by Robert Hass
“No.” She rotated a neck crick. “A little.”
“Did I keep you up too late?”
“You know you did.” She dusted off an ancient volume of Wordsworth before opening the cover.
“I had fun.”
“Me, too.”
He tossed a yellowed envelope into the trash can at his side. “We could do it again. Maybe. If you want to.”
“I don’t know if I’m up to playing tag in the dark again.”
He laughed. “How about a movie? You, me, the kids. There’s a family film playing at the Twin Theater. Wanna go?”
Was he asking for a date?
When she only stared at him, his voice cajoled. “Let me take you out for dinner and a movie. If not here in Redemption, then wherever you say. I owe you that much.”
He could have left out the last line. Actually, he could have left out the entire last comment. She didn’t want him to feel obligated. Nor did she want him to feel embarrassed to be seen with her.
“You don’t have to repay a kindness, Sloan. I’m helping because I want to. Lydia was my friend.”
His hands stilled on the stack of papers. “Is that what you think? That I’m asking out of obligation?”
“Aren’t you?” Annie caught her lower lip between her teeth, dismayed at the hurt in her answer.
Sloan shoved the cardboard box aside. It made a scraping sound against the hardwood. He got up and stalked toward her, eyes glittering like sapphire. Her pulse jitterbugged.
“Listen to me, pretty girl. I don’t do things out of obligation. I do them because I want to. What I want more than anything is to take you somewhere nice, to see you dressed up in that jade dress again with your hair curving around your cheekbones and your face full of laughter.” He touched her cheek. Annie shivered. Sloan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I want you to be happy.”
Annie swallowed, mouth gone dry. What in the world did he mean? And didn’t he know that a portion of her happiness dwelled with him and always had?
She moistened paper-dry lips. Sloan noticed and bracketed her face with his hard fingers, holding her frozen with that single, tender action. He stared into her eyes until her bones melted and she yearned to kiss him, not in comfort but in love.
She wondered what he was thinking and why he was saying such sweet things. Was it possible he felt something for her, too? Something more than obligation and gratitude. Something that had nothing to do with sharing a son.
Resisting the urge to circle her arms around his trim waist, she hooked her hands over his biceps. The grandfather clock ticked. As if that was his signal, Sloan pulled her up on tiptoes and touched his lips to hers. When the kiss ended, far too soon for Annie, he drew her against his chest and sighed. Being held by Sloan was like coming home.
“Whoever said you were boring hasn’t kissed you,” he murmured.
Annie laughed softly. “You like my jade dress?”
“Mmm-hmm. I like you in it. Gives you cat eyes.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“That’s because you’re not a man. Thank the good Lord.” A chuckle rumbled from his chest to her ear and she giggled again.
“We aren’t getting any work done.” Not that she was struggling to get away.
She felt his breath on her hair and the undeniable touch of lips against her scalp. “Break time. Better check on Justin and Delaney before they come looking for us.”
“Oh, my, you’re right.” Stepping away, she pressed a hand to her warm cheek, horrified that for a few brief moments, she’d forgotten about her own children. Either could have walked in and found her kissing Sloan. She didn’t have answers for the questions such discovery would bring. She wasn’t sure herself what was going on. How could she explain to her children?
“I’ll go,” she said, eager to get her bearings and think about what had just transpired.
“Hey, wait a minute.”
She pivoted at the doorway. “What?”
“You want steak or pizza?”
“Steak.” A smile bloomed. “You can afford it.”
His eyes crinkled. “Nothing like a sassy-mouthed woman.”
Annie stuck out her tongue. As she headed down the hallway, she heard him call, “You kiss good, too.”
Feeling light, she took juice boxes out to the kids, where Delaney was actually helping her brother plant a small bed of multicolored flowers along the edge of the porch. “How’s it going out here?”
“We’ll never get finished,” Justin groused. “The more we do, the more we find that needs doing. Sloan should have hired a real gardener.”
