Indivisible

by Kristen Heitzmann

  At first she had taken courses to keep from losing her mind, then to understand her mind and the minds of others. But that wasn’t enough. Faith had found a place, and with it the Hopeline and all the people she’d listened to and prayed with.

  What did she know? That it didn’t matter what she knew. God put a spark inside every person and gave her the desire and insight to help them ignite it. If all she did was keep one spark from guttering, then that was enough.

  God! The heart cry came without words. She didn’t care about a career, about letters behind her name. She wanted to help people break free of the cages of condemnation, abuse, and fear. To heal their wings and watch them fly. That was the stream of living water from which she’d drink.

  She almost laughed out loud when her cell phone played the tone for a forwarded Hopeline call. At some point she’d really need to earn a wage, but right now, she drew a breath and answered. “Hopeline.”

  “You said talking helps.”

  She hadn’t recognized the number, but she knew the voice. “It certainly can.”

  “I want to make an appointment.”

  “You don’t need an appointment. I’m listening now.”

  “It would be better in person.”

  “This is the Hopeline number, Miles. It’s a prayer line.

  “Piper said you’re a therapist.”

  “I have a counseling degree, but I’m not licensed to practice yet.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “But I don’t have an office or …”

  “I’ll come to the store. To the candle store.”

  She stared at the great hulking shoulders of the mountains drawing nearer. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow, and we can talk about it. Nine o’clock?”

  “The store doesn’t open until ten.”

  “That will give us an hour before I have customers.”

  “Piper liked the candles.”

  Tia smiled. “She liked them very much.”

  “You’re back!” Eager to hear it all, Piper rushed to Tia and took the overnight tote from her shoulder. “I can’t tell if you’re happy or sad.” She followed Tia up the stairs to unpack.

  “Both I guess. Mostly relieved. A little scared.”

  “You?” Piper heaved the tote onto the bed.

  “I told my mother I was through watching the store.”

  “Wow. How’d that work out?”

  “She didn’t seem to care.” Tia unzipped the bag. “But when she sells the store, she’s selling the house too. That’s the part that affects you. I don’t know how long we’ll have here.”

  “I thought it was your house.”

  “I’ve been making the mortgage payments and renting out the room, but my parents hold the title. They’ll make a killing selling it, the way values have escalated, but I won’t see a dime.”

  “What will you do?” She removed Tia’s hairbrush, toothbrush, and toothpaste.

  “I was hoping we could find something together.”

  Her heart rushed. “I hope so too.”

  “But honestly? I won’t have any income to speak of for a while.”

  “What about counseling?”

  “I have to get licensed. Then I’m starting from scratch, building a client base.”

  “Miles wants help.” Piper stashed the items in the bathroom.

  “I talked to him. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss a strategy. If he’ll agree to work with me under Carolyn’s supervision, it would be a start.”

  “Do you think he will?”

  “He seems motivated.” Tia formed a sly smile. “Any guesses why?”

  Piper flounced on the bed. “Can you help him?” It surprised her how much she hoped so.

  “Phobias can be symptoms of psychosis or trauma. If it’s the first, then no. But therapy can be effective for the other.”

  Piper leaned one ankle against the opposite knee. “He’s goofy, but … he couldn’t ever swindle someone.”

  Tia’s eyes softened. “I just hope you’re not trying to rescue him to compensate for your family.”

  “Gosh.” She stared up at Tia. “You mean all the people they’ve taken unfair advantage of?”

  “Something like that.”

  She didn’t dismiss the possibility. “Miles is sweet and funny and wants to dump his junk. I just hope he can.”

  Tia put the last of her clothes into the laundry hamper and zipped the empty bag.

  “So … how did the rest of it go? Was Reba glad to see you?”

  “Maybe a little. We didn’t have much time. She has a new baby—which I didn’t know.”

  Losers. Creeps. Dolts.

  “Anyway, I apologized. Again. Then my mother arrived and showed me the street.”

  Piper stared into her face. “What is wrong with those people?”

  Smiling through the tears, Tia sat down beside her on the bed. “I’d say I committed the unpardonable sin, but they probably think my sin was being born.”

  “Well, I’m sure glad you were.” Piper wrapped her arms around Tia.

  Tia hugged her back. “I wish my decision wouldn’t mess things up for you.”

  “We’re not there yet.”

  She nodded. “I have some savings and the merchandise in the store. Miles says a single candle can keep a person from freezing to death.”

  “Miles!” Piper jumped up and snatched the envelope from the dresser.

  Tia took it, puzzled.

  “For damages.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t ask—”

  “Jonah did.”

  Tia fingered the bills. “This is a thousand dollars.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s way too much. Jonah must have put the fear of a billion germs in him.”

  “He wasn’t in any condition to put fear in anyone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well … I sort of agreed I wouldn’t tell you, but Jonah came looking for you last night.”

  Tia searched her face. “Why?”

  “His mom had a heart attack. I think she’s doing all right, but he looked awful. I even prayed, but you know I might have messed it up.”

