What Hope Remembers

by Johnnie Alexander

  The next item was encased in tissue paper and bubble wrap. She carefully unwrapped the ceramic figurine and placed it in the palm of her hand. Tiny white flowers adorned the rounded body of the delicate bluebird and gave it a cheery look. Two words appeared on the wing: Be brave.

  She’d seen it in a gift shop in Richmond. Picked it up, delighted in the whimsical touches, then returned it to the shelf. But as she turned to leave, a still voice whispered, “Take it. It’s for you.”

  Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. Dazed by the moment, she immediately purchased the little bird. Throughout her weeks at the treatment center, it perched on her nightstand. When she returned to her apartment, it resided near her favorite books. Now she needed to find the perfect place here at the cottage. A place where she could be reminded of the message meant for her.

  She carried the bird into the long room and looked around. The cabinetry beneath the windows held a few potted plants, a large porcelain bowl, and an arrangement of candles and silver-framed photos. If she put a shelf above the stained glass . . . a clear shelf so that the ceramic bird appeared to be floating . . . Perfect.

  Except then everyone who came into the cottage would see it and they’d read the two little words. What would they think of her for needing something like this? That she was a coward? Weak? That couldn’t happen, so she’d have to think of something else.

  She cupped the bird in one hand and traced the black lettering with her fingertip, then wrapped it again in the bubble wrap.

  Be brave.

  If she heeded the message, she’d have to tell Gabe the truth and face the consequences. He’d be upset that she’d lied. He’d want an explanation, one she could hardly give him since she didn’t quite understand it herself.

  Except he had no idea the power he had to hurt her. Because she couldn’t bear his disapproval, his rejection, she couldn’t let him know that she’d never loved anyone else but him. The memory pressed into her brain, and for once she couldn’t hold it back.

  After the memorial service and lost in her grief, Amy could only stare at the headstone engraved with her parents’ names as her grandparents accepted condolences. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to hear “I’m sorry” one more time, and hardly knew how to put one foot in front of the other.

  Then Gabe appeared at her side, his eyes rimmed in red. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. When their hands touched and she wrapped her fingers around the arrowhead he gave her, their hearts had entwined. His strength and his comfort gave her the only peace she experienced during that aching, lonely time.

  As the nose of the black Lexus edged through the gap in the hedges, Gabe pulled back on the reins. “Whoa there, boys,” he said. “Don’t risk getting mauled by that beast.”

  The Lexus pulled out a few more feet then stopped. A car door slammed, and a couple seconds later Brett appeared on the road.

  “Hey, pardner,” he called up to Gabe. “If you’re looking for the Oregon Trail, you’ve got a mighty long way to go.”

  “Just takin’ this here stagecoach over to Misty Willow,” Gabe said in the same cowboy twang. “Heard tell they’re planning a shindig there on Saturday.”

  Brett patted Abner’s sloping shoulder as he walked past, then grasped the steel rim of the wheel. “Seriously, where did you get this?”

  “Tess had it in one of her barns. She mentioned it to Shelby, and I got enlisted to take it over for the Heritage Celebration.”

  Brett shook the wheel, then opened the door and peered inside. “Is it safe to ride in?”

  “Safe enough on the road. But the pasture’s too rough to take folks back to the creek. We’re using the hay wagon for that.”

  “So you got drafted into doing the hayrides? I thought that might happen.”

  “Better that than docent duty. What do they have you doing?”

  “Docent duty.”

  Gabe grimaced. “Sorry, man.”

  “It won’t be so bad. I get to spend the day with my bride while she talks about the history of the place.”

  Gabe took off his Stetson and passed his forearm over his temple. “I still think I got the better job.”

  “Gotta say, I’m a little jealous.” Brett looked admiringly at the coach. “Mind if I ride over with you?”

  “Climb aboard.”

  Brett grabbed the rail to pull himself up, then stopped. “How about we ask Amy?”

