Magnolia Sky

by Susan Crandall

  He lifted a shoulder. “Indiana was too far away from this place—from you.”

  In the past days, Analise’s sense of security had taken a hard blow. Olivia had been her mainstay. But with a few simple words, Luke began to mend the tatters of the fabric that held her life together.

  He asked, “How’s Cole been? Any more signs of trouble?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Since Olivia’s illness, he seems to have been focused on us, on doing whatever he can to help. Just the opposite of what I’d feared.”

  “Probably a good thing I was gone, then. He knew it was his responsibility to be the man around here—and he did it.”

  Analise drew a deep breath and forged into the conversation she’d been both dreading and anticipating. “I sent you away because I was afraid.”

  He nodded and his hand stilled on her shoulder.

  She went on, “I hid behind Olivia’s illness. Of course I wanted her to fight, to live. And for a couple of days I actually had myself convinced that I could change her mind if I got you out of here.” She paused. “But there was more, and I didn’t really see it until Olivia opened my eyes a couple of days ago.

  “All of the time I was growing up, Grandmother made every decision for me. I always hated it, but I let her do it. Then, when I met Calvin, I made the first major decision of my life—and I screwed it up. I justified it with the fact that I got Olivia and Cole in the bargain. But that was wrong. I didn’t even know Olivia when I married Calvin. What if there had been no consolation? What if I’d alienated myself from my only family and found myself totally alone? I—I’ve been afraid to trust myself since. When you came . . . there were so many reasons why we shouldn’t be together . . . I still feel like I’m cheating on Calvin.”

  “I’ve had a bad case of what-ifs, too.” He pulled her close against his side. “A decision I made cost Calvin his life. It’s wrong for me to benefit from that by loving you.” He paused. “But I do—love you.”

  Analise wanted to ask about that decision, but she realized if Luke could give her the details, he would have done so willingly. Instead, she tipped her chin up to look in his face. “I love you, too. Is it enough?”

  “It’s everything.” When his lips touched hers, she realized he was right. Love was all that holds a person together.

  They buried Olivia Helms Abbott Lejeune in the Lejeune family cemetery on Magnolia Mile on a blistering July afternoon. The church had been filled to capacity for her funeral service. Only those closest to her accompanied her on this final journey home. Granny Lejeune’s wheelchair prevented her from making the trip to the cemetery. She said she’d be seeing it soon enough herself and went to wait at the house with Mr. and Mrs. Baker.

  Dave Dunston offered to lead the procession with his cruiser. Analise hadn’t talked to him since that night he walked away from Magnolia Mile. She knew he’d been to the hospital to see Olivia, the staff had told her, but he’d had the decency to do it when Analise wasn’t there. She accepted his offer as his apology for his outrageous behavior during the spring.

  The hearse followed his patrol car into the lane that Analise, Cole, Becca and Luke had spent the day before clearing.

  There wasn’t a breath of air moving as the group gathered within the old iron fence. Analise was thankful for the shade of the ancient trees. Reverend Hammond stood at the head of the grave and gave his last words of condolence and his last gift of prayer to Olivia’s spirit. Analise and Cole stood side by side, final quiet tears of good-bye on their faces. Ana felt Luke’s strong presence as he stood just behind her and Cole, respectful of the fact that he wasn’t actually family.

  The reverend concluded the service with a final benediction. One by one, people left on the path that led back to the lane. After a few minutes, the only people left were Ana, Cole, Luke and Becca. Luke and Becca remained a step back, allowing Ana and Cole a moment alone.

  When they finally turned from the grave, Cole stepped into Becca’s embrace. She held him tightly for a long moment, then Cole turned to Analise and said, “I want to walk up to the old house for a minute.”

  Analise slipped her hand into Luke’s and said, “All right. We’ll be along in a bit.”

  After Cole and Becca left, Ana went to the large rose blanket that covered the casket. She removed a single rose, took Luke by the hand and stood by Calvin’s grave. Laying the rose on the stone, she said, “I’m sorry we messed it up. I hope to have learned from our mistakes.”

