Not Until Forever (Hope Springs Book 1)

by Valerie M. Bodden

  “I’m fine, Nana,” she finally said.

  Nana gave her a hard look. “Good. But just in case you need a reminder, I want you to have this.” She slid the amethyst ring from her left hand and held it out to Sophie.

  But Sophie shook her head and lifted her hands, as if fending it off. “No, Nana. I couldn’t.” That ring was as much a part of Nana as her hair or her voice. Sophie couldn’t remember ever seeing her without it.

  Nana thrust the ring closer. “I’m not going to need this where I’m going. It’d make me happy to know you had it.”

  Sophie’s hands fell. How could she resist that? She reluctantly slid the ring onto her finger. The stone seemed to pull in and give off light at the same time.

  “Did I ever tell you about that ring?” Nana closed her eyes and shifted against her pillow, letting out a soft moan.

  “Can I get you anything?” Sophie’s heart twisted to see Nana suffering. She picked up the morphine button and held it out, but Nana waved it off.

  “It was from your grandfather. The ring.”

  Sophie held her breath. Her grandfather had died long before she was born, and Nana almost never spoke about him.

  “He didn’t have money for a wedding ring when we were first married, but he bought that for me a few years later. He called it a forever ring.” The creases of pain around her lips were replaced by a soft smile. “I was so mad at him for so long. He promised me forever, but then he left me a few years later.”

  “But—”

  Nana lifted a feeble hand. “It wasn’t his choice. I know that. But when you’re grieving, nothing makes much sense.”

  Sophie nodded. That’s how she felt already, and Nana was still here with her.

  “I don’t think I handled my grief very well. Especially with your mother. She wanted to talk about her father, but it hurt me too much, so I didn’t let her. And then after Jordan—”

  Sophie choked on a sharp gasp at her older brother’s name, but Nana kept talking as if she hadn’t noticed. “I didn’t talk to her about that, either. And I watched as she shut her heart down.” She clutched at Sophie’s hand. “I don’t want that for you.”

  “I’m not— I won’t—” But shutting down her heart. That was the only way she’d survived so far. Was the only way she’d survive Nana’s death, too.

  “Anyway.” Nana released her grip. “Now I get to go home and see them.” She closed her eyes, and her hand fell limp. Sophie’s heart clambered up her throat. Surely she didn’t mean this moment? Holding her breath, she leaned toward her grandmother.

  Nana’s eyes sprang open, and Sophie jumped back, pressing a hand to her chest.

  Thank goodness.

  “Promise me—” Nana wrapped Sophie’s hands in both of hers. “Whenever you look at that ring, you remember that forever is real. Not here. But after, in heaven. And you keep your heart open. To God. And to the people he puts into your life to love you. For however long they’re part of it.”

  Sophie stared at her smooth hands planted in Nana’s wrinkled ones. “I promise.”

  It was a promise she was pretty sure she couldn’t keep. But she’d try. For Nana’s sake.

  Nana closed her eyes again, and Sophie sat watching her, trying to memorize every feature. After a few minutes, Nana spoke again. “I’m glad you found your way home, Sophie.”

  Sophie nodded, her throat too full to answer.

  She may be home, but she felt more lost than ever.

  Chapter 5

  Spencer swiped at the sweat on his brow. He’d been pruning like mad all morning, trying to outrun the images of Sophie that insisted on pushing into his thoughts. The way she tipped her chin up when she laughed. The way her hand had always fit perfectly in his. The way she was just the right height that when he wrapped his arms around her, he could rest his chin on her head.

  Stop.

  He gave the pruning saw another thrust. It’d taken him years to stop thinking about Sophie every day. And seeing her for only a few minutes yesterday had undone all of that.

  Spencer clipped one last branch, then stood back to survey the orchard. A ragged sigh escaped him. There were so many trees left. And who knew how long Dad would be out of commission. Which meant it was all up to him. Again.

