Without Proof

by Janet Sketchley

  Emilie’s face brightened. “You wouldn’t have liked the show we’re watching, anyway.” She bounced back to the living room.

  Aunt Bay rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what Michael’s going to do with that one, but I hope he does it soon.”

  “So you’re helping by staying out of his way?”

  “Something like that. My patience isn’t what it should be, tonight.”

  Leaning on her cane, Amy trudged up the stairs. Was Neal talking strategy with Michael for her protection? Trying to convince him to send her away until the danger passed?

  She barely knew her father. What if he did the old-fashioned what-are-your-intentions-toward-my-daughter thing and Michael learned how she felt?

  Chapter 28

  The next morning, Amy made her way into the kitchen with a zombie-worthy shuffle.

  Aunt Bay looked up from her newspaper and huffed. “No work for you today. If Michael has other ideas, I’ll—”

  “I agree completely.” His voice came from right behind Amy.

  She smothered a yelp and stepped sideways to let him pass. How had she not heard his approach?

  Michael stopped beside her, his face serious. “We’re closed today. Period. If someone rings the gallery bell, I’ll deal with them.” He pulled a bouquet of red roses from behind his back and held them out. “I didn’t have the chance to give you these yesterday, but I’ve kept them in water.”

  A dozen silky crimson blooms, partially-opened to release their sweet scent. Amy clenched her hands by her sides. “From you? Or from Gilles?” Was this some new quirk in Michael’s ploy to tie her to his dead friend?

  He paled. “From me. To say thank you — and I’m sorry — for Saturday.”

  Amy narrowed her eyes at the flowers. “Red roses are for love. You made it perfectly clear how you feel, Saturday night.” She fled from the room.

  “Amy—”

  “Let her go.” Aunt Bay’s sharp tone carried to the stairs.

  Michael’s voice rumbled low, defeated. Still in the kitchen.

  Moving as fast as her hip allowed, Amy escaped to her bedroom and shut herself in.

  A while later, fingernails tapped at her door. “Michael’s gone out for a bit, child. Come and have some breakfast.”

  Amy wanted to stay in the rocking chair and keep staring out the window at the clouds over the water.

  Aunt Bay tapped again. “Don’t make me bring you a tray. I’m not getting any younger.”

  The woman could still run laps around her. Amy was maimed, like Troy’s article had said. Damaged in body and in heart, loving a man who wanted to bind her to her dead fiancé.

  Hopelessness pressed like a physical weight until she could barely breathe. Amy gave in to it for a slow count of one hundred, then pushed up from the chair. One thing she’d learned from her mom’s illness — a few minutes’ surrender was sometimes necessary, but indulging in a full-length pity party only made things harder.

  Amy turned the doorknob and called downstairs. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  When she entered the room, Aunt Bay turned from the counter. “Sit. Tea, toast, and eggs coming up.”

  “You don’t have to wait on me.”

  “I choose to bless you with a little extra care. If we’re lucky, it’ll keep me from saying something I’ll regret later.”

  Amy reached for the pepper grinder and slid it from hand to hand. “I was out of line. Poor Michael. But I can’t live like this much longer.”

  Aunt Bay brought tea in a china cup and saucer.

  Amy looked up. “Why so fancy?”

  “I want you to stop and think. A bit of elegance can do that.”

  It was a pretty cup, robin’s-egg blue with a delicate lace pattern. Amy slid her finger around the rim until the heat forced her away. Think. Not about her own pain. Nor about Michael’s. Something had to give, and soon, but not by way of an Emilie-style outburst. If it meant her leaving, that needed to be a rational choice carried out in a civilized manner to minimize the hurt on both sides.

  Steam swirled across the surface of the tea. “Aunt Bay? Does God care about the details of our lives? Does He have an opinion about our choices, as long as we’re not disobeying Him?”

  “He tells us to trust Him and not tackle life based on our own understanding. The Good Shepherd goes with his flock to the pasture. He doesn’t just turn them loose and hope they’ll stay out of trouble.” Aunt Bay scraped butter across fresh toast.

