by Cindy Kirk
“You know I was married before.” Owen’s thick, workman hands tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel. “You know how that ended.”
The fly landed on the dash and didn’t move, as if awaiting her response.
“Some unions are simply not meant to be.” Gladys had seen her share of unhappy marriages. It had gotten so she could sit in the church pew and predict which couples were headed toward bliss. And which were headed toward divorce.
While she hadn’t been at Owen and Tessa Slattery’s wedding, when she heard the two had married, she’d shaken her head. “I never thought you and Tess were well-suited.”
The tapping on the steering wheel stopped. “I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with Tessa.”
“Oh, my dear boy, yes. Well acquainted. Years ago, we had a director at the community theater who strongly believed in encouraging youth to get involved with theater.” Gladys’s lips tipped up. She had fond memories of the man. “Unlike many programs, there was no charge to the boys and girls who wished to participate. Tessa was involved for three or four years.”
Owen frowned. “Are you saying my ex-wife used to do theater?”
“If I’m recalling correctly, she was with us was from sixth through ninth grade.”
“That doesn’t sound like her.” The tapping began again.
It was an annoying sound. The fly must have agreed, because it lifted off from the dash. Gladys inclined her head. “Tessa never mentioned her stint in the theater to you?”
“No. And I don’t remember ever seeing her in any of the productions.” Owen’s tone rang heavy with disbelief.
“She preferred backstage activities to performing.” Gladys’s lips curved as she remembered. “She did a little of everything, finally settling on helping with the costumes. She was a hard worker.”
“She’s always worked hard for what she wanted.” Puzzlement blanketed Owen’s face. “Her being involved in theater doesn’t make sense.”
Gladys arched a brow. Though, because of the dim light, the subtlety of the gesture was probably lost on him. “Really?”
“You think it makes sense?” Owen huffed. “Tessa was all about getting ahead. Why would she waste her time with theater stuff?”
Gladys’s hand came down hard on the dash, surprising both the fly and Owen. “The theater is a great training ground for many careers. And you seem to be forgetting that your ex-wife came from one of the poorest—and arguably craziest—families in Good Hope.”
When Tessa had refused her offer of money for clothes, Gladys had found a way around the girl’s pride. She’d begun paying Tessa for “helping” her with her lines.
Of course, Gladys hadn’t needed help. Her memory was near photographic. The girl hadn’t known that. “Young Tessa didn’t have many friends. Being around the theater gave her not only a family but a place to be rather than the hovel she called home.”
“I never knew her parents.” Owen’s eyes remained focused on the road. “She told me they left town a step ahead of the bill collectors her senior year.”
“You didn’t know her back then?”
Owen shook his head. “We didn’t connect until junior college.”
“She wasn’t in your social circle in high school.”
“I didn’t have a social circle,” Owen scoffed. “I was a gearhead, more interested in cars than in high school.”
“You played football,” Gladys pointed out. “You had friends. A decent car. A respectable family.”
The fly swooped at Owen. His palm connected with it in midair.
“Why are we talking about Tessa?” Owen didn’t bother to hide his irritation. “She’s got nothing to do with me.”
“What happened between you and Lindsay?”
Owen stiffened, but said nothing.
Between that and the way a muscle clenched in his jaw—a classic sign of irritation—Gladys had a feeling he wouldn’t be offering to drive her again anytime soon.
“Based on what I heard, you and Tessa broke apart because of her ambition.” Gladys didn’t wait for him to answer. “That couldn’t have been the case with Lindsay.”
The silence didn’t worry Gladys. She was a master at manipulating the conversational tool to her advantage. When several long seconds passed and the lights of Good Hope came into view, Gladys switched tactics.
Though goading the beast with outrageous comments wasn’t her preference, time had become a factor.
“You have drive and ambition. It takes that kind of push to build a successful business.” Gladys injected a note of boredom into her tone. “Lindsay is a nice enough girl, but she’s always been someone satisfied with the status quo. Spending time with someone like her had to be frustrating.”
