Where She Belongs

by Johnnie Alexander

Tenderness melted his irritation. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “And say what?”

  “You could have just told me.”

  “Could I, Brett?”

  He opened his mouth, but no words came. How could he expect her to notify him about his son’s accident when he didn’t even know the boy existed? A lump lodged in his throat.

  “Let me see him. Please.”

  Her expression crumpled, and she swiped at her cheeks with both hands. “It’s too late.”

  “Too late tonight, or too late ever?”

  “Both.”

  He sighed deeply and passed his hand over his eyes. Maybe it was time to take another tack. “When are you going to tell AJ?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t?”

  “Not yet.”

  Wrapping her arms around herself as if in defeat, she leaned against the wall. “I should have told him when he showed up.” Biting her lip, she shook her head then gazed steadily into Brett’s eyes. “I rarely talked about Jonah’s father. Only to Travis and my friend Dawn. But I told them the same lie I told AJ. So when he showed up at Dawn’s gallery, she believed . . .” Her voice caught, and she took a deep breath. “He just assumed, and I didn’t correct him. Then he arranged all this, and it was too late.”

  “I’ll explain,” Brett offered. “He’ll understand.” I hope.

  “He never knew we . . . that you and I . . .” Her cheeks flushed, and she buried her face in her hands. “I’ve told so many lies.”

  “Then it’s time to tell the truth. AJ deserves that.” Hating himself for it, he played the trump card. “So does Jonah. He should know his real dad.”

  – 36 –

  AJ poured root beer into two tall glasses of vanilla ice cream while Shelby gathered straws, napkins, and long-handled soda spoons. After their excursion to the secret room, she’d invited him to stay for a snack. No way could he say no to that.

  “Ready to tackle those totes?” she asked.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind my nosiness?” He picked up the glasses and followed her into the family room.

  “Not at all.” She sat cross-legged by the stacked totes. “I still can’t believe your grandmother meant for me to have all this.”

  “Her list for you specifically said the antiques and their contents.” AJ sat on the other side of the totes then handed her a glass.

  She took a bite of ice cream, then lifted a rectangular photo album from the top tote. The photographs were mounted on black paper with white adhesive corners.

  “We probably should get these into some kind of archival album,” she said. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

  “That’s Sully.” AJ pointed to a photograph of his grandfather as a young man. “Isn’t that Richard with him?”

  Shelby peered at the photo. “Yes, I think it is.” She turned the page and pointed at a young man wearing rolled-up dungarees and a flannel shirt over a white T-shirt. “There’s Grandpa. Look how young they are.”

  Page after page contained photos of their grandparents, Richard, and other teens.

  “You look like Sully.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you and your grandmother.”

  “Look at this photo.” She pointed to one of Sully and Aubrey standing arm-in-arm outside the old high school. “Change the clothes and hairstyle, and they could be us.”

  “I’m not sure I want us to be Sully and Aubrey.” Please, God, let our future be different.

  “No, I guess not.” She turned the page. “Graduation.”

  The class picture took up the left-hand side of the page. On the right side, a few snapshots showed Richard and Sully in their caps and gowns. Gran and Aubrey stood proudly beside them wearing pastel dresses and white low-heeled shoes.

  “They were all such good friends once,” AJ said.

  “Until Nanna fell in love with Grandpa.”

  “‘Two souls, one heart.’”

  She gave him a quizzical look, her green eyes shining. “What’s that from?”

  “Not sure. Just something I heard somewhere.”

  “It’s true of them.” She removed the second album and opened the cover. “This belonged to Nanna.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen it before. I wonder how your grandmother got it.”

  “No clue. I’m guessing she preserved these things for Aubrey’s sake. She probably always meant to give them back to your family someday.”

  “I’m glad she did.”

  “Me too.”

  Most of the photographs were of Shelby’s grandparents as a young couple, but AJ found Gran and Sully in several of the earlier ones.

  He opened another album. “My grandparents’ wedding.” He turned the pages as Shelby oohed and ahhed over Gran’s dress and the floral arrangements.

  “She must not have realized this album was with the rest. You need to keep it.”

  “I’d like to. Thanks.” He turned another page and pointed to a photo of two infants. “My dad and aunt.”

  “Twins? You never said.” She tilted her head and gave him a smile. “Come to think of it, you don’t talk much about your parents at all.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “Why do you suppose it is that we both seem more, I don’t know, somehow affected by our grandparents’ lives than by our parents’?”

  “My parents traveled a lot.” He closed the album and set it aside. “I sometimes think I spent more time with my grandparents than with them. They died when I was sixteen.”

  “You must miss them.”

  “I do.” Planting his feet, he laced his fingers and rested his forearms on his knees. “Parents shouldn’t die until they’re really old.”

  “I’m not sure we handle it well even then.”

  “Probably not.” He ran his fingers through his hair, resting his head on his palm. “Sometimes, what I think I miss most is the idea of them. I guess that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I understand.” Shelby stirred her ice-cream float. “You want to remember them as being more than what they were.”

  “Feet of steel instead of feet of clay.”

