Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's HomecomingThe Amish Widow's SecretSafe in the Fireman's Arms

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “And you to me,” he said, conviction ringing in his voice as the uncertainty, lingering all night, shifted into surety.

  He kissed her again and as she settled against him, he looked out over the fields illuminated by the pale light of the moon. Fields that, Lord willing, would soon also be his.

  His and Abby’s.

  * * *

  Still humming the song that the band played last, Abby made the final turn onto her mother’s street. Her lips still felt warm from Lee’s kiss. She could still feel his arms around her, still feel herself twirling around the dance floor with her hand in his.

  She thought of the pictures she had taken. Heather had approached her at the reception and mentioned that she might like to hire Abby for her own wedding. Assuming Abby would stick around, that is.

  She could do more freelance work, as Lee had always hinted at. Make work of getting more local business.

  Dreams and plans swirled through her mind, and hovering over all of them was Lee’s presence.

  And what would your mother think of these new developments?

  The thought was like a douse of cold water. Abby wanted to dismiss the question, but she knew Ivy would not so easily be ignored.

  At the same time, the words of the pastor’s sermon on Sunday had percolated through the events of the week, reminding her that though Lee had made mistakes, so had she. That his sincere apologies were enough. She wanted to move on.

  She smiled and then, to her surprise, felt the prickle of tears threatening. Tears of joy and happiness.

  Thank you, Lord, she prayed as she slowed down in front of her mother’s apartment.

  Then stopped. An old pickup was parked in the spot she usually parked in, and there was no room for her vehicle. She spun the wheel, made a quick U-turn to park on the other side of the street. But it was a busy night in the neighborhood and she had to drive to the end of the block before she found a spot to squeeze her car in.

  A shiver danced down her spine as she walked down the quiet street, her high heels clacking on the sidewalk. Tonight life was good, she thought with a quick prayer of thanks, wrapping her shawl around her. And for the first time in years, she felt an anticipation that it might get even better.

  She crossed over the street, then slowed as a light flickered on in the old truck parked in front of her mother’s apartment. The door opened and her heart jumped into overdrive as a tall, slender figure stepped out. He wore a ball cap that cast his face in shadow from the overhead streetlights, but she could see that he wore a denim jacket, worn blue jeans and work boots.

  And in one hand he held a long stick that rested on the ground.

  She sent a panicked glance around the deserted street. A single light shone from the upstairs of one of the house, but the rest were dark. No one was around. She was on her own.

  She should have accepted Lee’s offer to take her home.

  Dear Lord, protect me, she thought as she came to a stop, looking for an exit, her heart pounding. Which way to go? Could she outrun him?

  “Abby, it’s okay,” the man called out, his raspy voice achingly familiar. “Abby, it’s me—your father.”

  Abby stopped, her one hand still grasping her camera bag, the other her shawl, as shivers wracked her body.

  “Dad?” she returned, taking a slow, cautious step toward him. “Dad...is that you?”

  In answer, he pulled his cap off. She could see the glint of his glasses, the brush of a mustache that he’d had as long as she could remember. What she had thought was a stick was only the cane that he started using after the accident.

  It really was him.

  Then, in spite of everything that had happened, in spite of the sorrow and grief at her parents’ divorce, a tiny sob caught in her throat and she hurried her steps. She stopped in front of him, her one hand coming up to touch his dearly familiar face. Still wary, she took a careful sniff and her heart sang.

  He didn’t smell like alcohol or tobacco.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she said, her throat thick with emotion as she gave him a tight hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

  “I know, honey. I’m sorry,” Cornell murmured into her hair. Then he pulled away, his smile tentative. “I’ve been trying to contact your mother to arrange a meeting. She wouldn’t make a decision, so I took a chance and came anyway.”

  “Have you been up to the apartment yet?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I heard from Louisa that you were at a wedding at the Bannister place, so I thought I would wait until you were home.”

  “Where did you see Louisa?”

  “At the Grill and Chill. She was sitting with that Bamford guy.”

  Brooke wouldn’t be happy to hear that, Abby thought. She brushed the inconsequential thought aside as she tucked her arm into her father’s. “How are you feeling? How are things with you?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve cleaned up my life, honey. I’ve made changes too.”

  “I can see some of them,” she said. Then she gave him another tight hug. She pulled back and, to her surprise, saw the glint of tears in his eyes.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said hoarsely.

  “I’ve missed you too,” she returned. “Come up to the apartment. Let’s talk there.” The air was still warm, but Abby didn’t want to have her reunion with her father take place on a street outside her mother’s apartment.

  But he shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t think your mom wants me up there. And I can’t take it if she pushes me away.”

  Abby bit her lip, thinking, understanding his dilemma. Trouble was, nothing was open this time of night in Saddlebank.

  “Come sit inside my truck,” he said. “I have a thermos of hot chocolate. I just want to talk.”

  Abby looked up at her mother’s apartment window, but it was dark.

  “Please, honey. Just talk. And for you, especially now, because of your relationship with Lee Bannister, it’s important.”