Owen’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his grip so tight his knuckles whitened. “Lindsay is a wonderful woman.”
“But boring.”
“She isn’t boring.” Owen shouted the words, then stopped and visibly reined in his anger. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to you bad-mouth Lin.”
“Fair enough.” The intensity of his reaction told Gladys what she’d wanted to know. While she wasn’t sure what had caused them to break apart, it was obvious Owen cared for the woman. “Did you hear she quit her job at the Enchanted Florist?”
His jaw jutted up. “She wouldn’t do that.”
Not quite calling her a liar, but coming darn close.
“She did.” Gladys kept her tone light. “It appears our Lindsay is looking to make a change.”
Owen slanted a sharp glance in her direction. “What kind of change?”
Gladys lifted a shoulder, wanting his mind to travel down a couple of uncomfortable roads before she shared.
“Is she moving?”
“You mean away from Good Hope?” Gladys felt a momentary pinch of disappointment when Owen wheeled the truck into her driveway. Until she realized it was for the best.
She’d discovered what she needed to know. Granted, Owen hadn’t revealed any deep, dark secrets. That was okay. She now knew he still held a torch for Lindsay. That’s all Gladys needed to move forward.
Owen shut off the engine and shifted in his seat to face her. “Does Lindsay plan to move out of Good Hope?”
Gladys smiled and opened her door. “You’ll have to ask her.”
As she and the fly—which apparently had been down but not out—made their grand exit, Gladys experienced a surge of excitement. Matchmaking was far more fun than she’d anticipated.
Sunday morning found Lindsay at First Christian, seated in a pew beside two teenage girls who were conversing with each other via text. She didn’t mind. It was better than sitting beside someone who wanted to talk.
The last time she was here, Etta Hawley—a former teacher—had grilled her about her breakup with Pastor Dan. She knew the woman had a kind heart and hadn’t meant anything by the inquisition, but Lindsay had left church with her stomach churning.
It had been easier to stay away. Seeing Dan every week was too difficult. Not because she loved him and regretted calling off their wedding, but because she regretted accepting his proposal in the first place.
When he’d gotten down on one knee in the midst of friends and family and unexpectedly popped the question, she’d been struck speechless. At that moment, she’d known how a deer felt when caught in the glow of headlights.
Though she didn’t love him, she liked and respected the minister. In the end, she’d realized Dan deserved better than a woman who not only didn’t love him, but who didn’t even want to be a minister’s wife.
“Today, we’re going to talk about personal responsibility.”
Dan’s words cut through her thoughts and forced her attention back to the sermon.
“Studies show we’re happier when we take responsibility for our actions.” Dan’s gaze swept the congregation. “But all around us, we see people who don’t do that. Making excuses for bad behavio
r isn’t just something others do, we do it, too.”
Lindsay shifted uneasily on the pew that suddenly seemed too hard.
“How many times have you taken on a victim mentality? Something goes wrong at your job, and the first thing you say is, ‘It’s not my fault.’ Sometimes you cast blame on someone else, even though you bear some of the responsibility. Or maybe you’re in high school. You receive a failing grade on a paper. What’s the first thing you do?”
The girls on Lindsay’s right stilled. For the first time since the sermon began, she sensed the teens were listening.
She was listening, too.
“You blame the teacher. He or she should have given you more information about what they wanted, or they graded you too harshly on grammar or content.”
The girls slunk low in their seats.
“It isn’t simply embracing the victim mentality that gets you in trouble, it’s that feeling of entitlement. You deserve that raise. You deserve to be promoted.”
Lindsay thought of Shirley Allbright. Looking back, it had been obvious for months that she’d wanted her daughters more involved in the business. The signs had all been there, but Lindsay had refused to see what was coming.
Yet, she’d put all the blame on Shirley.
