I’m a terrible person, Hannah.”
Her friend moved into view behind Clemmie, who stared soulfully at her image, trying to tame her wild waves with a comb. She gave up, dropping her arms to her sides.
“Why would you say such a thing?” Hannah’s eyes were curious.
“Because it’s true?” Clemmie slumped in the vanity chair. “This last week, Operation Save Joel has undergone significant improvement. He doesn’t always give negative comebacks when I talk about his condition or suggest that he can enjoy life again. He’s become more positive, nicer to be around.”
“I must admit I agree from the little I saw of him. He’s a real sheik! That man and the man you described to me after your first day there are poles apart! Still, I couldn’t believe it when you told me he wanted to go to the church picnic. You’ve made remarkable progress!”
“Yes.”
“So why so glum? You should be dancing for joy.”
Clemmie gave a wry grin. “I question his motives for his sudden change of heart. Instead of accepting it at face value and being happy, I wonder if it’s because of his old girlfriend. That’s what makes me horrible.”
Hannah put a hand to Clemmie’s shoulder, looking at her in the mirror. “It doesn’t make you horrible. It makes you human.”
“If only she were mean and nasty, I wouldn’t feel so bad.”
“But she’s not?”
“You tell me. You probably know her. Sheridan Wallace. Her mother is a friend of your mother’s.”
Hannah’s eyes went huge. “Sheridan is Joel’s old girlfriend?” A sympathetic frown creased her brow. “Oh, yes. I can see your problem. She’s tops. Very nice to everyone.”
“Great,” Clemmie said unenthusiastically. “You’re a fan, too.”
“Has Joel expressed … feelings for you?”
Clemmie hesitated. She couldn’t tell her young friend about the kisses; they were too special to share, even with Hannah. “Nothing untoward or meaningful.” On his part anyway.
“Oh good.” Hannah’s relief was evident. “Then I think you should just reflect on your reason for starting this whole endeavor. To help Joel learn to live again, which is exactly what you’re doing.”
Clemmie sighed. “You’re right. I need to stop being selfish and do whatever I can to support and encourage him. Thank you for reminding me what truly matters. You’re a real friend by keeping me in line. Don’t take this wrong, but sometimes you seem so mature for your age.”
“Mother would disagree. She doesn’t like the girls I’ve been keeping company with, before you came. She says they’re a bad influence and make me do childish things.”
As Clemmie fastened her hat to her head, lowering the netting that covered the upper portion of her face, she wondered why she hadn’t met them but didn’t ask. She had enough to ponder.
Half an hour later, when she arrived at Herbert’s, she found Joel in a pleasant mood, even offering cordial conversation to Hannah and her mother. Herbert had managed to get his car running, and he and his family followed in their Ford.
In church, Clemmie could feel Joel’s tension—his body strained from where it touched hers in the crowded pew. Whether he got anything out of the message on releasing one’s burdens to the Lord, she didn’t know, but she felt it appropriate for his situation. They didn’t spend time mingling afterward, instead driving straight to the picnic area.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he questioned almost sadly as they strolled, arm in arm, to a shady copse of trees. Today he’d brought his cane, but he still held fast to Clemmie’s arm. “I can feel the warmth of the sun and smell the grass and flowers and even the water.”
“You can smell water?” She knew his senses were sharpened but hadn’t realized water had a smell.
“It’s a cool, brisk scent. The grass is earthy but fresh. And the flowers …” He looked almost remorseful. “I wish I had paid more attention to the different kinds of wildflowers there are. I never cared much for them when I had my sight. They were all the same to me, except in color and shape of course. But a flower was a flower.”
“Just as a rose is a rose by any other name.”
An awkward silence ensued. Reminded of her duplicity, Clemmie hurried to add, “The ones we’re walking among now are white and yellow. Some sort of daisies, perhaps?”
“I know the scent of roses,” he answered her previous statement. “And lilacs. That’s your scent. Soft and fresh. Brisk but soothing …”
Clemmie held her breath. Just what was he saying? Or was she reading too much into his low words?
“Joel!”