  Luke squeezed her hand and they stood in silence, listening to the hum of nature all around them. There was a noise off to the right, on the far side of the cemetery plot. Luke and Analise both looked up at the same time. There, just at the edge of the clearing, stood Jocko, his proud antlers held high, his nose lifted to sniff the air.

  “Amazing.” The word was no more than a rush of breath from Luke’s lips.

  Analise whispered, “Olivia would be pleased.”

  Cole held Becca’s hand as they stood in front of the old house. “My constant,” he whispered. Then he turned to face her. Touching her cheek, he said, “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “You always knew. I just gave it a name.”

  “You’ve given me more than that. I don’t know—”

  She put a finger on his lips to silence him. Then she kissed him. It was a sweet kiss that said they were more than just dating, they were friends. God knew, he needed a friend. His buddies were all at the funeral, but it was Becca he needed to be close to, for she understood the quiet things—like having a constant.

  They took a slow walk around the house, hand in hand. She asked, “Do you want to rebuild it? Someday, I mean.”

  “I don’t know. There’s a lot of land here. I’ve been thinking of something—but I have to talk to Ana about it.”

  Just then they came back to the front of the house. Analise and Luke were standing right where Becca and Cole had stood a few minutes ago, looking up at the front door.

  Cole stopped beside them.

  Analise sighed. “It seems so sad, so wasteful to just let it fall down.”

  Luke said, “It does. But it’s pretty far gone.”

  Cole cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking. There are over a hundred acres here. Would it be possible to donate a couple of acres to the animal shelter? Mom loved animals, and the shelter is having trouble. This way they’d have a permanent place. Maybe they’d even name it after Mom.”

  Analise could hardly find her voice, she was so stunned that Cole would be thinking of something so . . . giving . . . at a time like this. “Um, maybe. They’ll need a lot more than just the land, though.”

  Becca said, “We could maybe do some fund-raising— in Mrs. Lejeune’s name—and see if we can get some volunteers.”

  Cole’s eyes sparked with purpose. Analise realized something like this could be exactly what he needed, something positive, something outside himself, to focus on.

  She smiled. “I think we just about used up our volunteer begging when we finished the park project.”

  Luke looked down at her. “I wondered how you were going to manage.”

  “It wasn’t me, really. Richard put out a call, and in one weekend I had fifteen laborers. We finished on time.”

  “I guess you didn’t need me.”

  “It was an emergency; I doubt I could run a business that way.”

  Cole said, “Yeah, but this is different. Lots of people care about animals. You don’t have to be able to dig a hole or push a wheelbarrow to help with this—we could get kids, old ladies—”

  “We can check into it.”

  “Good,” Cole said. “I’m going to ride back to the house with Becca.” Then he paused. “Is that okay?”

  “Sure. We’ll be right along.” Once the kids were out of sight, she said to Luke, “Before we go back and deal with that house full of people, I need to ask you something.”

  He turned to face her, his face all seriousness and worry. “All right—as long as you�
��re not going to ask me to leave again.”

  She smiled even though she had a thousand butterflies taking flight in her stomach. She took his hands in hers. “I know you have a family in Indiana who want you home. But I want you to stay—with me. I’ll even let you have your old job back.”

  “Cole? How’s he going to feel about that?”

  “We’ll just have to deal with it as it comes. He’s beginning to grow up. I can’t make every decision based upon how happy it’ll make Cole. Whether he knows it or not, you’re good for him. Olivia saw that right away—I was the one . . .”

  Things were getting all balled up, this wasn’t the way she’d planned on this conversation going. She steered it back to the heart of the matter. “I’m not asking you to marry me—yet.” Her heart leapt when he grinned at her. “We all need some time to adjust. But I want to try and make this work.”

  “I accept.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her until her toes tingled. “The job and the proposal.”

  She jerked away, startled. “I said I wasn’t—”

  “Too late. We’re getting married. We don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready—but it’s gonna happen, baby.”