  “So how do I know what He wants me to do? To stay or to go, and how to be safe while Del takes his own sweet time collecting evidence?”

  Michael’s aunt set a plate of toast and scrambled eggs at Amy’s spot and took the chair across from her. “First of all, God’s in this for the long term. He wants a relationship with you more than He wants to answer your questions. You — and I — need to learn to listen. And to trust Him.”

  “But how?”

  “His Word shows us right and wrong, but it also reveals His character. The more we know about Him, the easier it is to believe His promises and His presence. You’re used to handling everything on your own, and He wants to teach you to work with Him.”

  Amy picked up a toast triangle and pushed the eggs into a pile in the middle of the plate. “How do I work with Him about these threats? And about Michael?”

  “Prayer is a good place to start. Ask God to involve Himself, and commit to doing what He says — even if you don’t like how He works things out.”

  The first mouthful of eggs wedged in Amy’s throat. Aunt Bay was preparing her to let Michael go. But wasn’t that what she’d already known had to happen? Amy swallowed the lump of food. “You think Michael’s okay. I think he’s making me into some kind of living shrine to Gilles. How do we find out what God thinks?”

  Aunt Bay huffed. “I suspect God wishes He could knock the pair of you upside the head and shake some sense loose. But He saves the dramatics for key points in history.”

  “If Michael is healthy, why is he so… possessive? It’s like he feels this obligation to care for me, but he can’t let me leave Gilles in the past and move on.” Amy shifted her tea to the side, sloshing some into the saucer. “Did you see his face when I asked if the roses were from Gilles? He doesn’t want me to know what he’s doing, but he’s deliberately tying me to a dead man.”

  “So that’s what the question meant. Child, if I couldn’t figure it out, how do you know he did? Perhaps he thought you expected Gilles to communicate from the grave.”

  Amy ate without enjoyment. Was it possible her overreaction this morning had confused Michael more than accusing him? He was clueless about Emilie’s and her feelings toward him. What other nuances might he miss? Should she flat-out tell him she loved him? Explain how pushing her back to Gilles came across as rejection? But if Amy was right about his obsession, this might be the ultimate betrayal of his friend. Could a fragile mind survive it?

  She gulped her now-cool tea and carried her dishes to the sink. Aunt Bay had the frying pan soaking. Amy put her things in the dishwasher, and plunged her hands into the soapy water to wash the pan. “Thank you for breakfast. And for still loving me.”

  “Child, the problem is we love you too much.”

  Amy’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She grabbed a towel to dry her hands, and checked the caller ID. Troy — she hadn’t called him last night. She answered before it could go to voice mail. “Troy, I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

  “No worries. Are you alone?”

  “No, why?”

  “I want you to sound like what I say is a great idea. Even if you think I’m nuts.”

  “Sure.” She added a smile for good measure. “What’s up?”

  “It’s about Saturday. I saw your face after Michael’s stunt. He has no idea how you feel about him.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Sarcasm. Not good. “Sorry.”

  “Come on a date with me. To shake him up.”

  “That’s a great ide
a.” Not. Had she managed an eager tone like he asked? Amy walked to the window so Aunt Bay couldn’t see her expression. Leaving the room would look suspicious.

  “It’ll break his rules and he’ll be upset, but do you want him to see you’re over Gilles, or not? Nothing else is working.”

  What could she say to that? Nothing positive. Amy’s breakfast turned over. Troy’s scheme could destroy everything. “When?”

  “Tonight, if you’re free. Or tomorrow. I’m working days this week, for a change.”

  “I’ll let you know, okay?”

  Troy chuckled. “Think about it. Pray, too — Michael told me about that, and I’m pumped to hear more. Honestly, this isn’t a weird pick-up. Michael’s a great guy and a good friend, and I love him too much to let him stay miserable.”

  “Is he?”

  “Trust me, Amy. He is. I need to get back to work. Text me your answer? We can do any time six or later. Dinner and maybe a movie. And talking.”

  “Thanks. I’ll text you.” She hung up and turned back to the sink. Aunt Bay had left the room. Amy finished washing the egg pan, as slowly as she could. God, what do You think of this? Troy’s plan would shatter the unnatural peace she’d already weakened. She didn’t dare agree.

