Unspoken Words (Hope and a Future Book 1)

by Janna Halterman

  Her stomach twisted at the way he’d said it.

  “Evie,” Sarah used the name Tom called her. Bekah called her by it as well, but Sarah had never used it until now. “Didn’t you say this morning you have a big assignment you need to work on tonight?”

  Evelyn stood. She didn’t care that it was a bold-faced lie on Sarah’s part. She let her relief show when she smiled back at Sarah. “Yes, you’re right.” She turned back to Tom, not wanting to seem rude. The Madames’ warning still rang clear in her mind. “Tom, it was nice seeing you again.” She almost ran out of the room, hoping that would be the last time she would have Thomas Williamson in her apartment.

  Chapter 2

  When days passed with no sight nor mention of Tom, Evelyn was content to think she wouldn’t be seeing any more of him. Sure, he was handsome. And yes, he appeared to flirt with her. But the man was clearly the same little boy who tormented her as a child. That alone meant he was dangerous.

  Sarah was spending more time away from the apartment than usual, confirming Evelyn’s theory that she didn’t want to bring Tom back after he ignored her in favor of Evelyn. That was fine with her.

  Evelyn’s walk to work was a wonderful time to think. Often times, when a car or bus would pass, her mind was set to wondering what it would have been like to live in a society where the masses drove cars. Streets lined with the busyness of traffic slowed after the Middle East closed their sales of oil to the U.S.A. It came almost to a halt when Texas split off, taking Alaska and all of its oil with them. The vast majority of the vehicles seen on the road now were electric, mostly buses, and only traveled up to forty miles an hour, at best. The government, and the very wealthy, used some of the old diesels, but pictures were about all that was left from the era of motor-vehicles.

  The hairs on her arms rose at the thought of riding in one of those old-time vehicles. Driving one would be exhilarating. But she didn’t drive, and that was the smallest hurdle she’d have to overcome to accomplish that. But that kind of speed, it was a dream.

  Mrs. Taaffe was leaving for her break when Evelyn arrived at work. Evelyn guessed the older woman was in her late sixties. She was a simple woman with strict rules and Evelyn greatly enjoyed working for her. Taaffe’s expectations of her employees were always clear, and she was not one for idle chatter. Unlike the other employees, Evelyn didn’t mind that at all and liked Mrs. Taaffe very much. The woman didn’t like nonsense and she didn’t smile often, but was fair and honest and always treated people with respect. She was a good woman.

  Last week’s shipment of new books towered next to the library’s ancient computer, waiting to be scanned into the system. After that rather tedious procedure, it would be Evelyn’s job to find a way to make them fit on the shelves. She sighed and settled into the less physical work.

  As was her custom, her eyes took an initial sweep of the building. Jackson was back. She smiled to herself, feeling silly though she couldn’t help it. It felt better having him there. Safer.

  Some time later, a bobbing blond head pulled Evelyn’s eyes from her task. She set the book in her hand aside and smiled at the approaching little girl. Helping children was a treasured part of her job. They were always sweet and so very excited to check out their books. This little one was particularly adorable. Big green eyes shone from her sweet face and white-blond hair escaping her ponytail gave her face a carefree frame. Her walk had a happy little bounce to it as she came to the desk smiling widely.

  “Hi, lady. I can’t find my book.” Just her head showed above the desk.

  “Would you like me to help you find it?” Evelyn smiled down at her.

  The girl smiled even wider, her eyes squinting under the pressure of her pink, adorably full, cheeks. “Yes, please!”

  Evelyn stood and came around her desk to crouch next to the child. She found that the little ones enjoyed adults coming down to their level. She knew from her own childhood the confidence one could instill in a child with a simple gesture of respect. “Before I help you, I think we should properly introduce ourselves.”

  The little girl rocked on her heels, thrusting her hand in Evelyn’s direction. “My name’s Ashley. What’s yours?”

  “Ashley, that’s a very pretty name.” The little girl beamed at the compliment. “My name is Evelyn. Now that we’re properly introduced, what book are you looking for?”

