The Way Home (15 page)

“I'm not trying to defend him,” Claire insisted.

“You sound as if you are,” Liza countered. “You're making excuses for him.”

Claire sighed. That was true. She didn't mean to but . . . she couldn't help it. “Maybe I can call around and help him find something else on the island. Or in Cape Light. Maybe Daniel or Reverend Ben will know of something.”

She sounded desperate. As plaintive as Jamie had, begging Liza not to fire him. But she suddenly felt as if Jamie's entire future was on the line. Once he left the inn, he would surely disappear from her life again.

Liza shook her head. “Claire, please. Don't put me in this position. How can I recommend Jamie to anyone? I just couldn't, not in good conscience.”

That was true, too, Claire realized.
Even if I could find a spot for him through someone around here, the next person would surely ask Liza what she thought of Jamie's work and why she was letting him go.

Claire suddenly felt as if she were in a boat and Jamie was out in the water, grasping for her hand. She was trying to pull him back in, but her hold on him was slippery and he was slowly letting go, sliding under, and there was no way for her to help him. No way to pull him back to safety.

“Please, Liza . . . I know he's done wrong and taken advantage of you. Of us both. But . . .” Claire felt so full of emotion, she could barely find the words. “I'm so afraid that his life is going downhill. So quickly. He has no direction, and no one to put him on a good path. No one,” she repeated. “Except for you and me.”

Liza's voice was low and solemn. “What are you trying to say, Claire? Are you asking me to let him stay?”

Claire slowly nodded. “Yes, I guess I am. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. It seems like there's a bigger picture here. There's so much more at stake than him just flaunting our rules and coming back late from his day off. Even lying to us about why . . . I wouldn't ask you to do this, Liza, if it didn't mean so much to me. You know I wouldn't.”

Liza's voice softened. “I do know that, Claire. But try to be realistic. Do you think it will be any different if we let him stay longer? We'll just go through this agony all over again—a few days from now or maybe in a week or two. And where will that leave us? We'll be stuck shorthanded at the height of the season. Isn't that just what I didn't want to happen?”

Claire knew it was not the right moment to answer her. They both needed a moment to cool off. Beyond that, Claire knew she should just back down and accept this situation. But something in her resisted and instead held fast to defending Jamie, to arguing for a reprieve.

Liza paused and lowered her voice again. “I just don't trust him anymore, Claire. I don't believe a word he tells me.”

Claire bit her bottom lip. “It's hard for me to hear you speak so harshly about him. Even though he deserves it. He's been coasting so far, seeing what he can get away with, how far he can bend the rules. But I'll talk to him. I'll lay down the law and make him understand he can't stay unless he's committed a hundred and ten percent. No more chances after this. If he crosses the line, he's out. And I won't ever ask you again,” she promised.

Liza let out a long breath but didn't answer.

Claire said a silent prayer.
Dear God, please let Liza give Jamie another chance. Please give me the words to change her mind.

“Liza, I know he's done wrong. But please find it in your heart to forgive him. I know it's a lot to ask. I know he doesn't deserve it. But please forgive him and forgive me for asking you. Give him one more chance, and give me one more chance to help him . . .” Claire's plea trailed off. She didn't know if her words had reached Liza's heart, but she didn't know what else to say.

Liza sighed. “I'm sorry. I'm not sure,” she said finally. “I hate to refuse you, Claire, I really do. You know how much I care about you . . . and how much I owe you. But I need to make the right decision here. I don't know what to say. I guess I need to sleep on this.”

Claire nodded. “All right. That's fair.”

“I will tell you this . . . If Jamie wants to continue here, he has to start from square one. He has to be totally truthful with me. With both of us. I need to be convinced that he knows what he did today was wrong—and why it was wrong. He can't just say things he thinks I want to hear.”