  Much as he loved the farm, the weight of its responsibility pressed on him right now. How would his life have been different if he’d been like Tyler and left and never come back? Would he and Sophie still be together? Married?

  Spencer scrubbed at his face. He couldn’t go down this what-if road. He’d made his choice—and Sophie had made hers.

  His phone pealed, and he tore it out of his pocket, inexplicably hoping his thoughts of Sophie had conjured a call from her. Which was ridiculous. She’d probably already left town. The Sophie he’d known wouldn’t have stuck around any longer than necessary, especially not when things got emotional.

  He grimaced as he caught the number on the phone. “About time.”

  “How is he?” Tyler’s voice was raw and cracked.

  “So you do care?” The words were out before Spencer could stop himself.

  “Don’t be a jerk.” But Tyler’s voice lacked the older-brother authority Spencer was used to hearing from him.

  “That’s rich. You’re the one who waited nearly twenty-four hours to even bother to call, and I’m the jerk?” Spencer bent to stack the branches he’d cut, jamming his phone between his shoulder and his ear.

  “Knock it off, Spence. Is Dad okay?”

  Spencer relented. He’d never heard his brother plead like that before. “He was in surgery most of the day yesterday. They said two of his arteries were almost completely blocked. They put in stents, but—” He really didn’t want to deliver this kind of news over the phone.

  “But?” Tyler’s voice was hoarse.

  “His heart was pretty damaged. If he has another heart attack . . .” Did he really have to say this? “They’re not sure what the outcome would be.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Spencer waited. This was the part where Tyler would say he sent his love and then hang up.

  “Do you think—” Tyler broke off as a small voice started to wail in the background. The phone rustled, and Spencer caught the low murmur of Tyler talking to someone on the other end. The words were too quiet to catch.

  After a moment, the wailing stopped. “Sorry.” Tyler sounded as weary as Spencer felt. “The boys won’t stop crying for Julia.”

  Spencer tried to picture his twin nephews, but he’d only seen a picture of them in last year’s Christmas card—two chubby toddlers with Tyler’s bright blue eyes and Julia’s dark hair.

  “Julia working today?”

  Tyler was silent so long that Spencer pulled his phone away from his ear to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

  “Tyler, you there?”

  “Yeah.” That raw edge had returned to his voice. “Julia’s not—” Tyler’s voice broke. “She left.”

  Spencer dropped the bundle of branches he’d been hauling.

  “What do you mean she left?” Spencer had always thought of Tyler and Julia as the definition of soul mates—same interests, same taste in music, even the same corny sense of humor.

  “She packed a bag, took one of the credit cards, and walked out the door.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday. I spent the day trying to get her to stay and then trying to figure out how to make the boys stop crying. I didn’t realize my phone had died, otherwise . . .”

  Spencer rubbed at his forehead. He’d assumed the worst of his brother. And here Tyler had been going through his own crisis. “I’m sorry, Ty.” What else could he say? “Maybe she’ll come back.”

  “She won’t.” Tyler’s voice was dull. “There’s someone else.”

  A white heat surged through Spencer. He and Tyler may not be close anymore, but once upon a time, they’d been each other’s staunchest defenders, and that instinct came rushing back now.


  “I mean, I have no idea how to take care of two boys on my own.” Tyler’s voice went up. “Julia was the one who was good at that. How am I supposed to—”

  “Look, why don’t you and the boys come to visit. Mom and Dad have been dying to meet their grandsons.” He winced at the word choice, but it was too late to change it.

  “You think they would want to see me after—” Tyler’s swallow sounded through the phone.

  “I know they do. Kind of annoying how much they want to see you, actually, considering I’m right here.” Spencer tried to play it off as a joke, but the truth was, he’d always felt a little bit like the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son.

  “Yeah. Maybe.” High-pitched cries cut through the background. “Lucas, no.” Tyler’s exasperated yell made Spencer smile. He’d wondered what kind of father Tyler made.

  His brother came back on the line. “I gotta go. Lucas got into the markers.”

