A couple hours later, AJ awoke from a fitful nap disturbed by images of Tabby and Elizabeth. A third child played with Shelby’s girls, but AJ couldn’t make out the youngster’s face. While he lay there, all the mistakes he’d made, all the hurts he’d caused, paraded in front of him.
Tired of guilt, tired of being afraid to love someone, he curled into a tight ball and whispered his prayer.
“O Lord. I know Shelby will never love me. My family has hurt her too much. But please show me how I can be her friend.”
He took a couple of deep breaths, then wandered into the kitchen. As he poured a glass of sweet tea, an idea came to him. With Lila padding after him, he pulled Shelby’s letter from the top drawer of his desk. The paper was wrinkled from his handling. Though he knew it from memory, he read it again, as if for the first time.
Dear Mr. Sullivan,
Richard Grayson tells me you aren’t interested in my offer to buy Misty Willow. I hope to change your mind. The house has been in my family since it was built by a long ago ancestor. I spent much of my childhood there, on weekends and in the summers. I’d like my children to know the heritage I still treasure and that was lost to us by means I don’t understand.
I remember one summer, when I was about ten years old. I was sitting with my grandfather on a stack of hay bales. Nanna’s chickens were scratching in the dirt not far from us. “‘So much depends,’” said Grandpa, smiling at me as he quoted William Carlos Williams’s classic poem “The Red Wheelbarrow.”
Perhaps you know it.
My grandpa loved that poem. He knew it by heart, and he taught it to me.
From what my uncle Richard tells me, the house at Misty Willow hasn’t been lived in since my grandparents died. It doesn’t seem to mean much to you, Mr. Sullivan. But for me, everything depends on my children and me living on the farm our ancestors carved out of the wilderness over two hundred years ago.
I am pleading with you to reconsider my offer.
Very truly yours,
Shelby Lassiter Kincaid
He touched the blue ink, her neat handwriting, his fingertip tracing the flourish of her S. When Richard had given him the note, he’d opened it with idle curiosity. But her words had pressed into his heart until he wanted to know everything about the woman who had written them.
Her note had touched his heart. Perhaps he could thaw her heart with a note of his own.
He wrote what he wanted to say on a sheet of engraved stationery Gran had given him for Christmas a few years ago and folded it into an envelope. He picked up his keys, then put them down again. Shelby wouldn’t like it if he showed up and her girls were happy to see him. He’d have to wait till later, when they were asleep, to deliver the note.
Remembering the way Elizabeth and Tabby had run to him in the café made him smile. Tabby’s quick laughter and Elizabeth’s serious demeanor whetted his yearning for a family of his own. He’d like to have daughters. Just like them.
Snatches of his earlier dream flitted at the edges of his mind. Elizabeth and Tabby playing with another child. A child without a name.
Find Meghan.
AJ started, and his heart raced. I can’t, he protested. But the admonition, once planted, would not go away.
He battled with himself while he folded laundry, washed dishes, and even mopped the kitchen floor. Finally, he opened his laptop and found the site for the Columbus College of Art and Design. Searching through pages of the archived alumni newsletter, he eventually found a snippet of information. Meghan Jensen McCurry had won an award for a stained-glass project titled Diamond Morning.
So she had married. Hope snapped the filament of jealousy that had earlier strangled him. If Meghan were happy, if she had found a man to love and to love her, perhaps she could forgive him. Then maybe he could forgive himself.
Did he dare to dream he’d be free to pursue Shelby’s heart?
He did a search, using Meghan’s name and the title of her artwork.
Pay dirt!
Her website appeared on the first page of the results. He clicked the link, and Meghan stared back at him. Her pale gray eyes, creased with the tiniest of lines, welcomed visitors to her site.
His head ached as he read her bio. Only one line, short and matter-of-fact, mentioned her attendance at CCAD. He rubbed the sting behind his eyes, acutely aware of why she had abandoned her studies.