“I understand. He's gotten by so long doing just that. It's a bad habit,” Claire replied. Even when she first met him, when he was just a boy, Jamie had a knack for getting out of a tight spot by saying exactly what someone else wanted to hear, whether or not he meant it. Claire wondered if he even realized what he was doing—and if he could ever stop maneuvering through life that way.

“It's more than a bad habit, Claire.” Liza's tone was sharp. Claire could see her measuring her words, not permitting herself to say all she was thinking. “I know it seems harsh to hold the line on this. I know I owe you the world. But part of me objects to letting him stay because I see the way he manipulates you. He hasn't been here very long and he's already betrayed your trust. More than once,” Liza reminded her. “I love you, Claire. I hate to see you hurt that way,” she said honestly. Before Claire could answer, Liza sighed. “All right . . . talk to him. See if you can get anywhere. I'm going up now. We'll figure this out in the morning.”

Claire nodded. “I'll do my best.”

Liza touched Claire's shoulder a moment. “I know you will. I'm sorry we had words. This isn't easy to sort out.”

“No, it isn't. Not for either of us,” Claire said. Part of her wondered if letting Jamie stay was the best thing to do. Maybe he really had to sink to some desperate depth in order to take hold of his life.

But she couldn't do that to him. Not yet.

Once Liza left the kitchen, Claire finished clearing the table and cleared her head, too. Ever since Jamie had arrived, she felt responsible. She had persuaded Liza to hire him. Now here she was pleading with Liza again on his behalf, when there seemed no good reason at all to let him stay.

Liza was not just her employer, but her good friend. Claire felt an abiding loyalty to her and to this inn. But she could not ignore her feelings for Jamie, a deep need to make good on the promise that she had broken ten years ago. Claire felt torn in two, as if a war were raging inside her and she had no idea which side was winning.

She did know that if Jamie had any chance of staying on, he had to speak up for himself tomorrow and convince Liza that he was ready to mend his ways and stop testing them at every opportunity.

Could he do that? Sincerely? Claire was not sure.

* * *

U
PSTAIRS
on the third floor, Claire walked down the hall to Jamie's room. The door stood halfway open. She glanced inside and saw him lying on top of the bed, fully dressed, his hands folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

She knocked on the door to draw his attention, and he quickly turned to her.

“Oh . . . hey, Claire. What's up?” He sat up and looked at her curiously.

“May I come in? I'd like to talk to you.”

“All right . . . I was just going to pack up. I didn't feel so good again and needed to lie down.” He rubbed his stomach and made a face. Trying to elicit her sympathy. Or still clinging to his silly story.

There was a small desk in the room, near the window. Claire turned the chair around and sat down. Jamie's duffel bag was on the floor near the chest of drawers. It was open and a few pieces of clothing had been tossed inside. It hurt her heart to see how little he had.

She sat back and met his gaze. She wasn't sure how to begin.

“Did you come to say good-bye?”

Claire looked down at her hands. “I hope not. I'm trying to persuade Liza to give you another chance. But she's not convinced you deserve one. Mostly, she says you're too unreliable . . . and she's very angry that you lied to her. To both of us.”

A flush rose on his fair skin. “Yeah. Well. I'm sorry. I got confused. We were talking about going to a game but—”

“Never mind that,” Claire cut in quickly. “Are you willing to make a sincere apology—and really commit yourself to this job? That's the question now.”

He started to answer but she held up her hand.

“Don't talk yet. I'm not done.” He looked surprised by her firm tone, but sat back, giving her his full attention. “I just want you to listen. As hard as you can. I'm afraid for you, Jamie. Of all the things I could say to you now, that's the most important one. I'm afraid what might happen if you leave here. Your entire future may depend on this conversation.”

She saw his mouth twist to one side, as if hiding a nervous grin. He didn't believe her. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Dear God, please give me the right words to reach him. To reach his reasoning mind and his heart.

