Page 52 of The Calendar of New Beginnings (Dare Valley #9)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A fter a sleepless night, Lucy decided to pay a visit to the man who would understand her the best: Arthur Hale. So, after drinking her morning coffee, she drove to the office of the newspaper that had helped steer her course.
Main Street was bustling with pedestrians enjoying the warm fall day as she walked to The Western Independent, mulling over her conundrum all the while.
She knew that Andy loved her —she really did.
But while he said he understood her, she still didn’t believe he fully comprehended how integral being an international photojournalist was to her sense of self.
His talk of marriage had been so unexpected, and it had…well, she’d pretty much freaked out. How had conservative Andy Hale, who’d always approached relationships so carefully all his life, thrown this curveball at her?
It was like an alien had taken over his body, except she knew he never said anything he didn’t mean. And then there was their mind-blowing lovemaking the other night. That meant something, right ?
She schooled her features as she pushed open the front door to the office.
A few of the locals who’d worked for Arthur all their lives called out greetings as she made her way across the floor.
Everywhere she looked, employees were chatting and talking up the current headlines over coffee, talking with sources on the phone, or hunkered down at the small tables situated in the corners, discussing story ideas.
By the time she passed Meredith and Tanner’s offices—which were empty—on her way to Arthur’s, she felt calmer.
In many ways it felt like her adult life had started here. Within these walls, she’d been exposed to a world beyond Dare Valley, one that was at once complex and flawed, dangerous and exciting. This place had been her salvation, and Arthur her teacher.
When she stopped in his doorway, he was already looking down his nose at her over his glasses. She couldn’t help but grin.
“About time you came to visit this old man,” he huffed out, standing up. “If I didn’t know you’d been busy with my great-nephew, I would have taken it personally. Now, come and give me a kiss.”
To pull his chain, she said, “You never asked me to kiss you when I interned here.”
He barked out a laugh. “Good God, no. Who do you think I am? Some sleazy politician?”
She made her way over to him and kissed his weathered cheek. “Not in a million years. Mind if I close the door?”
He arched a brow. “I like when people ask me that. Means they have something good to tell me. Is it a story?”
Sadly, she shook her head. He huffed some more.
“Then it’s personal problems,” he said, sitting back in his squeaky old chair. “Go ahead and close the door, but I swear, I should start charging you young people money for all the advice I dish out.”
She settled into the same scuffed-up wooden chair that had graced the front of his desk since she was a teenager. Probably earlier even. “Any of it good?” she asked.
He gave her a look. “Still got that sassy mouth on you, I’m glad to hear. When you came home, I thought you might have lost it. You looked pretty done in. Are you going to finally tell me what brought you back to Dare Valley? Tanner said it was your story to tell despite my inducements.”
Nodding, she put her hands to her thighs. “I thought I might lead with that and then tell you about my problem.”
Waving his hand, he said, “Then get on with it. Who knows how many hours I have left in this world?”
That eased the pressure in her diaphragm, and so she launched into the story about the attack on the village she’d been in, taking him through the events and the subsequent outcome. His face didn’t give a thing away, not even when she shared the details about the condition of her right eye.
“Well,” she finally burst out. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He rubbed his cheek. “Journalism isn’t without its risks, especially in the places you visit. Do you regret going?”
“To the village?” She shrugged. “Sometimes, but I know it could have happened anywhere.”
“Correct,” he said in his tough-as-nails tone.
“Wrong time, wrong place. It sucks, as you young people say, but that’s one of the realities of reporting in high-risk areas.
Someone has to do it. You decided it would be you, and for that, me and a whole bunch of other people out there are grateful. Here’s another question for you. ”
It touched her to hear him thank her for putting her life on the line to report world events. Not too many people did that. “Shoot.”
“Could you have done anything differently that day in the village besides being there?” he asked, putting his elbows on the desk.
She’d thought it through plenty of times. Who didn’t wonder if an event could have been prevented? “No, there was nothing.”
“All right,” he said, sitting back again. “So, you have vision problems, and you’re a photographer. Double whammy.”