  Ashley’s eyebrows came together; clearly, she was frustrated. And adorable. “Well, I can’t remember. But it’s yellow and there’s a doggy and a bunny snuggling on it. Oh, and the bunny is grey.”

  Evelyn smiled for the hundredth time at sweet Ashley. Mrs. Taaffe would have been annoyed with this precious girl not knowing the book’s name. But like everything else about the girl, Evelyn found it adorable. “I think I know just the book you’re talking about. Let’s go find it together, shall we?”

  Jackson was enjoying watching Evelyn interact with this little girl. He, of course, noticed her the moment she walked through the library doors, but his attempt to keep his eyes on his work dissolved when he saw the joy on her face at the approaching child. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her light up when a child went to her for help. She would make an excellent mother one day.

  Thoughts about Evelyn as a wife and a mother had been invading his thoughts more and more since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. In all the relationships he’d been in, he never once thought about those girls in those roles. Now this girl, who he was quite certain held not a single romantic thought for him, was stirring the desire for a wife, a family, deep within him. It was more than a little frustrating, but a pleasurable frustration.

  Still, he really didn’t need to be thinking about her that way.

  Evelyn led the skipping child by the hand to find her book. As usual, it took Evelyn only a moment to locate what she was looking for. When she crouched down with the child to hand her the book, the little girl threw her arms around Evelyn and knocked her back, sitting her quite flat on the floor. Jackson coughed to cover his laugh and forced his eyes back to his work.

  “Tom!”

  Tom grabbed her arm as she was walking back to the front desk and pinned her between himself and a bookshelf.

  “Goodness, you scared me. Did you need help with something?”

  “No,” he answered casually. “I just wanted to talk to you. We didn’t get to talk much the other night.”

  Evelyn focused her nervous energy into playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. “Was there something specific you wanted to talk about?” He stepped closer and she instinctively leaned into the bookshelf.

  “I just wanted to see you again.”

  Had she heard him right? He wanted to see her again? Her eyes had been looking everywhere but his face until now; her hands, the floor, the shelves behind him. She looked at him now.

  It was easy to see why Sarah was so possessive of him. Tom had been an attractive boy, but he too had grown up since they played – if you could call it that – together as children. His strong jaw was set with confidence and his blue eyes held such fierceness they seemed to pierce you. If your gaze managed to escape his, they landed on his broad shoulders, or firm chest, or his muscle-wrapped forearms protruding from his rolled sleeves.

  Nowhere was safe to look on him.

  “How are you?” Tom finally asked.

  The man spoke as much through his body as through his words. Maybe more-so, if she was reading him correctly. But she read books better than she read men.

  “I’m fine. I should get back to work though.” She spoke slowly, trying to make sense of him, trying not to offend him. She had a difficult time separating this grown man from the boy who once tormented her so. It was more difficult still distinguishing the orphan girl she once was from the woman she had grown to be.

  Tom shifted his body into her path. “Come on, Evie. You don’t have five minutes for me?”

  She eyed him skeptically, not sure if risking offending him was a good idea. Could he r
eally have changed this much in just a few short years? “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. Of course I have five minutes for you.”

  His smile was triumphant, and she had to admit, also quite dazzling.

  “So, tell me, are you seeing anyone?”

  He was setting her up to be teased, she was sure of it and lost any confidence she might have had moments before. “I am not.”

  He laughed. “Too many to choose from, huh?”

  She looked at him again, very confused. Too many had never been the problem.

  His satisfied expression sent a chill down her spine. He apparently spoke and read body language fluently. “Well, that’s good news for me. I won’t have to deal with competition.”

  What was going on? “I…I need to get back to work.” She was glad when he stepped out of her way, letting her return to work.

  Evelyn blindly followed her feet along the well-worn carpet, desperate to escape Tom and his confusing messages. She pressed a shaking palm against her chest when she saw him leave the library, heaving a sigh of relief.