“Liza and I trusted you. We believed that you were going to do what you said you would do, come back on Tuesday night. But you didn't live up to our trust. You didn't keep your promise. So now you have to lose this job. Which is a pity because this place is a good stepping stone for you. Please try to think about your future, beyond your next paycheck or party with your friends. Do you want to be stuck in some minimum-wage job your whole life? Don't you want to have a good trade? A path to improving your life? If you saved your pay, you might be able to start college again, or attend some trade school in the fall. Even if it's only part-time, that would be something. It would be a very good start in the right direction.”

“Right. I didn't even finish high school. How am I going to do that?”

Claire felt stung. “You told me that you did,” she reminded him. “You said you finished high school and even took a few courses at a community college.”

Jamie's face turned red. He'd obviously forgotten that conversation. “I did? I must have said something else that made you think that.”

“No, Jamie. That's what you said.” Claire forced herself to remain calm, to keep her voice steady. They weren't going to get anywhere if she lost her patience. “So you never graduated. When did you leave school?”

“Junior year. I just got sick of it . . . I'm sorry I said that, Claire. I just . . . I just didn't want you to think I was such a loser. I wanted you to think I'd done a little better.”

“I understand,” she said quietly. “I think you can do better. I know you can,” she insisted. “I believe it in my heart,” she added, tapping the spot above her breastbone. “I wish you could believe it, too. I want to help you so much, Jamie. I couldn't care about you more if you were my own child.”

She knew that was true. Jamie was the closest she'd ever come to having a child, and all the worry, hope, and prayers that came with that blessing. She felt tears fill her eyes. She took a steadying breath. She didn't want to start crying now. Her feelings about all this—her anger, frustration, even her love for him—were not the point.

Jamie didn't answer. He stared at her a moment, then looked away. She wasn't sure what he was feeling. He seemed a bit confused, even ashamed.

“Please don't cry, Claire,” he said finally. “I'm sorry I screwed up . . . I really am,” he added quietly.

She met his glance and thought he was telling the truth this time.

“Did I get you in trouble, too?”

She shook her head. “Don't worry about me. This is about you. I know this job isn't very glamorous. But it could be the first step on a path for you, a path to a better future. Something to build on . . . if you can commit to it wholeheartedly. Not just when you feel like it. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?”

Jamie was leaning forward now, his hands clasped together. He glanced at her and then down at the floor. “Sure. I know what you mean,” he said quietly.

Claire stared at him. “I'm not sure you do. I'm really not sure I'm getting through to you.”

Finally, he said, “I don't understand. Is Liza going to let me have my job back? I hope she doesn't fire me. I need to keep working . . . I-I owe this guy some money and I've got to pay him back. Or it's going to get pretty ugly.”

He stared straight ahead as he made this confession. Claire could see he was worried. And scared. Was that why he had come here a few weeks ago? And why he had come back tonight? She couldn't even stop to try to figure that out now.

“I don't know what Liza is going to say,” Claire replied honestly. “That depends on you. Totally on you. Not me. Not your friends. Not anybody else in the world. She told me that tomorrow she'll have a talk with you and see if you're willing to make a sincere commitment to this job. Not just coast along, seeing what you can get away with. She wants to hear you apologize and really mean it. And no playacting, Jamie. She'll see right through it.”

He nodded, looking a bit relieved but nervous now, too.

“She wants to know if you're willing to make something of yourself. I want to know, too,” Claire added. “Becoming a better person is a slow process. It doesn't happen overnight or even over a summer.” She paused and reached in her pocket then showed him what she had in her palm. “This is the piece of beach glass you gave me, remember?” She tilted it slightly so the amber fragment caught the light. “Do you see the way the ocean wore down the sharp edges, little by little? You wouldn't have noticed any change at all day to day, until one day you would see that it was smooth and polished, like a jewel.”

His mouth was pressed in a tight line. It was hard to guess what he was thinking. Did he understand her?

She set the bit of beach glass on his bedside table, hoping he would see it there after she left and think about it.