by Lisa Jordan
“Oh, Lord…” He sniffed, wiping a hand under his nose. He knocked his head against the table and clenched his jaw. “What do I do?” Tears blurred his vision.
Oliver asked whom he was willing to give up his badge for. Was he willing to give it all up for Lindsey? Or God? Did God really want it all? His job? His past?
As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.
Could it be that easy?
Stephen scrubbed his hands over his face, his fingers coming away wet. “You win, Lord.”
Warmth rushed through him, filling every pore with a peace that edged away those feelings of worthlessness. He buried his face in his hands. For the first time since Bethany’s death, Stephen wept.
The inn stood in her absence. If anything, Rita and Paul improved the atmosphere—fresh-cut flowers and local gourmet chocolates upon arrival, turndown service—little things guests may not have noticed but enhanced their visits. Was she even needed back in her own place?
Cinnamon fragranced the air as Lindsey passed by the dining room, carrying a steaming cup of French vanilla tea to the registration desk, leaving behind the sounds of chatter and music from the radio in the kitchen.
She reached into the drawer and pulled out colored chalk and an eraser. She wrote out today’s savories and sweets on the miniature chalkboards that would sit on the antique buffet—crustless cucumber sandwiches, open-faced turkey with melted Swiss, crab salad on toast points, lemon squares, apple tarts and hand-dipped chocolate strawberries served with an assortment of teas and coffee.
Finished, she carried the boards into the dining room and set them on the easels next to the tiered plates. Eight tables covered with floral and lace linens and able to seat twenty-two guests filled the room. Yellow-and-lavender place mats, mismatched porcelain teacups and saucers, and polished silverware on linen napkins dressed the tables with single pink roses in clear vases reigning as centerpieces.
Bells over the front door jingled, signaling a visitor. Lindsey gave the dining room a final glance and then returned to the reception area.
Melissa stood next to the desk, her arms twined around the handle of the baby carrier. She glared at Lindsey. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend.” Lindsey tugged on the cuff of her white eyelet sweater.
Melissa snorted and shook her head. “You have a funny way of showing it. No goodbye? Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Your sarcasm is noted.” Lindsey extended a hand toward the front parlor. “Would you like to come in and sit down? May I offer you some tea?”
“Stop treating me like a guest at your stupid inn.”
Melissa stomped into the parlor and set the baby carrier on the floor while she shrugged out of her jacket. She draped it over the arm of the pale blue settee and perched on the edge of the seat to remove Nathanial from his cocoon. She cradled her son against her breast and rubbed his back. Tears filled her eyes. “You know, Lindsey, the first time you left, I understood. Your dad had just died. And then Stephen’s about-face on the whole wedding thing. But now, what did I do to you to deserve this?”
“Nothing.” Lindsey picked up Melissa’s jacket and slid it onto a hanger. She hung it in the closet outside the parlor. The action prevented Lindsey from having to see the hurt in her friend’s eyes. Lindsey turned and almost bumped into Melissa. “It wasn’t you, Mel.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
“It’s complicated.” Her eyes drifted toward the soft curls darkening Nathanial’s head. She breathed in the scent of baby shampoo.
Melissa rolled her eyes. “I have a master’s in education, Linds. I think I can handle it.”
She held out her hands. “Can I hold him?”
Melissa turned her shoulder, shielding Nathanial from Lindsey. “You’re not touching him until you tell me what’s going on.”
“Why don’t you ask Stephen?” Lindsey returned to the parlor and sat in one of the matching buttercup-colored Queen Anne wing chairs. She picked lint off her black dress pants.
“He’s as tight-lipped as you are.”
Lindsey looked up. “So he didn’t tell you—”
Melissa scowled. “Tell me what?”
Lindsey rested her head against the chair back and closed her eyes, reliving the moonlight shimmying across the water, the warmth of Stephen’s jacket around her shoulders. She opened her eyes, but dropped her voice to a whisper. “He asked me to marry him again.”
“Okay, now I really don’t understand the problem.”
