After All These Years

by Sally John

  His friend grinned. “Breaking new ground here. Watch my backside?”

  “Always.” He returned the grin and punched Brady’s shoulder, and then he walked on.

  Cal continued patrolling the more or less circular edge of the Autumn Faire crowd gathered near the band shell. Things were winding down elsewhere in the park. He thought about Brady, who had just let him in on the latest developments with Gina.

  Five years ago the guy was a basket case, working long hours at three jobs. He was teaching high school English, farming with his dad, and writing instead of sleeping, desperate to publish his stories. Writing was the love of his life, though Brady had tried to convince himself it was Nicole.

  Cal had never warmed to her. She and Brady met at college. She always had a prissy look on her face and looked down her nose at Valley Oaks. The worst part, though, was her influence over Brady. She discouraged him from joining in the usual affairs with his old friends. Over time he became less sure of himself. After she left him and he pulled that crazy stunt chasing after her in California, things really went haywire. Brady stopped trying to convince Cal to trust in Jesus.

  At first Cal was relieved, until he realized the impact of what that meant. It didn’t mean Brady went carousing with him. The guy never did that, hadn’t even in high school. No, it meant that if what Brady believed all these years was not true, then life really was hopeless. Looking back, Cal knew it was the impetus he needed. Even when he didn’t swallow everything the guy preached, he had always depended on Brady’s steadfastness. When that was gone, Cal finally started reading the Bible and the other books Brady had given him.

  After a time he confronted his friend. “Is it all a lie?” Cal asked. He would never forget how Brady’s face crumpled.

  Since then their friendship had deepened. Cal watched over him, and in time Brady’s faith worked like a grappling hook to pull him from despair. The process spoke louder than all the words Brady had spoken. Cal began to trust Jesus. Scars remained in his friend, leaving Brady vulnerable. Cal ran interference for him, much as he had during football when Brady played quarterback.

  And now there was Gina. It seemed Brady had found true love this time because he wasn’t a basket case with this woman. He was just…contented and happy, happier than he’d ever seen him since sophomore year when they blew Clifton High out of sectionals.

  Cal stopped now and scanned the crowd in the dim light, the bright band shell a backdrop behind it. He saw Isabel with that reporter, Tony Ward. They were laughing like old friends. Well, maybe they were. But he was still an unknown in Brady’s life. Tomorrow Cal would grab some computer time and see what he could learn about the guy’s background. It was apparent Isabel didn’t want to pursue the subject. She was still snubbing him.

  “Cal!” It looked like Lia coming through the shadows toward him. A little girl followed.

  “Hi.”

  She smiled. “Hi. Chloe, this is the Peppermint Teddy Bear, Deputy Huntington.”

  Chloe held her small hand out. “How do you do, Deputy Huntington? Thank you for taking care of me last week.”

  Whoa! Where had this kid come from? “You’re welcome, Chloe. It’s nice to meet you with your eyes open.”

  She giggled and turned to her mother. “Now may I?”

  “Yes, sweetpea. I’ll be right over.” The girl hurried off. “She can’t wait to learn how to line dance.”

  “It’s tonight’s big event.”

  “So I hear. Cal, I need to ask you a favor. Another favor. I promise, I’m truly not a nuisance.”

  He believed her. Somehow he couldn’t imagine her as a nuisance. She was calmer now than earlier but still not as sturdy as she had been that rainy night, even after he had surprised her in the shower. “What can I do for you?”

  “Will you walk us home in about an hour?”

  He couldn’t help but glance to the left of the band shell, over the heads of those in the crowd. He could see the pharmacy just across the street, not even a football field’s length away. “No problem.”

  “Oh, good. Thank you so much. We’ll find you!” She began to walk away before turning and calling over her shoulder, “I can’t wait to learn line dancing either!”

  Now why in the world would a woman who left the key in her door be afraid to cross the street with half the town standing nearby?

  Tony thought the scene surrealistic, more Dali than Rockwell. But then maybe that was simply his jaundiced eye seeing ulterior motives and underlying issues hiding behind this Mayberry façade.