  As her heart slowed to normal, her eyes settled upon a set of very white knuckles atop a clenched fist. She followed the tension up the arm, the shoulder…her feet had taken her to Jackson, and his head was aimed at the door Tom had just walked through.

  Slowly, as if he sensed her presence – which was absurd – his fist relaxed. His arm and back followed suit and in a steady motion, he peered over his shoulder with a smile for her.

  Her eyes dropped, but she returned his smile with one of her own before returning to her work.

  Chapter 3

  “Guess who’s in a good mood tonight?” Bekah greeted Evelyn with rolling eyes.

  Bekah was sporting one of her signature outfits that night; oversized sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and neon-yellow stilettos. According to Bekah, your shoes didn’t make the outfit, they were the outfit…everything else was just accessories. Unlike Sarah, Bekah wasn’t sultry, but rather a natural beauty wrapped up in a quirky package. The bright yellow stilettos testified to that. She had small facial features, except for her eyes that were alive with joy and mischief. Her espresso hair was chopped short. She was always saying she liked the way it felt when she swished her head around. She wasn’t tall, but her personality – and her heels – made her seem bigger than she was.

  Bekah was the liveliest girl Evelyn had ever met. One never had to guess at how she felt or what she was thinking because Bekah wore her heart on her sleeve and if asked – even sometimes when she wasn’t – she would tell anyone exactly what she thought. Everyone liked her. She was fun, upbeat, unconventional, and a flirt. But most of all, she was good.

  “Do you know what she’s mad about?” Evelyn asked in a low voice, worried a petulant Sarah would hear her and bring her ruckus to them.

  Bekah grabbed the glass of milk she was drinking off the counter and sat at the kitchen table, putting her feet up on the chair next to hers. “She’s probably just upset the sun was out today.”

  Evelyn wondered if it didn’t have something to do with her talking to Tom at the library earlier that day. The woman had a way of knowing too much.

  Sarah’s door opened and closed with a thud. Their conversation halted just before Sarah appeared, dressed for a night out. She was the kind of woman whose presence made other women suddenly self-conscious and men’s mouths hang open. Tonight’s ensemble would tempt a lot of men. Though, judging by the way she had behaved the other night, and the hostility her eyes held for Evelyn, she was probably only out for Tom. Evelyn couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be successful. How could she not? She was Sarah. Still…

  “Where you off to, Sunshine?” Bekah asked, poking at Sarah’s already irritated disposition. At least it took her eyes off of Evelyn.

  Sarah had an astounding way of composing herself. In fact, other than irritation, she seemed a woman void of emotion. Sarah stood a bit taller as she scrutinized Bekah. Evelyn winced at the thought of her roommates’ unspoken peace-treaty dissolving…or rather, exploding.

  “I’ll be back late.”

  That was it. Thank goodness. Sarah checked her purse for something and left. Evelyn and Bekah both smiled with pleasure.

  “Have you eaten dinner yet?” Evelyn asked, rummaging through the fridge.

  “Nope,” Bekah answered. “Just got home a little before you.”

  She kept staring at the contents of the fridge. “Would it be horrible if we just ate nachos?”

  “Yes, but who cares? That sounds amazing.”

  Bekah chatted happily about her day as she helped Evelyn dice, chop, arrange chips, onions, meat, jalapeños…which was something of an amazement because Bekah hated cooking. After everything was assembled, they collapsed on the couch with their plates piled high.

  “I like evenings like this,” Bekah said with a mouth full of chips and toppings. “Why’d we ever decide to get another roommate?” Her words were followed by the crunching of a well-loaded chip.

  “Bekah!” Evelyn scolded, trying not to laugh. “That’s not nice.”

  Bekah smiled shamefully. “I know, but neither is she. But,” another sigh, “she does help with rent, so that’s something I guess.”

  Evelyn shook her head. Sarah wasn’t her favorite person either, but she’d never been comfortable speaking behind others’ backs. “Just eat your food and be quiet.”

