“Everyone else saw it,” Maddy was unkind enough to point out.
“Oh, thanks for telling me,” Lindsay said humorously.
A few months ago, Lindsay might have taken offense at her friend’s honesty. But not now. “I know it sounds ridiculous, considering how much I wanted to marry him, but I’m actually embarrassed that I was so crazy about Monte.”
Grinning broadly, Maddy nodded, as if she knew a delicious secret and was keeping it to herself.
“What’s that look about?” Lindsay demanded.
Maddy sat up and took a pretzel herself. “It’s very interesting, what you just said.”
Lindsay gestured for her to continue.
“You’re truly over Monte,” Maddy announced. “Already you’re distancing yourself from him emotionally. You used to look at him through rose-colored glasses. You might have seen his faults, but you ignored them because you’d convinced yourself you were in love with him.”
“I was in love with him,” Lindsay said. “You know what part of our conversation bothered me the most?” she asked, shaking her head. “When I suggested he start dating other women, he accused me of being devious.” He’d said he wasn’t seeing anyone else because he refused to believe she actually wanted to end their relationship. The only reason she wanted him to see other women, he claimed, was so she could prove she no longer cared; it was all part of her marriage ploy.
Lindsay had laughed outright, calling his reasoning outrageous. Her attitude had angered him even more, and he’d left soon after that. Lindsay wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as she recounted their visit.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to see the light.”
“Longer than it should have,” Lindsay confessed. “Now, enough about me and Monte.” She noted how Maddy had cleverly avoided talking about herself. “What’s going on with you? You’ve hardly said a word about yourself and practically nothing about your job.” It used to be that Maddy talked endlessly about the cases she handled, although, naturally, she never mentioned names or identified the people she worked with.
Maddy wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Maddy?” she coaxed.
“All my life I’ve wanted to help others,” Maddy began in a low voice.
“That’s why you’re such a good social worker. You have a very big heart, Madeline Washburn.”
To Lindsay’s amazement, tears welled in her friend’s eyes. “I’m burning out. My supervisor warned me about this. It was one of the reasons she told me to take my vacation last summer. She recognized the signs and hoped I’d look after myself before I crashed and burned.”
“But it was too late, wasn’t it?”
Maddy hugged a pillow to her stomach and nodded. “I woke up one morning a few weeks ago and realized I don’t want to do this anymore. I feel empty. I’ve given away so much of myself, I no longer know who I am.” She stared into the distance, her eyes devoid of emotion. “That sounds crazy, but…”
“It doesn’t,” Lindsay was quick to tell her. “I understand.”
“How can you, when I don’t understand it myself?”
She knew Maddy was right; as a friend, Lindsay could sympathize, but she hadn’t experienced these feelings herself, so she couldn’t truly understand. Lindsay got up and went across the room to give her a hug. “If there’s anything I can do—”
“There isn’t,” Maddy said. “I’ll work it out in time.”
“But shouldn’t you let someone help you?” Lindsay asked. “You’re willing to leap into the fray for everyone else, but you won’t share your own troubles….”
Maddy nodded. “I know. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be fine.” She gave Lindsay what looked like a forced smile. “I’m not going to ruin the few days we have together by thrashing over my problems.”
“Why not? You’ve listened to mine.”
“Then tell me about Gage Sinclair,” Maddy suggested, deftly changing the subject. “You’ve talked about practically everyone in Buffalo Valley but him. Has anything changed?”
Lindsay did what she could to sidestep the question. “How could it? We’re barely on speaking terms.”
“But let me tell you—sparks fly whenever you two are anywhere near each other. I could see that the day you met, in July.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lindsay interrupted. She didn’t want to think about Gage. She’d tried, unsuccessfully, to put him out of her mind all weekend. So many questions remained unanswered. Most important, she was still unsure of herself and her own feelings.
“You know,” Maddy said, “when you first told me you were taking that teaching job in North Dakota, I thought it was a bit drastic, but after four months I can see a real difference in you. I don’t mind telling you I’m envious.”
