What Hope Remembers

by Johnnie Alexander

“Do you want to ride?” he asked hurriedly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you were tired. Daisy and I can take you back to the hide—the cottage.”

  Panic gripped her throat, and she clutched the neckline of her top.

  “I’ll walk alongside if that’s what’s got your rope in a tangle. Though it looks to me like you could use a good gallop. May be just the thing to set the world right again.”

  She grasped the table edge and dug her fingernails into the wood. “You know nothing about me,” she finally said. Her voice rasped with harshness.

  “Maybe I should take my own advice, then.” He tipped his hat and gathered the reins. With a fluidity that took Amy’s breath away, he was astride the mare. Daisy took a few steps forward, and Amy shrank against the table.

  “You’re not afraid of Daisy, are you?” The concern in his voice also shone in his eyes. “She’s as gentle as they come.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” Amy retorted. But her voice wavered, and her breath seemed to strangle in her throat.

  He held his gaze steady, and it took all her practiced skill not to wither into a heap. But he couldn’t know she cared anything about what he said or what he thought. Nor could she show weakness. That only led to pain.

  2

  Gabe pulled out of his aunt’s driveway, expertly engaging the gears of Tess’s Dodge Ram pickup. The vehicle had seen better days, and he doubted she was holding on to it for the same sentimental reason she kept the Ford. When it came to feeding the horses or buying new wheels, Tess fed the horses. She’d lived that philosophy for so long it was as natural to her as breathing.

  The horses weren’t the only ones benefitting from his aunt’s generosity. Despite her insistence he take some time for himself, he needed to find a job as soon as possible. But it wouldn’t be easy given his record. Besides, the local farming community wasn’t exactly in an economic upswing.

  “I still can’t get over you running into Amy Somers like that,” Tess said as they drove past the hideaway’s entrance. Except for the drive and the gate, the rest of the property was almost completely hidden from the road by its tall, thick hedge. “I had no idea she’d moved here. It’s so odd.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She’s a city girl. Too high and mighty for us country folk. And how could she not remember you?”

  “No reason why she should.” He said it lightly, as if it didn’t matter. But truth be told, he’d been stung by her words. He could understand her forgetting the arrowhead he’d given her, though even that seemed unlikely. But who didn’t remember their first kiss?

  Tess settled back in her seat, a slight smile brightening her features. “I can picture her so clearly as a young girl. All dressed up in her fancy riding habit. Her boots polished to a brilliant shine. She had such an instinct for seating a horse.”

  “You’d never know it from seeing her now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She seemed scared of Daisy. I thought she was going to have a panic attack when I offered to let her ride back to the hideaway. Or, as she so quickly corrected me, the ‘cottage.’”

  “Amy scared of a horse? That does sound strange. All I know is that she quit her lessons after her parents were killed.” Tess sighed heavily. “Such a tragedy.”

  “Yeah,” Gabe murmured.

  “Riding seemed to help you after your mom died.” Tess gently squeezed his arm in a comforting gesture. “I thought being in the saddle would ease Amy’s grief too. Her grandmother tried to persuade her to come back, but she refused.”

  Gabe eased the truck to a rolling stop, checked both directions, then made the left turn. Aunt Tess was right—living with her and Uncle Rusty had patched up the broken pieces of his heart after Mom lost her last battle with cancer. They allowed him to grieve, to get angry, when all Dad wanted him to do was suck it up like a man. A fourteen-year-old man.

  But it had been Amy, with her long golden hair, calm blue eyes, and mercurial demeanor who showed him it was okay to laugh again.

  The memory he’d been holding at arm’s length pushed through, and he blinked against the pain of the last time he’d touched her hand.

  They rode in silence for several minutes before Tess broke into his thoughts. “The driveway is just around this bend,” she said.

  He startled, then focused on navigating the deep curve. The imposing brick house, set back from the road among several huge trees, looked completely different than he remembered.

  “The last time I was here, I was trespassing.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “An empty house is a great place to pass around a bottle of whiskey. Especially when you’re underage.”