  His enigmatic comment intrigued her and, at the same time, created a shiver of apprehension. “How do you know about my relationship with Lee?”

  “Your mom mentioned it. Said that she didn’t like it. Then I asked Louisa and she said that you two had been spending a lot of time together. That you were with him at this wedding. That you were thinking of sticking around because of him, but also that you had some...reservations.”

  Louisa talked too much, Abby thought indignantly.

  “Please, come into the truck. I feel like a stalker talking to you out here,” Cornell said, walking around the front of his vehicle and opening the passenger door for her. His limp was still pronounced and Abby felt another surge of guilt at her relationship with Lee.

  She pushed that down, thinking of her conviction that she and Lee would find a way through all this mess with her father. She couldn’t let that waver. Not now.

  Inside the truck her father poured some steaming hot chocolate from a thermos into a cup.

  “I don’t know an easy way to start with this,” he said, handing her the cup. “I guess the best place to start is that you need to know that I’m sorry for everything I put you, your mother and your brother through since the accident.”

  “I’m glad to know that.” Abby had lifted the cup to her lips, but before she took a drink she took a sniff. Just to be on the safe side. But all she smelled was chocolate.

  “I know my drinking caused a lot of trouble. But...I had lots on my mind,” he said.

  “Of course. The accident created a lot of difficulty.”

  Her father nodded, taking a sip from his cup, staring ahead, as if remembering. “So. You and Lee. Is it serious?”

  Abby shrugged, her hands wrapped around her cup. “I like him. A lot. I know that might be difficult for you to hear, Dad, but he’s very sorry for what he did. He wants to meet you to apologize.”

  He was quiet so long, Abby’s heart clenched. Would this be a problem?

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” he sai
d, his voice quiet. Subdued.

  “What do you mean there’s nothing to forgive?” Abby lowered her cup, staring at him. “There’s everything to forgive. The accident. The repercussions—”

  Her father waved off her last statement. “Doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that he’s a good man. I want you to know that whatever happens, I want to give you both my blessing.”

  Abby was puzzled by her father’s quick assertion and blessing. Though part of her was happy he was able to forgive Lee, she couldn’t quash a feeling that something didn’t add up. Not after everything her father had always said about Lee. How angry he had been.

  “Lee wants to talk to you about your blessing,” she said, looking over at her father, concern battling with confusion over his puzzling about-face.

  “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “I understand that,” Abby said, reaching out and touching her father’s arm, her puzzlement turning into fear. “Of course it will be hard, but it will help him a lot,” she urged.

  Her father tossed back the last of his hot chocolate. “You just tell him that I’m okay with you and him dating. I’m not going to stand in your way.”

  “So why can’t you tell him yourself?”

  “I can’t. It’s too hard. It’s...wrong. All wrong. He didn’t...he’s not...” Her father waved his hand as if dismissing what Abby wanted.

  A curious tone in her father’s voice puzzled her. “What do you mean, he didn’t. Didn’t what?”

  Cornell shook his head. “Ignore what I said.”

  Abby felt a shiver of dread. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  “I’m telling you only what you need to know.” Her father slammed his cup down and turned toward her, his face contorted with fear.

  Abby pulled back, afraid herself at her father’s expression. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t tell you, Abby. I just can’t. There’s too much at stake.”

  “What can’t you tell me?” she insisted. “What is going on?”

  “It’s enough for you to know that Lee is a good guy. That’s all I wanted to tell you. I want you to have a happy life.”

  Something didn’t add up and Abby couldn’t put her finger on it. “Why are you defending him so vigorously? There was a time when you were just as adamant that he was a horrible, evil young man.”

  “I was overreacting. He’s...not guilty... I mean...he’s okay... He’s not bad.”

  But Abby latched on to the one thing her father said that perplexed her more than anything. “That’s the second time you’ve said he’s not guilty. What is he not guilty of?”

  “Stop it,” Cornell hissed. “I can’t give the money back. Not anymore. You should never have pushed me to take it. I shouldn’t have listened to you. The Bannisters can’t find out...”

  The air in the cab was suddenly cold. Ominous. “Can’t find out what?”

  Her father twisted his hands around the steering wheel, growing more agitated.

  “Can’t find out what, Dad? Tell me. What can’t the Bannisters find out?”

  Her father spun on her, his eyes wide. “That Lee wasn’t driving the night of my accident. The wrong person went to jail.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What do you mean, Lee wasn’t driving?” What her father said didn’t make any sense. Abby felt as if she were tumbling down a hill, trying to figure out which way was up. “I don’t understand. It was his truck. You saw him. The police saw him.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I ever said it.” Her father sounded panic-stricken.

  “I can’t, Dad. You have to tell me what you meant.” Abby spoke each word slowly, precisely, as her mind tried to sort through what he had just thrown at her.

  Cornell looked away from her, his hands resting on the steering wheel now, kneading it. “Just leave it alone, Abby.”

  “No. I won’t. Tell me what you meant.”

  He sighed, looking down; then, as if realizing she wasn’t going to let it go, he began talking. Quietly, slowly at first, then gaining momentum.

