Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(14)

James is still my son, and I can’t find it in my heart not to love the boy, but I surely am ashamed of the way he treated his family. If he loved that Joelle enough to be living with her, he ought to have loved her enough to marry her and introduce her to his family. I can’t begin to imagine the hardships the poor woman went through because of James. Married or not, if I’d have known about Joelle all those years ago I would have invited her to come live with us, no questions asked. And knowing the kind heart Big Jim had, I think he would have agreed. He might have been angry with James, but Jim wasn’t the type to take it out on others.

I’m going to keep right on calling Caroline. Sooner or later she’ll have to answer. When she does, I’ll tell her how sorry I am about what James did. I’ll say that wasn’t the way his daddy and I brought the boy up. Hopefully she’ll understand and be forgiving.

With me being right there on the telephone, I think she’ll at least give me the courtesy of listening. It’s a lot harder to hang up on a real person than on a machine.





The Telephone Call





Monday morning Greg Markey was in the foulest of moods, and it got worse when Caroline told him she was not going to work.

“I’ve a terrible headache,” she said, “and I’d be useless anyway.”

“I need you to write that article,” he replied. “I’ll take you to breakfast on the way; then you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t think so,” Caroline answered and looked away.

To allow Greg to reach out and pull her in again would be the undoing of her resolve. He had that power. His eyes made promises he had no intention of keeping, and the sweet words he spoke left a bitter aftertaste.

Were it possible, Caroline would have made a clean break, ripped herself free of him like the quick yank of a Band-Aid from tender skin. But after three years of being together their lives were braided in a tangle that could only be undone one strand at a time. Today she would start unwinding the strands.

As soon as Greg was gone, Caroline hurried to the corner newsstand and bought the Philadelphia Inquirer. Returning to the apartment, she poured a cup of coffee, sat at the table, and turned to the “Help Wanted” section. By nine-thirty she had circled three ads that looked promising.

The first listing was for a marketing manager in a sporting goods store. It wasn’t something Caroline had experience in, but she felt she could do the job. Unfortunately, the store manager had other thoughts.

“I won’t even consider someone without at least three years of sporting goods experience,” he said.

Caroline moved on to the second listing, copywriter at the Palmer Ad Agency. A young woman answered, and Caroline quickly launched into an overview of her qualifications.

“Wow,” the girl said, “you sound perfect for the job.”

“Would you like me to come in for an interview?” Caroline replied.

“Oh, I’m not the one doing the hiring, that’s Mister Sorenson. He’s out right now. I could have him give you a call when he gets back.”

“That would be great,” Caroline said, then rattled off her telephone number.

On the third listing there was no company name, just a job description and telephone number. A machine answered. “If you are calling in reference to the editorial position, please leave your name and telephone number. We will get back to you.”

“Good morning,” Caroline said to the recording. “My name is Caroline Sweetwater, and I’ve had more than four years’ experience writing for—” A shrill beep interrupted her words and signaled the end of the message. She redialed the number and hurriedly left her name and telephone number.

Shortly after ten the telephone sounded, and Caroline grabbed it on the first ring. Using a tone she hoped would sound professional, she said, “Caroline Sweetwater here.”

There was a moment of silence; then Ida gave a deep sigh. “Caroline Sweetwater,” she drawled. “Lord have mercy, I never dreamed—”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You’ve got nothing to be pardoned for,” Ida said. “It’s your daddy’s doing. I don’t hold you one bit responsible, not one bit.”

“Responsible for what?” Caroline asked. “Who is this?’

Ida chuckled. “I’m your grandma.”

Caroline gasped. “My what?”

“Your grandma,” Ida said. “Your daddy’s mama.”

“You must be mistaken,” Caroline replied tersely. “I don’t know that my daddy had family. Anyway, I haven’t seen or heard from him in almost twenty-five years.”

“I know,” Ida said sadly. “I haven’t heard from him for over thirty.” She continued with the story of how James left home and after a few postcards that first year they hadn’t heard from him again.

“That sounds like Daddy,” Caroline replied. The disdain in her voice was obvious.

“You’ve got every right to be angry with him,” Ida replied. “I’m angry with him myself. If I had James here I’d sure—”

“Well, if you’re expecting me to tell you where Daddy is, I can’t help you.”

“Oh no,” Ida said. “That’s not why I’m calling.”