“Why not take a break until he comes out to help?”
“Nah, Delaney and I wanted to surprise him by having this bed finished.”
Sloan’s voice came from the porch. “I’m surprised. Good job.”
Delaney, seeing her opportunity to escape work, dropped the trowel and skipped over to sling her arms around Sloan’s knees. He patted her back, though his gaze remained on Justin and Annie.
“Give me a second to grab my gloves and I’ll join you. Annie, do you mind working on the library without me?” A teasing grin played around his mouth and she knew he was thinking about the kiss.
For orneriness, she fluttered a hand over her heart. “I may pine away forever without you.”
The grin widened. He tugged her hair as she flounced past him on the steps. She whirled around to say something silly, saw Justin watching them with bright interest and changed her mind. She was confused enough without dragging her son into the fray.
“Mommy, who is that?” Delaney had gone to the picket fence and was looking between the slats. “A bunch of cars are outside. I think it’s Pastor Parker. And Zoey! Mom, Zoey is here.”
Delaney bolted through the gate and disappeared. Annie changed direction and retreated down the steps and out to the fence to determine the identity of their unexpected visitors.
“Sloan,” she said, unable to believe what she was seeing. “I think you had better come look at this.”
Sloan’s adrenaline jacked. Annie’s voice sounded weird. In a career of watching other people’s backs, he’d learned to trust his instincts. Something unusual was going on out in the street.
“What’s up?” He casually jogged to the gate, where he could already see someone approaching.
Annie unhooked the gate latch and a trail of people entered the garden area, led by Kitty Wainright and Jace Carter. Out on the street more car doors slammed and voices rose, coming nearer. Delaney and her best friend, the vet’s daughter Zoey, skipped across the yard holding hands. He would forever be amazed at the blind child’s grace and ease in a sighted world.
“What is all this?” Annie asked.
Kitty, toting a rake, paused on the half-finished pathway. “We all got to talking about how wonderful it is that Sloan wants to restore the Wedding Garden in Lydia’s memory. Then Simmy-John said you needed some help, so here we are. A garden party, if you will.” Kitty laughed, a trill as pretty as birdsong. “Put us to work.”
Well, blast him with a Taser. Redemption wanted to help him? “A garden party? As in landscaping work?”
Kitty’s blond head bobbed with enthusiasm. “Yes, indeed. Just think how amazing it will be to have weddings here again, knowing we pitched in to make it happen. Now, what first?”
Sloan blinked at the accrued group of excited, eager faces and then at the unending landscape, too stunned to delegate. These people were here for him? To help him? He couldn’t take it in. “I don’t know.”
“I do.” The no-nonsense Mrs. Miller from the plant farm came striding up with a paper diagram in hand. “These are the plans you and I mapped out. The two of us can direct traffic and the rest can do the grunt work.” With a jolly laugh, the outdoorsy woman pointed at the half-finished path leading from the gate through the various beds. “I love telling people what to do. Jace, you start on the path and mend the back fence. That’s your expertise. Kitty
and Cheyenne will help you.”
The quiet contractor, who had enough work-honed muscle to finish the job alone, arched an eyebrow toward the two women. Both nodded eagerly. Sloan noticed the way Jace’s gaze lingered on Kitty Wainright. Must be something going on there. Not that Sloan was one to pry, but he was a man trained to notice things.
“Trace will be here after work unless he has a call,” Cheyenne said. She was a pretty woman, in a dark, intense kind of way, and a total opposite of Kitty Wainright’s blond sweetness and light.
“He doesn’t have to do that,” Sloan protested. Cheyenne’s new husband, Trace, was the county’s only vet and as such worked long hours. “In fact, none of you have to do this. This is crazy.”
“You don’t want our help?” Simmy-John was already whacking at dead limbs. Pastor Parker was helping him.
“No. I mean, yes.” He raked a hand through his hair. “If the garden is ever going to be finished, we can use some help, right, Justin?” He looked to the boy, whose face was as bewildered as his own.
