Chapter 5
Standing in the window of his apartment that evening, Malcolm studied the square below.
He loved its cozy, small town feel. The town hall stood at one end, large and imposing.
Trails converged in the center, offering comfortable benches.
The old-fashioned fountain would be a big hit in the .
Off to one side stood the gazebo, another historical point.
Bands played at the gazebo in the summer and he hoped that they would have a sing-along on Christmas Eve again.
During the Christmas season the nativity scene would be set up close by.
Personal. Everything in Sweetwater Creek seemed personal.
The gazebo was a gathering place. A place where you stood a good chance of knowing most of the people. He liked that. Some of Josie's friends had gotten married there. He remembered Emily’s wedding especially, with white chairs arranged around it and a bunch of pretty flowers.
Bryn had gotten married while he was gone.
She was so sweet with her baby boy and he looked forward to meeting her husband.
From what Josie had told him, Bryn’s husband was some kind of scientist. That made sense.
Malcolm and Bryn hadn't made sense and he was glad that they’d both realized that.
He liked the fact that he could still be Bryn’s friend.
This was why he’d come back. Because he missed the town.
Missed the simple, quiet certainty of living here.
New York was a busy place with a lot of noise.
While he was living in his mother’s apartment and going out to appointments, his head had ached by the end of the day.
The bumper-to-bumper traffic, the people who rushed past without making eye contact––everything gave the feeling that all anyone here cared about was getting someplace else.
The constant noise and movement exhausted him.
Even his morning jogs had not provided relief.
Not even the tempting smells of the early morning cafés could cut through the pollution from all the cars.
His lungs had tightened in protest. Jogging in the had been impossible.
He’d looked forward to coming back to the running and hiking trails in the States.
But not in the big cities. He'd been so relieved to find a woman from his high school who seemed to share his need to have a simple life.
He couldn't wait to have Darcy come to Sweetwater Creek.
Returning here had been a given for Malcolm.
Of course his mother hadn't agreed. “But why are you going back to Sweetwater Creek, that little town?” his mother had asked when he’d shared his plans with her.
“Because I love it. Because that's where Darcy and I are going to live.”
“Does she know that?” His mother had looked shocked.
Living in a small town was something she would never have considered.
She’d glanced over at him as they sat in the solarium that day, designer glasses perched on her aristocratic nose.
He loved his mother and accepted her foibles, although sometimes it took effort.
Malcolm had learned patience from his father, who had always called Mom his “uptown girl.”
But Malcolm had limits. And after learning the simple ways of survival in the jungle, he’d come back looking for similar simplicity.
“She's open to it.” Malcolm knew that once Darcy saw the small town and experienced it, she'd love Sweetwater Creek just the way he did. She was a levelheaded girl, always had been that way in high school.
But his mother didn't agree. “For heaven’s sake, Malcolm, she went to Vassar. Her parents have that place in the Hamptons. A small town hardly seems to be something Darcy Hightower would consider.”
They’d had this discussion before. None of this was new or surprising.
They often didn't agree. When he’d told his mother of his plans to go into the Peace Corps, she’d thrown a fit.
Although Aurelia Sutter spent quite a bit of time at meetings for fundraisers, she’d never packed boxes at the food bank.
But when it came time to donate to that cause, she was very generous. He would give her that.
Of course she wished him well when he’d left for his post in the .
She’d hugged him so hard and it wasn't until later that he realized his mother had been crying.
Oh he knew that she didn't approve. He also knew that she would pray for him while he was gone.
After all he was an only child, and his dad had been gone a long time.
When Malcolm had returned in bad shape, his mother had been visibly relieved but very concerned.
A woman of action, she had put him in touch with the doctors he needed to see.
But he didn't miss the comments his mother made under her breath about him catching some terrible disease in the jungle. He hated to worry her. So he hadn’t shared any of the details about his medical appointments.
Time would take care of everything. Soon he hoped that, in the right environment, he would be back to his old self. Well, almost his old self.
He was here now in this peaceful place. The simple Christmas decorations of the square soothed him.
Soon the town would have a living creche set up in the square.
People from the church would volunteer to be Mary and Joseph in the evenings.
The baby Jesus would arrive on Christmas morning.
The women would see to that. They probably had at least three new mothers on a waiting list to wrap their infant in “swaddling clothes.” During any viewings, the mother would of course stay close by.
The infant provided a beautifully authentic touch to the iconic scene.
Malcolm had come home. And that feeling of comfortable familiarity waited for him when he’d entered the library.
Books had been the foundation of his life and so was helping the less fortunate.
When technology became a part of library services, he was immediately interested.
And now the other activity he was involved in was doing well.
Malcolm had developed an app that would bring people in need in touch with those who could make their lives better.
Right now, it was still in development but several philanthropists were interested.
He liked helping people. When Victoria had mentioned the Open Hearth, he saw it as another opportunity to make a small difference.
His time in the Peace Corps had made it clear that many people had a tough life. They didn't have access to all the things that had made his own life almost laughably easy. The healthcare available in New York was a far cry from the medicinal herbal healing that he’d found in the .
Looking around his modest living room, he chuckled.
The furnishings that Victoria had left behind were so feminine, from the overdone purple velvet sofa to the gilded French provincial coffee and end tables.
But in time he would change all that. Maybe he should leave those decisions until Darcy arrived.
She might enjoy going to yard sales to pick up things.
They hadn't talked about furniture yet. Maybe they weren't at that point. Well, there was time for that.
Christmas was coming, and his mother had mentioned giving Darcy his grandmother’s engagement ring. Why was he hesitating? Probably because the family heirloom with its retro setting might not be Darcy's choice.
Was that the only reason? He had plenty of time, didn’t he?