“God is watching you, rooting for you.” Dan’s voice, deep with conviction, filled the sanctuary. “He wants you to rise to the occasion, to handle whatever responsibly life throws at you. Sometimes, things happen we don’t foresee. Sometimes, our choices put us in difficult situations.”
Her hand stole to her abdomen, where a tiny life grew inside her. She and Owen had thought only of sating their physical desires. They were both old enough to know no birth control was one hundred percent effective.
“The media would have us believe that you need to be concerned only about yourself when you make a decision.” Dan’s gaze searched the crowd. He smiled slightly. “Many of you are probably thinking it’s nobody’s business how you live your life.”
The girl next to her poked her friend.
“You think it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect anyone but you.” He stood behind the pulpit, a tall man with dark hair and piercing hazel eyes. “You’re wrong. Every decision we make affects someone else.”
Lindsay had seen firsthand how her sister’s pregnancies and poor choices had affected the family. She’d tried not to think about how her being a single parent would affect her mom and sister. How it would affect Owen.
Guilt swelled and threatened to swamp her.
Lindsay couldn’t listen anymore. She pulled her eyes from Dan. Glancing around, she instead focused on seeing which friends were in attendance.
Near the front, she spotted Eliza, Kyle, and Katherine in the family pew. Ami and Beck were several rows behind them on the same side. Their baby, Sarah Rose—who these days seemed more toddler than baby—stood in the pew, alertly gazing back over the congregation.
Ami’s firstborn was a pretty child, with Beck’s dark hair and her mother’s green eyes. Lindsay found herself wondering what her child would look like. Blond hair like hers? Or Owen’s sandy brown? Blue eyes? Or hazel? Perhaps this child would resemble neither of them.
Her gaze drifted to her left, and she spotted the other three Bloom sisters and their husbands. While Ruby sat with Fin and Jeremy, Gladys sat alone on the aisle, which told Lindsay that her son, Frank, must still be recovering from knee surgery.
Gladys caught her eye and gave her a wink.
Lindsay smiled back, the silly gesture lightening her mood. As the pastor continued to speak, Lindsay’s eyes continued to wander.
Until they landed on Owen.
She inhaled so sharply the girl next to her gave her a curious glance. Then, apparently deciding she wasn’t going to fall over dead or do anything else interesting, the teen returned her attention to her phone.
Lindsay couldn’t pull her gaze away from Owen.
The look in his eyes told her that, while she might have gotten away with not discussing pregnancy implications last night, time had effectively run out.
Six
While Lindsay acknowledged that while she and Owen needed to talk, a church wasn’t the place for such a discussion. Tomorrow would be better.
A part of her wondered if she was simply trying to put it off. She already knew what would happen during the conversation. Owen would propose. He was responsible to a fault. Just hearing him utter the words would be a knife to the heart.
Instead of joyously flinging herself into his arms for a passionate kiss to seal their proposed union, she would have to tell him no.
Pulling her gaze away, Lindsay focused on the service. She stood when the congregation stood, sat when everyone around her sat. Sang words to hymns while on autopilot. All the while conscious of Owen’s searing gaze on her.
As the service drew to a close, Lindsay was ready to implement her exit strategy. Being on the aisle and at the back was a definite advantage this morning. Especially with Owen farther up and stuck in the middle of his row.
If she wouldn’t look like a crazed jackrabbit, she’d sprint out the door now. Purse strap already over her shoulder, Lindsay bolted for the exit on the last note of the final hymn. The large doors that opened to the front steps were in sight when a woman stepped directly in front of her.
“I was wondering if you had a minute to chat?” Gladys, dressed in a caftan of eye-popping orange and purple, flashed a broad smile.
“Now isn’t really a good time.” Lindsay stepped to the side, intending to go around the woman.
Obviously anticipating the movement, Gladys moved and once again blocked her path.
“Is there ever a bad time for honest dialogue?” Gladys’s pale blue eyes pinned Lindsay. “Putting things off is a coward’s way of dealing with a situation.”