  The line went dead, and Spencer lowered the phone slowly. That was not at all how he’d expected that conversation to go.

  He restacked his dropped bundle of branches.

  If Julia could leave Tyler after six years of marriage, what guarantee did anyone have that love could be forever?

  Apparently there was none.

  In which case, maybe it was best Sophie had left him when she did—think how much worse it would have hurt if they’d already built a life together.

  Sophie bent over the rows of colorful tulips that bobbed in the early morning sun. With deft movements, she snipped flowers here and there, careful to spread out her selections as their gardener Alex had taught her years ago.

  The garden had always been her favorite place on the entire property. She’d spent hours crawling around in the dirt out here, until Mom had told her she was too old to go around with ragged nails and dirt-stained knuckles.

  But being out here, savoring the rustle of the breeze in her hair, the soft baking of the sun on her back—it almost made her, not happy, exactly, but at peace with being home.

  A song Nana used to sing popped into her head, and she hummed the tune as she clipped. She couldn’t remember all the words, but she thought it had something to do with “Savior’s arms.”

  But thinking of arms made her think of Spencer’s arms. Of the flippy thing her stomach had done when he wrapped them around her. Force of habit, certainly, but it had been disconcerting nonetheless. And nice. She couldn’t deny that.

  But she had to.

  She shoved the thought away and straightened, cutting off her humming mid-song.

  She carried her armful of flowers into the house and surveyed the collection of ornate vases Alex would fill with fresh flowers throughout the summer. She reached past them to grab a simple, straight one that was more to Nana’s style. On a whim, she grabbed a second one just like it and placed half the bouquet in each.

  All the way to the hospital, she debated with herself.

  Bringing flowers to Spencer’s father would probably mean running into Spencer again. And she should be doing everything possible to avoid him—it would be better for both of them that way.

  But she couldn’t pretend she didn’t want to see him again.

  Badly.

  By the time she got to the hospital, her mind was made up.

  She strode to the information desk and asked for the room number for Marcus Weston.

  “I’m not seeing . . .” The man trailed off, typing again.

  A sudden fear clutched at her stomach. What if he hadn’t made it? Her pulse quickened as the volunteer at the desk typed something into the computer and scanned the screen, then typed some more.

  She should have stayed with Spencer. Should have been there for him. Shouldn’t have let him go through this alone.

  “Ah, there he is.” The volunteer scribbled on a slip of paper as Sophie leaned heavily into the counter. Her hand shook as she took the paper from him.

  “Thank you,” she managed to get out as she grabbed the vases and spun away from the desk.

  She navigated to room 421.

  The door was slightly ajar, but she didn’t feel right just walking in, so she tapped softly on the frame.

  “Come in,” a woman’s voice called a moment later.

  Sophie pressed hesitantly on the door and stepped inside. Unlike Nana’s private room, this room had two beds. The far bed held a man who must be closer to Nana’s age, judging from the silver wisps and wrinkles. In the closer bed, a man with the same broad forehead and defined jaw as Spencer was half-propped, talking to a petite woman perched on the edge of the bed.

  Sophie stepped into the room, her heels sounding too loud on the tile floor. She stopped halfway to the bed. “I’m looking for Mr. Weston.” She sounded like a timid child rather than the fiery developer who had left grown contractors quaking for missing a deadline.

  “You found him.” The man even sounded like Spencer, though his voice was a touch deeper. “What can I do for you?”

  Sophie laughed, the man managing to put her instantly at ease. “Absolutely nothing. Actually, I stopped by to give you these.”

  She held one of the vases of tulips out, and Mrs. Weston took it from her, her eyebrows raised at her husband.

  “Well, now, you’re going to get me in trouble with my wife.” Mr. Weston winked at her. “She doesn’t like when I get flowers from pretty young ladies.”

  Mrs. Weston snorted. “I’m not worried.” But she set the flowers on the side table, then leaned down to kiss the top of her husband’s head.

  Something in Sophie jumped, and she averted her eyes. She didn’t want to intrude on their tender moment.

