Love's Stormy Gale (Heartsong Presents) Page 12

  “So you don’t think the Lord can take care of Jonathan better than you?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Liv, I said those same words. I worried about your father, pulling in those lobster pots, wondering if an arm or a leg would get caught in the lines and he’d get pulled over the side.” Belinda leaned forward in her chair. “It took me many years to realize I was putting myself in a position above the Lord. I didn’t think He could take care of Sam. Don’t toss away a chance with a wonderful man who obviously loves you.”

  “I like Frank. No, I’m not in love with him. I’ll admit that. But he’s a good man.” Olivia fumed at the patronizing expression on Belinda’s face. The woman knew nothing about her. Nothing at all.

  “Why do I hear hesitation in your voice? I really don’t know you very well, Liv, but I’ve worked in real estate long enough to know that sound in a potential buyer’s voice, the tone that tells me they’re not sure about what they see.” Belinda tapped Olivia’s hand with her manicured finger. “Take this one bit of free advice: don’t sign the papers if you think you’re settling for something other than what you really want in your deepest heart of hearts.”

  “Well, we’re just friends. We’ve known each other a little more than a month.”

  “Fine, I’ll back off.” But Belinda said the words with a smile.

  “Thank you.” Olivia continued, “Tell me more about your life—after you left Fairport.” Olivia would let her take a turn in the hot seat.

  Belinda briefly hesitated. “I headed for California, and what I thought was adventure. I was so immature. I went through my savings quickly, then got a job answering the phone in a real estate office. Eventually I started selling real estate myself. My mother became ill, so I headed back east to be close to her about five years ago. I’ve been near Boston ever since.”

  “But you never contacted Dad.”

  “No, not until a few weeks ago. I know God was dealing with me to come home, but I put it off for so long. It was easier to think that…you were both better off without me. I was a lousy mom, selfish back then. I’d rather run with my friends than watch you. I was always leaving you with him, with my mother, whoever I could find. You were what they now call a ‘spirited child,’ and I didn’t know how to handle you. No excuse, you were just a little one. And I was awful to your father before I left. We’d married so very young….” Belinda sighed.

  “When did you become a Christian?”

  “About three years ago.”

  Olivia nodded. They were in a public place. She didn’t want to provide any more grist for the town’s rumor mill than necessary. Olivia curbed back the words that wanted to come.

  Since her dad’s illness, she’d been going to the Bible more than ever for help concerning her reactions to others. Ephesians admonished her to be “tenderhearted, forgiving one another.” Could she put herself in her mother’s shoes and put her own feelings aside for a moment? What did it cost this woman to return to her husband and daughter without knowing the reception she’d receive?

  “Has becoming a Christian made a difference in your life?” Olivia asked aloud.

  “Yes, it has.” Belinda’s brown eyes moistened. “God’s forgiven me. But I’ve realized I need to bridge this gap between us—me, you, your dad.” Her gaze shifted to the checked tablecloth. “So what I’m asking is, will you forgive me? Please?”

  “Do you know what it was like, watching my friends come home to moms who made cookies and read stories and went to school programs and taught them to put on makeup? That Dad didn’t do those things and he was gone lots of the time? I had more babysitters that I could count when I was little until Mrs. Flaherty moved in next door.” Olivia blinked back tears. She couldn’t remember Belinda as her mother.

  “My poor sweet girl.” Belinda shook her head. “I was so wrong. So selfish. I can’t go back, but will you at least consider being my friend?” She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a tissue, gold bracelets catching the lights.

  “For Dad, I’ll try.” Today they’d picked at old scabbed-over wounds that had never healed. From this point on, Olivia would focus on doing what she could to help her father get better. If it meant letting Belinda into her life, she’d do it.

  Her mother changed the subject. “I’ll be here when he’s released from the hospital. If—if you don’t mind, I’d like to come to the house and help.”

  “Of course. You and Dad are still married, right?”

  Belinda nodded. “I grew up Catholic, and divorce was out of the question. So, your father and I are still married. On paper.”