  The band shell glowed, a half moon of floodlights penetrating the dark night directly in front of it while carving shadows just beyond the circle of light. Band members clunked around the stage in their cowboy hats and boots, preparing to play their non-music. He was certain Rockwell had never depicted such a moment.

  Then there was Dot, queen of the know-it-alls who, according to Izzy, relayed only bits and pieces of all she knew. At the moment she held court, surrounded by yakking women, undoubtedly of similar ilk. Where were the men? That was an easy one. At the beer tent down the block, around the corner. Where he should be. A cold one might take the edge off this mushrooming cynicism.

  But…the story was here. The Author was making his way toward the stage.

  Off to one side stood Cal Huntington, his bear-width shoulders and unblinking gaze erasing any benevolent Sheriff Andy Taylor aura. He had been friendly enough when they met, but Tony suspected the guy was borderline redneck. The law and order department did not exactly roll out the welcome mat for outsiders here.

  Valley Oaks was a cultural desert. The pharmacist stood out as different, though her features only faintly suggested Asian heritage. She was obviously Chicago born and bred. Then there was Izzy, his hot Latino ex-girlfriend who was still hot, not only in her jeans and boots, but under the collar as well. She hid it fairly well, but she was angry at him. About what, he hadn’t a clue.

  She turned to him now, tilted her chin to meet his eyes and leaned closer to be heard above the noisy crowd. “You’re laughing at us.”

  He blinked. The woman’s talents were being wasted at a Christian radio station. “Why would I do that?”

  “We’re unsophisticated. The thing is, Tony, most of us know it and don’t give a hoot. Write that down in your little notebook.” She tapped his lapel and raised a brow.

  Yes, a beer would definitely help, he thought again, giving her a self-deprecating smile. Sophistication wasn’t the point. He was out to prove whether or not Brady Olafsson was authentic, but he couldn’t exactly tell Izzy that.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Brady was on the stage now, speaking into a microphone. “May I have your attention, please? As a member of the Entertainment Committee, I’d like to introduce tonight’s band, but first, on a personal note…” He paused.

  The crowd stilled. The guy did have a presence about himself, Tony had to admit.

  Keyboard music began playing softly. It sounded like an old tune. He noticed a blonde sitting at the instrument. She didn’t look like a country musician. Hadn’t he met her? That was it. Band teacher married to a relative of Brady’s. Lauren something or other.

  Brady continued, “I’d like to welcome our new vet to her first Valley Oaks Autumn Faire. Oh, excuse me just a moment.” He pressed a finger behind his ear as if to hear better. “Ah, she’s correcting me. All right, assistant vet.”

  Tony looked to where he was directing his smile. He could see even in this light that Gina’s California tan had turned a deep crimson.

  “When Gina arrived this summer, one of the first things she noticed was how fast news travels around Valley Oaks. As we all know, sometimes it’s true, sometimes not. Well…the news I hear these days is that she and I are engaged, so I thought I’d better set the record straight.”

  There was laughter and a few whistles. Tony recognized the background music now, something about where the journey leads.

  “The fact is, we’re not. But…Angeli
na Philips, I love you. And I’m wondering what you’re doing the rest of your life?” He chuckled. “I’d sing this if I could carry a tune.”

  Laughter drowned him out for a moment.

  “Where does your journey lead from here? Down roads unseen, midst stars flung wide? I have but one request of you, dear.” He took a deep breath. “And so…the question is: Will you marry me?”

  There were more whistles and catcalls and cheers while poor Gina covered her red face with her hands.

  “Folks, I don’t know if we have a yes or a no here, but that’s the latest news from Valley Oaks. I’ll let Lauren introduce—Oh, it looks as if we may have an answer on the way. Or else she’s going to strangle me.” He grinned as the crowd parted for Gina. When she reached the stage, he leaned over far enough for her to grab his vest and give it a good yank. He tossed the microphone toward Lauren and jumped down. The crowd erupted into applause when Gina’s arms went around his neck.