Her throat was growing tight. “Double whammy.”
“The big question is: do you want to keep taking photographs of world events and writing stories about them?”
She released a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Even if you get hurt again?” he asked, his eyes zeroing in on her face.
It took courage to admit how she really felt. “I’m still scared of going back out there. And it’s not just because I fear I won’t be able to take the same kind of photos again. I don’t want to get hurt again or hurt worse.”
He tapped his desk emphatically. “That sounds pretty smart to me. Only a moron wanders into a war zone and says he’s not afraid. I told you when you went off on your first assignment that fear is only fear. It only has the power you give it.”
Right now, she felt like she was battling every shadow inside her while Andy seemed to have finally conquered his. “That’s a good transition to my other problem.”
She looked down at her hands, feeling suddenly awkward. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never imagined asking her mentor advice about relationships.
“I can already tell your problem concerns my great-nephew,” Arthur said in his gravelly voice. “Best spit it out. I’m aging here.”
That made her look up. A short smile tugged at her lips. “It might be a little embarrassing.”
His head darted back. “If this is about sex, you can forget it. I might dispense some common sense advice to you young people since you don’t seem to have a lick of it, but I am not a sex therapist. For the love of Pete!”
Now she was blushing. “It’s not about sex. It’s about…”
“Yes? Yes?” he prodded, leaning over his desk.
“Andy wants me to consider having a future with him,” she said, clutching her hands. “Here in Dare Valley.”
“Mmmm,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “Interesting. I have to admit I’m impressed.”
Now she was confused. “Impressed? I’m not following you.”
“I lost my wife after spending fifty-some years with her, and it crushed me.” He tapped a finger to the picture of Harriet he kept on his desk. “I’ve always wondered what I would have done if she’d been taken from me as young as Kim was taken from our dear Andy.”
Everything inside Lucy seemed to still, and she leaned forward to listen.
“I’ve always said a real man realizes the importance of marriage and family,” Arthur said, looking back at her.
“Seems Andy has found a way to do so twice in his young life, and that takes more courage than most people possess. And let’s face it…
after losing one woman, it takes big balls to want to forge a life with another whose career could kill her. That impresses the hell out of me. ”
Shell-shocked, she sat back in her chair. She’d been so focused on her own feelings, she hadn’t stopped to think how much courage it must have taken for Andy to visualize a future with her. He’d told her he wasn’t afraid anymore, but she hadn’t completely gotten it until now.
How many times had he told her he’d struggled with the idea of dating again, let alone remarrying, before Lucy’s return to Dare Valley? Her heart felt constricted in her chest, like it was tugging at bonds of her own making.
“I’m ashamed I freaked out on him, but I’m also confused about what to do. Andy told me my vision shouldn’t factor into my decision about our future.”
“He’s completely right,” Arthur said, pounding his desk emphatically. “You either love him or you don’t. You either want to be with him forever or you don’t. As I told Meredith when she first met Tanner, life is short. Don’t dick around.”
She blinked at his language, but then extended her hands in exasperation. “But this is Andy we’re talking about. He says we’d find a way to make my career work if we had a family, but?—”
“You don’t believe him,” Arthur said. “Ah…I see the problem now.”
“He’s the settle-down, two-car-garage kind of guy. Heck, I’ve never even had a garage.”
“Do you want to have kids, Lucy?” he asked.
Every time she’d held a child against her breast—be it in an orphanage or a stifling-hot village hut, she’d hoped to have one of her own someday. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Arthur cleared his throat and reached for a water glass on his desk. “All this talk is making me thirsty.”
Lucy knew he was only giving himself more time to think, so she gave it to him, all the while fighting the urge to bounce her leg in agitation. Talking about marriage and having kids was raising all sorts of emotions inside her.
“When it comes down to it, Lucy, love is a choice. Sure, there’s that warm feeling you get from being around someone you fancy, but it takes more than that for two people to build a happy life together.
You have to be willing to hang in there with the person you choose and do your best to support them and let them support you.
Andy has already proven he could support one partner. ”
“She didn’t want to travel the globe,” she said, thinking of Kim.