Chapter 14
Abby’s mom had been Marley’s inspiration since childhood. Independent, outspoken, and an artist, Doris had been ahead of her time. Sometimes Marley marveled at how different Abby was from her mother.
“Oh, I wasn’t always like this,” Doris told Marley as the two shared coffee the morning after Doris had returned from a trip to New Mexico. “I actually started out a bit like Abby—content to be a homemaker and mother. But I realized that wasn’t enough, and that’s when I began to paint.”
“Did you ever feel guilty about painting?” Marley asked a bit tentatively.
“Guilty?” Doris’s brow creased. “Whatever for?”
“Perhaps you thought you were stealing time from your family?” Marley remembered feeling like that when Ashton was young.
Doris laughed. “Well, my family—particularly Abby, since she was the baby and a bit spoiled—sometimes resented my art. But I think if they’d understood how much it improved the quality of my life, and hence the quality of theirs, they would’ve supported me wholeheartedly.” She leaned forward to peer at Marley. “Why are you asking me about that? Surely, you have no reason to feel guilty about your own work. Especially now that you’ve gotten that impressive Santa Barbara gallery interested in you.” She grinned. “That’s just the best news, Marley.”
“It was good news. But it’s ironic, because it feels like I’ve been unable to paint much of anything since then.”
“Do you think the idea of getting more recognition has intimidated you?
“I suppose that’s possible.”
“Sometimes I worry that I’d stop enjoying pursuing my art if someone raised the bar for me. But I like to paint for the fun of it.”
“I can understand that, but I don’t think that’s my problem.” Marley hadn’t told Doris about Hunter yet. And so she decided to spill that story—the short version anyway. “I want to help out,” she said finally. “Jack certainly needs it. But it’s as if I’ve gotten stuck. Even with others helping to watch Hunter for me, it’s as if I can’t really create anymore. I feel distracted and edgy and worried, and as a result I’m not painting.”
“That’s not good.” Doris got a thoughtful look. “Do you pray about it?”
“About what?”
“Your art.”
Marley considered this. “I don’t know. Not really, I guess. Not specifically anyway. I pray about a lot of other things though.”
“That’s good. But you should pray about your art, too, Marley. God gave you the gift to paint and create. It only makes sense that you should commit that gift to him. Don’t you think?”
“Probably so.” Marley nodded. “I’ll try to do that.”
“Now, tell me how Abby is doing. I haven’t talked to her since I got home yesterday, but she left me a couple of odd messages this past week. And she hasn’t returned my call. Is she really living at the inn?”
“Yeah, she is.” Then Marley told her about how Abby saw Paul and Bonnie together at the fitness club.
“Naturally, she jumped to the obvious conclusion.” Doris made a tsk-tsk sound.
“Naturally.”
“But the obvious conclusion isn’t always the right one.”
“Paul claims he’s innocent.” Marley still wasn’t convinced of this. Based on her own history, it seemed entirely plausible that Paul could be cheating on his wife. Still, she planned to keep her opinions to herself.
Doris shook her head. “Poor Abby.”
“Did you know she wants to cancel Christmas?”
Doris chuckled. “Well, my daughter always did think she was the center of the universe, but to cancel Christmas? That seems a bit much.”
“Well, you know how she wanted to have her girls stay at the inn and all that. Now she just wants to hide out and avoid everyone.”
“Why on earth should Abby hide out?” Doris demanded. “What did she do that was so bad?”
“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell her.” Marley told Doris about the slumber party. “At first we thought that perked her up. But by Sunday she was down again.”
Doris thrust her fist in the air. “This is just all wrong. I didn’t raise Abby to give up so easily. And I wonder if she’s forgotten that Nicole comes home from Europe this week.”
“Really? I haven’t heard Abby mention it.”
“Well, I guess it’s time for me to put on my mother hat and go over and pay that girl a little visit.”
Marley smiled. “Good for you.”
Doris wagged her finger at Marley. “I expect you to start praying about your painting. It’s a God-given gift, and you should be taking it seriously.”
“I plan on it.”
Doris’s countenance softened. “But I do understand you being distracted by Hunter. That must be very hard on everyone.”
“At first I was impressed with how well Hunter was holding up. But the last few days, she’s seemed a little depressed. Like the reality of what happened is sinking in—and that it’s possible her mom isn’t coming back.”
Doris sighed. “That’s so sad. Poor little thing.”
“Jack’s actually handling everything pretty well. I can tell he’s stressed out, but he still manages to be a very sweet grandpa as well as run his business fairly smoothly. Fortunately Jack hired someone else to help out part-time at the gallery, and Janie is helping him to file for custody of Hunter. I suppose we’re settling into something of a routine, although with having Hunter out of school, well, it’s a bit of a challenge. In fact, I promised to pick her up at the gallery at eleven. So I should probably get moving.”
“You do have your hands full.”
Marley went over and rinsed her coffee mug, placing it in Doris’s sink. “But there are worse problems, aren’t there?” She looked at Doris. “I mean, what if I was still stuck in Seattle? Living alone miserably. No Lindas. No Jack. No Doris next door. And no Hunter.” Marley smiled. “Really, I should be counting my blessings.”
“As should we all, dear. Maybe you could convey that little message to my daughter next time you see her.”
Marley hugged Doris. “Well, it’s sure good to have you back home. Tell Abby that Hunter and I will probably drop by the inn to say hi this afternoon.”
“If she’s still at the inn.” Doris reached for her jacket. “I plan on sending her home today.”
Marley chuckled. “Well, if anyone can do it, I suppose you can.”