  Chapter 29

  The day dragged, without anything to keep Amy’s mind off the need to apologize to Michael when he returned. She sat in the living room with Aunt Bay, working on his sweater while keeping an eye out the window for his van. When he finally pulled into the driveway, she stuffed her knitting back into the bag.

  Her hip protested when she stood. “Pray I can say this right and not make things worse?”

  Michael’s aunt nodded. Amy hurried to the entrance. When she heard his footsteps on the concrete, she opened the door.

  He stopped, as if assessing the threat level. “Hi.”

  Amy stepped back to let him in. “I’m sorry, Michael. I shouldn’t have blown up like that. You were being kind, and I overreacted.” She tried to laugh. “Roses aren’t cheap.”

  The pain didn’t leave his eyes. Was he still blaming himself for Saturday? He shrugged. “I put them in the gallery. Can we talk? Maybe walk down to the water?”

  “Sure. Aunt Bay’s in the living room.”

  Michael poked his head into the room to say hello and tell his aunt where they were going. Amy walked with him through the house.

  He stopped in the kitchen and set his shopping bag on the table. “I stopped at the Christian bookstore. They don’t have any copies of the magazine with the Harry Silver interview yet, but what I went for was this.” He pulled a flat box from the bag. “I’m not trying to buy my way back into your good graces, but I wanted to give you something that shows I care. With no hidden meaning to tie you to something you don’t want. Will you take this?”

  Amy reached for the box as he held it out. The label said it was a Bible. She opened the cover and found a pale green book.

  “Green, for growth. That’s all the symbolism, I promise. I chose a translation I like, but I didn’t write an inscription in case you wanted to change it.” His grin was hesitant. “Aunt Bay will be mad. She wanted to buy you one.”

  The leatherette cover felt soft against Amy’s fingertips. She took the slim volume from the box. “Thank you, Michael. I’ll treasure this.” Especially if she had to leave here.

  His forehead smoothed. “You’re welcome. There’s a reading guide inside to take you through the entire book in a year, but Aunt Bay has some better ideas on how to introduce you to the highlights first.”

  Amy set the Bible back in the box but left the cover open. She placed it on the table. “You really didn’t need to buy me a gift. But I do appreciate it. Would a hug be appropriate?”

  He opened his arms. His embrace was light, brotherly. Brief. The jealous ghost of Gilles would approve.

  Stop that. The man was being kind — again — and again Amy was letting it push her buttons. Now she was blaming her dead fiancé, too. Which one of them was coming unhinged? Amy rolled her eyes at herself and followed Michael to the back door.

  They strolled down the grassy slope toward the water, under trees that would soon turn from green to oranges and yellows. Amy had already spotted a few early splashes of colour from her bedroom window. Ordinarily she loved the fall, but it was a time of death and decay. Of endings. Was God trying to tell her something? How could she know for sure? Del had told her to stay. Not that he outranked the Lord.

  Michael cleared his throat. “I owe you an explanation. For Saturday.”

  “You wanted me to stay here until whoever’s threatening me is arrested. Del said the same thing. It would be harder to keep us all safe if we’re scattered.” Amy stared straight ahead. “Ross was just making an offer.”

  “Emilie thinks you’re… romantically interested in Ross. She said that’s what upset you on Saturday.”

  “And you believed her?” Amy whirled. “Michael, she’s crazy about you. She’ll say whatever she can to keep me off your radar. I used to think she was my friend, but since you and I did the road trip to Toronto, she’s been playing mind games — with us both, it seems. What else has she told you?”

  Michael looked away. “Once she met Neal, she said you’d planned from the start to stay here instead of letting him look after you — that you wanted to trap me in a relationship, as a surrogate for Gilles.” He snorted. “Before that, she was always playing up your grief, how there’d never be another man for you and you’d stay single to honour his memory.”

  He met Amy’s eyes. “I believed her, for the longest time. Until she switched stories faster than she changes her hair colour.”

  Amy moistened her lips. “Gilles will always be a part of me, but please don’t tie me to him. I’d like the chance at another relationship… with the right person.” Her cheeks heated.

