The Calendar of New Beginnings (2 page)

“Ah, Luce,” he whispered so only she could hear. “I’ve missed you so, little one.”

For a big man, he’d always been gentle. Sure, he could yell like a warrior or throw a ruffian out of his bar, but he was never like that with her.

“I missed you too, Daddy,” she said, smelling the hops and barley he always carried on his skin from all the beers he pulled.

“Let me look at you,” he said, pushing her back until she stood an arm’s length from him.

Studying her probably wasn’t a good idea. She wasn’t back to one hundred percent yet, and she didn’t want him to have an inkling anything was wrong. Not that there were any visible signs of what had happened to her, especially with her eye.

Maybe it was selfish, but she didn’t want to feel the weight of their worry. Besides, if her mom knew, she’d only double her efforts to talk Lucy out of going overseas again. She didn’t need her mother exerting that kind of pressure on her when she was this vulnerable.

Her dad’s eyes narrowed, like he saw something that concerned him, so she poked him in the stomach to divert him.

“Hey! Can’t a girl get a beer around here?” she asked, going for his Achilles. “I haven’t had a decent pour since I was home last.”
 

She caught sight of the spread on the dining room table. There was a honey-glazed ham, fresh bread, a fruit and cheese tray, and big green salad in a wooden bowl. Her stomach growled, but while she was hungry enough to eat a bear, there was no way she was choosing food just now. Not when so many people had come here to see her.

The corner of his mouth tipped up, but he didn’t take his shrewd eyes off her. “I’ll get you a Murphy’s right away, kiddo,” he said finally, giving her a wink. “Okay, who’s next in line?”

“I am,” she heard a familiar voice say.

Turning, she felt a smile bloom on her face. Andy Hale, her best friend since kindergarten, was smiling back at her. Together they’d learned how to color inside the lines, climb trees, and ride bikes. They’d stayed close despite how much time she’d spent away.

“Andy Cakes!” she cried, using his nickname, and then they were moving toward each other.

He hugged her tight. “You would ruin a perfectly good homecoming by calling me that.”

She knew he didn’t mean it. Everyone who truly loved him still called him by his nickname sometimes.

“How could you let my parents throw me a surprise party?” she whispered so only he could hear. “I’m still jet-lagged.”

“Like I would say anything,” he whispered back. “Everyone knows you don’t mess with Ellen O’Brien.”

“True that,” she said, letting him go and taking a moment to simply stare at him.

He’d been taller than her since the seventh grade, but not tall enough that she had to crane her neck. That had changed junior year, when he’d sprouted up to six-three. He looked incredible, she had to admit. His short, dark brown hair framed an expressive face anchored by a strong jaw and brow bones. When he wasn’t smiling, those angles probably looked harsh to some, but to her, they’d always described the contrast that was Andy Hale. He was as incredibly strong as he was sweet. Always had been.

When they were in high school, she’d felt occasional flashes of attraction to him, but she’d wanted out of Dare Valley too much to let anything interrupt her focus. They’d stayed friends and only friends, and she was grateful she hadn’t risked one of the most important relationships in her life.

Lucy had gone off to attend the prestigious School of Visual Arts in New York City, and Andy had gone off to the University of Colorado before finishing his medical degree at their famous School of Medicine in Boulder. He’d met his wife, Kim, through his sister, Natalie, gotten married and had a kid—everything everyone had expected Dr. Andy Hale to do. Then the story had suddenly and heart-wrenchingly changed. Kim had gotten breast cancer and died two years ago, leaving him to raise their son alone.

Few could understand such a tragedy, let alone process it and move forward, and Andy had floundered for a time. Leaving his pressure-ridden job at a leading Denver hospital and returning home to work at the local Dare Valley General had been a good move for him. She was happy to see him looking more relaxed and less grief-stricken than when she’d seen him last.

A brown-haired boy in a yellow shirt and navy shorts ran forward and wrapped his arms around Andy’s legs.
 

Of course, her color vision wasn’t back to normal yet either, so perhaps those navy shorts were really black. She had a hard time distinguishing between similar shades. If the problem stuck, she feared it would hurt her ability to capture important elements like color contrast in her photographs.