  Gabe glanced at Brett and looked toward the hedges. The cottage stood behind that thick green barrier, and inside its walls lived the woman who had haunted him since they were teens. She’d changed since then. Grown hard from devastating grief. But he had to believe that beneath her tough veneer, she was still the adventurous, vulnerable, tenderhearted girl he once knew.

  “I think the horses would make her nervous.”

  “Amy? She loves horses. She used to take lessons from your aunt when she was a kid.”

  “I remember.” Gabe shifted his gaze back to Brett. “When’s the last time she’s ridden?”

  Brett thought a moment, then shook his head. “I couldn’t say. Guess it’s been . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “She told me about that place in Richmond.”

  “Did she? I’m surprised.”

  “She’s still hurting,” Gabe said. “Isn’t she?”

  “I suppose. The last year, year-and-a-half, has been tough. On all of us.”

  “We rode together a few times. That summer before your parents died.” Gabe slightly shook his head. “She says she doesn’t remember me, but I never forgot her.”

  Brett stared up at him. “Do you have a thing for my sister?”

  Gabe had stepped in it now. He wouldn’t lie, but he didn’t care to admit the truth either. “I thought it’d be fun to ride together again. She doesn’t seem interested.”

  Apparently that wasn’t enough to convince Brett. “Amy’s private about the men she dates,” he said. “But they’re not good to her.”

  Brett’s words caused a slow burn to wend its way through Gabe’s gut. “How do you mean?”

  Brett didn’t answer, and his jaw tensed. Finally he focused on Gabe as if appraising him. “She’s fragile. Tread carefully.”

  “I’d never hurt her.”

  “No, I don’t think you would.” Brett backed away and held up his hand. “Wait right there.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get Amy.” He turned around and jogged back toward the gap in the hedge.

  “Don’t.” Gabe set the brake and hurriedly dismounted. “Brett, hold on a minute.”

  Too late. He had disappeared behind the hedge.

  Gabe trudged to Abner’s head and stroked the gelding’s long nose. Casper nudged him, and he absentmindedly patted him too.

  Hopefully Brett had enough sense not to repeat what Gabe had said. Though what did it matter? He was an ex-con without a home, without a future. He had a long road to travel before asking anyone to walk it with him.

  18

  Amy emerged through the hedge and stopped in her tracks. A stagecoach, a rickety, worn-out stagecoach, harnessed to two striking Saddlebreds, stood on the road. Right outside her driveway.

  And Gabe Kendall, a sheepish grin on his face, patted their noses. Almost every memory she had of Gabe included a horse.

  Except the one with the arrowhead. Reliving that moment had conjured up other dark memories of grief’s abyss. The night of the memorial service, and for more nights than she could number afterward, hysterical sobs had wracked her body, leaving her spent and empty. In time, she learned to release her pain by emptying her body in other ways.

  Only a few minutes ago, before the dark memories could consume her, she had resorted to that same liberating, repulsive tactic. Afterward, she stood and welcomed the familiar dizziness, the sensation of numbness. She rested her hand on her empty stomach, momentarily exhilarated as she pressed toward her spine. But her initial sense of power disappe
ared as regret washed over her.

  As soon as she heard Brett calling for her, she’d gargled with mouthwash. She didn’t dare let him know of her relapse.

  Standing beside the stagecoach, Brett waved his arm in a grand gesture. “What do you think?”

  “This is the surprise?” Amy asked.

  “Don’t be rude.” Taking her elbow, he nudged her forward. “Gabe is taking the stagecoach over to Misty Willow. I thought you might want to go along.”

  “In that thing?”

  “I bet the view’s better up there.” Brett pointed to the driver’s seat.

  She looked from the seat to Gabe.

  “This wasn’t my idea,” he said.

  “Do you want me to say no?”

  He glanced at Brett, then held Amy’s gaze. His hazel eyes seemed to penetrate into the depths of her heart, but she didn’t look away. If he could see into her soul, then he might as well see the darkness hiding there. To know she was in a prison too.

  His gaze never wavering, he closed the distance between them. “I want you to be happy.”