The contact information listed an email address. But after all these years, an email seemed too impersonal. Besides, she’d probably delete a message from him without reading it.
Maneuvering around the site, he found a gallery in Brennan Grove, Michigan, that displayed her work. Before he could talk himself out of it, he looked up the address on a navigation program.
Brennan Grove showed up as a tiny dot north of Toledo. AJ leaned back in his chair, rapping out a rhythm on his desk. Only a few hours away.
The thought startled him, followed an instant later by an astonishing assurance that he needed to see Meghan.
But first, he had to see Shelby.
After shutting down the computer, he gathered his keys.
And his courage.
– 18 –
After kissing her girls good night, Shelby carried a glass of lemonade to the front porch and gazed out over her front lawn. Tiny pinpoints of light glowed in the shadows of evening. Before going to bed, Elizabeth and Tabby had chased the elusive fireflies, catching a few in their jelly jars.
Shelby freed the blinking insects, wishing she could rid herself of her troubles so easily. Embarrassment and guilt pressed into her heart. Why, God? she silently prayed. Why did I even think of letting another man into my life?
Hard to believe, but she missed her courtship days with Gary. Fun, laughing days when the future beckoned with promising dreams and happily ever after. Tears burned her eyes, and she swiped them away.
All things work together for good.
The Scripture came, unbidden, into her mind, and she grimaced. She’d heard Romans 8:28 repeated so often the verse held little meaning.
All things work together for good to those who are called according to his purpose.
“It’s a promise,” Dad had often said, encouraging his family to trust in God’s providence no matter their circumstances. But it had been a long time since Shelby believed the promise was meant for her.
Certainly no good had come from her grandparents’ deaths or from the family losing Misty Willow.
Nothing good?
Her parents would never have gone to the mission field if not for the earlier tragedy.
“The price was too high,” she argued, bowing her head.
All things.
Suddenly tired, Shelby settled into the soft cushions of the new porch swing. Up the road, headlights came around the curve. When the vehicle turned into her drive, she recognized AJ’s Jeep. Her stomach tightened, and she resisted the impulse to run inside and lock the door.
Better to face him now, when the girls were sleeping, than endure the embarrassment of them climbing all over him if he dropped in tomorrow.
She stayed seated as he parked in front of the porch. As he came toward her, Lila trotted past him and poked Shelby’s hand with her nose.
“Hey there, girl.” Avoiding AJ’s gaze, Shelby rubbed the lab’s silky ears. Lila pressed against her legs, then lay down at her feet.
“Hello from me too.” He stuck one hand in his jeans pocket and leaned against the porch’s wooden column.
“Hi.”
“Are the girls asleep?”
“They’re supposed to be.”
“I thought you’d prefer it if I stopped by after they went to bed.”
“Stopped by for what?”
“To give you this.”
She took the envelope and examined the bold writing, a legible mix of print and cursive that conveyed confidence.
“What’s this?”
“Just read it. After I’m gone.”
“Okay.”
> Chirping crickets and musical frogs, the night’s rural orchestra, filled the awkward silence. The swing creaked as her foot pushed against the porch, and the gentle motion eased her tension.
“I’m going out of town tomorrow.” He shifted, and the meager light from the house briefly revealed his tired eyes and grim expression. “When I get back, I’ll bring over the things from Gran. If that’s all right with you.”
“I recognized the items in the photos. They were Nanna’s.”
“Gran left a note saying she bought them at the estate sale. For safekeeping, she said.”
“I’m glad of it.” At least one of the Sullivans felt remorse for what they’d done to her family, though spending time with AJ was teaching her that he was more like his gran than his grandfather. She met his gaze and gave him a brief smile. “So where are you going? Another camping trip?”
“There’s something I need to take care of.” He shrugged, obviously ill at ease. “Something I should have taken care of a long time ago.”
Dread filled her stomach. “Does this have to do with Misty Willow?”
“My cousins want the farm.”
“Why?”
“So they can sell it to some developer.”