  “It was that Nate Donley, wasn’t it? He never was a good influence on you.”

  “I think his mother said the same thing about me.”

  “She was oh so wrong. You were perfect. Still are.”

  “Thanks for believing that. Especially when we both know it’s not true.”

  “We’re going to a party, Gabe. No gloomy thoughts allowed. You hear me?”

  He chuckled at her reprimanding tone, as if he were a kid again. “Yes, ma’am,” he said smartly.

  “Though I confess, if I’d known you were sneaking in there, I might have joined you.”

  “You wanted to drink whiskey with Nate and me?” Gabe teased.

  She gave him a reproving look. “I only wanted to see inside. All those years the house stood empty, I just thought it was such a shame. But unlike you and your miscreant friend, I resisted the temptation.”

  “How come?”

  “Because I wasn’t a teenager without any sense. Besides, it wouldn’t have been right. I’d never been inside when the Lassiters lived there. Why should I after they were gone?”

  “They wouldn’t have known.”

  “But I would have.”

  Gabe turned into the drive and stopped the car. Through the windshield, the restored house, lush lawn, and well-tended landscaping welcomed them. The front porch had been rebuilt since the last time he’d stood on it, and the windows gleamed in the light of the early-evening sun.

  “It sure looks different than it used to.”

  “It’s just as lovely inside too.”

  “So you did go exploring,” he teased.

  “Only after Shelby—that’s AJ’s wife—invited me to join the committee.” She pointed straight ahead. “You can park beyond that gate.”

  Gabe continued up the drive. Several cars had parked in the graveled loop that circled the grassy area beside the house, but Tess directed him farther up the lane. He drove through the gate and past a hedged fence on his right. About fifty feet farther on was a paved parking lot.

  Once they were out of the car, he pointed toward the hedge. “Isn’t that where the barn used to be?”

  Tess nodded. “Now it’s the archaeological dig.”

  “Any chance of seeing the tunnel?”

  “They’re still digging it out, but I can ask AJ to show you around.”

  “I haven’t seen AJ in years.” Even then, they’d only been acquaintances. Never close friends. “I’d be surprised if he remembered me.”

  “Do you think I haven’t talked his ear off about my favorite nephew?”

  “Your only nephew.” They smiled at the old familiar joke, then Gabe frowned. “I guess that means he knows . . .”

  “He does. But he won’t hold the past against you.”

  Gabe wasn’t so sure, but this wasn’t the time to discuss the issue. He took her arm and escorted her along the graveled drive. After walking through the gate, they passed a weathered wheelbarrow with a white chicken statue perched near the front wheel. Tiny colorful flowers on thick green vines cascaded over the sides while purple and gold irises, yellow and white daisies, and flowering vines lined the fencerow.

  “What’s Shelby’s story again?” Gabe asked. “The condensed version.”

  “Her ancestors settled M
isty Willow a couple hundred years ago. But shortly before her grandparents died, AJ’s grandfather, Sully Sullivan, somehow ended up with the property. When Sully died, he left it to AJ.”

  “Who didn’t do anything with it.”

  “Not until Shelby showed up a year ago, wanting to buy it. She turned it into a home again and moved in with her two daughters.”

  “And now it’s a museum.”

  “The Lassiter Family Underground Railroad and Civil War Research Center.”

  “That’s a mouthful.”

  “Which is why we still call it Misty Willow.” Tess stopped to wave at a couple who slowly drove by on their way to the parking area. “At least no one will be able to take it away from the Lassiters again.”

  “Who would want to?”

  Tess gave him a strange look, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I was just thinking how much you remind me of Rusty.” She placed her hand along his cheek. “And I want to thank you for coming with me tonight.”

  “Did I have a choice?” he teased.

  “Not really. Let’s go in, shall we?”

  Gabe followed Tess up the stairs of the concrete patio. Apparently there was more to the Misty Willow story, something she was hesitant to tell him. He had a vague memory of the long-ago feud between the Lassiters and the Sullivans. But none of it had anything to do with him, so why had Tess suddenly become so secretive?