  The world around them faded away. Even Brett, standing beside her, seemed to be in another dimension. Here, in this moment, only the two of them existed.

  She and Gabe.

  “How can I be?” she whispered.

  “Ride with me.” He held out his hand, steady and strong. A hand that could swing a bale of hay onto a wagon, gentle a skittish mare with a confident touch, strip the thorns from a wild rose and slip its stem into her hair.

  She readied herself for the expected jolt and placed her hand in his. Longing charged through her, a longing for the innocence of first love and for the discarded dream of her own happy-ever-after.

  “You’re sure about this?” Gabe asked.

  She eyed the dilapidated stagecoach, the harnessed horses, then drew in air. A breath of wind whispered be brave, be brave and she gripped his fingers. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  Gabe eased into his slow smile, then supported her as she climbed onto the coach. She did her best to ignore the exhilaration caused by the warmth in his eyes and the pressure of his touch against her back. The feeling persisted even after he turned away to straighten the reins.

  “I’ll drive behind you.” Brett jogged toward his car.

  “Just don’t rear-end us,” Amy called after him. “And close the gate.”

  He waved without looking back and disappeared beyond the hedge.

  Amy gingerly settled on the stiff seat. Black duct tape crisscrossed the cracked leather, but tufts of the innards stuck out near the seams. Gabe clambered aboard beside her with the easy motion of someone who drove stagecoaches every day.

  “Maybe I should have worn jeans,” Amy said, tugging at a bristly piece of the stuffing that had scratched her bare thigh.

  Gabe glanced at her legs with an appreciative grin, and her cheeks immediately warmed. “I’ll wait,” he said. “If you want to change.”

  “You’re making me blush.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I never blush.”

  His grin widened, and the lines around his eyes furrowed in amusement. “Then I’m not sorry.”

  She grinned back at him, her spirits suddenly lighter despite her regrettable setback. The quiet words whispered into her soul: I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful.

  The golden sun shone bright in a fluffy-clouded sky. Summer scented the softest breezes with freshness. The afternoon was perfect.

  Gabe was perfect.

  And perhaps, for this moment at least, she could pretend to be perfect too.

  Tess cut two of the foot-long subs into manageable portions and arranged them on a tray. “I’m going to take these on out to the kids,” she announced.

  “Good idea.” Shelby plopped a handful of napkins onto the tray. “Maybe food will get them to stay off that stagecoach.”

  “We’ll be out in a minute with everything else,” Dani said. She stirred the pasta salad, then took a bite. “Yum, that’s good. Even better than Tex-Mex.”

  “Save some for the rest of us.” Brett took the spoon away from her. “And no double-dipping.”

  “I was going to get a clean one,” Dani protested.

  Tess smiled to herself. The newlywed bantering could have been her and Rusty once upon a time. How much she missed him on a day like today.

  Gabe’s arrival at Misty Willow had turned the afternoon into an impromptu party as everyone got involved in maneuvering the stagecoach into place. After about forty minutes of good-natured bickering, Gabe and Brett had it positioned “just so” between the grassy oval area and the yard behind the house. Jonah, Elizabeth, and Tabby were given the job of wiping off the dust as high as they could reach while the men spruced up the rest.

  Soon after, the Owens family from the neighboring farm stopped by to help with last-minute preparations for Saturday’s Heritage Celebration, and AJ had arrived with subs, sides, and drinks.

  Tess called the children as she carried the sandwich platter and a pitcher of lemonade to a picnic table. Jonah and the girls, along with Austin Owens, raced toward her, followed closely by Lila, Elizabeth’s Labrador retriever.

  “Here you go, kids.” Tess set down the platter and poured lemonade in glasses to a chorus of thank-yous.

  As she handed out the sandwiches, she glanced toward the fence corner. Gabe plucked a marigold from the red wheelbarrow and handed it to Amy. She lifted it to her nose and made a face at the pungent fragrance. He grinned, said something Tess couldn’t hear, and Amy smiled.