  “Ross.”

  “Ross is a friend. That’s all.”

  Some of the tension left Michael’s face, but his eyebrows pulled together. “There’s more to Ross than you see. I need you to promise to stay away from him.”

  Amy shook her head. “He’s always been a perfect gentleman. And you can’t worry about him stealing me from Gilles — his dad’s going to arrange a marriage with a suitable Muslim girl. Which I am not.”

  “Stealing you from Gilles?”

  Holding her ground, Amy searched his eyes. “Isn’t that what you’re really afraid of? That I’ll find someone else? Be unfaithful to Gilles’ memory?”

  “Um… Gilles would want you to heal, and to love again.” Michael’s mouth turned down. “He would not want you spending time with Ross.”

  “They didn’t know each other.”

  “He knew enough. Please. Promise me.”

  Amy walked along the edge of the grass and perched on a flat rock facing the water. “Emilie says you’re trying to keep me bound to Gilles, like a living exhibit. She’s lied to us both, but every time I try to rejoin the human race, you find a reason to hold me back. Now you’re not even telling me about new threats, in case I might try to leave. What am I supposed to think?”

  A gentle wind stirred the trees and lifted strands of Amy’s hair. She brushed them away from her face. “It’s time to open the sanctuary gates. Unless you mean to turn them into a cage.”

  Finally Michael spoke. “I’ve overprotected you, but I couldn’t bear to see you hurt again.” He climbed down the short set of stairs where the land fell away to a stony shore and stood looking up at her, hands spread wide. “I was wrong.”

  “So you won’t mind if I go out tonight. With Troy.” The words tumbled over one another.

  Michael’s hands dropped to his sides. He seemed to shrink. “Troy.”

  “He asked me this morning. I like his dedication to truth. And he’s kind of hot.”

  Michael walked to the water’s edge and scooped up a handful of stones. One by one, he hurled them into the bay. Then he stood, feet braced wide. Staring at… what?

  A
my smoothed her hair and let it fall behind her back. If he’d been bluffing, she’d called him on it. If he was mentally ill, what had she done? “Michael?” Amy pushed to her feet and made her way carefully down the stairs and across the stones.

  She stopped a pace behind him. “Michael. Talk to me.” After a minute, she touched his shoulder. “I’m still here.”

  He turned and looked down into her face. “Healing from Gilles doesn’t mean you need to rush into a new relationship. Being single is okay.”

  “I know that. Aunt Bay is a prime example of a fulfilled single life. But what if I want to fall in love again… and have a family?” Heat rose in Amy’s cheeks. He couldn’t miss the longing in her voice.

  The wind lifted her hair again. Michael caught a lock that grazed his cheek. He let the hair slide through his grasp, and twined the ends around his fingers. “What about me?”

  Amy was a statue. Watching him play with a ribbon of her hair. Trying to read his face. “What about you?”

  “Would you… be willing… to try dating me?” He spoke to the strands of her hair.

  Amy’s heart banged in her ears. She moistened her lips. “I—” Was this what Troy intended? Or did they have to go through the charade of a date? Amy ached to melt into Michael’s arms. Accept his hesitant invitation and scrap Troy’s plan.

  Cold swept her. Why had Michael asked? He’d expressed his lack of feelings for her pretty clearly on Saturday night. Why this reversal? Amy’s stomach dropped and she gasped. “It’s not you — it’s still about Gilles. You want to take his place so no one else can have me.”

  She spun, but her tethered hair yanked her back. “Let me go!”

  “I’m trying! Hold still. But, Amy, that’s not what I meant. I—”

  Her hair came free and she bolted for the house, heart pounding. At her fastest, on level ground, Michael could have caught her without losing his breath. Amy scrambled up the stairs and across the grass. When she looked back, panting, from the doorway, he knelt huddled by the water, only the top of his back visible.

  Amy threw herself into a deck chair. She couldn’t face Aunt Bay this way. Once her breathing slowed, she pulled out her cell and shot Troy a text. Yes. Tonight. Not that he’d be able to help.