“We’re getting nowhere fast,” Justin grumbled.
“Then get busy, son,” the pastor said with a laugh. “You don’t get volunteers like this every day.”
Man, was that ever the truth. “I don’t know what to say. I—”
But the crowd of about twenty volunteers was already fanning over the garden grounds like worker ants while Mrs. Miller shouted orders and the men called joking insults to one another. Apparently the supplies Sloan ordered had arrived, because Hank Martinelli from the Sugar Shack and Popbottle Jones carted in the wrought iron bench. Behind them, Ida June Click, the eighty-something handywoman in hot pink overalls and high-top tennis shoes, rolled a shiny red wheelbarrow. As she passed Sloan she poked a pink-gloved finger at him. “Many hands make light work.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The old woman’s energy as well as her pithy sayings was legend.
Annie came up beside him and looped an arm through his elbow. “Close your mouth. You’ll catch a bug.”
He gazed down at her pretty face, remembering the kiss they’d shared only minutes ago. Today was an amazing day. “What are they doing?”
“Showing love in the only way they know how. Being neighborly.”
Love. For him? For the Redemption bad seed? Nah, couldn’t be. They’d come because of Lydia. And for her, he’d let them.
They went out for pizza.
Once the volunteers had loaded up for the day, the children set up a howl claiming starvation brought on by overwork. Too exhausted for anything fancy, they’d settled for the local pizza parlor.
It wasn’t the romantic interlude Sloan had in mind. Annie didn’t wear her green dress, but her eyes shone bright and happy and she laughed a lot. Contentment settled on him like a comfortable old sweatshirt.
“What a great day,” Annie said as she took another slice of thick-crust pepperoni from the cardboard box. Delaney and Justin had already gobbled their pizza in favor of time at the video games. “Everyone working together like that—well, it’s typical Redemption.”
“Not to me.” He was still stunned but feeling really warm and peaceful inside. Unbelievable. That’s all he could think.
“As I’ve said before, your perception is skewed. Surely you can see that now.”
“I’m starting to.” Today had been a turning point of sorts, an answer to prayers he’d prayed in the dark of night for God to root out his bitterness. Interesting that the uprooting began in a garden full of well-meaning folks. “Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?”
He reached across and brushed dusty parmesan from her cheek, mostly for an excuse to touch her. Today had been a turning point with Annie, too. A little voice in the back of his head kept hammering away with an impossible hope he didn’t dare consider.
Annie laughed, and the blush over her cheekbones captivated him. He loved her more every day.
“Oh, yes,” she said, “I’m stunning with my grass-stained capris and broken fingernails.”
“Yeah, you are.” And he meant it.
Delaney pranced up to her mother, white ponytail bobbing. Sloan thought she was the cutest little girl. “Can we have another quarter?”
Sloan reached in his pocket and handed her a bill. “Divide this with your brother, okay?”
“Thanks, Sloan. Wow! Justin will freak out.” And she jitterbugged away toward the row of clanging, pinging video machines.
“You’re spoiling them.”
It felt good, too. When had he had anyone to dote on but a reluctant Aunt Lydia? “They worked hard.”
“You’d spoil them anyway.”
“Probably. They’re great kids, Annie. You’ve done a good job.”
“Even with Justin?” She sipped at her straw, eyes slanted toward him.
“Especially him. He’s coming along.” Justin was a deep kid who internalized his emotions. With Sloan he’d been opening up about his anger toward Joey and about a lot of guy stuff he wouldn’t discuss with his mother. The trust had kept Sloan talking to God. Knowing what he knew about broken relationships, he didn’t want to blow the chance to make a difference in his son’s life.
“He idolizes you, Sloan.” Pushing her Coke away, she picked at a piece of pepperoni. “I’m concerned.”
“I know.” The notion worried him, too. “I don’t want to let him down.”