  Tess squelched her misgivings with contentment, happy because Gabe was happy. Working too many hours in the day, perhaps. Rising each morning much earlier than he needed to. But never complaining. Never too tired of an evening to exercise one of the horses or tinker with that old Ford. As darkness descended, the two of them often sat together on the porch to watch the fireflies and listen to the plaintive cry of a distant whippoorwill. After those long years of confinement, he was finding his place here. With these good people.

  At a nearby table, AJ scooped pasta salad onto a plate, his eyes shaded by an OSU baseball cap. Shelby chatted with Cassie Owens, whose palm rested on her swollen abdomen. In a few weeks, Austin wouldn’t be an only child anymore.

  Brett and Dani sauntered toward them with a jug of sweet tea, their fingers interlaced. Even Brett had grown into someone Tess was proud to know. Though admittedly it had taken him a while.

  More than anything, this was what Tess wanted for Gabe. Friends to break bread with, to work alongside, to count on when things went wrong.

  She shifted her gaze back to the red wheelbarrow. Maybe even someone to love. Her thoughts turned into a prayer. Just let it be with the right person.

  All the adults pitched in to clean up, but then Gabe realized he and Amy were the only ones left in the house. “Guess I better get going,” he said. “I need to get these horses home before dark.”

  “How are you doing that?” she asked.

  “Ride one, lead the other.”

  “You’re riding?” Amy asked. “Now?”

  “I don’t think we can fly.”

  She gave him that look, the one he’d come to think of as “Amy Annoyed.” A blistering look to others, maybe, but when she directed it at him, he only felt a perverse hankering to annoy her even more.

  “But you’ll miss the s’mores. AJ’s going to start a fire in the stone circle.” Her expression changed to “Amy Coquette.” He had to steel himself against that one. Those pleading blue eyes got to him every time.

  “You don’t want to miss that, do you?” she added.

  “Don’t have a choice.” He narrowed the space between them and held her gaze. “You could ride with me. I’ll take Abner and you can ride Casper.”

  “I left my saddle at home.”

  “I brought two.”

  She averted her gaze and sucked in her lower lip.

  “Why are you so afraid?” he a
sked softly.

  “It’s not fear,” she murmured.

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s a pain.” She pressed her fist against her heart. “Here. I can’t do it.”

  “We can start with a baby step.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hold Abner’s head while I saddle him. Can you do that?”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “My tack is in the boot of the stagecoach.” He took her hand, pleased that she allowed him. Maybe she’d change her mind and ride with him after all. He glanced at her legs and decided not to push it. As good as she looked in shorts and sandals, they weren’t appropriate riding attire.

  They walked to the stagecoach, then she carried the bridle and blanket while he hefted the saddle to where the horses were tied to a fence. Though she was hesitant in her approach, she did all the right things. Abner greeted her with a sniff, and she held her hand flat for him to take the apple treat she held for him. Gabe was slipping on the bridle when Jonah joined them.

  “Are you going to ride him?” Jonah asked, wonder in his voice.

  “Only way to get him home,” Gabe replied.

  “Can I go with you?”

  “I don’t know about that, buddy.”

  “I’m not sure your dad would approve,” Amy said.

  “I’ll go ask him.” He pivoted and raced toward the picnic tables.

  Gabe and Amy exchanged glances. He saddled Abner, then they joined the others.

  “Can the children have a ride before you go?” Tess asked. She turned to the parents. “Abner is as gentle and steady as they come. Gabe can lead, and I’ll walk beside them.”

  “I don’t see why not,” AJ said. He grabbed Tabby and lifted her onto his hip. “You want to take a ride on that there horse?”

  Tabby eyed Abner and shrank into AJ. “He’s awfully big.”

  “But very friendly,” Amy said. “See?” She scratched Abner’s nose. “You try it.”

  Tabby still looked doubtful as she placed her hand near Abner. He snuffed and she drew back, then laughed. “That felt funny.”

  “Me first,” Jonah said. “It was my idea.”