Nathanial started and voiced his displeasure of being awakened from his nap. Melissa bounced him gently and patted his back. “If he asked you to marry him, then why are you here?”
“I told you, it’s complicated.”
“You turned him down, didn’t you?”
Lindsey stood without answering. She refolded an afghan and laid it across the back of the taupe leather sofa. She straightened a pile of magazines and shoved them in a wicker basket beneath the mahogany-and-glass coffee table.
“Why?”
“Mel, your brother is a cop. Doesn’t that scare you?” She plucked a dead leaf out of the fresh arrangement of golden carnations, red daisies and bronze roses nestled in a glass pumpkin-shaped container.
“At times, yes. But I can’t let that fear control me. Stephen’s not one of these rogue cops you see on TV who disregards protocol and goes off on his own. Besides, Shelby Lake is a lot safer than the big cities.” Melissa laid Nathanial back in his carrier and rocked it with her foot. He rubbed his head back and forth across the padding before closing his eyes.
Lindsey watched him and tried to squelch the ache rising in her chest. “My dad was killed in Shelby Lake.”
“Oh, honey, I know, but that’s not the norm. Your dad’s death changed a lot of things in our community, but we can’t live smothered in fear.”
“Stephen could have been killed.” She stared at the dead leaf in her hand.
Melissa scooted off the settee, stepped over the baby carrier and rested a hand on Lindsey’s arm. “But he wasn’t. You can’t dwell in what-ifs or could-have-beens.”
“Your brother said the same thing.”
“He’s a smart guy, Linds, who loves you very much.”
“I don’t know how my mom did it all those years.”
“Lots and lots of prayer, I’m sure. But God lifts that fear and replaces it with peace.”
Lindsey shrugged off Melissa’s hand and dropped the dead leaf in the wastebasket beside the sofa. “I just can’t do it. I can’t marry a cop and wonder if he’ll come home again. I can’t lose him the way Mom lost Dad.”
“You know what? I think you have a deeper problem than fear.”
“And what’s that?” She slammed her hands on her hips and glared at her friend.
“Trust.”
“Trust? That has nothing to do with anything.”
“Of course it does. God let you down, so you’re afraid to trust Him again. Stephen broke your heart once, so you’re afraid to trust him again. Your lack of trust feeds your fear. If you loved Stephen as much as you say you do, then you wouldn’t care if he was a cop or a garbage man.”
“What if I were to marry him and then lose him the way Mom lost Dad?” Lindsey dropped onto the couch and brought her knees to her chest.
“Your heart would be broken, you’d grieve and then move on with your life.”
“You sound so blasé about it. You’ve never gone through anything like that.”
Melissa sat beside her, slipped off her shoes and tucked her bare feet under her. She propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and faced Lindsey. “What do you want me to say, Linds? We’re all going to die someday. Grief can cripple you if you let it. But you know what? Our time on earth is temporary. You know, those who love and believe in Jesus will live forever in His Kingdom. So you may miss your dad now, but you’ll spend eternity with him. Don’t be such a control freak. Put yo
ur trust and faith back in God and let Him carry those burdens for you.”
“How?”
“You know how. Prayer.”
“God tuned me out years ago.” She picked at a loose fiber in the pillow.
“He’s not like that, and you know it. God’s always been there. You turned your back on Him. We don’t know His plans for us, but He sees the bigger picture.”
“God allowed that creep to kill my dad? God planned to break up my engagement? How could He be so cruel?”
“I don’t know the mind of God, Linds. I’m sorry your heart has taken a beating. God didn’t break your engagement.”
Lindsey snorted. “No, I have your brother to thank for that honor.”
Melissa ran a shaky hand through her hair. She swallowed and closed her eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. Stephen broke your engagement. In his heart, he felt he made the right choice. And don’t you think for a minute it was an easy one. His choice to let you go tortured him. The morning after you left Shelby Lake, he came to us crying like someone had ripped out his heart. He chose to marry a stranger and be an instant dad to a kid he didn’t even know. A child who wouldn’t even go near him for the first month.”