Danny Hale had inherited his father’s eyes, but his extra-serious gaze was rare for a five-year-old. Having met plenty of other children who had lost their parents young, she understood how tragedy matured a child.
 

“Danny, do you remember Ms. O’Brien?” Andy asked his son, cupping the back of the little boy’s neck in tenderness. “She’s the one who takes photos all over the world and sent you the ones of the animals we’ve only seen in the Denver Zoo.”

Not all of her photos were of war and starving children. Sometimes she liked to capture nature’s beauty, and she’d thought a little boy who’d lost his mother might like to experience some of life’s wonders. It had been her way of helping Andy, whose own devastation over losing Kim was heightened by his son’s grief.

“I remember her, Dad,” Danny said, climbing around his father’s leg like a monkey. “She’s the one who took a picture of the baby camel by my bed. Hi, Ms. O’Brien. That’s so weird since I call a lady Mrs. O’Brien already.”

She shuddered as he pointed to her mom. “Hi, Danny. How about you call me
Miss
Lucy instead? Less confusing that way. You can keep calling my mom Mrs. O’Brien.”

“I like your mom,” the little boy said, glancing over to where her mother was talking with his grandma and the Hale girls in the dining room. “She’s my grandma’s best friend. They take me all over town when Dad needs a break.”

Andy rolled his eyes.

“Especially for ice cream,” Danny said in the high cadence of a little boy. “I like chocolate chip cookie dough. What’s your favorite?”

“Mocha almond fudge,” Andy replied for her. “She always shared her ice cream with me, and I shared mine with hers.”

Memories of them swapping half-eaten ice cream cones filled her mind. Good days. Carefree days. It had been a long time ago. “Butter pecan.”

The corners of his eyes deepened as his smile spread. “We’re both a couple of nuts. We’ll have to take Miss Lucy for ice cream soon. She doesn’t get much when she’s overseas.”

No, she didn’t. In some countries, she had to bring her own food, not knowing if there would be a shortage or if the local food would be safe.

“Cool!” Danny said, jumping in the air. “I like Mr. O’Brien too. He gives me free soda at Hairy’s.”

She could only imagine what Andy thought of that, being a health-conscious doctor and all. “Soda and ice cream are the best,” Lucy said, “but my favorite treats are cinnamon rolls.”

“From Margie?” Danny asked, letting go of his dad’s leg and closing the gap between them. “She makes the best ones since Mrs. Kemstead re… Dad, what did Mrs. Kemstead do?”

“Retired,” Andy easily answered.

“Right. Did you know my mom?”

Lucy shot a quick glance at Andy, struggling to hide her surprise at the abrupt question. She’d met Danny a few times since his birth, but it made sense that he wouldn’t remember her relationship with his mother.
 

“Yes, I did,” she said, crouching down until she was eye level with the boy. “She was a really nice lady, and she loved you a lot.”
 

She’d spoken to countless children who’d lost loved ones, but it felt jarring to do it in Dare Valley. This was her safe place. Nothing was supposed to go wrong here.

Danny pointed to the ceiling. “She’s in heaven now,” he told her with an earnest shake of his head. “She’s an angel and looks after everyone in Dare Valley. But especially me and Dad.”

Her chest squeezed. Andy had a heart of gold for telling his son that. “Dare Valley is lucky to have her on their side.”

“Yep,” he said and then looked back at his dad. “Can Miss Lucy come over and show me her new animal photos sometime?”

“If she has any new ones,” Andy said. She looked up to see him studying her with the same intense scrutiny she’d noticed in her father’s gaze. “It seems like she’s been really busy the past few weeks.”

She took her time studying him right back, refusing to be intimidated. Little did he know she’d been convalescing, first in a South African hospital and then in a hotel room near her doctors’ offices, waiting to be given travel approval to return home.

“You tell me what day works, and we’ll make it happen,” she told Danny, rising carefully to her full height, being mindful of the lingering soreness in her back.