  “Oh yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Bekah retorted. “But, I’ll stop talking about Miss Priss. Mmm,” she said, taking another bite. “So good! Oh, speaking of so good, have you seen some of the guys on Patrols? One of the trainers, well, I think he’s a trainer...who knows? Who cares? Anyway, he is gorgeous! Do you know the one I’m talking about?”

  Evelyn kept her reply to a laugh.

  “That’s right, you avoid their training course. I don’t know any woman in her right mind who would avoid that. Besides the eye-candy,” she winked, “they had a flyer posted about the school race this spring! They’re using the training course as part of it. You’re still running with me, right?

  A heavy sigh escaped, her head falling back against the couch. The school race…a time for friendly competition and campus camaraderie. Her cup of tea exactly.

  They had run the last two years together. Evelyn did enjoy the actual running and the challenge of the obstacles. Bekah liked it for the crowds and always found a way to draw attention to them. Evelyn did not like attention.

  Bekah pursed her lips. “Big baby. You know it’s fun.”

  “I have always wanted to run their course.” Just not with people watching.

  They both cleaned their plates and Bekah offered to clean the kitchen, so Evelyn headed to her room. She had a heavy load of studying and homework to finish before bed.

  Chapter 4

  The smell of desperation and alcohol thickened the air as Jackson maneuvered through the horde of people crowding the dance floor. His eyes stayed on his target, hoping to discourage the women trying to bait him. If their half-dressed figures weren’t enough to entice a man, their hands gliding over him were more than sufficient to break most men’s resolve. But not his.

  He still wasn’t sure why he let his friends convince him to come out. He’d been to plenty of places like this, but since returning from New Mexico, he no longer enjoyed them. Too often the night ended with him having to break up a fight because some drunken idiot looked at some other drunken idiot’s woman the wrong way. Even worse was when the drunken idiots were women, degraded and enflamed by the liquor running through their veins.

  That was the downside of working for Patrols; you were never officially off-duty.

  “Jack, you made it,” George called out, shaking his hand when Jackson reached their table.

  Jackson met George his first semester of college. They were in the same training group for Patrols and became easy friends. George was witty and entertaining, but their friendship lasted because he was more than that. He was smart and had an uncanny ability to discern situ
ations and people. And more than that, George was honest. He was one of the few men who didn’t let Jackson intimidate him. George held him accountable, even when Jackson didn’t want him to. They were brothers in arms, and brothers in faith.

  Now George rented a room from him and Jackson couldn’t ask for a better housemate. George was incredibly laid back and rarely home. The running joke was that they saw each other more at work than at the house.

  “Yeah,” Jackson said, taking the empty seat next to George. “Figured I could use a night off.” He’d worked every night for the past three weeks. Evidence of extremist activity had been turning up, and with his experience in New Mexico landing him the label of ‘Extremist Expert,’ he was thrown into meeting after meeting because of it. Their overly complacent commanders were in an upheaval over the chaos plaguing their usually peaceful town. They weren’t accustomed to being hassled by extremists; or rather, they were intentionally and blissfully ignorant of them.

  In the past year of being a captain, Jackson had found too many trails of extremist activities that had gone unnoticed. He suspected it was more likely that they’d been ignored. Break-ins were occurring with higher frequency and becoming increasingly violent. Something was going on, but with no leads, he couldn’t get a glimpse of the big picture.

  George had been in many of those counter-extremist meetings. It was after a particularly wearisome meeting, teeming with panicked officials, that George invited him to this.

  “Let me introduce you to everyone,” George called over the noise. Starting with the man on the other side of him, George named them off. “You know Liam. This is Will, Everret, and Chase.” He pointed to a familiar looking woman chatting at the bar. “And that’s Candice, Will’s wife.”

  The men all nodded their greetings and George waved a waitress over to order a round of drinks. The waitress was dressed more modestly than the others working that night, but wore the usual look of confusion Jackson received when he ordered black coffee. To her credit, she didn’t question it. Since his homecoming, it became a rarity for Jackson to drink. He preferred the stimulant of caffeine to the haze of alcohol.