  Ten months later, on the same weekend as the groundbreaking of the Olivia Lejeune Animal Shelter, Analise stood under a newly completed metal archway on the lawn of Magnolia Mile, where Reverend Hammond joined her life to Luke’s. Def Leppard played in the background. Cole served as the best man, and a freshly bathed Rufus as Analise’s maid of honor. Luckily Rufus didn’t know anything about weddings and his masculinity wasn’t in the least offended.

  About the Author

  Hoosier native, Susan Crandall grew up in a small town, loving the fact that if you didn’t know everyone, you at least knew of them—or their aunt, or their cousin, or the person who cuts their hair. She’s taken the warmth and emotion of that sense of community and flavored her books, drawing fond memories from those who’ve lived in a small town and a quiet yearning from those who have not.

  After a few years in the big city (Chicago), she returned to her Indiana hometown where she lives with her husband, two college-age children, a menagerie of pets, and a rock band in the basement.

  Susan loves to hear from her readers. Contact her at: P.O. Box 1092, Noblesville, IN 46060. E-mail: szcrandall@ insightbb.com. Or visit her web site at www.susancrandall.net.

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  PROMISES TO KEEP

  AVAILABLE IN MARCH 2005.

  Molly finished out her day with a satisfied buzz in her veins. Holding new life in her hands had helped eclipse the bleakness that threatened to swamp her earlier—had pushed the dissatisfaction back behind the black curtain.

  Finally, the last patient was out the door and she was free to go to the hospital and see Sarah and the baby. She was as excited as she’d been when she’d gone to see her nephew, Riley, for the first time. Having coaxed Sarah’s baby’s first breath, it was hard not to think of Nicholas as family.

  The weather hadn’t improved over the past hours. The instant Molly stepped out the door, sleet pelted her like tiny needles, stinging her cheeks and bare hands. She had to squint into the wind to protect her eyes. Despite Carmen’s frequent applications of ice-melt on the walk outside the clinic, Molly didn’t dare to lift her feet off the slick concrete; she did a shuffle-skate toward the parking lot at the side of the building. The sleet made a silvery halo around the street light that sat at the edge of the lot.

  The lock was iced over on her car door. She gave it a couple of thumps with her fist to break the icy film so she could insert the key. Luckily all of the freezing had been on the outside of the lock and it opened fine. The cold interior creaked and crackled as she settled in the driver’s seat.

  “Why didn’t I go to California or Arizona to med school?” she asked, her breath forming a cloud in front of her face. She could easily have relocated after graduation, but she’d stayed here in Boston, where she felt like she’d laid the groundwork for her career. What a misconception that had turned out to be.

  Once the defroster had cleared the windshield enough to see, she pulled out of the near-deserted parking lot. The tires spun before they finally gripped the road; she inched along testing her brakes every so often to see how slippery the pavement was. Even though it was only seven o’clock, she found herself virtually alone on the streets. She should just drive home, forget the stop at the hospital. Even as she thought it, she turned right at the stoplight, toward the hospital, instead of the left that would take her home. She came up behind a salt truck and poked along behind him, hoping for a marginally safer road.

  It took her twice as long to reach the hospital parking garage as normal. She was glad to drive inside the structure and onto the first dry pavement she’d seen all day.

  She stopped in the gift shop and bought flowers; every new mother should have flowers. The thought of Sarah alone with her baby, not having anyone to share this moment, broke Molly’s heart.

  Stopping at the nurses’ station in maternity, she asked for Sarah’s room number. The duty nurse looked up from the medication cart, then shook her head as she double checked her roster. “No Sarah Morgan registered.”

  “Maybe they haven’t moved her up here yet.” Even as Molly said it a chill crept over her heart. “She delivered at my clinic today. EMS brought her here.”

  “You want me to call down and check?”

  “No, thanks.” The nurse was clearly in the middle of getting meds ready to dispense. If Sarah was downstairs, she’d have to go down there to see her anyway.