“You can come anytime,” Andy said. “Danny, how about we find you a healthy snack? Lots of other people are waiting patiently to talk to Miss Lucy, so we shouldn’t monopolize her time.”

“You’re not monopolizing me,” Lucy quickly answered. “I’ve…been looking forward to seeing you.” She’d wanted to tell him everything, but to what purpose? He’d only worry, and besides, he’d had a recent scare with his mother’s health. The last thing she wanted to do was add more to his plate.

“They
are
monopolizing you,” a gravely voice said behind her. “But that’s a doctor for you. Always making you wait, even if you’re lying on death’s doorstep.”

She turned around as Arthur Hale tapped his cane on the dark hardwood floor to garner her attention. “Hello, Mr. Hale.”

“I keep telling you not to call me that, girl. Aren’t you nearing forty now? High time to give in and call me Arthur. You’d better, or I may bean you with my cane.”

“Okay,” she said, laughing. “You’ve convinced me.”

“Come over here, Lucy, and give an old man a hug,” he said, thrusting his cane to his very pregnant granddaughter.

“Hi, Meredith,” Lucy said, watching as the woman handed the cane to her husband. “Hello, Tanner. It’s been a while.”

Of course, she’d met the warzone correspondent in a few hotspots. Expatriate communities were smaller than a small town like Dare Valley in some ways.

“Good to see you too, Lucy,” Tanner said. “I’m going to be sneaking into one of your classes this fall when I’m not teaching myself. I have a feeling I could learn a thing or two.”

“Didn’t I tell you teaching was a fine idea, Lucy?” Arthur said, ambling forward and hugging her briefly. “Tanner here loves it.”

The former correspondent nodded like he still couldn’t believe it. “Who knew?”

“I’m glad I could arrange it with the Dean of Journalism last minute after you called me,” Arthur continued. “You young people never plan anything anymore.”

Lucy hadn’t been in much of a position to plan anything. But she was also not very good at sitting still. She’d made a call to Arthur, the one person who could make miracles happen at the last minute, as soon as she realized her right eye needed more time to heal. Though she wasn’t eager to start teaching, at least she’d be doing something related to her profession.

“Didn’t you just tell me I’m nearing forty?” she asked. “I can’t be young
and
old at the same time.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “You’re still younger than I am, my dear, and that will never change. All that matters is that you’re finally teaching here after all the years I’ve been asking you. We need more professors who can show these green-behind-the-ears journalists about the proper use of photos to tell a story. No one’s better at that than you are, Lucy.”

“Amen,” Tanner said, and she was humbled by their respect.

“Your last photo on the cover of
Time
magazine of the young Congolese girl dragging an AK-47 up that dusty road to the peacekeepers in exchange for a chicken pretty much did me in,” Arthur said. “I might have gotten misty-eyed.”

“Me too!” a woman behind her suddenly exclaimed. Lucy turned around to see Moira Hale standing a few yards away. “Sorry, I was eavesdropping,” Moira said with a shrug. “I’m a big fan of your work.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving Andy’s sister a warm smile.

“Hard not to be a fan,” Arthur said, tapping her to regain her attention. “Tell us how that photo came about.”

“Well…” she began, remembering the moment she’d seen the little girl approaching the battalion of UN peacekeepers.
 

Dressed in what amounted to dirty rags, her bones protruding from her skin, the child had looked to be all of seven. Though Lucy hadn’t immediately understood what the little girl wanted, she’d pulled her camera out on instinct.
 

The girl had spoken in hesitant French, a language Lucy spoke fluently, asking if the peacekeepers would trade her the gun she’d found for a chicken so she and her younger siblings could eat. Their parents were dead, killed by the warring forces destroying the eastern part of the country, and she was responsible for her remaining family. They hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks.

The commander had sent for a chicken from their compound. Not all of the peacekeepers helped the unfortunate like that. There were simply too many of them. But the girl’s request for a weapon-for-food trade had sparked an idea in the commander’s mind. Everyone wanted to rid the Congo of the barrage of weapons destroying the country, so perhaps a gun-for-food exchange was the place to start.