She sounded so sure, so self-confident. He hesitated, and she closed in for the kill. “Ask yourself what Pamela would want you to do.”
Seth squeezed his eyes closed. Pamela. This sacrifice had been for her—in her honor, a tribute to what they’d shared. It was a way of forever remembering his wife. A way of hanging on to his fears.
The moment the words went through his mind, Seth recognized the truth of them. His vow over Pamela’s grave had been a convenient excuse to offer Reba. The truth was that he was afraid: only a fool would step in and play the piano for the Christmas pageant at this late date.
“Or someone with little to lose and lots to gain,” the older woman said, cutting into his thoughts.
Seth looked at Mrs. Merkle. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t say anything,” she said, and pushed the vacuum into the next room.
“I thought—”
“Are you going to help Reba or not?” she demanded impatiently. She planted one hand against her ample hip and glared at him.
“I…don’t know.”
“Well, you’d better decide soon. You don’t have all day, you know.” Having had her say, she disappeared. At last Seth had the peace and quiet he’d asked for, but it didn’t help. He was more agitated now than he’d been with Emily waving a feather duster under his nose.
Dammit all! There was no help for it. Pamela would have been the first person to encourage him to step in and help, for the children’s sake, if for no other reason. He wasn’t happy about it, but he was also aware there would be no rest for him until he agreed.
The decision made, he decided to phone Reba. Few things could have surprised him more than to find she wasn’t at home. He waited until the answering machine clicked in and then said with a complete lack of graciousness, “All right, you win. I’ll do it. Get the sheet music to me as soon as you can.”
Seth’s accusations burned like branding irons in her mind as Reba sat in her car outside her sister’s home. She’d never spoken to her sister about what happened that fateful night. She certainly hadn’t given either John or her sister an opportunity to explain. It wasn’t in her to listen to their excuses, their justifications. The minute she’d found her sister with John, she’d blocked out all feelings for both of them.
Or so she wanted to believe.
Then she’d run into her sister at the toy store. What Seth had said was true: they were both in anguish, both hurting, both miserable. It was seeing Ellen for the first time—the niece she’d never held, never laughed with or cuddled—that had done it. For so many years Reba had begrudged Vicki happiness, at the cost of her own. Then she’d found Seth…a miracle, a gift from God. And now, once again, for the sake of perpetuating her resentment toward her sister, she was about to throw away everything she yearned for.
Perhaps what Seth had said was true about the real reasons she’d agreed to marry John. Reba didn’t want to examine his accusations too closely. Assigning blame was far too tiring. She was through with it.
It demanded a great deal of courage to walk up to the front door and ring the bell. An eternity passed before the porch light went on and the door opened. Doug stood on the other side.
“Reba?” He held open the screen door for her.
“I’d like to talk to Vicki,” she explained.
Her brother-in-law hesitated, as if he weren’t sure he could trust her. “Is there a problem with your parents?”
She liked Doug and the way he acted to protect Vicki. “No. The problem’s between my sister and me. I need to talk to her.”
“Doug, who is it?”
He glanced over his shoulder, waited a moment, and then announced, “Your sister.”
Vicki appeared from the hallway almost immediately. Ellen rode her hip, dressed in Minnie Mouse pajamas, her wet hair combed back, her eyes filled with simple joy and laughter.
It looked as though Doug were ready to stand guard over his wife and daughter, protect them both from her, if necessary.
“Reba.” Vicki’s round, dark eyes revealed her surprise. “Could you give us a few minutes alone?” she requested of her husband. She handed him the child and walked quietly into the living room.
Reba followed. Now that she was here, now that she’d crossed the bridge and was facing the woman she’d actively resented for four long years, she found all she could do was weep. The years of keeping her anger alive, of feeding her resentment and pain, left her feeling as though she were drowning in emotion. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her face, despite her almost frantic efforts to keep them at bay. Her throat felt raw. She’d wasted so much time feeding her pain, when the person she’d hurt the most had been herself.