  They finished their meals and passed on dessert. Belinda yawned into one hand, and Olivia understood. “I’m tired, too. I was up early to get to the hospital, and it’s been a long day.” Olivia picked up their check.

  “I could have gotten that.”

  “No, this time is my treat. You’ve taken time out of what must be a busy schedule to be here.”

  Belinda removed a business card from a slim gold case and wrote on the back of it. “Here. I know your father opened the house to me, but I’m staying at the Seacliff Inn. Here’s my number.”

  They went to their cars, and Belinda gave her a quick hug before they went their separate ways. Olivia left for home, anticipating the sanctuary and quiet. Dad had said to let Belinda stay with them, but truthfully, Olivia wasn’t up to that. Too much too soon. Maybe later. Fortunately, Belinda had realized that.

  She collected the mail from the mailbox, then checked the house phone voice mail. Maggie had called, assuring her she and Todd had been praying. Then Jonathan called, letting her know the same. Frank had called, reminding her of their plans for next weekend.

  Her mother’s words came back to her. Jonathan loved her, and she was trying to place herself above God. Absurd. Olivia’s Bible lay on the kitchen table. She put the kettle on the stove to heat water for tea, then opened the Bible. She knew within seconds she could be reading verses that showed God’s care and protection over His people. Then she could read verses about forgiveness.

  There was the tricky part. Forgiving her mother. She heard Belinda’s voice asking for forgiveness. Then Olivia’s mind flashed back over the months, the memory of seeing Frances O’Leary at the supermarket resurfacing. Frances refused to forgive her. She could still see the fury and bitterness carved into the woman’s face, eating her from the inside out.

  Olivia could very well turn out the same way. Her heart thudded. “No, Lord, I don’t want that to happen. I’m angry at my mother for leaving, angry that she’s returned at such a difficult time. And maybe I am angry that You allowed her to come back now. Please, help me forgive her. I know You’ve forgiven her, just like You’ve forgiven me.

  “I believe You’re healing my father even now. And I would hate for any bitterness on my part toward my mother to grieve Dad. If I have to accept Your strength every day to help me, I will. Lord, I’m not strong enough to handle this on my own.”

  The shrieking teakettle punctuated the end of her prayer. Olivia kept a reverent silence as she brewed a cup of tea, feeling a stillness in the house. No matter what lay ahead concerning her parents, if the Lord was strengthening her, she could handle it.

  *

  After seeing Olivia at the hospital, Jonathan made some repairs on the boat and ordered his supplies for the next trip. Without much else to do, he ended up at Todd’s charter office drinking coffee, then at Todd and Maggie’s for supper.

  “I wish Olivia wasn’t being so pigheaded,” Maggie waddled to a chair in the den and lowered herself onto the cushion.

  “Hey, she’s been through a lot lately.” Jonathan sprang to her defense.

  “I know that.” Maggie glowered. “I meant about you two. Am I not right, honey?”

  Todd looked up from the fireplace after he placed a piece of wood on the grate. He grinned. “I won’t say you’re wrong.”

  “Really, though,” Maggie continued, “I believe the Lord has br
ought you two together.”

  “I think He needs to convince Olivia of that.” Jonathan drew a deep breath. “I know she’s been spending lots of time with Frank, but I’m not staying out of the picture.”

  Todd stood and stretched, a look of contemplation on his face. “What if I hired you to pilot one-day fishing tours? You know I’m swamped in the high season. Maybe that’s a way to compromise.”

  “Thanks, but I won’t sacrifice my dream because of her fears. Maybe I sound cold, but I can’t do it. And—” he gave Todd a punch on the arm “—you aren’t busy enough right now to afford another captain.”

  Todd nodded. “I figured you’d see it that way. So, there’s only one solution I can see right now.”

  “Yes.” Jonathan’s gut clenched at the thought of Olivia and what might be. “We can pray.”

  They prayed for Olivia and her parents, plus Jonathan.

  After the amen, Jonathan cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Todd said. “We’re supposed to encourage each other.”

  Jonathan smiled. “Well, I appreciate it.” He reached for his jacket.

