What Hope Remembers

by Johnnie Alexander

  “Do you mean see a movie in a theater with squeaky seats?” she teased. “Any time.”

  “I’m thinking of candlelight. Maybe dancing.” He tilted his head. “Interested?”

  “My social calendar fills up quickly. But I’ll try to pencil you in.”

  He chuckled at her teasing, then squeezed her hand. “I’ll call you.”

  She stood inside the open door until his taillights disappeared beyond the gate. Logan had been the perfect gentleman, the perfect date.

  Except for that one niggling thing.

  Logan Cassidy wasn’t Gabe Kendall.

  15

  About midafternoon on Sunday, Gabe pulled up in front of the modest tract house and turned off the ignition of Tess’s truck. He and Tess had gone home immediately after church and eaten a quick lunch so he could make this trip. But now that he was here, the memories he usually kept at arm’s length assaulted him.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him.

  They didn’t fight the same memories, and he couldn’t be sure whose were tougher. Gabe had been there. He knew what had happened. How it happened. But she could only imagine the details.

  Which was worse—knowing or imagining? He couldn’t decide.

  “Go on, Kendall,” he muttered to himself as he looked toward the house. Brown splotches appeared among the grass, and a few weeds poked up through cracks in the sidewalk leading to the front stoop. “Don’t be a sissy.”

  He’d held his own against a bear of a man in prison and survived two tours in Afghanistan. But facing the woman inside that house took all the courage he could muster.

  Before he could change his mind, he climbed out of the Dodge and grabbed the bags from behind the driver’s seat. When he got to the porch, he took a calming breath, then rang the bell. Too soon, the door opened. Small lines edged her brown eyes, which widened and then narrowed with a barrage of emotions. Surprise. Confusion. Hesitation.

  She blinked and straightened her shoulders. From pride or as some kind of strange dare. He wasn’t sure.

  “Hello, Ellen.” His voice wavered, and he shifted the bags from one hand to the other. “I know I should have called first, but . . .”

  “You’re out?”

  “Earlier this month.”

  “It’s over, then.”

  “Yes.”

  She lowered her head, whether to compose herself or to pray, he didn’t know. A moment later, she stepped through the door and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her awkwardly with his free hand and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her shampoo, the subtle scent of a flowery cologne. Warm tears moistened his neck.

  “I’m sorry, Ellie,” he murmured. “So sorry.”

  She stepped away and wiped her cheeks with both hands, but the tears didn’t stop. “He’d be home now too. If . . .”

  “Maybe.” Though they both knew it wasn’t true. Randy had received a life sentence for what he’d done. But then the whole fiasco had been his fault.

  Anger flared then died. Gabe’s days of blaming his cousin were done. These days he only blamed himself.

  “If I’d gone into the store sooner, maybe . . .”

  “We can’t change what’s already happened.” She gave him a watery smile, then gestured toward the door. “Why don’t you come on in?”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “You’re always welcome here.”

  He hefted the bags. “I bring gifts.”

  “You didn’t need—”

  “I know. But I wanted to. Besides, they’re more from my aunt Tess than from me. Things she canned. Homemade preserves. That kind of stuff.”

  “How kind of her. Well, I’m not too proud to accept them.” Ellen led the way through the neat living room to the kitchen. Gabe set the bags on a counter already cluttered with a toaster, revolving spice rack, a stack of papers, and a Bible. After drying her eyes with a tissue, Ellen stood on the other side of the counter as he pulled out the glass jars.

  “It’s almost like Christmas.” She picked up a jar of blackberry preserves. “Umm. My favorite.”

  “Mine too.”

  “I seem to remember that about you.” She set the jar on the counter and picked up one packed with slender green beans. “I thought this would be my life. Growing my own vegetables. Putting them up for the winter. But I don’t even have a garden.”

  “It’s not too late, is it? I could help you lay one out.”

  “Surely you have better things to do.” Before he could protest, she retrieved two glasses from a nearby cupboard. “Where are my manners? I haven’t offered you a thing to drink. Do you still prefer sweet tea? I hope so, because that’s what I have.”

  “That’d be fine.” He folded the empty bags while she busied herself filling the glasses with ice cubes and pouring tea from a glass pitcher.

  “Where are the kids?” he asked. “I probably wouldn’t even recognize them.”

  “They aren’t babies anymore.”

  “How old are they now?”

  “Matthew is eight and Michelle will be seven soon. They’re spending part of the summer with my parents in Indiana. Gives me a bit of a break.”

  Gabe nodded as if he understood. But how could he? When Randy was arrested, Ellen had to pick up the pieces caused by his impulsive recklessness. To raise their children on her own. Now that he was dead, she was even more alone.

  “What are you going to do now that you’re a free man?” A sliver of bitterness flattened her words. No surprise. She’d been happy to see him, but his presence dredged up questions neither of them could answer. Questions like why Randy, a decent, hardworking husband and father, had attempted something that could only end badly.

  This was the price they were paying for Gabe’s failure to believe his cousin could do anything so utterly stupid. Randy was dead. Ellen was a single mom. And Gabe had a prison record.