  She knocked on the doorframe, and Gabe took a long look around the serene countryside before he reluctantly followed Tess inside the huge brick house.

  3

  Balancing a plate of hors d’oeuvres and a glass of punch, Gabe stood in the doorway to what had probably been the family’s living room. Folding chairs filled in the gaps between a couple of seating areas and various displays. All he had to do was claim one.

  He noted the room’s exits—an open door leading to the outside patio, a set of closed double doors, and the entrance from the hallway he’d just walked through. None of the unoccupied chairs gave him a line of sight to all three.

  He shifted toward the sound of a childish laugh. A small sofa sat at an angle to the fireplace, the hearth graced with a large bouquet of flowers. Amy Somers sat beside a young boy bent over an electronic tablet. The two seemed lost in their own world.

  In this unguarded moment, Amy’s expression showed none of the wary defensiveness she’d worn at the creek. Before he could stop himself, he glanced at her left hand. The same surreptitious peek he’d managed earlier when she’d clutched the picnic table. No wedding band then and none now.

  Yet the boy’s blond hair matched hers almost exactly. Their family resemblance was unmistakable.

  Just then Amy glanced up and caught him staring. He tried to hide his embarrassment with a broad smile. “Mind if I join you? I never quite got the trick of handling a plate and a glass at the same time.”

  “If you wish,” she said distantly.

  He set his plate and glass on the coffee table, then situated a folding chair so his back was to the double doors. Under the circumstances, it was the best he could do. Not that he expected any trouble here.

  Once he was seated, he focused on the boy. “Who’s this young man?”

  Amy playfully poked the boy with her elbow.

  “I’m Jonah,” he said as he looked up from the screen. “Jonah Jensen.”

  “Glad to meet you. I’m Gabe Kendall.”

  “Are you a friend of Aunt Amy’s?”

  An odd sense of relief buoyed Gabe’s spirits. So Jonah was her nephew, not her son. Not that it should matter.

  “He’s an acquaintance,” Amy said.

  Gabe started to say something about them knowing each other when they were teenagers but changed his mind. “We met earlier today back at the creek.”

  “By the engagement tree?” Jonah asked.

  “What’s the engagement tree?”

  “It’s a nickname for the weeping willow,” Amy answered.

  “We go fishing there sometimes,” Jonah chimed in.

  “Do you catch anything?”

  “Naw,” the boy said. “Uncle AJ says we’re just drowning worms. But it’s still fun.”

  “Sure is. Guess I’ll have to take my fishing gear with me next time I ride out there.”

  “Ride?” Jonah’s eyes widened. “Like on a motorcycle?”

  “Like on a horse.”

  “I’ve never ridden a horse before.” His voice was filled with awe. “Have you, Aunt Amy?”

  She pasted on a smile and gazed at Gabe. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I tagged along with Tess. She’s on a committee for the Lassiter foundation. Though I guess you already know that.”

  “Actually, I don’t. I haven’t been involved with the heritage project. Or anything else to do with this place.”

  “I’m glad that didn’t keep you from coming tonight.”

  “Dad made her,” Jonah said.

  “He did not,” Amy protested.

  “He said—”

  “Never mind what he said.” She straightened her shoulders and gave Gabe a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Are you interested in local history?”

  “Not sure I ever gave it much thought.”

  “Then you’ll want to avoid our hostess. It’s about the only thing she talks about.”

  “Shelby? I talked to her and AJ when we got here.” He focused on Amy’s facial expression while keeping his tone nonchalant. “Though it turns out Shelby and I met a couple of times when we were kids. We actually remember each other. AJ remembered me too.”

  “How interesting,” Amy said drily.

  “Do you know about the hidden room?” Jonah asked.

  Amy immediately squeezed Jonah’s knee and whispered, “You’re not supposed to talk about that.”

  “You just said not to tell Elizabeth and Tabby,” he whispered back. “And Dad.”