  She said, “You can’t mess up a prayer, goof,” but she was obviously distressed. “He came here, then asked you not to tell me?”

  “He thought you were kissing up to your family and didn’t want to interfere.”

  Tia closed her eyes. “This is so messed up.” She got up and paced. “I need to call him.”

  Piper’s heart rushed. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  But she was already halfway out the door.

  Twenty-Four

  Rest springs from strife and dissonant chords beget divinest harmonies.

  —SIR LEWIS MORRIS, “LOVE’S SUICIDE”

  Jonah approached his house quietly so as not to disturb Jay, sitting cross-legged on the porch, and Enola, circling and sniffing. She looked up and caught sight of him, then half loped down the steps. Jonah held out an open hand, and she nuzzled it, quivering when he ran the hand over her head. Someday she might express pleasure, but for now the stakes were too high.

  “I tried to call you.”

  “I know,” Jay said, not leaving his position. “We were practicing silence.”

  Jonah nodded. Sometimes it was better not to ask. He let Enola back in to her pup, then settled on the top step. His day had been grueling and wasn’t done yet. But for this moment, he might practice a little silence himself.

  Or not.

  The vibration preceded the ring. Noting the caller ID, he braced himself and answered. “This is Jonah.”

  “Where are you?”

  No preamble. “I’m home.”

  “Can I come over?”

  “Yeah, Tia, you can come.” He closed the phone and looked at Jay.

  “Guess I’ll be going.”

  “It’ll take her awhile.”

  “Yeah. But you’ll want to pace and work yourse
lf up.” Jay rose and moseyed down the steps.

  He would if there were even a chance this could be good.

  “You know,” Jay said over his shoulder, “some chances you just take.”

  Some you didn’t get to. But he paced anyway until tires turned into his drive and Tia’s Xterra appeared between the trees.

  She got out, as crazy beautiful as ever. He went to meet her. “Piper told me about your mom.” No preamble again.

  “I asked her not to.”

  “Why aren’t you with her?”

  He hooked a hand on her car door and cast his gaze away. “She doesn’t want me there. The look she gave me as the EMTs loaded her up was exactly the same as that night.” He swallowed. “In her mind, I killed him.”

  Tia shook her head.

  He looked back, finding in her eyes a sympathetic anger. “After they took her, I went into the shed to see if she was right.”

  “Jonah.”

  “I had him cornered. I confronted him with what I knew.” His voice rasped. “His DNA in the rape-kit sample.” She slumped. “Oh no.”

  “I’d disarmed him. But I didn’t see the shotgun.” His throat constricted. “He was … all over me, and I kept thinking, I will never get his blood off.”

  She gripped his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “In the days and weeks after, I could hardly look anyone in the eye. I couldn’t stand the pity, the doubt, the condemnation, and worst of all, the admiration. It made me sick, and all I could think was to drown it. But that didn’t help. What I needed—you know this already—what I needed was you.” His voice scraped his lower register. “So if you came—”

  “I came to apologize. To say I’m through trying to please people who don’t care. To tell you I quit the store, and they’re selling the house.”

  He caught up to her. “Selling your house?”

  “It’s not mine. I’ve only been paying the mortgage. Now I don’t even know if I can stay in Redford.”

  “You’re not leaving.”

  “I came here to say I don’t blame you. For anything.”

  His breathing shallowed. The warmth of her hand sank into his arm.

  “Everything, even that day, was my choice.”

  “You were a kid.”

  “I knew what I was doing.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and she pinched him. “Don’t sidetrack me.”

  He slid his hand under hers, flopping the fingers as Enola did, then closed it tight. “I thought you were coming here to dump me for good.”

  She looked into his face. “I don’t seem to have it in me.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You want to come in?”

  She shook her head.

  “You don’t have to worry.”

  “Yeah, Jonah. I do.”

  “It’s been nine years. We have talking to do.”

  She looked from him to the door behind him, as tentative as Enola.

  He tugged her arm like a bellpull. “Where’s that pirate kid?”

  Her eyes flashed up.

  “Oh yeah. There she is.”

  Tia paused at the door. She had never been inside Jonah’s house. Going in felt irretrievable. She tipped a glance at him, then stepped through the threshold.

  “Not so bad, was it?”

  She gave him the point of her elbow—but gently—in the ribs and took in the log walls, the stone in the kitchen and fireplace, the gathering of candles along his mantel. “How did you get those?”

  He followed her gaze. “Ruth.”

  “I never suspected.”

  “She’s my undercover go-to gal.”

  She surveyed the rest of the room, the hall that led to more rooms, furniture that looked well made, comfortable seating. A smile formed on her lips. “I can see you here, Jonah.”

  “Sarge is back that way. He’s not doing great today.”

  “I’m sure there’s a story there.”

  “Lots of stories there. You hungry?”

  “I ate on the road.”

  “Something to drink?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He motioned her to a recliner angled toward another.

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t stay.”

  “You came inside to tell me you have to leave?”

  She wrapped herself in her arms. “I don’t know how to be.”

