“I don’t know,” Brett said. “What if—”
“Oh, would you stop it!” Amy blurted. “You heard what Tess said. She’ll be right beside them. And I’ll walk on the other side.”
“I already told you. I can’t let him get hurt.”
“He won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
She glanced at Jonah, whose light blue eyes were begging her to convince his dad to let him do this, and searched her mind for a solution. “What if, instead of being led, Gabe rides with him? Can he at least do that?”
Brett worked his jaw, then sighed heavily. “Okay. But only for a few minutes.”
Amy smiled at Jonah, and he wrapped his arms around her waist in a quick hug. “Thanks, Aunt Amy. Thanks, Daddy.”
She caught Gabe’s eye, and he tipped the brim of his Stetson as he nodded.
“Come on, Jonah,” Tess said. “Up you go.”
Gabe set Jonah on the horse, then swung into the saddle. Amy gave an inward sigh. She could watch Gabe mount his horse over and over again.
After all the children had taken a turn and gone into the house to wash their hands, Gabe walked Abner close to Amy. “Do you want to take a turn?”
More than he knew. But she wasn’t ready. At least not yet. “Maybe another time,” she said lightly.
“Is Brett giving you a ride home?”
“He was, but I think I’m going with AJ instead.”
“I didn’t mean to cause an argument between you. I don’t think Tess did either.”
“Jonah may not be an infant, but Brett is still a new dad. He worries too much.”
“About you too?”
“It’s tiresome.” She stroked Abner’s nose. His animal scent took her to another time, another place, where she’d found contentment and peace riding horseback around the paddock and through the woods with Gabe. She didn’t want to be chained to this trauma anymore, to be paralyzed by the thought of doing what she once loved more than breathing.
Baby steps, Gabe had said. She’d taken the first one, getting this close to Abner, letting him snuffle her neck and her shoulders. But it hadn’t been easy.
In some strange way, her longing for a horse had gotten bound up with her dad never coming back from that plane trip. A trip he wasn’t supposed to have taken in the first place. He’d left Amy to go with Mom even though they were already divorced. It had never made sense. And then she’d lost them. Lost them both. And lost her love for riding too.
The guilt she’d endured for being angry with Dad for not giving her what she wanted most, for leaving her alone, for not coming home again, was twisted with her grief. Sometimes she wondered if it was too late to ever separate them.
She didn’t know if she could take that next baby step. Not even for Gabe.
19
Amy stood at the podium on top of the flatbed wagon and looked over the crowd gathered at Misty Willow for the Heritage Celebration. When the event was first planned, Brett had volunteered to be the emcee. Amy, still in her second stint at the clinic, had no plans or even any desire to attend.
But after coming back and spending more time with Brett’s and AJ’s families, she’d changed her mind. When Shelby suggested she take the stage, she’d been strangely flattered.
Amy took a deep breath, then smiled a dazzling smile. The murmur of voices hushed as she welcomed everyone to Misty Willow.
“This homestead has a unique history,” she said, her voice clear and strong. “Even in a county where many of you can trace your roots for several generations. This land, part of the Virginia Military District, was given to Isaac Wyatt in the 1790s because of his exemplary service as a soldier in the Revolutionary War. Now, about 220 years later, his descendant has led a successful campaign to have Misty Willow listed on the National Register of Historic Places.”
Amy waited for the applause to end, then continued.
“This homestead has been in the same family for almost all those years. Then, for a short while, my grandfather owned it. I know many of you had the same reaction when you learned my cousin, AJ Sullivan, had returned the land to the Lassiter family.” She grinned impishly.
“Sully Sullivan must be spinning in his grave.”
The line was perfectly delivered, and chuckles rippled through the crowd.
“You’re probably right,” she said. “But the years Misty Willow stood here, abandoned, desolate, are only one chapter in an otherwise golden history. The house may have been empty, but it was never forgotten. And its latest chapter is a very happy one, not only for the eighth-great-granddaughter of Isaac Wyatt—yes, that’s right, say ‘great’ eight times—who wanted nothing more than to raise her children here, but also for my family.”
She gestured toward the group sitting at one end of the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to introduce Isaac’s descendant, my cousin’s wife and my friend, Shelby Lassiter Sullivan.”
As Shelby made her way to the podium, Amy took a seat between Brett and AJ.
“Well done,” AJ whispered.
Amy smiled her thanks and breathed a contented sigh. She may have been the pariah for suing AJ and Shelby over Misty Willow, but today marked a turning point. Sully’s three grandchildren, sitting beside each other, presented a united front to anyone who might think their relationships were still fractured. Sully might be spitting nails because Shelby’s dream of protecting the homestead in perpetuity was now a reality.
But Gran sure would be proud.
An unexpected tear dampened the corner of Amy’s eye, and she ran a finger beneath her lashes. Brett leaned toward her. “You okay?”
“Just missing Gran.”
“Me too,” he whispered. “She would’ve loved today.”
Amy gave a slight nod, then looked over the crowd as she focused on Shelby’s explanation of how Rebecca Wyatt, Isaac’s wife, had given Misty Willow its name.