“Envious? I have to drive an hour for a haircut.”
“I’m serious, Lindsay.”
“Then pull up your stakes and do the same thing,” she said, only half joking.
Maddy’s gaze held hers. “Don’t be shocked if I do exactly that.”
The rest of Lindsay’s time in Savannah passed far too quickly. Her parents were busy with their grandchildren, and the only private time Lindsay had with her mother was early Sunday morning, when she drove her to the airport.
“You seem different,” her mother said as she parked the car close to the terminal.
“Different?” Lindsay repeated, smiling to herself. Maddy had said the same thing. It made her wonder if she really had changed from the woman who’d left Savannah only a few months ago.
“You’re moving back home, aren’t you?” her mother pressed. “After the school year, I mean. You won’t actually consider settling in Buffalo Valley, will you?”
“My intention is to teach one year, and that’s all. Then I’ll come home.” But Buffalo Valley felt like home, too. Yes, she missed Savannah, her friends and family here, but Buffalo Valley offered its own satisfactions.
“You’ll fly back for Christmas?”
“I can’t, Mom.” They’d already discussed this. “Not with the school play and the price of airfare…”
“Your father and I’ll pay for your ticket.”
“I just can’t, Mom. If possible, I’ll visit again during spring break, around Easter time.”
Her mother hugged her close before Lindsay entered the terminal. “I feel like I’m losing you,” Kathleen Snyder whispered, and her voice broke. “If it was up to me, Monte would be strung by his thumbs for being so damned obstinate.”
“That’s the amazing part, Mom,” Lindsay said. “I think Monte might have done me one of the biggest favors of my life.”
Father Damian McGrath was the visiting priest who celebrated Mass twice a month at St. Paul’s, the old Catholic church in Buffalo Valley. He’d immigrated from Ireland just before World War II and was well past the age of retirement.
For the first time, Lindsay would be attending Mass there, accompanying Gage and his family and joining them for dinner afterward. He knew that Lindsay’s father had been raised Catholic, but her mother was a staunch Baptist and had brought her daughters up Baptist, too. Lindsay had told him she felt quite ecumenical, since she’d sometimes accompanied her Grandpa Snyder to Mass in Savannah, as well.
Because of a shortage of priests and the area’s declining population, St. Paul’s had ceased to be a functioning parish. In his generosity, Father McGrath visited the community the first and third Sunday of each month to celebrate Mass and then usually stayed for dinner with a local family.
Gage’s mother had invited both Father McGrath and Lindsay. She’d been cooking for two days, preparing an elaborate dinner, as if it were the Pope himself who was paying them a visit.
Gage didn’t understand all the fuss, but his mother had repeatedly told him it wasn’t for him to understand. All she asked was that he be a gracious host.
Gage wasn’t sure if he should be pleased about seeing Lindsay again or not. She’d been back in Buffalo Valley a week and he
had yet to speak to her or she to him. Which was just as well. When they did meet, she’d probably ask why he’d kissed her, and Gage didn’t know what to say. It had been spontaneous. If he’d stopped to think about it, he’d never have done it.
He knew one thing. He’d felt a whole lot easier when he found out she was back. Rachel Fischer and Mark had driven Lindsay’s car into Grand Forks to meet her return flight; Heath Quantrill had apparently suggested it. That was fine by Gage. He liked Rachel, and for a man with money in his pocket, Heath wasn’t half-bad.
Dressed in his Sunday best, Gage watched his mother flutter nervously about the kitchen. He didn’t know why, since everything seemed ready. The dining-room table was set with their best china and a crisply ironed linen tablecloth and napkins. He hadn’t seen those since the previous Christmas.
“Hurry, or we’ll be late for church,” Leta ordered. His mother’s excitement remained at a high pitch, and Gage was forced to listen to her chatter the entire drive into town. He was more amused than annoyed, however, realizing she derived genuine pleasure from this event.