What was the woman talking about? The only thing Gladys might possibly need to speak with her about had to do with the booths Lindsay was overseeing for the upcoming Harvest Festival.
“Gladys.” Owen appeared, slightly out of breath, at Gladys’s side. “Hello, Lindsay.”
The older woman’s gaze shifted between the two, and she cackled. “Oh, I’m interrupting. I forgot you young folks head over to Muddy Boots after Sunday services. Don’t let me keep you.”
When the woman turned to leave, Lindsay grabbed Gladys’s sleeve. “You said there was something we needed to discuss. You made it sound urgent.”
“Our discussion can wait.” Gladys patted her hand. “I wouldn’t want to get between you and Owen.”
Then the woman was gone, weaving her way through the crowd.
Owen took Lindsay’s arm, a pleasant smile on his face but steel in his fingertips.
“Owen, I know you’re upset—”
“Upset?” His voice remained low and for her ears only, but anger ran like a molten thread through the word. “You lay what you laid on me last night, then walk away. Right now, you were headed for the exit, obviously hoping to avoid me. How is that fair, Lindsay?”
Lindsay accepted time had run out. Whether she was emotionally ready or not, they would discuss the pregnancy.
“I don’t want to go to Muddy Boots with the others.” Lindsay spoke quickly when she saw her friends approaching.
“I don’t, either.”
“Hey, you two.” Ami’s gaze slid curiously from Owen to her.
Lindsay ignored the question in Ami’s eyes.
“Are you guys coming to Muddy Boots?” Marigold, Ami’s youngest sister, rushed up, her blond hair a riot of curls around her shoulders.
Her husband, Cade, who’d been elected sheriff after Len Swarts’s retirement, was at her side. The couple, young and in love, had been trying to get pregnant almost since they’d said I do. For some reason, having a child had so far eluded them.
Yet, the single time Lindsay had sex without maximum protection, she found herself pregnant.
“Since it’s such a beautiful day, Lindsay and I decided to ski
p breakfast and take a walk.” Owen took her hand, his tone conversational. “We’ll catch up with you later.”
Eliza’s gaze zeroed in on Lindsay’s hand gripped tightly in Owen’s. As she and her husband had just strolled up, she’d missed most of what Owen had said. The fire in her eyes said if Lindsay needed a champion, Eliza was ready to fight the battle.
But Owen was right. Lindsay owed him this time. She met Eliza’s gaze. “I’m looking forward to a walk.”
Plastering a smile on her lips, she turned to Owen. “Ready?”
Only when they’d turned the corner of the block and were out of sight, did Lindsay pull back her hand. It was difficult to think straight when he was touching her.
Lindsay thought of all the times she’d chastised her sister for letting feelings cloud her good sense. For the first time, she understood how easily that could happen.
In so many ways, Lindsay would love to go along with whatever Owen suggested, especially if he proposed. Her love hadn’t waned in the weeks they’d been apart.
But she refused to be like Cassie, begging for a man’s love, settling for whatever crumbs he deigned to give her. Logic, not emotion, would guide her decisions and actions.
Her son or daughter deserved better than life with a father who felt trapped in a marriage he didn’t want. She deserved better than a life with a man who didn’t love her.
All around her, the leaves were taking on the brilliant colors of fall. Some trees, those ahead of the seasonal curve, had not only changed, but were already dropping their leaves.
When Lindsay had been a child, she’d loved the sights and smells of fall. She especially loved the crunch of leaves beneath her boots. Would her child one day find wonder in such simple joys?
“I didn’t mean to lay all that on you last night.” Lindsay finally broke the silence. “It wasn’t the right time or place.”
“It wasn’t your secret to keep.” Owen’s tone was matter-of-fact, but a muscle jumped in his jaw. “I imagine this happened July Fourth. Things got a little wild and crazy that night.”