“They were camped near Glade Creek while Isaac built their first home,” Shelby said. “The willow trees were shrouded in fog. In mist.”
As Shelby spoke, Amy scanned the crowd and finally found the man she most wanted to see. Gabe and Tess stood together near the stone circle. His eyes were on her, and when she looked at him, he eased into a smile.
The crowd applauded Shelby’s speech, and Amy introduced the local elected officials, the chamber of commerce officers, and the Heritage Celebration committee. Dr. Wayne Kessler, the OSU history professor who spearheaded the joint archaeological project, gave an update on the team’s progress, and finally the CEO of the Ohio History Foundation presented Shelby with a plaque and certificate.
After the presentation, Amy took her place behind the podium one last time. “We invite all of you to join us for a lunch catered by Boyd’s BBQ. Enjoy the local bands who will appear on this stage throughout the rest of the day.” She glanced at Gabe, and his smile warmed her heart. “And don’t forget to take a hayride back to Glade Creek, where we have a display set up on the site of an old hunting cabin. Thanks for coming, and enjoy your day with us.”
She returned to her family and hugged each one as the congratulatory euphoria lingered around them. For the first time in forever, she felt a part of the family clique.
Oh yes. Gran would be so very proud.
Amy sat beneath one of the old oaks with Cassie and a couple of other women she’d met at the church softball game. She smiled politely while they talked about diaper rash, temper tantrums, and Crock-Pot meals. Things she knew nothing about. Cared nothing about. That was probably why she couldn’t stop staring up the drive. It seemed like Gabe had been gone a long time with his latest group of hayride passengers. Not that she was keeping track.
Cassie tapped Amy’s arm. “Shelby tells me you’ve redecorated the cottage.”
“It’s still a work-in-progress. The painting is done, but I haven’t found the right dining set yet.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Something with character that doesn’
t take up too much space. I think it’s one of those ‘I’ll know it when I see it’ kind of things.” Which was true enough, though she didn’t plan on “seeing it” any time soon. The paint and other supplies cost more than she had anticipated, so the table and chairs would have to wait till she had a plan for making money. Though when that time came, she’d probably leave the cottage for the next homeless waif looking for a refuge from the world. A luxurious big-city apartment was where she belonged.
“Have you ever been to an estate sale?” Cassie asked. “Sometimes you can find unusual pieces at a good one. Besides, they’re fun.”
“Maybe I’ll try that.”
Hearing a commotion, Amy glanced toward the driveway again. Gabe drove the hay wagon, returning from its latest trip to the site of the old hunting cabin, beneath an awning. A young woman—she couldn’t be more than twenty—sat on the bench seat beside him. He seemed to be listening with all ears to every word—and they were many—spewing forth from her blistering red lips.
So the wrong shade for her skin tone.
Gabe laughed at whatever she said to him, then pulled back on the reins. The team halted, and the group in the back of the wagon jumped out.
Several called their thanks, and Gabe responded with a wave. After he dismounted, he reached for the girl and swung her to the ground.
Amy stood so quickly her lawn chair flipped backward.
“Are you okay?” Cassie asked, pressing her hands against the chair arms and struggling to rise.
“Fine. I just, I think I need a drink. Of water. I need a bottle of water.” She set the chair on its feet. “Can I get you anything?”
“I already have a bottle, thanks.” She eyed Amy with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Amy nodded and strode toward the house. She refused to be jealous of a little miss thing who probably didn’t even know the governor’s name. Who certainly had never attended a dinner with the man.
On her way across the lawn, she glanced toward Gabe and was surprised to see he was looking at her. He tipped his Stetson in her direction and turned back to Miss “I Can’t Stop Talking.”
Amy scurried up the patio steps and yanked open the screen door. She entered the kitchen, letting the door thwack behind her.
“What’s wrong?” Shelby asked. She stood at the counter, a knife poised in one hand. One half of a large watermelon rested on a wooden cutting board, the other beside it.
“Nothing,” she murmured. “Do you need help?”
“You know how to cut watermelon?”
“I think I can manage.”
“I’m sorry, Amy. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
She raised a hand to stop Shelby from saying any more. “I know you didn’t. Besides, it’s not like I’m known for my culinary skills.” Only for causing trouble and making a mess of everything she touched. Her morning’s success as a poised mistress of ceremonies must have been a fluke.
“I’ll leave it to you, then.” Shelby handed Amy the knife, then washed and dried her hands. “Cut both halves into cubes and put them in that bowl. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Amy stood at the counter, her back to the door, and waited for Shelby to leave before picking up the knife. Gripping the watermelon with one hand, she sliced through its pink meat and into the rind.
Nothing to it.
“I noticed you haven’t gone on any of my rides.” Startled by Gabe’s voice, she practically dropped the knife. He stood beside her and placed his hand over hers. “Careful there. You don’t want to cut off a finger.”
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I came in when Shelby went out.”
She moved her hand from beneath his and made another cut. “Having fun?”
“Tell you the truth, it’s a little tedious driving back and forth.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m only making one more trip. Thought you might want to come along. Keep me company.”
“There’s nothing out there but a slab of dirt. I don’t know why these people are so interested.”