  He reached out and clasped her elbows. “You always know how to be.”

  “I’ve imagined this too many times, too many ways.”

  “Pick one.”

  “No, that would not be good.”

  He slid his hands up her arms with a smile in the corners of his mouth. “Then take a seat before my imagination kicks in.”

  She crossed to the recliner and, once seated, drew her knees up and fit herself sideways in it.

  “So tell me how bad it was. In Phoenix.”

  “You really want to hear?”

  “Every heartless word.”

  Her mouth crooked up. “The refrain was ‘Hit the Road Jack,’ with verses of ‘You’re No Good.’”

  “I could have saved you the trip.”

  “You tried to. And the funny thing? Reba thought we’d been together this whole time.”

  “You’re surprised?”

  “You’re not?”

  “I never did get what you were trying to prove. Or who you were proving it to.”

  Tia woke to the smell of steak and coffee and a pair of golden eyes. She didn’t dare move until the animal brushed past with a furtive gait no one would mistake for tame. A small version of the mother wobbled up behind on stumpy legs.

  Coyotes. Liz hadn’t lied.

  The moment the animals passed, she shot upright in Jonah’s recliner, a blanket slipping to the floor. The last thing she remembered was telling Jonah about Reba’s new baby and their inadvertent nondisclosure. She dropped her face to her hands, massaging her eyes—and froze at the touch of Jonah’s hand on her neck. She turned. Rumpled and ragged, he looked achingly irresistible.

  He whispered, “Sarge sleeps in, so let’s take our plates out to the porch and let the dogs roam.”

  He acted as though it were nothing, having her there in his kitchen in the morning, handing her steak and eggs that wafted a glorious aroma and a mug of coffee creamed blond, the way she had drunk it as a teenager—and still did when she didn’t have tea.

  “Come on.” He balanced his mug on his plate to open the door and motioned her silently out into the misty mountain morning.

  A stream that would eventually feed Kicking Horse Creek burbled in its bed, while jays and chickadees hopped and twittered in the trees. He held the door for the coyote and her offspring. When the puppy whined at the perilous ledge of the first step, Jonah set his plate on the half-log railing and carried the pup down, carefully setting it on its wobbly legs. Enola knocked it over with her tongue.

  “Now was that necessary?” Jonah put his hands to his hips.

  The dog must have thought so since she kept licking. Jonah came back up.

  Tia set her dishes on the railing, the end of her nose and fingertips chilling, her jeans and brown ramie sweater barely warm enough. She could just imagine her hair. “People will think we slept together.”

  “We did.”

  “I mean—”

  “I know what you mean. You need to stop worrying what people think.”

  “Right.” She expelled her breath. “Jonah, I’ve worked hard to repair my reputation. I’ve been scrupulous about appearances, but people haven’t forgotten. There are plenty out there just waiting for me to show my stripes.”

  “Like who?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Like Sarge for one. If he sees me here, he’ll know everything my mom said about me is true.”

  “You misjudge him.”

  She dropped her head to the side. “Jonah, I know exactly what he thinks of me.”

  He frowned. “I’d have expecte
d this conversation if we’d done something last night. But I’m having a hard time seeing what I should feel guilty about.”

  “I’m not saying you should feel guilty. But I don’t have the luxury of everyone’s respect. I’ve had to overcome years of my own rebellion and others’ judgment. Now it looks like—”

  Jonah spread his arm. “Who’s going to see?”

  She looked around at the dark trees and aspen. Maybe she was overreacting, but, “All it takes is one word, and the whispers start again. The looks, the raised eyebrows. People thinking they know.” She glared. “I’ve had to live down what we did, on my own. I can’t risk—”

  “Being with me?”

  “Being with anyone in a way that dredges it all up again.”

  “We’re having breakfast. And by the way, I like it hot.” Scowling, he lifted his plate and stabbed a bite of eggs, the yolk running down his fork.

  “I didn’t know you’re grumpy in the morning.”

  “You’d know a lot of things if you hadn’t kicked me to the curb.”

  Touchy too. She cut a sliver of thin, rare steak. “You’d know some things also.”

  “Like what?”

  “I prefer my steak medium.” She’d been joking, but he grabbed her plate and swept back inside. She stared at the swinging screen, jaw slack. Obviously neither were at their best today.

  Gripping the hot cup, she took a sip of coffee and watched the coyotes sniff around the base of the porch. The puppy could not be more than a few weeks old, still tumbling off his legs. She could see what looked like German shepherd markings in the mother, although her shape was all coyote.

  Jonah came back, returned her plate, and took a bite from his own cold steak. He chewed in silence.

  “I was joking.”

  He washed his bite down with coffee. “Let me tell you about appearances, Tia. My father sat in a pew every Sunday with his lovely wife—except for the times when her bruises would have shown. He and other respected officials chuckled together as they wove their webs and slept with other men’s wives and decided who should be punished and who got a pass.” He speared her. “So guess what? I don’t care about appearances.”

  “But that’s your world, Jonah. You haven’t had it held over you for nine years.”

  “The hell I haven’t.”