  He hadn’t done anything wrong, but in the eyes of the law that didn’t matter. He was inside the convenience store when Randy aimed the gun at the clerk. Only a few feet away when Randy pulled the trigger.

  Gabe was an accessory. Arrested and charged. Sentenced and imprisoned.

  Ellen handed him the glass of tea. “Where are you living?”

  “I’m staying with Tess for a while. Until I decide what I’m going to do.”

  “I remember her from the trial. We prayed together.”

  “She’s been like a mom to me ever since mine died. Her horse farm has gotten run-down since she’s been on her own. Seems there’s never enough money to do everything that needs doing.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to drag them back in. Randy had said practically the same thing when the cops manhandled them into separate squad cars. I needed the money, man. There’s never enough money.

  Ellen didn’t seem to notice. She looked off into the distance as if her mind was a million miles away.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Just remembering,” she said. “This wasn’t supposed to be our story, you know. Mine and Randy’s.”

  “I know.”

  “We were to raise our children together. Grow old together. We had so many dreams, so many plans.”

  “I failed him.”

  “No.” She shook her head, and her eyes brimmed with fresh tears. “He failed himself. He failed us.”

  “If there’s anything I can do. Anything at all.”

  She held his gaze for a moment, then looked away. “I wrote you. But you never wrote back.”

  “I didn’t write anyone.” Letters would have been a tangible reminder of those hated days. Maybe they’d get thrown away, but that didn’t matter. He’d have written them, and in the writing made things real that he only wanted to forget. Besides, letters to Ellen would have drawn her deeper into that world too. He couldn’t let that happen.

  He sickened at the thought of Ellen, of Tess, of anyone he cared about receiving an envelope from him emblazon
ed with the prison’s return address. He endured the shame, for Tess’s sake, on special occasions. But he could do no more.

  “You could have written me. Losing Randy was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. But I felt like I lost you too. And that made it even worse.”

  “I’m here now, Ellie. Whenever you need me.” The silence between them veered into awkwardness, and he pushed away from the counter. “Where’s the best place to get something to eat in this town?”

  “What?”

  “We had some good times together—you and Randy and me. It’s time we remembered those instead of dwelling on what neither of us can change.” He smiled what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Let’s go have some fun. What do you say?”

  The muscles around her eyes relaxed as her lips curled upward. “I say . . . I need a few minutes to freshen up.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  She hurried from the kitchen, and Gabe headed for the living room to wait for her. If he hadn’t given his heart to Amy when he was so young, this might have been his home. His and Ellen’s.

  But Ellen deserved a wholehearted love, and he couldn’t give that to her. Randy had, though. At least until life got the better of him, and he took the road to nowhere.

  While Gabe waited for Ellen to change, he studied the photographs adorning one of the walls. A formal family photograph centered the other casual prints of birthday parties, holidays, vacations. A loving family with a hopeful future ahead of them. The nostalgia, the remembering, weighed heavy on his spirit.

  If only he could have stopped Randy. Made him see sense.

  Gabe had relived the nightmare thousands of times, lying on his bunk late at night, trying to find an escape in sleep. In his dreams, the scenario turned out differently. There was no gun. No bullet. No blood.

  No arrest and no trial.

  Ellen emerged from the hallway looking fresh as a summer day in a print dress and light cardigan. “You look nice,” he said.

  She slightly blushed. “Do you know how long it’s been since anyone has told me that?”

  “If it wasn’t yesterday, then too long.”

  Her smile deepened. “I always liked you, Gabe Kendall.”

  “Then why did you throw me over for my cousin?” he teased.

  She looked at him, her gaze open and direct, and her smile slightly faded. “I think you know the answer to that better than I do.”

  “I . . . I wanted to love you, Ellen.”

  “I know. And if you had, maybe”—she paused to take a deep breath—“maybe things would have been different.”

  “If they had been—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “Don’t say it. I cared about you, so very much, but I fell in love with Randy. I’m still in love with him.”

  She clasped his arm with both of her hands and tilted her head to smile up at Gabe. “Even with all this heartache, all the hardships we’ve gone through because of what he did, I wouldn’t trade the days I had with him for anything. Or anyone.”

  “You’ve forgiven him?”

  “Yes.”

  What about me? Can you forgive me too?

  He needed to know, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask the question. At least not out loud. He held her gaze, and her expression softened.

  “Oh, Gabe.” She placed her palm against his cheek. “You don’t need my forgiveness.”

  “But I do,” he said softly, pleading. “If I’d believed him, if I’d . . .”

  “You’re carrying a burden that isn’t yours to carry.”

  “I don’t know how to let it go.”

  “I pray you find the way. You’ll never have peace until you do.”

  “That sounds like something Aunt Tess would say.”

  “Then listen to her. And to me.” Her smile broadened, crinkling the fine lines around her eyes. “Enough of this talk. I thought we were going out to have some fun.”

  “You ready to go?”

  “I am.” She hooked her arm in his, and they headed for the truck.

  Gabe wanted to dispel the uneasiness in his soul, but Ellen’s words, her affection and her forgiveness, stirred emotions he usually managed to keep battened beneath his chest. He was grateful Ellen didn’t resent Randy, that her love hadn’t turned to hate. Grateful, too, that she was with him now.

