Along the fence beyond the drive, Paul Norris’s son Seth had prepared a long flower bed. The hydrangeas, daisies, marigolds, and petunias Shelby had planted shortly after the move now thrived. Only one other element was needed to set off the purple, yellow, and white blooms, and she was on the lookout for just the right thing.
In her grandparents’ time, a ring of stones had formed a gathering place for campfires on the far side of the grassy oval. Only a few of the rocks remained beneath the shelter of two towering oaks.
Grandpa had transported the rocks from Glade Creek. Surely she could too. Maybe AJ would help.
She frowned.
Forget AJ. She could do this herself.
She opened her binder and sifted through photos of lush flowerbeds, wild roses growing along fencerows, colorful blooms bordered by fragile violets, and an assortment of statuary.
Selecting a few favorites for inspiration, she sketched several layouts for the memorial garden to honor her grandparents. Engrossed in her planning, she barely registered the crunch of tires on gravel and the soft whir of an engine until Lila’s sharp bark caught her attention. A silver minivan stopped near the patio, and the side door slid open.
Austin Owens, a miniature Jason with his red hair sticking out from beneath a ball cap, jumped from the side, waved at Shelby, and sped toward Elizabeth. Cassie emerged from the front with a bulging grocery sack. “Hi, neighbor. I brought you something.”
Shelby set aside her notebook and walked to the edge of the patio. “I thought you were still out of town. How was the wedding?”
“Perfect.” Cassie climbed the steps, straining under the weight of the brown paper bag. Shelby reached to help, but Cassie twisted away. “Just get me to the kitchen. Fast.”
Shelby opened the kitchen door and steered Cassie inside. She dropped the bag on the table and flamboyantly plopped into a chair. “My sister was a lovely bride, and now she and her new hubby are honeymooning in the Caribbean.”
“Lucky them.” Shelby took two glasses from the cupboard. “Iced tea?”
“Sure, thanks. Mom cried forever, but I guess that was to be expected. All her babies grown up. After all the wedding festivities were over, it was nice to spend a couple extra days at the old home place.”
“Do you wish you still lived there? Near family?”
Cassie tilted her head in thought. “I love going back for the big family events and holidays. But my home is here with Jason.”
“‘Whither thou goest’ and all that?”
“I suppose.” She gave Shelby a quizzical look. “I just know I love our farm. Speaking of which . . .” Reaching into the sack, she dramatically pulled out a giant zucchini. “Ta-da! Fresh off the vine. I picked them this morning from my garden.”
Shelby hefted the zucchini. “It’s huge.”
“You’ll take them, won’t you?”
“Absolutely, thank you.” She moved the bag to the counter and sat across from Cassie. “Next year I’ll have my own garden produce to share.”
“So what’s been going on with you while I’ve been gone? I see you’ve got a dog.”
“That’s Lila. We’re dog-sitting.”
“Lila?” Cassie’s eyes widened with curiosity, and she scooted her chair closer to the table. “AJ Sullivan’s dog?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that.”
“Not like what?”
“He was over here last night.” Shelby reddened as Cassie’s smile brightened. “He said he was going away, and Elizabeth heard, and . . . well, we’ve got Lila.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. He just said he had something to do.” Shelby absentmindedly twirled the ice in her glass. “He asked me to pray for him.”
Cassie’s amused smile faded. “What’s wrong, Shelby?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“I mean with you. Something’s happened, I can tell.”
Shelby hesitated, unsure whether to trust Cassie. She’d been burnt in the past after confiding in someone who pretended to be her friend. Since then, she’d been leery of entering into a close friendship with anyone. But Cassie wasn’t just anyone. She was Jason’s wife, and that meant something. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with anyone who was unkind or judgmental.
The day Cassie had helped Shelby paint, before the move from Chicago, she brought along a couple of other women from church. Though they’d chatted about mutual friends, the conversation never slipped into idle gossip. Cassie, especially, seemed to think the best of everybody.
“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” Cassie said. “But I’d like us to be friends.”
“I’d like that too.” Shelby breathed a prayer for courage and took a deep breath. “I’ve been not-dating this guy. Brett.”
“Not-dating?”
“It’s stupid, I know.”
“No, it’s not.” Cassie folded her hands and propped up her chin. Her eyes narrowed with sudden insight. “You’re not talking about Brett Somers, are you?”
“You know him?”
“Not really. I mean, I know he’s AJ’s cousin and too gorgeous for his own good, but that’s about it.” Her eyes grew large, and she smacked the table. “You’re dating AJ’s cousin?”
“No, we’re not-dating.”
“What does that even mean?”
“We’ve gone out a couple of times, but not on a real date. That was supposed to be tonight. But yesterday . . . I didn’t know he and AJ were cousins until yesterday.”
“And that’s a problem why?”
“Because Brett wasn’t dating me for me.” Shelby stood and rinsed her glass. Through the window, squirrels chased each other up, down, and around a red maple while a starling scolded them from its perch on a fence post.