The breathless moment was disrupted as a newly familiar voice called his name. Clemmie turned to watch Sheridan’s graceful approach. Even over uneven ground, she seemed to float.
“It’s so wonderful to see you! I wasn’t sure you were coming when we talked at the bazaar.”
“I have persuasive friends.”
“Oh?” Sheridan laughed and glanced at Clemmie. “Well, good for you! He can be so stubborn, can’t he? Sometimes it takes a bulldozer to move him.”
“Yes, he can be a cross between mule-headed and pigheaded.”
“I’m here, too, ya know.”
Clemmie smiled, ignoring his mock affront. “He’s always been like that. We go far back. We were both children at the Refuge. My parents ran the place.”
“Oh! So you must be little Clemmie!” Sheridan’s voice sounded pleased. “Joel told me all about you and growing up on the farm.”
“Yes,” she murmured, not thrilled to be referred to in such a manner.
“Clemmie and I have always been good friends.”
She felt as if a weight dropped to her shoulders. By Joel’s reply, of course Sheridan would understand they weren’t dating. And they weren’t, she reminded herself. So if he wanted to resume whatever relationship he had with the woman, Clemmie shouldn’t feel betrayed.
She reminded herself of that all through the luncheon. Clemmie could barely eat the thin slice of pork—the pig donated by a wealthy church member—or the brown beans as she fought despondency. Sheridan stayed close to Joel, and given the manner in which they reminisced of past occurrences, Clemmie felt like a third wheel.
When Sheridan offered to get Joel a slab of peach pie, something else Clemmie knew he enjoyed, she gritted her teeth at the smile he gave the pretty blond, wishing his effusive thanks could have been for her instead. Indeed, he seemed quite in his element, his old gregarious nature for which he’d been greatly admired back in full strength.
Stop it, Clemmie! You’re acting like a green-eyed witch, and you have no right. Just be happy he’s happy. It’s what you wanted.
Sheridan seemed not to notice Clemmie’s tart responses to her questions or the little glares that she immediately tried to curb, and Clemmie did her best to improve her disposition, knowing it wasn’t fair to either of them. But she couldn’t help wishing more than once that Sheridan were a vindictive shrew and not the pleasant young woman who shared their company.
It was with great relief that Clemmie realized the picnic was coming to an end, as members of the congregation stacked dirty dishes in crates. Soon the blessed moment arrived when they made their farewells.
“It’s been wonderful being with you today, Joel.” Sheridan put her hand to his arm.
“We really must do this again sometime. Do you still have my number?”
Clemmie wondered if her face had turned flame red due to the fire of jealousy building hotter inside.
“Not anymore, no.”
“I’ll give it to you.”
“Won’t do me much good. Can’t read it, you know.”
“Oh, but someone surely can read it to you if you ask. It would be better than me relying on that faulty memory of yours.”
He laughed, and she joined in. Only Clemmie remained sober.
Equipped with Sheridan’s number, which he’d stuffed inside his pocket, Joel walked with Clemmie to the waiting car. All through the drive back, Hannah happily chattered about a boy she’d met, but Clemmie wished for silence. Once the Rolls pulled into Herbert’s drive, Joel took her hand, surprising her.
“Come with me inside Herbert’s house. I have something I need to talk with you about.”
“Oh, but …” Clemmie glanced at Hannah’s mother, uncertain.
“We can send the chauffeur again,” the woman assured. “Just give us a ring.”
“Or Herbert could take her home, now that he has his car running,” Joel assured.
“Either way, you’ll have a ride.”
“All right.”
She said a quick good-bye, sensing Joel wanted to speak before Herbert and his family returned. He’d taken them out for an ice cream soda to top off the day, a rare treat judging by the manner in which the girls had jumped up and down, squealing, when they heard his plan.
Joel used his cane to find the door and opened it for Clemmie. She preceded him inside, wondering what he had to say. She followed him to the sofa and sank beside him.
“Tell me before I burst, Joel. You’re so mysterious….”
“I guess I got that lesson from you,” he teased.
“Joel …,” she warned.
“I’ve decided to have the operation.”