“I know he didn’t have it easy. I finally realized that and told him so. I forgave him, Mel. What’s passed is past. But the present came gift-wrapped with a new set of complications. I can’t lose him the way Mom lost Dad. I just can’t go through that again.” Lindsey rested her forehead against her knees.
“No one is denying you’ve had a rough time. But for once, step out of your bubble for a minute and think about others who have been hurting. Your dad’s death rippled throughout Shelby Lake. The teens at church suddenly lost their youth leader. The police department lost one of their best officers. My brother lost his mentor. But you know what? They survived. They got through it, and now they’re stronger for knowing your dad. He was a great man who blessed many. You’re so afraid of heartache that you’re afraid to risk your heart again. Your mom didn’t stop living because your dad died. You shouldn’t, either.”
Chapter Seventeen
Stephen read the letter for a third time. Just to make sure the words were real. He glanced at Chief Laughton, who sat with elbows propped on the arms of his chair and fingers steepled together. Behind him, the United States flag and the Pennsylvania Commonwealth flag hung from their poles—their colors representing liberty and justice for all. Everything he believed in.
“Congratulations, Sergeant. You’ll make a fine lieutenant.” Chief stood, rounded his desk and extended his hand.
Stephen shook it. “Thank you, sir.”
“You know, ol’ Thomas would be mighty proud of you if he were here. You were just a cocky jarhead when he took you under his wing.”
Stephen’s chest tightened. His throat thickened. A trickle of sweat slid down his spine. This was what he wanted. His fingers gripped the edges of the letter. The linen bond shook.
He rubbed the back of his hand across his upper lip and swallowed again. The words blurred together until they were nothing more than a swirl of letters.
This was what he wanted. What he strived for. His golden ticket to showing his family, and himself, that he was an honorable man. Not just anyone could make lieutenant. Only honorable men who worked hard to serve their communities received this promotion. Then why did his insides feel as if he swallowed a belt sander?
Lindsey wouldn’t take him as a sergeant, but would she consider him as a lieutenant? Less patrol and more paperwork.
Kendall’s words from yesterday echoed through his head. What are you willing to give up to keep Lindsey?
Stephen closed his eyes, filled his lungs with air and exhaled. He ran a finger between his neck and the closed collar of his dress shirt. Praying he was making the right choice, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his badge wallet.
Flipping it open, he allowed his eyes to roam over the gold eagle with its wings spanning the Pennsylvania crest. Shelby Lake Police Department was engraved across the bottom along with his badge number, 1219, etched in black. His symbol of honor. His Isaac.
“I appreciate being considered, sir. It’s an honor. But I need to decline.” Stephen took a deep breath and tossed his badge on the desk. “I will have my resignation on your desk by the close of business today.”
What was wrong with her? She had been moping around the inn since she returned from Shelby Lake. Usually the inn filled a hole, but for the past couple of days, she moved from one room to the next looking for that feeling of fulfillment and not finding it.
Melissa’s words from yesterday played through Lindsey’s thoughts as she replaced the stack of leather-bound classics back on the freshly dusted bookshelf. She wanted to cover her ears and drown out her friend’s voice. Instead, she flicked the feather duster over the bindings.
Plopping on the ottoman, she scanned the living room to make sure everything was in order. She loved this room with its mocha-colored leather furniture, piecrust tables she and Rita had found at an auction and refinished, and paintings of old country churches. Lindsey picked up the cream-colored chenille throw that had fallen onto the floor and tossed it over the end of the couch. It invited a guest to snuggle up with a page-turner.
How many times had Lindsey curled up in the matching overstuffed leather armchair after hours with her nose buried in a good book? This room, no, make that the inn, had become her refuge—her safety net—while she put the pieces of her broken heart back together again. A place where she was in control—tending to guests, serving breakfast, continually improving the quality. Over time, she managed to get from one day to the next without thinking about him.
Much.
Now a minute didn’t pass without her wondering how he was feeling or what he was doing.