  Lauren spoke loudly into the mike. “I’d strangle him myself.”

  Tony rolled his eyes and nudged Izzy beside him. “Bit of an exhibitionist, isn’t he?”

  Tears streamed down her face. “Are you kidding?” she sniffled. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed. He just publicly declared how much he loves her!”

  “Yeah, well, what if the feeling isn’t mutual?”

  “Oh, the whole town knows it’s mutual.” She wiped at her cheeks. “This was just a formality. I wonder if he has a ring?”

  A woman standing nearby turned, pressing a tissue to her eyes. “He just pulled it out of his vest pocket.”

  Izzy joined the woman in an exaggerated “Aww” and brushed away another tear.

  Tony shook his head in disbelief and touched Izzy’s arm, urging her a short distance from the others. “Is this guy truly for real?”

  “I told you he was!”

  “You’re saying this wasn’t all an act? That he’s not just yanking heartstrings to promote his image?”

  Izzy narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Tony, if you don’t get it yet, you’d better spend some more time with him.”

  Lia jabbered about the evening to Cal. The loud country music faded as they crossed the dimly lit street behind the band shell. She felt at ease with him, but she didn’t kid herself. It was his obvious physical strength and the gun in his holster that calmed her anxiety. Chloe skipped ahead of them, slowing now and then to slip into a line-dance step.

  Cal chuckled. “I think your daughter had a good time at her first Autumn Faire.”

  A tiny fist of dread pressed against her chest, and for a fraction of a second her lungs could get no air. Would it never go away? “Yeah, she had a grand time. Cal, she’s not my daughter. Her mother…was my sister.”

  He stopped.

  She waited for him to process the information.

  “Was,” he said. “Then—I’m sorry. When?”

  “Almost six years ago. Kathy died in a car accident. I’ve been Chloe’s legal guardian since then.”

  “What about her father?”

  “He’s never been a part of the picture.” Not as a father or husband, except to his other, legal family. “My new friends know. Isabel, Gina, and Anne, the pastor and his wife, they all know. I just don’t bring it up in casual conversation because then I have to talk about my sister dying.” She exhaled. “People always learn about the situation eventually.”

  “Especially in Valley Oaks. So it’s not a secret? Chloe knows?”

  “Oh, yes, she’s always known. She remembers her mother. You’re welcome to spread the news. Not that I can imagine you spreading gossip, even if it is true.”

  He gave her a soft smile.

  They continued their stroll across the deserted street, and she realized that he fit as naturally as Isabel and the others in her small group of new friends.

  “Lia, aren’t you concerned about what people think?”

  “I haven’t had time to be concerned about that. I probably should be, considering my livelihood depends on people thinking well of me. Maybe I should put a sign in the window: The pharmacist is not an immoral slut.”

  He laughed loudly. “You don’t mince words.”

  They reached the door where Chloe waited, dancing on the sidewalk. Lia fumbled with the keys. “Cal?”

  “Sure, I’ll walk you inside.”

  She threw him a smile.

  “But there’s an if. If you tell me what happened between the time you left the keys in the back door last week and tonight.”

  She pushed open the door, jerked out the keys, and shoved them back into her skirt pocket. A night-light softly lit the shop’s interior. Her niece raced down an aisle. “Chloe! Wait!”

  “I have to go to the bathroom!” she yelled over her shoulder.

  Cal touched her elbow as he shut the door. “Lia, what’s going on?”

  Once again anger shoved aside the fear. How ridiculous! To fuss at Chloe for simply hurrying to the bathroom! She refused to live this way. “Oh, nothing, Cal. I’m being silly.”

  “Do you want me to go upstairs?”

  “No.”

  He dropped her arm.

  “Thank you, though, for offering.”

  “Lia, you’re not the silly type. I hope you’ll clue me in.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Did you order a new security system?”

  She nodded. “It’s being installed next Tuesday.”

  “All right.” He opened the door. “You’ve got my number.”

  “I do?”

  He gave her a thumbs-up. “Nine-one-one. See you.”