Tears welled up in Shelby’s eyes. “He wants to take the farm. AJ found out, and he hit him, and now he’s gone, and . . .” The rest of her words drowned in the tears spilling down her cheeks. She grabbed a paper towel from the holder and tried to stem the flow. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize. You’re hurting, and a good cry will ease the pain.”
“I’m not sure about that.” The words came out in a halting stammer.
“Me either.” Cassie tore off another paper towel sheet and handed it to Shelby. “But it’s something my grandma used to say, so I figure it must be true whether I believe it or not.”
“Grandmas know best.”
“They often do.” She laid a sympathetic hand on Shelby’s arm. “Now tell me again what happened. Start at the beginning. Who hit who?”
Despite the lump clogging her throat, Shelby laughed at Cassie’s bossy curiosity. “I’ll tell you everything, but I better check on the kids first.”
“I’ll do that. You go freshen up.”
Shelby nodded her appreciation and headed for the bathroom. After splashing water on her aching eyes, she joined Cassie outside.
While the children played freeze tag, she told Cassie about Brett’s attentive charm, the incident in the café, and AJ’s late-night visit. Comforted by Cassie’s intuitive understanding, Shelby tried to untangle her knotted emotions.
“From the first time we met, I wondered why Brett would be interested in a stay-at-home mom. But I liked him. And I thought he liked me.”
“How did you meet him?”
“My great-uncle introduced us, so it’s hard for me to believe he knew Brett’s plan. But when I look back on that evening, I can’t help feeling like it was a setup.”
“Have you talked to your uncle about it?”
“I thought about calling him last night after AJ left. But this morning, I didn’t want to think about it. So I planned Nanna’s memorial garden instead.” Shelby gestured at the notebook lying on the wicker table between their chairs.
Cassie smiled, then focused on the playing children. After a few moments, she faced Shelby. “The girls can come to my house for a while if you want to go
into town.”
“To talk to Richard?”
“It might help to know his part in all this.”
Shelby picked at a piece of loose wicker in the chair arm. “You really don’t mind watching the girls?”
“I’d love to.”
“Then I’ll call Richard and ask him to meet me this afternoon.” Shelby pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. “I need to call Mandy, Paul Norris’s daughter too. She was going to babysit tonight.”
“So you’re not keeping your date with Brett?”
“Absolutely not.” Shelby hit the send button and made a pouty face. “Though I spent too much money on a new dress.”
“Ooh, I want to see it.”
Shelby held up her index finger. “Hello, Uncle Richard. It’s me, Shelby.”
– 20 –
A bell tinkled as AJ entered the gallery, a corner brick building on a quaint street designed to appeal to tourists with its gift shops, restaurants, and courthouse-turned-museum. He stood awkwardly, hands jammed in pockets, in the stillness of the space. Long shelves held a variety of pottery, vases, bowls, and mugs. Painted canvases decorated the walls. Frames of stained glass hung at varying heights in front of the windows, the sun’s rays brightening the rich reds, blues, and greens.
He stepped closer to one, a framed rectangle of a brown tree, its branches extending over a broad stream. Wildflowers, purple and red and yellow, grew along the bank, their vibrant colors made brighter by the morning sun. It reminded him of Glade Creek.
“May I help you?”
The voice startled him, and he quickly turned.
A petite woman with spectacles hanging on a chain around her neck smiled at him. “That’s a beautiful piece, isn’t it? It was designed and created by one of our local artists.”
“Meghan McCurry?”
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Professionally, she goes by Meghan Jensen. Are you familiar with her work?”
“Not lately, no. I’d like to purchase this one.”
“Without asking the price?”
He reddened slightly as dollar signs practically replaced her pupils, then handed over his credit card. “I’m sure it’s worth whatever it costs.”
“I wish more of our visitors shared your attitude.” She put on her reading glasses and glanced at his card. “Anderson J. Sullivan.”
“Please, call me AJ.”
“AJ Sullivan.” She said his name slowly then peered at him over the rim of her glasses. “Meghan didn’t tell me she had contacted you, though I’m glad she did. I was tempted to myself, but she’d have been so very angry if I did anything like that behind her back. None of that matters now. At least you’re finally here. But why didn’t you go straight to the hospital?”
AJ held out his hands, palms forward, in a vain attempt to slow down the woman’s rapid speech. In the jumble of words, he pulled out the most important ones.
“Is Meghan in the hospital?”
“She’s been there since the accident. Didn’t she tell you?”
“I haven’t talked to Meghan in years.”
“Then how did you know?”
“Know what?”
“About Jonah.”
“Who’s Jonah?”
The woman heaved an expansive sigh and leaned against the counter. She seemed to have spent all her words in the roundabout conversation that had left both of them confused.
AJ recovered first. “Where can I find Meghan?”
“If she didn’t call you, then perhaps she doesn’t want you to find her.”
“I’ll go to every hospital in the region if I have to. Please don’t make me.”
“Why did you come here, Mr. Sullivan?”
“You’ll probably think I’m crazy.”
“Try me.”
“God led me here.”
“I don’t think that’s crazy at all.” She sighed again. “You’ll find Meghan in the trauma unit at Toledo Regional.”
“Is she all right? I mean, what’s wrong with her?”