  “Something like that.”

  “But I don’t want to follow in their footsteps. Not Sully’s. Not Dad’s.”

  “You won’t. You’re not.” She touched his arm, her eyes intent and tender. “You care more about people than about money.”

  Drawing back, she stared into her soda glass. “You care about doing the right thing.”

  Even though he couldn’t see her expression, he knew what she was thinking. In her quiet way, she was telling him she understood his responsibility to Meghan and Jonah.

  They were his priority for now, but his heart belonged to Shelby. He’d do everything in his power to keep her at Misty Willow.

  “One more,” Shelby said, pulling a thick manila envelope from the tote. She upended it, and a handful of newspaper clippings slid out.

  “What are those?” AJ asked.

  “I don’t know.” She unfolded the top one, then dropped it to the floor. Covering her mouth, she gagged, swallowed, and gagged again.

  “Shelby.” Shoving the totes out of his way, AJ sat next to her and put his arm around her. “What is it?”

  She drew her knees to her chest, hid her face, and rocked back and forth.

  AJ picked up the newspaper article and read the headline. “Local Farmer Found Dead.” The accompanying photo showed the barn’s grainy interior. The lighting appeared ghostly and dim as if the photographer had planned the photo to look mysterious.

  “Why would she keep these?” Shelby gasped.

  “I don’t know.” He squeezed her shoulder. “She probably didn’t remember she had them.”

  A second clipping included a studio portrait of Thad Lassiter.

  Shelby glanced at it. “That’s from their sapphire anniversary picture.”

  “Sapphire?”

  “Forty-five years.” Her
voice cracked. “I was with them that day. When the portrait was taken. We went to lunch, just the three of us.” Sobbing, she buried her head again.

  He pulled her closer, resting his jaw against her hair. The floral fragrance of her shampoo mingled with the faint notes of her perfume. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Cry it out.”

  After a few moments, her sobbing subsided. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, then broke again.

  AJ rubbed her back and lifted her chin. “What is it, Shelby?”

  Struggling to regain her composure, she met his gaze and blinked. “I found him,” she whispered. “Richard . . . Richard told them . . . he did.” She gulped. “But it was me.”

  A chill went up AJ’s spine as she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Shelby. I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as the sobs wracked her body. Tears burned his eyes and dampened his cheeks.

  Her heart was breaking. And so was his.

  AJ had been reluctant to leave Shelby, but she’d finally convinced him to go home. He placed Gran’s wedding album and the manila envelope on his desk, then hung his OSU ball cap on its hook. The cottage was lonely without Lila, but leaving her at Shelby’s gave him an excuse to return tomorrow. He dug out his phone and sent her a text.

  “Home. You okay?”

  A couple moments later, she replied. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  He repeated what he’d said before he left her. “No more tears. Promise?”

  “Promise. Good night.” The smiley face icon ended her message.

  “Night.”

  He carried the envelope into the bedroom and propped his pillows against the headboard. Relaxing on the bed, his legs stretched before him, he dumped the envelope’s contents on the comforter.

  Most of the news articles were from the local Glade County paper, but a couple of them came from the Columbus Dispatch. After sorting them by date, AJ read every word and studied every photograph.

  Thad Lassiter’s body had been found by his brother-in-law, prominent banker Richard Grayson, in the Lassiters’ barn. The recent loss of Misty Willow due to financial difficulties had been a cruel blow to the prominent farmer, and rumors had swirled that he had taken his own life. But authorities determined Thad died after tripping on a pig trough.

  Thad’s loss of the farm was a win for Sully, a bitter old man who couldn’t get over the rejection of his first love. But surely even he regretted his one-time friend’s tragic death. At least, AJ hoped he did.

  The final two clippings were obituaries, one for Thad and the other, dated less than two weeks later, for Aubrey. The list of survivors was almost identical in each. But one name stood out. He lightly caressed it with his finger.

  One granddaughter, Shelby Eliza Lassiter.

  Haunted by the warmth of her hair against his skin, the dampness of her tear-moistened cheeks against his fingers, he closed his eyes and relived the anguish of her sob-choked confession.

  “Richard told them he did. But it was me.”

  She’d only been fourteen. Just a kid.

  No wonder she’d spent years despising his family.

  He stuffed the newspaper clippings into the envelope and stuck it in his nightstand drawer. Before going to the hospital tomorrow, he’d stop by the newspaper office and check their archives for any other photographs. Figure out how to get a copy of the sheriff’s report. And contact Professor Kessler to tell him about the tunnel beneath the hunting cabin.

  He slid beneath the comforter and turned out the light. Maybe Shelby would let him take her and the girls to the Dixie Diner for supper. Or perhaps he could pick up a pizza. They still needed to watch Tangled.

  A movie night with his favorite gals. If only Gran could be with them too.

  As Shelby closed the dishwasher, her phone signaled AJ’s incoming text. “No more tears. Promise?” The same thing he’d said before leaving.

  She tapped out her reply. “Promise. Good night.” Smiley face.

  “Night.”