“Brett thought he could persuade me to give up this place?” Her heart lurched, and she closed her eyes as she remembered Brett’s insistence she’d be happier in a newer home. She had foolishly allowed herself to wonder if he’d been thinking of their future together. How utterly stupid she had been.
AJ shifted uncomfortably. “Brett doesn’t date moms.”
The words hurt, their truth a slender arrow into her heart. “He had to know I wouldn’t give up this place.”
“I told him that.” AJ removed his ball cap, wincing as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“What happened to your hand?”
“I hit something,” he said sheepishly.
“Brett?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he hit you back?” The concern in her voice surprised her. AJ too, by his expression.
The door flew open, and Elizabeth scurried outside. Clad in a pink gingham nightgown and barefoot, she knelt beside Lila.
“Young lady, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I heard you talking to Mr. AJ, and I came out to play with Lila.”
“It’s time for sleeping, not playing.”
“Can Lila sleep with me?”
“Afraid not, sunshine,” AJ said. “She’s got to get up early in the morning.”
“Are you going camping again?”
“No, just taking a little trip.”
“And Lila’s going too?”
“Not this time.”
Elizabeth’s mouth formed a horrified O. “You’re going to leave her all alone?”
AJ chuckled. “She won’t be alone. I’m taking her to a place that keeps dogs when the owners go away.”
“Can’t she stay with me?” Elizabeth turned from AJ to Shelby as tears welled up in her eyes. “Please, Mommy. Don’t make Lila go to the keeping place.”
“Honey, I’m sure Mr. AJ knows what’s best for Lila.”
“But she wants to stay with me. I know she does.” Elizabeth stood, and Lila scrambled to her feet. Swiping her eyes, Elizabeth laid her hand on the dog’s head. “I’ll take good care of her, Mr. AJ. I promise I will.”
He looked helplessly at Shelby and she lifted her shoulders in resignation. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She’d take care of his dog, get Nanna’s furniture from him, and then that would be it. No more contact between them.
And this time she meant it.
Elizabeth squealed with glee. “Come on, Lila. You can sleep with me.” She hurried back into the house before the grown-ups could change their minds, Lila trotting right beside her.
Another thing to add to the list. Get Elizabeth her own pet.
“Why do I feel like I just lost my dog?”
Shelby stifled a chuckle. “I promise you can have her back.”
“I’ll drop off her food and a few toys in the morning. If you’re sure this is okay.”
“I don’t think I can pry her away from Elizabeth now.” Shelby stood and joined him at the porch rail. “How long will you be gone?”
“Two or three days. Not long.”
“You better give me your phone number.” She opened her phone to add his contact info. “In case we need to reach you.”
“Sure.”
They exchanged numbers, and Shelby walked with him to the Jeep. He started to open the door, then faced her. “Will you pray for me? For this thing I have to do.” His voice trailed off into the darkness.
Pray for AJ? After all he’d done?
Her mind reeled, clicking off the things “he’d done.” Finding a way around Sully’s will so she could live in this house. Sheltering her children from a storm. Letting Elizabeth keep Lila.
Always telling her the truth even when it was hard.
“I’ll pray for you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Thank you.” He brushed her arm, his touch feather light against her skin. “Good night.”
She watched his taillights, mesmerized and lonely, as he drove away. When the Jeep disappeared around the curve, she went inside and checked on the girls. Elizabeth was already asleep, Lila beside her on the bed.
Curling up in the wing chair by the fireplace, Shelby opened AJ’s envelope.
Dear Shelby,
I know my family has hurt you. Right now, I’d give just about anything not to be a Sullivan. Or at least not to have Brett for a cousin. Except he is and so is Amy. And the truth is, despite our differences, they’re still my family. The only family I have.
I’m sorry for all the pain the Sullivans have caused the Lassiters. But isn’t it time we put an end to our grandparents’ feud? Their fight doesn’t have to be ours.
Please tell me that we can be friends.