  He headed home, feeling a peace about his relationship with Olivia, a peace he hadn’t possessed in a long time. “Thank You, Lord. I’m going to keep trusting You about Liv. I love her. I’ll wait for her. Somehow, in the meantime, I’ll convince her she belongs with me.”

  Chapter 15

  “Just let me sleep in the recliner. I’ll be fine until I can go up and down stairs.” Olivia’s father had his jaw set, brows furrowed. Yet his features remained pale.

  “Have it your way, Sam.” Belinda walked briskly to the kitchen, leaving Olivia and her father in the entryway.

  Olivia tried to support her dad as he walked to the recliner, but he shrugged off her assistance. “I’ll make it. I need to do this myself.”

  The doorbell rang. “I’ll be right back, Dad.”

  Frances O’Leary stood outside, a foil-covered pan in her hands. “I brought you some meat loaf. My own recipe.”

  “Thanks.” Olivia felt a surge of compassion. “Dad came home today. And my…my mom’s here. Would you like to come in?”

  The older woman smiled, her face losing some of its hardness. “I can’t today. I’m on the way to the shop. But I will sometime.”

  “Good. And I’ll drop your pan off when we’re through. Thank you.”

  Frances nodded, stepping off the porch. “That’ll be fine.” She turned and strode briskly to her idling car at the curb.

  Olivia closed the door, balancing the pan of meat loaf on her arm. “That was Frances O’Leary. She brought her special meat loaf.”

  Her father groaned.

  Belinda emerged from the kitchen. She’d put on an apron, and Olivia wondered where her mother had found the relic. “Oh, meat loaf sounds perfect. We can save that for supper tonight if you two would like.”

  Olivia laughed. “You’d better have a backup plan, like takeout.”

  “I don’t remember her meat loaf being that bad.” Belinda accepted the pan from Olivia. She went back to the kitchen. Olivia heard the refrigerator door open and close. “And anyway—” Belinda called out “—we can smother it with ketchup.”

  Dad’s laugh rang out. Then he began to cough.

  “Don’t overdo it, Dad.”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t look so worried.”

  Olivia picked up his overnight bag. “I’ll try not to. But if you have a hard time breathing, speak up.” First thing, before Frank picked her up, she’d do some laundry.

  The mountain of clothes had grown in front of the washing machine in the cellar. Olivia allowed the ordinary mundane chore to relax her. Socks and whites into one pile, darks and colors into another pile, towels into a third. She tossed the whites into the washer and watched the steam rise from the hot water.

  Why wasn’t life so easily sorted out? Olivia settled onto the bottom step of the cellar stairs and listened to Belinda’s feet puttering back and forth from the kitchen above.

  A sense of not-quite-right niggled in her head, the uncomfortable knowledge that her mother was assimilating herself into their home routine. Ever since the surgery, she hadn’t had a chance to speak with her father about Belinda.

  Adding to the pile of trouble was the matter of her father’s lobster pots. Every day Isadore Pappalardo either called or stopped by the house with an update or a check for the catch. They couldn’t count on his kindness indefinitely, and she didn’t know when her father could go back to work. She needed to speak with her father about a lot of things.

  *

  A man’s dreams could die in an instant. Jonathan glared at the uncooperative engine, while his crew stared at him. Isabella was stocked and ready to go, except the engine was dead in the water.

  He tossed the wrench into the toolbox, stood and faced the men. “I’m sorry. Looks like we’re stuck here for now.”

  “Barrotta, I can’t afford this. I got kids to feed,” one of the younger men said.

  “Don’t worry,” offered Stumpy. “I got word that Skip Callahan’s got a place or two on his boat. Leaves tomorrow.” The older man tossed his rucksack over one shoulder. “Sorry, Jon. Give me a holler when you’re back in action.” The two men clomped off the boat and strode from the dock.

  His last remaining crew member, Jeff, a young man barely out of high school, remained. “Man, what a bad break. But if I can give you a hand, let me know.” Jonathan nodded, and watched Jeff leave, as well.