Annie was silent but he knew her thoughts. She expected him to let them all down again. He didn’t want to, but he probably would. The situation was impossible. Some days, days like today when Redemption embraced him with reminders of the good things about his childhood, he had aberrant thoughts of moving back, of throwing caution to the wind and asking Annie to try again. Police Chief Dooley Crawford was the fly in that delicious soup. To be with Annie, Sloan would have to tell her the truth about the reason he left Redemption in the first place. Learning about her father’s conniving lies, lies that had forced her into a difficult marriage and left Justin without his biological father, would break her heart.
Leaving was just as bad.
With a sigh, he laced his fingers with hers and bounced their joined hands gently against the tabletop.
He and God had a lot more talking to do.
Chapter Twelve
“Look what I found.” Sloan pushed back from an antique oak desk in the study where generations of Hawkinses had conducted business.
“Great minds think alike.” Annie laughed and held up a handful of photos. She sat at a small table sorting old pictures into labeled boxes. “I have something to show you, too.”
“All right, you first.”
Sloan seemed different today. In fact, he’d seemed different last night at the pizza place. She credited some of the change to the volunteers, a few of whom planned to come again to finish the job. Sloan had been wonderfully touched, and she was glad. He deserved some redemption from the painful past.
After their pizza, when he’d taken her and the children home, Sloan had lingered at the door until Justin and Delaney headed to their rooms, and then he’d kissed her good-night.
Like a schoolgirl with a crush, her pulse fluttered at the memory. Twice yesterday he’d kissed her. Annie was old enough to know the times he brushed her hair from her eyes or touched her hand or her elbow or cheek were not accidents. She couldn’t help wondering what it meant. He cared for her, she was certain now, but there was hesitancy in him, too, as though he held something back. Regardless of her love and regardless of the son they shared, Annie was not fool enough to push a man into something he didn’t want. So, she kept her love and her wishes to herself.
Today had been a day of discoveries as the two of them had sorted through boxes and closets and cupboards. Delaney and Justin had begged off and she’d taken pity on them, letting them stay at Mother’s.
“Whatcha got?” he asked, coming to stand at her side. Before she could speak, he bent and touched his lips to hers.
“Sneaky,” she said, breathless.
“Delicious,” he said with a cheeky grin.
She fanned the selected photos across the table. All were old, but two were aged tintypes. “Look at these.”
“They were taken in the garden.”
“Probably among the first weddings to be held there, given how small the garden appears in comparison to today’s landscape.” She tapped a fingernail on one. “That’s your great-great-aunt Hattie Jane Hawkins on her wedding day to Purvis Lee Blanchard.”
One eyebrow hiked. “How do you know?”
“Says so on the back.”
He braced both hands on the table and leaned in to peruse the row of pictures, bringing with him the scent of clean cotton and a morning shower. “The garden progresses in each one.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too. You can see how Hattie Jane’s wedding has only a few bushes and flowers. Then with each photo, more and more is added over time until—” carefully watching his face, Annie flipped over the final photo “—this one, when the garden looks much as it does now.”
Sloan was silent for a few seconds but a muscle beneath his eye ticked. “My parents.”
Annie stroked his tense arm. “You’ve never seen this before, have you?”
He shook his head, throat working. “My parents were not discussed after Mama left. Whenever I tried to bring up the subject, Aunt Lydia would get teary-eyed. I never wanted to make her sad. So I stopped asking.”
“They look happy, Sloan. That’s important.”
He studied the photo and his expression lightened. “They do, don’t they? I never thought of them as happy together, but then I don’t remember my dad at all.”
“You know what I’m thinking?”
Smiling, he looked at her mouth and quirked an eyebrow. “Let me read your mind.”
Feeling light and happy, as though they were standing on the precipice of something wonderful, she bopped his shoulder. “Behave.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
He sighed as if badly put-upon, but his blue eyes danced. “What?”
“Let’s find all the photos of you and your parents that we can and make a scrapbook. You should know them better. Someday Justin will need that connection, too.”