Irene Brand - Listen to Your Heart

Micah had noted the rent rate posted on the door, and he said, “Exactly what I need. I’ve already finished my research on Kentucky’s houses and I want to make my headquarters at one location in Tennessee while I travel to the various homes I’m researching. I’ll move in now, if that’s all right.”

“Yes, that’s fine with me.” She turned on the air conditioner and showed him where extra towels and linens could be found. With her hand on the doorknob, Laurel looked directly into his eyes, the first time she’d had the courage to do so since she’d learned what a terrible mistake she’d made.

“I apologize for my behavior. I’ve always had a quick temper, and just when I think I have it under control, I act like a shrew. Oaklawn is more than I can handle physically and financially, but my daughter, Debbie, wants to be married here in August. I thought the place should be renovated for that, but the expense has been more than I’d expected. When I worry about my finances, I get irritable. I’m sorry.”

Realizing that she was boring this man with her personal problems, she turned away. He’d come to rent an apartment, and she’d not only bawled him out for something that wasn’t his fault, but now she was complaining about her financial affairs. She closed the door and left without another word.

Micah had seen the quick rush of tears that glazed Laurel’s emerald eyes, and his heart reacted strangely. At first he’d been amused at her caustic comments, but now he felt sorry for her. While he’d been researching other homes, he had met numerous widows who lived in houses that were burdensome, but homes they felt obliged to retain for their children.

While Micah carried his luggage into the apartment, he looked more closely at the large redbrick house, understanding Laurel’s frustration. Judging from other homes of this period, he figured the main structure contained eight rooms or more. If he was responsible for a house like Oaklawn, he’d be short-tempered, too.

Debbie had been away for ten days visiting her fiancé’s family in Colorado, but Laurel expected her home for dinner. Conscious of the fact that she’d only have her daughter for a few more months, Laurel prepared some of Debbie’s favorite foods for a homecoming dinner.

Laurel had just shaped a pan of rolls and set them aside to rise, when she heard Debbie’s voice on the back porch. “Hey, Mom. I’m home. Where are you?”

“In the kitchen.”

It had been this way since Debbie had started kindergarten—she always called for her mother as soon as she entered the house. Debbie swept into the kitchen and hugged Laurel. She picked up a carrot from the tray of vegetables Laurel was preparing.

Tears formed in Laurel’s eyes, and she looked away to keep Debbie from seeing. She liked Debbie’s boyfriend, Dereck, and she wanted them to get married, but it would have been so much easier if he’d gotten a job closer to Oaklawn.

“Missed you, Mom,” Debbie said, giving her mother a hug.

“Me, too. How was your trip?” Laurel asked around the knot in her throat.

“Great! Dereck’s grandparents live on a ranch, and we spent one day with them. I’d met his parents before, but it was neat to get better acquainted with them. Their home is a lot smaller than ours, and not nearly as old. Dereck and I looked around for apartments and found one we liked. It’s occupied now, but will be free by September. We paid a month’s rent for deposit. I took some pictures to show you where I’ll be living.”

Debbie perched on a high stool and nibbled on the carrot. While she elaborated on the good points of the town that would be her home, Laurel smothered a sigh, already missing her daughter. Debbie’s narrow, candid brown eyes mirrored her excitement, and Laurel wondered how she’d ever given birth to a child who was so different from herself.

Debbie had none of Laurel’s physical characteristics, and while she didn’t look like her father, she bore a marked resemblance to her paternal grandmother, whose youthful portrait hung over the mantel in the parlor. Debbie had a heart-shaped face, with a little nose, uptilted at the end. She wore her light brown hair in a layered bob with a sideswept bang. At five feet nine inches tall, she was a half foot taller than her petite mother. Debbie was even-tempered, a trait she hadn’t inherited from either of her parents, for Jason’s temper had matched Laurel’s own. Perhaps that was one reason they couldn’t get along.

“Anything new happening?” Debbie asked, halting Laurel’s musings.

“I rented our vacant apartment this afternoon, so that will help pay the bills. I didn’t expect to rent it until the fall classes started at the college.”

When she recalled her meeting with Micah, Laurel felt her face flushing, and she was aware that Debbie watched her intently. Her embarrassment was still too keen to talk about her blunder, and Laurel was relieved when Debbie assumed the wrong reason for her mother’s heated cheeks.

“Mom, we’re spending too much money on the wedding. I can cut back on several things.”

“No. You’ve always dreamed of a big wedding, and you should have what you want. I want the house to look nice for the wedding. Dereck’s parents are paying for the rehearsal dinner, and our church family is helping out with food for the reception. We’ve already paid for your dress, so there shouldn’t be a lot more expense. We’ll manage.”

“What’s the new renter like?”

“He has an interesting profession. He’s a photojournalist, and he’s doing a magazine article on antebellum homes in the area. He wants to feature Oaklawn.”

“Awesome! Maybe it’s a good thing you fixed up the old place. What’s his name?”