  “Not that I don’t enjoy getting flowers from mysterious strangers,” Mr. Weston said. “But maybe you’d like to tell me your name so I know who to thank.”

  Sophie felt her cheeks warm. She hadn’t even introduced herself.

  “I’m sorry. I’m Sophie Olsen. Spencer and I—” She caught herself.

  “Oh, Sophie.” Spencer’s mother jumped to her feet and wrapped her in an unexpected hug. “It’s so nice to meet you at last. Spencer mentioned that he’d run into you yesterday. I added you and your grandmother to my prayers last night.”

  “Thank you.” Sophie’s arms circled the woman tentatively, and her head spun. Spencer had wanted her to meet his parents so many times, but she’d always resisted. Which apparently hadn’t stopped him from telling them about her. So why was this woman greeting her so kindly?

  “Is Spencer, um— I mean, did he step out for a coffee again?” Sophie felt ridiculous asking, but her desire to see him was stronger than her embarrassment.

  “No, he had some work to do on the farm. Boy never stops working,” Mr. Weston said. “Trying to chase off demons, if you ask me. Not that I’m complaining. He keeps that place running.” Pride laced his every word about his son.

  A pang hit Sophie right in the center of her chest. What would it be like to hear her parents talk about her like that?

  “I wouldn’t think you’d complain.” Spencer’s mom poured water into a plastic cup and passed it to her husband. “If he hadn’t had the sense to call 911 when you said you were fine, you wouldn’t be here today.” She turned to Sophie. “Men tend to let their pride get in the way of their common sense sometimes, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Sophie suspected she was talking about more than her husband, but she let it pass.

  “You should go out to the farm,” Mr. Weston said. “I’m sure he could use a break.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s busy.” Sophie rubbed a petal of one of the tulips. “Anyway, I should get to my grandma. Just tell him—” Just tell him what? That she wanted to see him? The full extent of how ridiculous she’d been to come searching for him hit her.

  His life was here.

  Hers was in Chicago.

  “Just tell him I said goodbye.”

  Chapter 6

  The sun was low in the sky, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto Lake
Michigan, by the time Sophie left the hospital. Although Nana had slept through most of the afternoon, it had been comforting just to be near her.

  But sitting all day had left her with pent-up energy she needed to burn off. The thought of going back to her parents’ wasn’t exactly appealing. She wished for the hundredth time that her parents had a relationship more like that of Spencer’s parents. Sitting in Nana’s room with nothing to do but think, her mind kept drifting to the way Mrs. Weston had kissed her husband and poured him a glass of water before he even asked for one. No wonder Spencer had believed in true love. He apparently had a view of it every day. But Sophie knew better. Even if a couple seemed to be in love, all of that could change in a single, devastating moment.

  But still, the way Spencer’s parents had looked at each other—she couldn’t shake that image. Only two people in her life had ever looked at her like that. One of them was dying.

  But the other—he was right down the road.

  Sophie chewed her lip. She couldn’t do this again. But maybe Spencer’s dad was right. Maybe Spencer did need a break. He’d always been a workaholic. More so when he was worried. And he didn’t worry about anything more than he did his family.

  Before she could second-guess herself, she directed her car toward Hidden Blossom Farms. She’d driven past it a hundred times in her life. But she’d never so much as turned down the driveway. Hadn’t even known Spencer, who’d gone to school in the next town over, lived there until he was assigned as her friend Cade’s roommate in college.

  But today, this moment, she felt almost compelled to see it. To see the life she’d said no to when she’d walked away from Spencer. To convince herself she’d done the right thing in leaving him.

  The big farmhouse near the road was dark, but warm light spilled from the open garage door of a large pole shed near the end of the driveway. Hesitating only a second, Sophie pressed her foot to the gas. She’d come this far already.

  As she pulled to a stop in front of the shed, her eyes picked out a modest ranch home beyond it. Through the twilight, she could just see the large open meadow behind the house. Early season wildflowers added a spark of color against the darkening grass.