  “Right after I got hit by Lee’s truck, I was conscious. I remember seeing the truck hit a tree and the lights of the truck were shining on the branches. I could see two silhouettes in the truck. Then the light inside the truck went on and I saw for sure. Two people. The driver got out, pulled the passenger over and put the seat belt on him.”

  “Are you sure? Could you have been hallucinating? You were in a lot of pain.” Part of Abby wanted desperately to believe her father that it hadn’t been Lee who was driving, but another part didn’t dare. Believing what he said changed everything.

  “I was fairly lucid in spite of the pain,” her father continued. “I saw the guy who was driving walk toward me. I couldn’t see his face. It was dark and the truck’s lights kind of threw him in shadow, but I could see he had long hair. Blond hair. Then he backed off and ran off into the woods.”

  “How long was his hair? Shoulder length? Curly? Are you sure it was blond? Are you sure you didn’t recognize him?” The questions were automatic. The questions of a reporter trying to investigate the story, trying to piece it together. “Did you know who it was?”

  Blond, long hair. Driving with Lee. Could it have been Mitch? David? Because if her father was describing the driver accurately, and if his memory was indeed correct, this man definitely wasn’t Lee with the close-cropped dark hair he had favored back then.

  “No. I had no idea who he was. I just remember seeing him move the passenger, come walking over to me, then run away. I blacked out after that.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed wearily. “When I came to in the hospital the police told me Lee was the one driving. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Then a lawyer came and started talking about pressing charges. Suing him. Getting some money. So...I just let events go the way they seemed to be going.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  Cornell stared ahead, his breathing shallow and quick, as if he had run a long ways. “According to the lawyer, the police had Lee behind the wheel and I knew his parents had lots of money. I wanted to ask more—about who else might have been in the truck with Lee—but I had no clue who the other guy was. And I knew if I started asking questions, it would raise inquiries about who was driving, and if that happened...” He let the sentence trail off, but Abby finished it herself.

  “We wouldn’t have known who to sue,” she said, her voice like ice.

  She felt her throat close off, her stomach turn over. Lee was innocent. The man she had struggled to forgive had done nothing that required her forgiveness.

  Her entire worldview of the past few years was turned upside down, like a toy box being dumped. Everything was scattered on the floor, a clutter of misconceptions and false righteous anger.

  Lee had gone to prison for nothing.

  “Is this the truth, Daddy?” she croaked.

  He slowly nodded and she could see from the shame on his face that he wasn’t lying. “You know, I thought the money would make a difference. But it didn’t. I lost everything after I got that money. I thought it would help, but it was blood money. Shouldn’t have taken it.”

  Abby’s lips were quivering the entire time her father talked. They were cold and numb, just like the rest of her body. She couldn’t get warm enough. Lee wasn’t the one who hurt my father. Lee wasn’t driving.

  The thought shivered through her, and as the repercussions of her father’s reluctant confession became clear, she felt as if the ground were cut beneath her feet. All this time. All these years, her bitterness toward Lee had festered and grown. She had come here as the injured party. Feeling all magnanimous when she decided she could forgive him for what he had done to her father. She felt as if she had overcome a huge hurdle.

  But it was all a lie. Everything was the other way around.

  Now Lee had to be the one to forgive her.

  “You have to promise me one thing, though
,” her father said, clutching her hand in a fierce grip. “You can’t tell him. You can’t let him know what you know. I didn’t come to tell you this. To confess. I only wanted to let you know that Lee was a good guy. That I wanted to see you with him. I don’t want you to waste your life. That’s all.”

  “Lee needs to know,” Abby said, the burden of what her father just told her lying like a rock on her chest.

  “Please, I’m begging you. Don’t tell him. If he knows, his family will want the money back. I don’t have it. Your mother doesn’t have it. We can’t afford to pay them back. I didn’t mean to tell you. You kept pushing and pushing—”

  Abby shook off her father’s hand as a sob clawed to the back of her throat. Panic grabbed her heart with a harsh, unyielding fist.

  “I gotta go,” she said, the walls of the truck closing in on her. “I’ve gotta leave.”

  “Promise me you won’t tell him,” her father pleaded as she scrabbled at the handle of the door, trying to pull it open. “Promise me you won’t tell his family.”

  Abby finally unlatched the door and clambered out, her feet almost slipping out from her when her heels hit the pavement. She grabbed her camera bag and without another word to her father, scurried down the sidewalk and up the stairs to her mother’s apartment.

  Minutes later she was inside. She leaned against the door, her legs trembling, her stomach heaving as her father’s shattering words circled her brain like threatening crows.

  Why now? Why did this happen now?

  A cry of anguish choked off her throat as images flooded her mind. Lee asking her forgiveness. The note of self-condemnation in his voice as he spoke of wanting to talk to her father.

  She’d been so smug. So self-righteous.

  Lee had gone to jail for something that wasn’t his fault.

  His family had paid out money they never had to.

  Abby slid down the door, grabbing her head as if to contain her raging thoughts. She had struggled so hard to forgive him for what she thought he had done to her father. Yes, her life had been difficult, but she hadn’t lost her freedom for three years.