  He wouldn’t ruin their day together by focusing on what might have been, what should have been. The door to the past was closed, and they couldn’t rewrite their stories.

  They could only hope for a brighter future.

  “Say,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat, “what are you doing for the 4th of July?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought,” she said as she buckled her seat belt. “The kids will still be with my parents.”

  “Why don’t you spend it with Tess and me? We don’t have big plans, but we can go to the lake for the fireworks. There’s an extra bedroom so you can stay the night.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s kind of an imposition, isn’t it? I don’t want to put Tess to any trouble.”

  “She’s . . .” He stopped himself in time. No need for Ellen to know the invitation was Tess’s idea. “She’s all for it. We already talked about it.”

  Mischief glistened in Ellen’s eyes. “You know, most men would have waited till they were leaving to extend an invitation like that. In case they changed their mind. But then again, you never were like most men.”

  “I hope that’s a compliment.”

  “It is.”

  “I won’t change my mind. I want you to come.”

  “Then maybe I will.”

  “Good.” Gabe started the ignition. “Now, where are we going?”

  “Your timing is perfect. The county fair is this week, and all of a sudden I have a craving for funnel cake.”

  “One funnel cake for the pretty lady coming right up.”

  Going to the fair would be just like old times. Maybe they could even ride the Ferris wheel.

  16

  Logan hesitated, then hit the send button on the email. Dylan might be offended that he didn’t keep the Monday-morning appointment, but he had no reason to do so.

  Not once during their date did Amy bring up Dylan’s designs on Whisper Lane or her cousin’s property, and it suited Logan to avoid the subject. All part of his grand scheme to win Amy’s trust and, if possible, her heart.

  Their first date wasn’t going to be ruined by discussing a topic she obviously found painful. No surprise there. Suing her cousin had to make things awkward at family gatherings.

  Despite his best efforts to act natural while they were together, he’d found himself looking over his shoulder a few times to see if anyone was behaving suspiciously. But no one either at the steakhouse or the theater showed any interest in them. If Dylan had them under surveillance, his photographer was slick and clever.

  Though Logan hadn’t noticed anyone at the town center paying attention to them either. He’d given it a lot of thought and decided that Dylan must have arranged with the county commissioner to have someone follow Logan after their meeting.

  This same commissioner would be surprised to learn he, too, had been photographed in secret. If he refused a bribe, they’d show him the photos. First greed, then fear.

  With the email—short, to the point, but courteous—completed, Logan turned to other tasks. But he had a hard time concentrating when his thoughts kept returning to his date with Amy.

  He was still dejected that she had refused the invitation to his July 4th party. Her reason sounded sincere, and he could understand why she wanted to spend more time with her family. Obviously she was mending fences there, which was a good thing. But part of him hoped that she would change her mind. Just in case, he wasn’t going to ask anyone else.

  He’d already decided they belonged together. Now he just needed to convince Amy of that too.

  Gabe applied a thin coat of varni
sh to the stagecoach’s body while Tess scrubbed at the rusty wheel with a square of steel wool. They had moved it from storage and parked it near the hay wagon underneath a pole barn. Though they weren’t doing the full restoration Rusty had once planned, a lot of sanding and elbow grease had already improved the coach’s look.

  For safety reasons, Tess had decided against using it to transport guests to the creek, but Shelby still wanted to have it on display for the Heritage Celebration.

  “How are you doing with that wheel?” Gabe asked.

  “I’ve got a couple of spots that don’t want to go away. But I haven’t given up yet.” At the sound of tires on gravel, she stepped out of the shade of the pole barn to see who had pulled into the drive.

  “Who is that?” Gabe asked as he came to stand next to her. A black Mercedes stopped beside the house as if the driver was unsure where to park.

  “No one I know.” Tess stepped farther into the lane and waved. “Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  She didn’t answer, but her body stiffened.

  The driver must have seen her because the car revved toward them.

  “Does he think this is a speedway?” Gabe grumbled. He took Tess’s arm and they stepped to the side.

  The vehicle stopped, but the driver didn’t cut the engine. The door opened, the driver stepped out, then he opened the passenger door.

  A large man wearing a dark tailored suit and built like a linebacker emerged from the car. An insincere smile cut across his face, and he balanced a pungent cigar between two thick fingers.

  “Mrs. Marshall,” he said in a voice smoother than cream and even more insincere than his smile. “Finally we have the pleasure of meeting.”

  “You must be Dylan Tapley.”

  “I have that distinction, yes.” He swept a dismissive gaze over Gabe. “Please forgive me for dropping in unannounced.” He gave a strange laugh. “But that’s common among country folks, isn’t it?”

  “We are known to be neighborly,” Tess said.

  “I won’t take up much of your valuable time,” he said with a tone that Gabe understood to mean he meant his own valuable time. Clearly he didn’t see what they were doing as being at all important. “I expected to hear a yes from you before now. My offer, after all, is a generous one. If there is anything more I can say to persuade you in my favor”—he opened his arms magnanimously—“I am here to say it.”