  She bolted the door behind him and hurried after Chloe. Dear Lord, don’t let me need that!

  Eight

  Dead air!

  Isabel raced along the studio hallway, coffee sloshing over the sides of her mug and scalding her hand. Swerving into the control room, she bumped into the door frame. The remainder of the coffee splattered across the front of her yellow cotton shirt.

  She rounded the corner of the L-shaped desk, shoved the chair aside, flipped a switch on the large computerized board, jerked down the microphone, and slapped on the headphones.

  “Whoops! I apologize for that, folks.” She gulped for air as indiscreetly as possible and set down the empty cup. “This is Isabel Mendoza at WLMD. We just heard from…” She read from the monitor the list of artists and their songs. “Today’s forecast calls for another 24 hours of clear sky with a high of 73 and a low tonight of 50. It’s currently 64 degrees. Perfect Labor Day weekend weather and great for the Autumn Faire out in Valley Oaks. We’ll have national and local news at the top of the hour. The national news update is next. It’s 8:30, and you’re listening to WLMD-FM, Rockville, Illinois.”

  She pressed the appropriate buttons and switches, grateful that contemporary broadcasting was not a complicated process.

  What was complicated was Tony Ward.

  She hooked the chair leg with her foot, slid it over, and sank onto it. With a loud groan she laid her head on the desktop and closed her eyes.

  Last night at the Autumn Faire had been fun… Well, after she had chewed Tony out for talking to Dot, anyway. She had deliberately set aside old hurts, wanting Jesus to be more evident in her attitude toward him. Eventually she had coaxed him into joining the large group of square dancers. Other women loved him, of course. After a time even the guys warmed to him. He really was more charming than ever. They had all laughed at his two-left-feet version. At midnight he walked her home.

  Now, as the news droned on, she read from the monitor. A long set of songs and a program about house renovation was queued. With computerized pre-programming these days, her physical presence wasn’t necessary much of the time. But she loved the challenge of live radio and had talked the manager into letting her do the Saturday morning slot. She often scheduled an interview and church bulletin information after the children’s stories.

  There was plenty of time to grab another cup of cof
fee. She headed back down the hall, empty mug in hand. She needed coffee desperately. Fifteen minutes ago she had gone for some. Her mind wandered light years away, and she forgot to watch the large clocks that were never out of view around the studio. She wasn’t even aware of the broadcast until everything went quiet.

  Isabel entered the kitchenette located in a nook across the hall from the lobby. She had drained the pot the last time and now prepared fresh coffee. As it dripped into the carafe, she tuned her ears to the worship music. When it gave way to the house renovator’s voice, the pot was full and still she sat, not having heard one word of one song. Wearily, she stood and poured herself a mugful of coffee.

  Tony’s presence stirred so many memories and emotions. They had kept her awake most of the night. What was she supposed to do with them? They had been buried for years. No problem. Forgotten, right? That’s what God did with them. Forgave them and forgot them. She would rebury them. Same thing as forgotten.

  A banging on the front door disrupted her thoughts. She was the only one scheduled at the station today. Generally the secretary, engineer, and manager didn’t come in on Saturdays. Isabel kept the station locked. She left the tiny kitchen area and entered the lobby. There was a glass door, a small entry, and then another door. She saw Tony outside, waving his arms and grinning.

  Wham! All those half-buried emotions flung themselves at her with tornado force. Her second cup of coffee slid to the carpeted floor. She stared at him. He stopped waving and shrugged, questioning.

  Isabel went to the doors and opened them.

  “Sorry, Izzy. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She pulled the exterior door shut behind him on the pretense of making sure the lock clicked, but in reality hiding her unguarded expression. “You just startled me.” So to speak.

  “That’s amazing out there! I’ve never seen so much corn! And it’s growing to music!” His gesture encompassed the surrounding fields that always echoed with the broadcast. Except for a sliver of highway at the end of the long drive and the two radio towers, eight-foot-high corn stalks blocked views in every direction. “It’s gotta be the tallest corn in three counties.”