“Don’t be too sure. Abby never listened to me before; I hardly think she’ll start listening now.”
As Marley drove to town, she wondered about that. Why was it always so hard for women of all ages to listen to their mothers? As a teen, Marley rebelled against everything her mother said. And yet Marley’s friends loved her mother, and her father, too. Marley’s friends always thought her laid-back parents were pretty hip and cool. Marley had thought them pretentious and somewhat negligent. Of course, she changed her way of thinking later. After she’d been married with a child of her own, she grew to appreciate her own parents a bit more. Although she didn’t agree with all they’d done, she knew they’d been trying, just as she tried with her own son. She made her own mistakes, like staying too long in a rotten marriage. But at least she and Ashton were still close. That was something.
Thinking about mothers and daughters simply made her think about the situation with Hunter and Jasmine again. As usual, the more she thought about it, the worse she felt. She was about to turn off the beach road and go toward town when she decided to stop. She parked in a beach-access lot, got out of the car, and walked over to look out over the ocean. The wind was picking up, and it was tempting to go back to the warmth of her car. But she felt like she needed to deal with this. She remembered what Doris had said about Marley’s art—that it was a gift. But what about Hunter? She was a living being and a small child. Wasn’t she a gift too? Before Marley could commit her art to God, she knew she had to commit Hunter.
“Dear God,” Marley started to pray, “I need help with this situation with Hunter. Every time I think about it I get so frustrated, so sad. I pray about it, but I don’t ever feel like it changes anything.” She zipped her jacket up higher, turning up her collar against the wind as her short hair whipped around.
“I know she’s not mine, but I feel like I’m carrying the weight of this child. So today, here and now, I commit Hunter to you, God. You created her. You know what’s best for her. I place her in your hands, God. Please, help her through this time. And please, show me what my role should be in this situation. I do love this little girl, but I realize that without you, I can’t do much for her.”
Then, almost like an afterthought, she committed her art to God as well. Really, painting seemed secondary to the life of a poor motherless child. She knew then that she would put her art aside indefinitely if that’s what it took to help Hunter through this. And, for the first time since Jasmine had left, Marley felt a sense of peace about everything. With a much lighter heart, she drove on into town and went into the One-Legged Seagull, ready to play a stronger and more vital role.
“Hey, Marley,” Jack said as she came into the gallery. “I was trying to call you, but I think your phone must be turned off.”
“Oh, yeah.” She nodded with realization. “I must’ve left it in the charger at home.” She glanced around the shop. “Where’s Hunter?”
“That’s what I was calling about. I found someone else to watch her.”
“Oh?” Marley wasn’t sure how to respond. She should’ve been relieved, but instead she felt somewhat let down.
“Words can’t express how much I appreciate how you’ve helped with her,” Jack said kindly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She waved her hand. “You know I enjoy being with her.”
Jack tipped his head toward the back room. “I’d like you to meet Sylvia,” he told her.
“The woman you hired last week?”
“Yes, it’s her first day. But she used to work in a framing shop, and she’s jumped right into a project.” He smiled. “I feel like I hit the jackpot.”
She chuckled. “Jack’s jackpot.”
Soon she was meeting a tall brunette woman who appeared to be in her forties. “I just moved to town last week,” Sylvia told Marley. “I feel so fortunate to have found a job so quickly.” She turned to smile at Jack. “And to work with such a great guy and doing something I love.”
“Sylvia’s daughter Leah is babysitting Hunter,” Jack explained. “It’s a perfect situation.”
“Leah graduated from high school in the spring,” Sylvia told Marley, “and she’s just not sure where or if she wants to go to college.” She sighed. “I think the divorce has really rocked her world. So having a babysitting job is perfect. And Leah is great with kids. She always has been.”
“Hunter was thrilled with the setup.” Jack smiled happily. “Sylvia dropped Leah at my house this morning, and I’ll bet you that Hunter’s still in her pajamas, eating her cereal and watching cartoons.” He laughed. “In other words, she’s in hog heaven.”
“That’s great,” Marley told him.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you,” he said, “to save you the trip.”
She waved her hand. “That’s okay. I actually grabbed a nice little moment at the beach on my way into town. And I need to get some groceries anyway.”
“Now you have no excuse not to get back to painting again.” Jack patted her on the shoulder. “You have no idea how much that troubled me.”
“You’re an artist?” Sylvia asked with arched brows.
“I was.”
“Don’t let her kid you,” Jack told Sylvia. “It took me a couple days to rearrange the blank wall after this big-time California dealer bought every piece she had.”
“Wow.” Sylvia nodded at Marley with a curious expression, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe that someone like Marley could produce worthwhile art. “Well, lucky you!”
Marley wanted to point out that she may have been lucky, but her success was also the result of a lot of hard work.
“I’m just hoping Marley won’t get the big head and refuse to consign her work with me anymore.” He gave her a wistful look.
“Oh, Jack.” Marley shook her head. “You know that won’t happen.”
“So go home,” he told her. “Back to work.”
She forced a smile. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.” She wanted to ask if he’d call her later, the way he usually did every evening to chat and catch up and exchange information about Hunter and how to best coordinate her care. Instead, she just went out and walked toward her car. As she drove to the grocery store, she felt a sad pang of emptiness inside her. She realized how much she’d looked forward to having Hunter with her today. After she’d said that beach prayer, she’d assumed that God was setting her up to play a more permanent role in Hunter’s life. Now she felt like she’d been removed from it. Not only that … but there was something about Sylvia that nettled her. The woman seemed nice enough, maybe too nice. Maybe Marley was simply being paranoid. Jack was right—she needed to get back to work!