  Molly’s stomach was in her throat as the elevator slowly descended to the first floor. She followed the familiar corridor to the ER. Walking past the registration desk, Gladys Kopenski called, “Dr. Boudreau! You’re on duty tonight?” She looked quickly at her schedule. Gladys had manned this desk for more years than Molly had been alive. The woman ran a tight ship. It really threw her to have an unexpected face show up. Molly smiled. “No. Looking for a patient. What on earth are you doing here at this hour?”

  Gladys’s lips pursed and she shifted in her chair. “That Cindi didn’t show up again. I’m pulling a double.”

  Molly nodded in sympathy. Gladys had advised—to put it in mild, professional terms—against hiring Cindi Forbes in the first place. Hadn’t called her anything but “that Cindi” since the first day. Gladys took a no-nonsense approach to her job and Cindi’s most remarkable credentials were an impressive set of hooters—which, ironically, was the location of her last job. Dr. Michaels, director of emergency medicine, who was smack dab in the middle of a midlife crisis complete with red Porsche and new gym membership, felt Cindi was the “most qualified candidate.” But Cindi had missed at least half of the work days since she’d been hired three weeks ago.

  Molly said, “I’m looking for a patient brought in by the EMS around one-thirty this afternoon. Sarah Morgan, she’d just delivered a baby.”

  Gladys frowned. “I remember when she came in. She should be up in maternity by now.”

  “She’s not.”

  Gladys started shuffling paperwork. “Things did get pretty crazy this afternoon. I hope they didn’t leave that poor woman parked in a cubicle all this time.” She got up and headed through the double doors, looking like she was going to extract a pound of flesh from whoever had thrown a wrench into her well-oiled machine.

  Molly followed, flowers clutched in her hand. Occasionally, she’d been the recipient of Gladys’s ire; it was much more entertaining when the woman had another target.

  Molly’s amusement quickly disappeared. Sarah wasn’t in the ER. Apparently, she’d disappeared at some point in the afternoon when the victims of the bus accident, the overflow from Mass General, had flooded this facility. Her chart hung on the foot of an empty gurney. No one had seen her leave.

  Had Sarah simply gotten up and carried her child out into this storm?

  Mol
ly picked up the chart. The clipboard was empty. Apparently, Sarah had had the presence of mind to take the paperwork with her. The woman really didn’t trust to leave a trace of herself, even a confidential hospital record.

  “Do you have an address in the computer for her?” Molly asked Gladys. She could go back to the clinic and look it up herself. But that would take another thirty minutes.

  “Yes. But that’s about all.”

  They returned to Gladys’s desk. Molly laid down the flowers to make a quick notation of the address. Then she snatched them back up in a tight fist and headed to the garage. About half-way there, she realized she was swinging the bouquet at her side as she steamrolled her way toward her car, knocking the heads of the flowers against her coat, leaving a shower of petals in her wake. She felt just like Gladys had looked just minutes ago—ready to rip someone’s head off. Why in the hell would Sarah put herself and her baby at risk like this?

  It took Molly forty minutes on the slick streets to get to the address on Sarah’s chart. When she pulled up and stopped, she slammed her fist against the steering wheel. This was no residence. It was just one of those mail box places. She sat there for a few minutes, listening to the sleet clatter against the car and the windshield wipers thump back and forth. Had Sarah made it safely to wherever she was going? A shiver coursed down Molly’s body. Somewhere in this big city, a new mother huddled with her child against loneliness and the storm. Molly prayed to God they were all right. It was the only thing she could do.

  That sense of sad isolation, of cold detachment, once again covered her like an unhealthy skin. Finally, she turned around and headed home, to her own fight against loneliness.

  The next day the sun shone brightly, glinting off the icy tree branches like diamonds. The cheerfulness of it didn’t begin to penetrate Molly’s mood. Worry had kept her awake most of the night. This morning’s roads had been reduced to nasty, yet relatively safe, slush. She concentrated on its gray ugliness instead of the fairyland created by the sparkling ice coating on everything else as she drove to work at the ER.