She wandered to the large bay window and pushed aside the lace curtain. Paul climbed onto the riding mower and sucked up the leaves that had fallen this morning. Despite the sunshine, the air remained crisp, reminding Lindsey of Shelby Lake’s upcoming annual Harvest Fest complete with pumpkin carving contests, hot apple cider, kettle corn and hayrides. Would Stephen take Ty?
See, there you go again. Stop it.
A log in the fireplace shifted, sending a spiral of sparks up the chimney. Lindsey jumped. She turned away from the window. Daydreaming wasn’t part of today’s to-do list. She grabbed the feather duster and headed for the kitchen to fill a watering can. The ficus tree—affectionately named Sid by a regular guest from North Carolina—had dropped a couple of dead leaves on the beige carpet. The hanging plants in the corners of the living room drooped.
On the way to the kitchen, she passed the registration desk and spotted the stack of mail Rita or Paul had brought in. She leafed through the envelopes, slid the bills into the desk drawer to be paid later and dropped the junk mail in the trash.
She picked up a padded envelope with a Shelby Lake postmark and Melissa’s return address. She ran a finger under the sealed flap and ripped it open. Reaching inside, she pulled out a pink sticky note attached to a gift that looked as if it had been wrapped in the dark. The edges of the puppy dog wrapping paper were mismatched with thick corners and a lot of tape.
She read the note.
I forgot to give this package to you, so I express mailed it. Please think about what I said. I miss you. I’m only a phone call away. Love you, Mel
Lindsey snatched a corner of the puppy-dog paper and peeled it away, revealing a framed drawing of three people labeled Dad, Linzy, Ty. And a dog named Toby. Stephen had his stick arm and three-fingered hand wrapped around Linzy’s twig arms. Tyler had a toothy grin, minus a black space. Toby was almost as big as Tyler. A house surrounded by trees made up the backdrop of the picture. In the lower right-hand corner, Tyler had drawn two gray humps—headstones. One labeled Mommy, the other Tomus. In the upper right corner, among the clouds and a pie-shaped sun, two faces smiled.
She placed a hand across her heart and smiled through a sheen of
tears. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She picked up the note written on notebook paper.
Dear Linzy, You left before I culd give this to you. Why did you leave? I thot you liked us. I like you. You culd mary my dad. I want you to be my new mommy. I culd be your kid. I promiss to keep my room cleen. I will eat my vegtabolls. I hope you like the pikture. Ty
A splotch marred the paper, smearing the ink. Lindsey traced it, realizing it was her own. In protecting her own heart, she’d broken someone else’s.
Her cell phone chimed.
She sniffed and rummaged among the paperwork until she located her cell. Setting the wrapping and drawing on the guest registry, she snatched her phone before it went to voice mail. A quick peek at the display showed Mom’s number. Should have known. Mom hated to call the inn phone for fear of tying up the line in case a paying customer was trying to book a room.
“Hi, Mom.” Lindsey dropped onto the desk chair and propped her feet on the edge of the desk.
“Oh, Lindsey, are you sitting down? If not, maybe you should. Or maybe you should stand. If you take news better standing up. Oh, I don’t know. Just, well, do whatever—”
Lindsey sat up and tightened her grip on the phone. Goose bumps feathered her skin. Please don’t let this be bad news. “Mom, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Oh, honey, I have some news. I wish I could be there to tell you in person, but I can’t get away right now.”
“Tell me what?”
“Patrick Laughton just stopped by to see me. What a nice man. I just love him to pieces.”
“Mom—” Lindsey raked her hand through her hair, silently begging Mom to spill whatever bad news the chief delivered. What other reason could there be for his visit?
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Mom released a sigh. “They found him.”
“Who?”
“Your— Oh, I just cannot believe it after all this time.”
“Mom!” Had her mother ever been this scatterbrained?
“They found your father’s killer, Lindsey. I’m sorry, honey, the details are fuzzy. I’ll have Max call Stephen to find out the particulars and call you later. But you know what this means?”