  Alone, he stared at the engine. Pete had advised him he might be able to coax the engine through the winter, but to plan for a replacement come spring. Trouble was, he didn’t think the bank would lend him more funds for another engine.

  He sank to his knees before the engine hold. “God, I’m in trouble now. If I can’t get this engine going again or get another one, I might as well sell this rig now. You’ve brought me this far. Keep me going.”

  Liv’s sweet face came to mind. What would she think of him, landlocked until he figured out a way to ship out again? Maybe she would hound him to go full-time with woodworking.

  But he was kidding himself. She wouldn’t worry about him. What woman would want a man who was a failure? All he knew how to do was fish and build things. Liv was better off with someone like Frank, stable with a steady job and income. She didn’t need the uncertainty of a fisherman’s life. The knowledge had a bitter taste. Jonathan expelled a sigh.

  He had promised the Lord he would wait for Olivia. Maybe he’d been wrong about that, too. Yet he hadn’t mistaken the peace he’d received in prayer.

  His head ached. “Lord, it’s me again.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t see how You can work out this mess. But I’d appreciate Your showing me.”

  Jonathan stood. He needed an engine expert. Sam Shea came to mind first. Except today Sam was coming home from the hospital. Either he’d be tired or glad for the company. Jonathan would call later to see if he could talk to Sam.

  He closed the engine hold and eyed the items in the galley. Maybe someone else would buy his perishable supplies.

  Shouts outside brought Jonathan to the deck. A lobster boat was heading straight for the Isabella. The slumped figure at the helm leaned to one side, and the boat’s course diverted, but not enough.

  The impact sent Jonathan sprawling. The Isabella tugged on her moorings but held fast. Jonathan leaped to his feet and jumped to the dock.

  Other fishermen had beat him to the lobster boat, where a grizzled older man lay bewildered on its deck. Helping hands lifted him to his feet. Another man had shut down the engine before the boat careened around the harbor anymore.

  “Isadore Pappalardo!” a man shouted. “Stubborn old fool. You should know better than to pull your pots in when you have the flu.”

  Jonathan inspected the Isabella for any visible damage, but thankfully Isadore’s boat had slammed into her sideways instead of head-on. The wayward lobster boat was moved to another plac
e on the dock.

  Of course Isadore had continued hauling pots in despite having the flu. Fishermen didn’t get sick days. And besides, Isadore was helping Sam. Jonathan needed to call Sam more than ever. His current troubles put aside for the moment, Jonathan rushed from the docks.

  *

  The surf roared in their ears as Olivia and Frank walked the wintry beach, vacant that late afternoon except for the two of them. No matter the season, Olivia felt drawn to the shore, the rhythmic waves soothing her soul. She found a few shells, and allowed them to be swept back into the waves.

  Today was Frank’s promised beach walk, then a drive to a country inn for lunch. Olivia was glad for the excuse to give her parents some time to themselves, even though it was her father’s first day home. She kept her cell phone handy in her purse, ready to accept voice mail messages in case of an emergency. But she had left, with Belinda encouraging her to go and have a good time with Frank.

  “What are you thinking so deeply about?” Frank snapped her attention back to him.

  “Today, being here, my parents…” She shivered as a gust bit through her wool coat. He reached for her hand. She moved away from him and reached for a shell on the sand. Olivia scolded herself. What did she think he’d meant by a beach walk? Why had she agreed?

  “You’ve been going through a lot lately.”

  “It’s been interesting, to say the least.”

  “I couldn’t imagine. Liv, I’ve been praying for you, and about you…about us…” Frank captured her hand, stopped walking and turned her to face him.

  Her pounding pulse dulled the surf’s roar. She couldn’t think of what to say. They were just friends, at least to her. Of course she’d contemplated more. And more, with his intense brown eyes, was staring her in the face.

  “I appreciate your prayers. Dad’s doing so much better and I’m learning to get used to Belinda being around. Most of the time.” Now she was babbling. “I’ve been learning about forgiveness, especially seeing things from Frances’s point of view. To see someone who you believe has caused so much pain—”