  Slipping the phone in her pocket, she returned to the family room. The totes, still in the middle of the room, taunted her. It’d been fun at first, looking through the albums at their grandparents’ photos. But now she wished Joyanna had given them to someone else.

  She scooted the totes against a wall and collapsed on the couch.

  “Mommy?” Elizabeth stood in the doorway, Lila by her side.

  “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I have to ask you something.”

  Shelby patted the couch. “Come here then.”

  Elizabeth scurried across the room and snuggled close while Lila lay at Shelby’s feet. “Did Mr. AJ go home?”

  “Um-hm.” She absentmindedly stroked Elizabeth’s hair.

  “But Lila is still here.”

  “He said she could stay the night with you and Tabby.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What did you want to ask me?”

  “Are we moving again?”

  Shelby’s heart fell to her stomach. “Why do you ask that?”

  “I heard you and Mr. AJ talking.” Elizabeth shifted and pulled her nightgown over her feet. “I like it here. Don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Then why are we leaving?”

  Instead of answering, Shelby wrapped her arms around Elizabeth’s slender body and kissed the top of her head.

  “Africa is too far away.”

  A world map had hung on the kitchen wall in their previous house. A blue pin marked Chicago, and a red pin marked the Mozambique mission. How many times had she offhandedly said her parents lived “too far away”?

  “If we move,” Elizabeth’s small voice cracked, “I won’t see Austin anymore, will I?”

  “You like Austin?”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  Her oh-so-serious tone made Shelby smile. She had been about Elizabeth’s age when she claimed Jason as her best friend. It looked like history was repeating itself with a younger generation.

  The friendship of two six-year-olds wouldn’t persuade Amy to drop the lawsuit. But was it enough reason to keep Shelby from leaving Glade County?

  – 37 –

  Shelby hung up the phone and rubbed her temples.

  “Another no?” Jillian asked sympathetically as she rolled out pie dough on the kitchen table. The teen had spent the last few days with them, and Shelby had enjoyed every minute with her.

  “Everybody I’ve asked already has plans for the Fourth.” She slunk in her chair. “I should have known.”

  Jillian lifted the dough and arranged it in the pie dish. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “Me too. Lemonade?”

  “Sure.”

  Shelby pulled the pitcher from the refrigerator. “My grandparents had such great Fourth of July celebrations. We’d go to town for the parade, then race back here to get everything ready.” Ice from the dispenser clinked into two glasses. “I had my heart set on reviving the Lassiter Fourth of July cookout tradition.”

  “You still can. Just pick another day.”

  “To celebrate the Fourth?”

  “To have a cookout.” Jillian spooned fresh blackberries into the pie dish, then added the top crust. “Start your own tradition.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Too soon?”

  “There’s only one way to find out. Get back on the phone.”

  “What about you and Seth?”

  “We don’t mind giving up the movies for the First Annual Kincaid Cookout.”

  “You may not, but Seth might.”

  “I promise you, he won’t.”

  Shelby grinned as a shy smile lifted Jillian’s flushed cheeks. This teenage romance might turn out to be more than a summer fling. Score: Shelby, one. AJ, zero.

  “Bet I can guess who you
’re thinking about.” Jillian finished crimping the edges of the pie crust.

  “I was thinking about the cookout.”

  “Are you inviting Coach Sullivan?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why don’t you call him?” Jillian’s blue eyes glinted with mischief.

  “He’s coming by later to get Lila. I’ll ask him then.”

  “You know he’ll say yes.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “Yes, you do.” She put the pie in the oven and set the timer. “Just like I know Seth will say yes.”

  “You and Seth are dating. You’re a couple.”

  “Aren’t you and Coach dating?”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “Well, you should be.”

  “Jillian!”

  “Just sayin’.”

  Shelby pretended to give the teen an icy glare as she picked up her phone. “I’m going to call Cassie again. Wish me luck.”

  “Luck.”

  Taking a deep breath, she called Cassie, got a yes, then called Paul Norris’s wife Renee. Another yes.

  “We’re having a cookout.” She rummaged through a drawer for a notepad. “Do you mind getting the girls ready while I make a shopping list? We’ll go to town as soon as the pie’s done.”

  “Sure.”

  “I almost forgot. Would you like to invite your parents?”

  Dread narrowed Jillian’s eyes, and her cheeks turned crimson. “Thanks, but no.”

  “Is everything okay at home?”

  Jillian responded with a grim smile. “It is what it is. I better get Elizabeth and Tabby inside.”

  “If you ever want to talk—”

  “I know. Thanks.” She went outside, letting the screen door close with a thwack.

  Shelby walked to the window and moved the curtain. Elizabeth and Tabby surrounded Jillian as she grasped both of them by the hand. Their little girl voices, though indistinct, were cheerful. Jillian swung their arms as they returned to the house, a broad smile lighting her attractive features.

  Let my home be a refuge for her, Father. A safe and spacious place.

  AJ emailed Dr. Kessler before leaving the cottage, then waited at the sheriff’s office for about twenty minutes to receive the requested report. After paying the copying costs, he drove to the newspaper office.