“Just go to her. She needs you.”
Entering the coffee shop, Shelby joined Richard at a corner table. He rose, and she pecked him on his papery cheek before sitting in the chair he held out for her.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “UPS stopped by as I was getting in the car.” The cookie jar for AJ had finally arrived, but there had been no time to open the package. She hoped it was an exact replica of the one Tabby had broken.
“You’re not late at all.” Richard patted her hand. “Where are your darling daughters?”
“With Cassie Owens. You may remember that her husband Jason and I were childhood friends.”
“I know Jason and Cassie. Not well, but I see them around town once in a while.”
“They’ve been very welcoming.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I want you to be as happy here as you were when you were a little girl.” The corners of his mouth tilted, and he gave her a teasing look.
They engaged in idle chitchat till the waitress delivered their orders of strawberry shortcake and coffee. Shelby stirred extra sweetener in her cup, her attention focused on the dissolving granules.
“It’s nice to get together with you like this, Shelby. But I have a feeling this isn’t a social visit. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
Richard’s smooth voice reminded her of her grandfather. Not that Grandpa ever spoke with such perfect diction. But the concern for her, the warmth of affection was the same. If only he were here now, sitting across from her in this little place. Try as he might, Richard could never fill Grandpa’s boots.
She raised her eyes to his, catching a flicker of irritation before his expression softened. Surely she had imagined it. Why should he be irritated at her? He was the one who had lied. Willing her voice not to quiver, she tapped her spoon against the cup’s rim. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That Brett was related to the Sullivans. That he’s AJ’s cousin.”
She searched his age-creased eyes for the answer and saw them darken, shadowed by fear. His smile dispelled the shadow, but it had been there. She wasn’t imagining things. What was Richard afraid of?
“I thought you knew.” His placating tone barely concealed an odd quiver. “Brett didn’t tell you?”
“No, he didn’t.” Her voice rose in pitch, and she glanced around the shop to see if anyone had heard her. Fortunately, the guy at the nearest table was engrossed in whatever was happening on his laptop screen. Sipping the too-hot coffee to hide her uneasiness, she scalded her tongue. This wasn’t going at all well.
“Brett is quite taken with you. Perhaps, knowing how you felt about his grandfather, he wanted you to get to know him without that prejudice.” He took her hand in his, his palm clammy against hers. She resisted the urge to pull away. “Would you have given him a chance otherwise?”
“That wasn’t why he didn’t tell me.”
“Then what was?”
If Richard knew Brett’s plan, he hid it well. The fear, if that’s what it was, had disappeared. Now his light blue eyes showed a curious concern. As he leaned back in his chair, he released her hand.
“Brett hoped to talk me into selling the farm.” She jabbed a strawberry with her fork and dipped it into the whipped cream. “For some kind of development project he and his sister dreamed up.”
“He should have known better.” Richard chuckled, a hollow and cheerless sound, and the shadow returned. Shelby dropped her fork, its clatter on the floor barely penetrating her senses.
“You knew it.” She barely whispered the accusation.
Richard opened his mouth, then closed it again as his shoulders slumped. Impossibly, he appeared to age before her eyes as his tensed jaw emphasized the hollows in his cheeks. Perspiration dotted his forehead as he rummaged through his jacket pocket and slipped something in his mouth.
Concern ove
rshadowed Shelby’s anger. “Are you all right?”
He sipped water, then dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “I’m fine. Nothing wrong with me except old age.” His attempt at a smile failed, and he lowered his eyes.
“Tell me the truth, Uncle Richard. Were you in on Brett’s plan?”
“No.” His eyes glistened with regret and something deeper that Shelby couldn’t comprehend. “He only asked me to introduce you. I didn’t ask him why.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
He sighed heavily. “His grandfather and I were friends for many years, Shelby. Now that Sully is gone, I have a responsibility to his grandchildren.”
“You were more than friends with my grandfather. Nanna was your sister.”
“True.” The sadness in his voice pressed against Shelby’s heart. His eyes looked beyond her, into a past before her time. “We were great friends, Sully and me. Always were. We knew Thad too, but he didn’t socialize much. Too busy working on his parents’ farm. But then the three of us—Sully, Thad, and me—we got our draft letters. We went through basic training together, shipped out to Korea together. For a while we were like the Three Musketeers. But it couldn’t last. Too many things changed between us because of that war.”
“What things?” Shelby whispered the question, fearful of breaking the spell that held Richard in its grasp. He shivered, then gazed at her with clear eyes. Affection softened his expression.
“If we hadn’t become soldiers, your grandmother would have married Anderson Sullivan.”
Shelby gasped, but Richard continued. “And I would have married Joyanna.”
“But how—”
“Thad came home first, severely wounded. He and Aubrey spent a great deal of time together. By the time Sully and I came home”—he shrugged—“they were making wedding plans.”
Memories of her grandparents flitted through her mind. The special way they looked at one another, the gentle touches that whispered a deep abiding love. A match made in heaven, Grandpa always said. It’s what she had dreamed of for herself. What she expected to have with Gary.
Where She Belongs Page 14