Beth woke to a six-inch blanket of snow spread across Spartanburg, and she mumbled under her breath as she headed for the shower. White Christmases were overrated. The city would take a week to dig out from beneath the snow, and until then the commute to Greer would be unbearable. Snow would turn to ice, leaving the roads slick and dangerous. Beth was scheduled to work every day that week, and the snow meant she’d have to get up an hour earlier each morning.

Her shower was quick, and as soon as she was dressed she hurried into Brianna’s room. “Get up, sleepyhead. Time to eat.”

Brianna moaned.

“Come on, honey. We gotta eat if we’re going to be on time.”

Brianna rolled over in her bed. “No! Don’t wanna eat!”

“Mommy’s not giving you a choice.” Beth yanked the covers from her daughter and waited, arms crossed. “Get out of bed.”

“Do I have to, Mommy?” Brianna’s tone was more whine than words.

“Yes. One … two … three … ”

Brianna spilled out of bed and stopped short of scowling at Beth. “Help me get dressed.”

Beth hesitated, then went to the closet and sorted through the clothes. Her daughter’s accusations regarding Bobby had dropped off, but she was grumpy or pensive most of the time. Earlier that week, Bobby had asked about it. “Did you say something to Brianna—something about us separating?”

“No.” Beth’s answer was short, the way she felt most of the time toward her husband. “Did you?”

“Of course not.” He scowled at her. “We agreed.”

“Right.”

“So why’s she asking about us, telling me I don’t like you all of a sudden?”

Beth shrugged. “She’s telling me the same thing. Maybe she feels it.”

“Feels it?”

“Yes. That her parents don’t love each other anymore.”

“Listen… ” Anger flashed in Bobby’s eyes as he pointed a finger at Beth. “I never said I didn’t love you. Those were your words.” Then, as if he somehow caught himself, his expression eased and his voice grew calmer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. All I’m saying, Beth, is I still love you. For whatever that’s worth.”

The conversation had stayed with her because it seemed so unlike Bobby. Sure, he had tried initially to change her mind about leaving. But when things didn’t go his way, he was usually quick on the defensive. That time, though, he had backed off, even told her he was sorry and he loved her. Not just once, but several times after their initial confrontation, he’d pulled her aside in an effort to talk to her or apologize. Beth tried not to look too deeply into it. Probably last-minute remorse over their failed marriage, or maybe the Christmas season getting to him.

Either way, their conversation had done nothing to ease Brianna’s mood. The carefree child with bright eyes and bouncing pigtails had disappeared, and in her place was a little girl both moody and melancholy.

Beth kept the morning routine at a fast pace, and managed to get Brianna in the car eight minutes earlier than usual. Sure enough, the commute was stop and go, with an occasional car sliding off the road and others spinning into oncoming traffic. The speed was slow, so none of the mishaps was serious, and Beth pulled up in front of Brianna’s day care just a few minutes later than usual.

Dana Goode—one of Beth’s friends from high school—ran the day care from her house. Beth felt good leaving Brianna with her, and sometimes, if she was early, she and Dana would talk about the old days, high school and dating and how Bobby was always the only one for Beth.

“Everyone always said it,” Dana would say as she punished a piece of gum, “Bobby Baldwin only had eyes for you, Beth. As far back as time he only had eyes for you.”

Beth had still not told Dana about her decision to leave; she was sure the idea wouldn’t go over well.

Just as well she had no time to talk that morning. She led Brianna up the walk, careful not to slip in the snow, and shouldered her way into the house. She was about to kiss Brianna good-bye when she looked up and saw Dana standing there, both eyebrows raised halfway up her forehead.

Beth went ahead with her kiss and patted Brianna’s back. “Go on, honey, the kids are waiting for you.”

Brianna looked from her mother to Dana and back again. “Bye.” She shuffled off, a blank look on her face.

The moment she was out of earshot, Dana leaned in and hissed at Beth. “You and Bobby are splitting up? What, Beth, are you crazy?”

Beth refused to react. She put her hands on her hips and gave a slight roll of her eyes. “Who told you?”

“Who do you think?” She huffed hard and paced two steps away, then two steps back. “Bobby called, asked me to pray for you guys.”

“He what?” Beth was amused at the idea. Bobby hadn’t talked about prayer in years, other than an occasional dinner when he remembered to pray over the meal. They went to church once in a rare while, but that was the extent of it. “Now I know you’re making it up. Come on, who told you? Really … ”

Dana stopped, her mouth open. “I can’t believe you, Beth. What’s happened?” She straightened, the shock wearing off. “Wasn’t that you driving me to church every Sunday during our college years? Weren’t you the one telling me to trust God, that someone right would come along if I put God first?”

Beth’s gaze fell. “That was a long time ago.” She looked up. “For all of us.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning Bobby and I haven’t prayed together in years. Don’t tell me he asked you to pray for our marriage.”

“Well.” Another huff. “That’s exactly what he did. Now listen, Beth. It’s my job as a friend to tell you this.” Dana was a fast talker; she paused only long enough to snatch another breath. “No one will ever love you the way Bobby loves you. He might’ve slipped lately, forgotten what was important, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

“Slipped?” Beth looked at her watch and gave a chuckle that sounded more sarcastic than humorous. “I haven’t seen a yellow rose in three years, Dana. When Bobby and I were dating, he brought me yellow roses every week. Yellow roses and homemade key lime pie— the only thing he knew how to cook.”