During Mass, Lindsay sat across the aisle from him. He couldn’t help being aware of her and knew from the surreptitious looks she sent in his direction that she was conscious of him, too.
Following Mass, the small caravan of cars returned to the farm. His mother immediately ushered Father McGrath inside and out of the cold, biting wind.
“Gage,” his mother called to him over her shoulder. “Help Lindsay into the house, would you?” Twelve inches of compact snow covered the ground. Gage opened Lindsay’s car door and held out his arm.
“It’s good to see you, Gage,” she said, gazing up at him. He found it difficult to meet her eyes, but managed. “Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?” she asked.
“Fine, and you?” he returned politely. His warm breath made small clouds as he spoke.
“Very nice.” She slid out of the driver’s seat, her feet sinking a bit in the snow. Gage shut her door, and she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. As they hurried toward the house, he felt her stiffness, sensed the emotional distance she placed between them.
No sooner was everyone inside, than his mother, with Lindsay’s help, started carrying serving dishes to the dining-room table. They only ate there on special occasions and holidays; having Father McGrath over was most definitely a special occasion.
Leta did a good job of managing the conversation, asking Lindsay about her trip to Savannah. Gage listened carefully to her answers and admired the way she skillfully avoided any mention of Monte.
“You’re Anton and Gina’s granddaughter?” Father McGrath asked, apparently making the connection for the first time.
“Yes,” Lindsay answered. “You knew my grandparents?”
“Very well. Very well, indeed. Your grandmother was a brave woman.”
“Lindsay’s living in her grandparents’ old house,” Gage commented.
“What do you mean about my grandmother being brave?” Lindsay asked, leaning forward.
“I admired her deeply,” the priest continued.
“I did, too, but I didn’t know her very well,” Lindsay said. “Were you close to her?”
He shook his head, obviously intending to say nothing more.
“But you called her brave,” Lindsay reminded him.
“For overcoming her unhappiness.” His answer was vague.
Gage watched as Lindsay grew still. “My grandmother was unhappy?”
Her remark seemed to take the old priest by surprise. “It was a long time ago, child, and best forgotten.”
“But I don’t want to forget. I want to know everything there is to know about her.”
“It all took place during the war years…So many young men died.”
“Did my grandmother lose someone?” Lindsay’s voice was intense.
“Lose someone? You mean a young man?” The priest shook his head. “No, no. Well, not exactly.”
After that, Father McGrath turned the conversation to other matters, despite Lindsay’s attempts to ask him about her grandmother.
When dinner was finished, Leta and Father McGrath lingered over coffee talking quietly, while Kevin sat there looking bored. Gage took advantage of the opportunity to lean toward Lindsay. “Do you think Father McGrath might know something about that brick?” he whispered. “The hollow brick in your fireplace?”
Her eyes widened and she pressed her finger to her lips. “No one knows about that but you and me.”
“All right, I won’t say any more.”
Eager to escape the conversation, which consisted mostly of stories about people who’d once lived in Buffalo Valley, Gage got up to leave the table. “I’m going out to check some equipment in the barn,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“I’ll go with you,” Lindsay volunteered.
“Me, too,” Kevin said with unmistakable relief.
His mother must have signaled Kevin not to join them because he sat back down with a shrug. “Never mind, I’ll go with Gage another time.”
Fully dressed in their winter coats, Gage and Lindsay left the house, Tramp following on their heels. She buried her hands deep inside her pockets and had wrapped a muffler around her neck. A matching knit hat covered her head. Only her eyes were visible, and that was enough, possibly too much for Gage. She was watching him a little too intently, and he found it unnerving. Lindsay was only passing through Buffalo Valley—and his life. He didn’t want to feel anything for her, but the attraction grew more intense with each meeting.
“I take it you don’t want to talk about your grandmother,” he said abruptly, leading the way to the rear of the small apple orchard where he kept his bees.
“Why’d you kiss me?” she asked, ignoring his question.