“Not all of them are. But a hayride is always fun.” He stretched his neck and tilted his head, practically getting between her and the watermelon. “You’ve never been on a hayride, have you?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you think it’s about time?”
“Why don’t you ask your little friend to go with you?”
“What little friend?” His expression shifted from puzzlement to understanding. “You mean that kid who couldn’t keep her mouth shut for more than two seconds at a time? You can’t possibly think . . .”
“From what I could see, you enjoyed her company.” She smacked the knife blade into the slice she’d just cut, and juice squirted onto her face. She started to swipe the sticky spot with the back of her hand, but Gabe stopped her. He wet the corner of a dish towel, then gently dabbed her cheek. She relaxed her grip on the knife and turned slightly toward him. When he stood this close, she couldn’t think. She could barely breathe.
“You’ll mess up my makeup.”
“You look beautiful when you’re jealous.”
“You think I’m jealous of—”
“Shh,” he said, placing his fingers against her lips.
Her eyes met his, then flicked to his mouth. He touched her waist, and she rested her forehead against his chest. His shirt smelled of sunshine and horse and hay, all mingled together and surprisingly intoxicating.
“Come with me?” The question floated softly between them.
She wanted to kiss him. Knew he wanted to kiss her.
But this wasn’t the right time. Nor the right place.
“Shelby will be back soon.” She stepped away from him, and his hand dropped from her waist. “I need to finish this watermelon.”
“I’ll wait for you by the wagon.” He grabbed one of the chunks and popped it in his mouth. “But if you’re not out there in five minutes, I’ll hunt you down.”
Before she could protest, he was holding the door open for Shelby. She entered the kitchen, glanced from Amy to Gabe’s departing back then to Amy again.
“What was that all about?” Shelby asked.
“He asked me to ride back to the creek with him.” Amy tossed more watermelon chunks in the bowl. “It’s the last trip, and I haven’t gone yet.”
“Then you better get out there.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“Why not?” Shelby sighed in mock exasperation. “You should at least give him a chance. He’s a really great guy.”
“How would you know?”
“He comes home with AJ for lunch sometimes.”
Amy quartered another watermelon as she toyed with an idea she’d had. She needed to act now, while she and Shelby were alone. “If I ask you to do me a favor, will you promise not to play matchmaker?”
“What favor?”
“No matchmaking. I mean it, Shelby. Promise me.”
“Okay, I promise.”
“Ask AJ to invite Gabe to the 4th of July cookout. Tess too. He probably wouldn’t want to leave her home by herself.”
“Wouldn’t that be matchmaking?” Shelby teased. “Why don’t you ask them?”
“It’s better this way. Please. I’ll cut up ten more watermelons for you.”
“You need to get out to that wagon before Gabe comes back for you.”
“I’ll go as soon as you promise to ask AJ. But don’t tell him I asked you to ask him.”
“Ask me what?” AJ appeared from the utility room adjoining the kitchen.
“What were you doing in there?” Amy demanded.
“Got barbecue sauce on my shirt so I was pre-treating it.”
Amy suppressed an annoyed sigh and gave Shelby a pleading glance.
“We were just wondering,” Shelby said as she slipped her arm around AJ’s waist, “if you’d ask Gabe and Tess to spend the 4th with us.”
AJ grinned at Amy. “Be glad to.”
“J
ust don’t say anything . . . stupid.” Amy scooped the remaining watermelon chunks into the bowl.”
“Me?”
“You.”
Shelby handed the bowl to AJ. “Do you mind taking this out?”
“Sure.” He popped a cube into his mouth and headed for the door.
“You better go too,” Shelby said to Amy. “Gabe’s waiting.”
“Thanks, Shelby.” Amy quickly washed and dried her hands. “You’re the best cousin-in-law ever.”
20
Gabe clicked his tongue at Abner and Casper more out of habit than a need to guide them. The team had made enough trips back to the creek today, they could probably find it without anyone holding the reins.
“How did the exhibit turn out?” Amy swayed beside Gabe on the wooden seat, their shoulders occasionally jostling each other.
“Like an old home site with invisible walls. The ground has been leveled, and there’s a table, a couple of cots, that kind of thing arranged on what would have been the dirt floor.”
“Can you imagine living like that? No electricity or hot showers.”
“I think it might have been nice. Definitely preferable to . . .” He hesitated. “To Afghanistan.”
An awkward silence followed. He searched his mind for a way to end it, considering and rejecting a dozen different lines in as many seconds. He didn’t want to give Amy a line. His feelings for her ran too deep for anything that superficial.
She rescued him. “I’ve never been back this way before. I didn’t know there was a wagon path.”
“There wasn’t until last week. This is where I’ve been laboring.”
“You did this?”
“With the help of Jason Owens’s tractor. Otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten this wagon very far on our way back to the Civil War era.”
“Brett and Dani have been out here most of the day, haven’t they?”
“Since after lunch. They’re telling the history, answering questions.”
“It’s still so hard for me to believe.” Amy shook her head as if to underline her words. “Until about a year ago, Brett never gave this place a thought. Except to be glad Sully willed it to AJ instead of to him. And now he’s a Misty Willow expert.”
What Hope Remembers Page 14