“So you grew up. So what?”

“So?” Beth tossed her hands up. “So now I’m old hat, and you know what?” She lowered her voice so Brianna wouldn’t hear her in the next room. “I’m sick of it. Sick of coming home each afternoon to a husband parked in front of the television. Sick of competing with Sports Center for my husband’s attention. If he had to choose between me and the TV remote, he’d take the remote. Hands down.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, fuming. “I’m sick of not mattering, Dana, sick of wishing he’d bring me roses or look at me the way he used to. I don’t love him anymore. I don’t.” She straightened her sweater, grabbing at her composure. “I’m getting out before I forget how living feels.”

A mix of emotions worked their way into Dana’s expression. Shock became horror, and that became hurt and disappointment. Finally she shook her head. “Love’s about more than yellow roses and key lime pie.”

“Yeah.” Beth took a few backward steps toward the door. “It’s about more than the sports channel, too.”

She was out the door and halfway to work before she realized how terrible she’d acted. Dana was only trying to help, trying to influence Beth not to leave.

But what about Bobby? What right did he have calling her friend and asking for prayer? He might as well have come right out and asked her to intervene.

Beth tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

It didn’t matter; the ordeal would be over soon enough, as soon as Christmas was behind them. Bobby could say whatever he wanted, he could ask people to pray and tell her he still loved her. The truth was he wanted her to leave as badly as she wanted to go. Otherwise he would’ve spent more time with her, talked to her more often. Turned off the television once in a while.

No, it was over, and nothing would change the fact now.

She pulled into the parking lot of the Greer Retirement Village and headed to the third floor. That’s when she remembered. It was Day Nine. She’d missed days seven and eight because they were her days off. But Day Nine was the big day, wasn’t it? The day the sweet old woman would add words to her ritual?

For a moment she considered working the opposite side of the floor. The drawn-out story couldn’t possibly help her, so why was she listening to it? Then it dawned on her: Because this was Christmas, and even if her entire life was falling apart, spending time with Sarah Lindeman was the least she could do—her way of giving something back to a lonely old lady.

She entered Sarah’s room and found the woman sitting up, smiling at her. “You came.”

“Yes.” Beth stepped inside, not sure what she was feeling. “I want to hear the words to the song.”

Last time she was here, listening to the story, the details had made her cry. But now—in light of the events that morning—she didn’t feel a bit tenderhearted. She wanted to put in a mindless eight hours and move one day closer to December 26. For a beat, she considered turning around, but then she changed her mind. She returned Sarah’s smile and set about finding fresh clothes for the woman. Over the next hour she prepared Sarah’s bath and made sure she got her meal down.

When they were finished, Beth took her place in the familiar chair. “I’ve missed a few days.”

“You weren’t at work.” Sarah shot her a thoughtful look. “Home with your family, no doubt.”

“Yes.” Beth couldn’t force a smile. Enough about her family. She leaned forward in her seat. “Okay, catch me up.

“You have to promise something.”

Promise something? Beth bit her lip. She barely knew the old woman. “What?”

“Promise you’ll be here for the last three days.”

Beth calculated the dates in her head. The twelfth day would take place on Friday, her last day of work before Christmas. She nodded at Sarah. “I promise.” But the words felt hollow, even to her. She was about to walk away from her husband, after all. If she couldn’t keep the most important promise she’d ever made, how could she expect to keep this one?

Still, Sarah seemed satisfied. She pulled herself up some and settled into a stack of pillows propped against the headboard. “You remember where we were?”

“The dance.” Beth felt herself relax. Her time with Sarah did that to her. Now that she was back again, the story drew her, made her anxious for the next piece. And not only the next piece, but also for the special meaning Sarah had spoken about. Because in the midst of this crazy, hectic, hurtful Christmas season, between divorce plans and arguing with Bobby, Beth had an almost desperate need to understand the bigger picture.

It was possible Sarah knew what she was talking about, right? If she did, then in just a few days Beth might actually learn something she’d wanted to know for the past several years.

The secret of love.

CHAPTER NINE

S
ARAH TUCKED THE COVERS IN
tight around her waist. Her heart glowed at the return of Beth Baldwin. The miracle was coming; Sarah could feel it.

“Yes, dear. That’s where we were. The dance.”

“You were at the church when we finished Day Six.”

“Right. After stopping at the church I went straight home, to my parents’ house.” Sarah smiled, and her eyes grew watery. “My parents were great people; such love for God and me.”

Sarah didn’t comment on the irony, but it was there. In less than a week, Beth also was going back to her parents’ house; Sarah had heard one of the nurses talking about it. She found her place in time.

“It was summer by then.” Her eyes found the window, the place where she looked when her memories were the strongest. “Late July. The summer of forty-one.”

Sarah’s parents were at the doorstep the moment they saw her pull up. Without a single question, they took her in their arms and welcomed her inside. For the next hour—sparing them any of the shocking details—she told them how she had trusted Mitch Mullins, how he’d led her to believe he was interested in her music, and how he’d betrayed her in the end.

“I thought he loved me, Daddy.” She lifted her eyes to her father, glad she hadn’t told him how serious her mistakes had been. He was a kind, gentle man. The detailed truth would be more than he could handle.