If he had the answer to that, he would’ve been in town thirty minutes after she returned. Instead he’d waited, attempting to sort out his feelings before they talked again.
“Well?” she demanded.
“I don’t know.” At least he was honest, whether she wanted to hear it or not.
“That’s not good enough.”
“Fine. If you have a theory, I’d be pleased to hear it.”
“You didn’t plan to kiss me?”
“Hell, no!”
“But you wanted me to come back to Buffalo Valley. You said so.”
“Yes.” He couldn’t very well deny it.
“Why did you care, one way or the other?” Her voice was softer now.
“The school…”
“This has nothing to do with the school.” Her irritation was back.
“What do you want from me?” Gage muttered.
“The truth.”
He scoffed. “You don’t want the truth. You can’t deal with the truth.”
“The hell I can’t.”
It seemed to him that she asked everything and offered nothing. “What are you looking for?” he shouted. “For me to lay my heart on the line—is that it? Sorry, you’re too damn fickle for that. You love someone else, remember? Monte what’s-his-face.”
His words were followed by a shocked silence. Then, “You’re the most stubborn, unreasonable man I’ve ever met. Even more than Monte,” she muttered under her breath.
“Me?” Never in all his life had he met a more exasperating woman. “I’m not going to let you jerk me around, Lindsay, nor will I let you use me. You say you want to get over your old boyfriend so you don’t want a relationship—fine, then don’t give me come-hither looks. And don’t expect everything to be on your terms. You want me to help dig up some old secret about your grandmother. No way. Leave me out of this.”
“Come-hither looks? How can you say such a thing?” she asked tightly.
Before he could answer, she turned to run back to the house. Gage started after her, but he really didn’t know what he’d do if he actually caught up with her.
“Lindsay,” he called, wanting her to stop before she fell. “Lindsay, it isn’t saf
e—”
He was too late. She stumbled in the hard snow, staggered a couple of steps and fell forward, catching herself with her hands.
He was at her side instantly. Before he could stop himself, he’d pulled her into his arms and he was hugging her and telling her how sorry he was.
His arms were around her and hers around him. Their breath rose like mist as they knelt in the snow clinging to each other with a desperation he’d never felt before.
“I kissed you because it’s all I can think about,” he confessed.
“Don’t you know?” she said, staring up at him, her eyes huge and so very blue. As blue as cornflowers in spring. “Kissing you is all I can think about, too.”
Twelve
The conversation with Father McGrath had raised questions Lindsay couldn’t leave unanswered. He’d told her Gina Snyder had been brave and that she’d been unhappy. But why? And about what? Lindsay had to believe Father McGrath knew more than he was telling. She suspected that whatever he’d left unsaid had to be linked to what she’d seen as a child.
Her memories of that summer’s night remained vivid in her mind. The tears that streaked her grandmother’s face had glistened in the moonlight. She’d wept as she held her treasure—whatever it was—before hiding it inside that hollow brick. It was gone now and Lindsay couldn’t help wondering if her grandmother had found another hiding place. She’d looked everywhere she could think of and found nothing. But Lindsay knew she couldn’t rest until she’d uncovered all she could.
With school and rehearsals for the play, plus the renovation of the theater, Lindsay didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it. She was gratified by the way everyone in town had mobilized to help the high school and to work on the theater. Hassie organized people, requesting their assistance and scheduling tasks. She’d talked Joshua into taking care of the lights, Gage and Dennis into doing carpentry chores, Sarah into repairing and cleaning the curtains. And so on…People in Buffalo Valley did not say no to Hassie. Lindsay had frequent meetings with her to discuss the theater’s progress, and one day, when the opportunity presented itself, she asked about her Grandma Gina. Hassie hadn’t lived in Buffalo Valley during the war years, but suggested Lindsay contact Lily Quantrill, a longtime friend of Gina’s. At Hassie’s request, Heath had kindly approached his grandmother, who’d agreed to talk to Lindsay that weekend.