AJ
He wanted her prayers and her forgiveness? He had no idea what he was asking.
All things work together for good. The phrase echoed in her thoughts.
Not for her they didn’t.
All her heartaches could be traced back to the Sullivans.
It wasn’t true, but she had blamed them for so long that it felt true.
But the truth, and she had to admit it, was that AJ Sullivan was a decent guy. Elizabeth and Tabby adored him. And pretty much ignored Brett.
Was it possible her children had more sense than she did?
Before Shelby slipped between her covers, she knelt beside her bed. Struggling to find the right words to express her mixed-up feelings, she finally whispered, “Father, I’m sorry. My heart just hurts so much. Please help me. And be with AJ too, and whatever it is he’s doing.”
– 19 –
AJ drove north, following the directions given by his GPS. The memories he’d hidden away for the past several years threatened to boil over and scald his heart. Pushing through the searing pain, he prayed for guidance.
At the next rest area, he parked and wandered to a secluded picnic table. He couldn’t put off the memories much longer, not if there was a possibility of seeing Meghan anytime soon.
What would she do when she saw him? The insistent question prickled his skin, and he scratched his arm. Why had he even come?
Because of Shelby.
He sat on the edge of the table, his feet planted on the bench, and rested his head on the heels of his hands. How could asking Meghan’s forgiveness change things with Shelby? Especially after Brett’s stupid little game.
A calm assurance eased his pain. He didn’t have the answers, but he served a God who did. A God who forgave even the worst of sins. AJ grasped that truth, wordlessly praying as the memories gushed over him.
He was in his first year of law school at Ohio State University, swamped with reading assignments. But the Indian summer day, the sun
blazing on red and gold leaves, enticed him from the law library. He took his books to a park not far from his grandparents’ home and stretched out on a gently sloping bank leading to a sun-dappled lake. While he napped, Meghan had photographed him as part of her assignment on the urban landscape. She was a junior in a fine arts program at Columbus College of Art and Design.
When he woke, she asked him to sign a release. Naturally, he’d insisted on seeing the photographs. Which led to him renting a paddleboat, then an impromptu supper date at a taco stand. Neither one finished their assignments that day.
Enchanted by Meghan’s soft Southern accent, AJ asked her to dinner the following weekend. Juggling their schedules, they spent as much time together as they could that semester.
As Christmas neared, AJ shopped for a special gift, finally deciding on an engraved locket. He planned to give it to her at the annual holiday reception hosted by his grandparents. It was the first time she had met his family.
The first time Meghan met Brett.
I’d have given her back when I was done with her. I always do.
Her head pounding after a restless night’s sleep, Shelby shooed the girls and Lila outside after breakfast. She downed the rest of her coffee, then carried a canvas tote containing a three-ring binder and laptop to the patio. Photos of garden retreats overwhelmed her Pinterest boards, and articles torn from gardening magazines bulged from her notebook.
Time to make a few landscaping decisions.
Outside the kitchen door, she almost stumbled on a bag of dog food next to a box with dishes, a leash, and a few toys. She found a ball and threw it out to the grassy oval where Lila played with the girls. The retriever raced after the ball, Elizabeth and Tabby chasing after her.
Lila snatched up the ball and proudly delivered it to Shelby. “Such a good girl,” she said, patting the dog’s wiggly body. When Elizabeth reached the patio’s bottom step, Shelby tossed her the ball. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Mommy.” Elizabeth grabbed the ball with both hands and threw it into the yard. “C’mon, Lila. Go get it!” Lila took off, and so did Elizabeth.
“Let Tabby have a turn too.”
“I will,” she called over her shoulder.
Shelby settled in a wicker rocker and sighed with deep contentment as she surveyed this bit of her land. The graveled driveway stretched from the road and past the house till it faded into a hard-packed lane near the pasture. The drive also looped next to the house to enclose a large grassy area long ago dubbed the oval.
Where She Belongs Page 13