“Micah Davidson.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of him! He’s world-renowned. His work has been featured on the Discovery Channel and in the National Geographic.”

A world-renowned journalist and she’d treated him like an errant child! Remembering her faux pas, Laurel wondered what Micah must think of her.

“Will I have time to take my bags upstairs and unpack before supper?” Debbie asked.

“It will be almost an hour before the rolls are ready, so take your time.”

While she did a load of laundry and finished supper preparations, Laurel was aware of Micah’s movements as he unloaded his car. He left for a short time and came back with two bags from the grocery store. She supposed it would have been a neighborly gesture to invite him to eat with them, although Laurel didn’t normally socialize with her renters. But she hadn’t had a tenant so near her own age before.

After dinner Debbie went to a party, and since a wispy rainbow indicated a fair evening, Laurel sat on the gallery. The house faced west, and the favorite part of Laurel’s day was to sit in a large rocking chair, listening to the birds settling for the night and inhaling the fragrance of the flower gardens, while watching the sun set beyond the distant hills. The scent of roses was especially strong tonight.

Most times when she enjoyed the beauty of her surroundings, Laurel’s thoughts were pleasant, but not this evening. It was always this way when she lost her temper. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d sat here and asked God’s forgiveness for her anger. Every time she thought she’d conquered this weakness, she’d stumble again. She’d lost her temper so many times, it was amazing that she had any left.

God, she silently prayed, I know Your word teaches to be “slow to become angry,” but I did it again today. I don’t know why You don’t lose patience with me, because I’m disobedient so often. But, God, I don’t know what the future holds, and I’m afraid. Debbie will be leaving in a few months to live in another state, and I’ll be rattling around this old house alone. I have so much to be thankful for, so please forgive me for feeling sorry for myself. Since Jason’s parents left the property to me to maintain for Debbie, I feel obligated to stay here. I do love this old place. But sometimes it seems like an albatross around my neck.

As Debbie’s wedding date loomed closer, Laurel often experienced her rising fear of being alone. Her daughter had been her whole life for twenty-two years. She didn’t want Debbie to suspect her feelings because it would make her sad. But she was determined that Debbie wouldn’t realize what a void she was leaving. She would have to develop a new life. She needed to find a job to pay for the renovations, although she knew it would be difficult to venture out on her own after living a sheltered life.

After her husband, Jason, had disappeared in a boating accident, Laurel had dated a few times, but his parents were so opposed to it that she’d given up male companionship rather than live with conflict. Since Jason’s body had never been recovered, his parents wouldn’t admit that he was really dead, but Laurel had never doubted his death. Jason had been an irresponsible husband, but Laurel didn’t believe that he would have deliberately abandoned his family for twenty years. She had never considered remarrying when Debbie was growing up, but now that her daughter was leaving home, perhaps it was time for her to find a companion, someone to date and possibly marry down the line.

Gently, Laurel rocked back and forth, considering her options for a new lifestyle. Micah Davidson walked around the corner of the house with a check in his hand. He came briskly up the steps.

“Good evening, Mrs. Cooper. I’m pleased with the apartment. Here’s a month’s rent.”

Since the man didn’t seem to resent her crabby behavior, his presence didn’t embarrass Laurel now. She wondered momentarily how old he was. He must be in his late forties, for deep, calipered lines had formed around his generous mouth and streaks of gray frosted his dark hair.

“Won’t you sit down?” she invited. “There’s going to be a brilliant sunset soon.”

Micah took the rocking chair she indicated. “This is a peaceful place. Since you live a mile from the highway, you aren’t bothered with the sounds of traffic.”

“Sometimes it’s too peaceful, but I’ve lived here over half of my life, and I’ve gotten used to it. I came to Oaklawn as an eighteen-year-old bride, and I haven’t been out of Tennessee since my honeymoon.”

These weren’t pleasant memories, so she said, “Since you’re a photojournalist, you must travel a lot and have an interesting life. Tell me about some of your experiences.”

“I’ve spent the past year in the Amazon rain forest with a group of scientists.” He grinned in her direction. “That’s the reason today’s deluge in the backyard didn’t bother me. My clothes have been wet most of the time in recent months.”

“Mr. Davidson, please,” Laurel said, and she feared her face had turned as red as her hair. “I’d like to forget that.”

“Sorry,” he said contritely, though his face still gleamed with unspoken laughter. “I’ve written several articles about my experiences in the jungle, and the first one will be published in a few weeks. I’m a freelance journalist, so I pick and choose what I want to do. I’ve worked on most of the continents, and, yes, I have had an interesting life. But I’ll reach the half-century mark on the last day of June. I can’t keep up this pace forever, so it’s probably time to establish some roots.”

“Don’t you have any family?”

“I’ve never been married, but I have four siblings scattered here and there around the United States. Due to the nature of my work, I don’t keep in touch with them, except for an occasional postcard.”