  “But I meant no one. Their mom doesn’t want them to know where it is.”

  “You won’t say anything, will you?” Jonah said, a tentative expression in his clear blue eyes as he looked at Gabe.

  “Who are Elizabeth and Tabby?”

  “They’re just girls. We’re kinda cousins.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be our secret.” Gabe leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “Any chance of seeing this hidden room?”

  “It’s under the floor.” Jonah tilted his head toward the wall behind him with a knowing look. “In the hall closet.”

  “Don’t you dare go near it,” Amy said. “Not with all these people around. And never without me. Promise?”

  “I promise.” Jonah’s tone clearly said “enough already.”

  The kid’s impudence gave Gabe a mischievous urge to pursue the topic despite Amy’s irritation.

  “Have you been in it?” he asked.

  “Once.” Jonah pretended to flinch as Amy shot him a “would you be quiet” look.

  “If you must know,” she said, bending forward so no one else could hear, “Jonah and I explored the room when no one else was here.” She put her arm around the boy and gave him a little shake. “It’s supposed to be our secret.”

  “What’s it like?” Gabe tensed as a blond man entered the door from the hallway. He carried a snack plate and smiled when he noticed Jonah and Amy.

  Jonah’s face lit up. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hey there, buddy.” The man tousled Jonah’s hair as he settled onto the couch beside Amy. He nodded at Gabe. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Brett Somers.”

  Of course. Amy’s brother. “Gabe Kendall.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gabe. Amy didn’t tell me she was bringing a date.”

  Amy’s eyes shot daggers at her brother. “He’s not my date.”

  Brett leaned back in exaggerated response to her vehemence, almost exactly mirroring Jonah when he’d done the same. “I didn’t recognize you as one of the locals,”
he said to Gabe, “so I thought she dragged you here. Sorry.”

  “Tess Marshall was married to my uncle,” Gabe said. “I stayed with them sometimes as a kid.”

  “I thought you looked vaguely familiar.” Brett’s congenial tone was welcoming. Certainly more than Amy’s had been. “I remember going to the stables a couple times. That was years ago.”

  “I don’t recall you spending much time in the saddle.”

  “Riding was Amy’s hobby, not mine.”

  Gabe glanced at Amy. She stared at the game Jonah was playing, but her thoughts were obviously somewhere else. Sitting beside her brother, she looked even slighter than she had before. A fragility surrounded her as an adult that he didn’t remember seeing in her when they were younger. But of course, he’d been a kid then himself. Kids didn’t notice such things.

  “Aunt Amy, do you know how to ride a horse?”

  “I used to.”

  “Can you teach me? Please.”

  Emotions cascaded across Amy’s face, there and gone before Gabe could catch any of them. She seemed to be drowning right before his eyes. He wanted to pull her from whatever turmoil held her in its grasp, but he didn’t know how.

  “I want to ride,” Jonah said. “Can I, Dad?”

  “Maybe when you’re older, son.” Brett gently touched Amy’s arm, and the cascade stilled.

  If not for Amy’s reaction, Gabe would have volunteered to give Jonah a couple of lessons. But he sensed an undercurrent between her and Brett, and the last thing he wanted was to get sucked into it. Or to think too much about why the people he barely knew—AJ, Shelby, and Brett—remembered him. But Amy, who’d gone riding with him every chance she could, claimed she didn’t.

  “I never get to do anything.” Jonah put the game on the table, then crossed his arms. “How old were you when you rode a horse?”

  Gabe wasn’t sure who the question was directed to, but before he could decide whether or not to answer, Amy spoke. “It doesn’t matter.” Her quiet voice was steadier than Gabe would have expected. “Our circumstances are different.”

  “Is that why you don’t ride anymore?” Jonah asked. “Because now we’re the same?”

  “It’s more than that.”

  Suddenly Gabe felt like an intruder. He didn’t belong in this private place Jonah and Amy had entered, a place where only the two of them understood the conversation.