He closed the gap between them and took her hands in his. For one beautiful moment she thought he might kiss her again, the way he had that night in the woods.
Instead, he grasped her hands between his and held them tight. Too tight––the way he might have held a child in the throes of a temper tantrum. “Shelley, look at me.” His gaze bored through her, his voice rough. “I don’t want to lead you on, or offer hope where there isn’t any. There can be nothing between us. Do you understand? There’s nothing between us.”
She didn’t miss the subtle change in the tense of his words.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” The expression on his face made her heart pitch. “There’s . . . something more you need to know.”
“What is it? What’s wrong, Mitch.”
“I don’t know if I can even explain this, but I just . . . I know. Somehow I know in my heart that I’m supposed to wait. I don’t know if it’s because Jill is still out there somewhere . . . I don’t know. More and more I’m afraid she’s not. That something . . . terrible happened to her. Maybe we’ll never know. But I can’t shake this feeling that God hasn’t released me yet from my commitment to Jill. From my vows. And that He’s asking me to wait.”
“Why would God do that, Mitch? It makes no sense. Especially if Jill is gone.”
“I don’t know. I wish He would release me.” He stopped and put a balled fist to his mouth, as if he wished he hadn’t spoken those words. When he spoke again, his voice was whisper soft. “But He hasn’t. And I can’t ignore that. No matter how much I might wish I could.”
She studied him, willing him to soften. To somehow change his mind. Even as she knew she was wrong to do so.
But his resolve only shone brighter in his eyes. “Don’t you understand? This is no different than if Jill had some sort of dementia and was gone from me emotionally? Even if I knew she would never be the same, would that give me the right to . . . see other women? If that’s true, what good are vows? Why would two people ever promise each other ‘for better or for worse’?”
“That’s different, Mitch. That’s not even a fair comparison.”
“Why is it different?”
“For all you know, Jill is dead.”
“And for all you know, she’s alive.”
She closed her eyes. How could she possibly answer that?
“Can’t you understand?” The kindness in his voice hurt more than if he’d struck her.
“No. I can’t. I don’t understand.”
“Then I’m sorry. But I have to honor what I promised before God.”
Her heart sank. Even if Mitch was wrong, if he was basing his decision on some kind of misplaced guilt or loyalty, how could she argue with him? How could she compete with God? Or with an absent, beloved wife?
She put a hand over her mouth, overwhelmed with sadness. He was telling her there was no hope for them. None. God said. She hadn’t felt this alone in the world since the night she’d discovered that Tom was cheating on her. “Please don’t make me wait forever, Mitch. I can’t wait forever.”
“I can’t make any promises. I don’t know if this is just for a while, or if this is forever. I just know I can’t ignore it.”
“And I won’t ask you to. I don’t understand it, but I . . . I can’t compete with God.”
“Please don’t put it that way. I’m not asking you to compete with God.”
“Well . . . How else should I put it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just. . . I need to ask you to stay away–– I don’t want to hurt you. But I need some space between us––some physical space.”
“So . . . just stay out of your life? Is that what you’re saying? Just pretend that we’ve never been friends. Just friends. All that means nothing to you?” She glared at him, anger welling up inside her.
“That’s a little harsh. And that’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you mean.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be harsh, Shelley. But yes. For now, I think it would be best if we . . . didn’t spend so much time together. If we didn’t spend any time together.”
She tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in her throat. “I won’t interfere, Mitch. I’ll leave you alone. But please don’t move away. Don’t do that to your kids. Especially not on my account. I couldn’t live with myself if I caused you to sell your kids’ home at a time when they’ve already lost their mother. I promise . . . I’ll stay out of your life. You won’t even know I’m here.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking you to go into hiding. Please don’t make it sound like that. And . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do about the house. I don’t know much about anything right now.” He sighed, then reached behind him for the doorknob. “I just . . . I need to go now. I’m sorry.”
He went into the house, leaving her standing alone on his front porch. Feeling like a fool. She stood there, staring into the encroaching darkness for a full minute before she descended the steps.
Finally she walked across the lawn and returned to the emptiness of her house.
Mitch watched her walk across the grass and disappear into her house, his heart heavy for her, yet knowing he’d done the only thing he could. It startled him to realize that the emotion eating him up was grief. Grief not unlike what he’d felt when he lost Jill.
Somehow, over the weeks and months, it seemed that Jill and Shelley had morphed into one, and sometimes he wasn’t even sure which woman he was grieving anymore.
But he knew one thing. He could not betray Jill. She was his wife. He’d committed to love her until death parted them. And until he knew she was truly lost to him––through death or through some unfathomable decision of hers––he belonged to her. How could he be free to test the waters of love again when he didn’t know what happened to Jill?
He couldn’t. It was that simple. Why had he made the decision so difficult before?
But he knew the answer to his own question. It was because he’d let himself fall in love with Shelley. Maybe he was fooling himself. But he knew what love was, and he loved Shelley Austin. Perhaps not in the same way he loved Jill. But his feelings for her weren’t some pubescent, hormonal thing either. He’d known Shelley nearly as long as he and Jill had been married––though certainly not as intimately.
But through these most difficult months of his life Shelley had been at his side. Her own love for Jill had helped him heal. And his feelings for her had grown into something deep and abiding.
Yet, somewhere along the way, things had been tainted, and he’d let his emotions run the show. Self-contempt boiled up in him when he remembered that night he’d taken Shelley in his arms. Kissed her. Never in all the years of his marriage had he considered being unfaithful to Jill. Not once. He hadn’t dreamed he was even capable of such a thing.
And yet, it had happened. And worse, in his indiscretion, he’d hurt Shelley deeply. But there was nothing he could do to make that up to her now. Whatever feelings he had for her didn’t matter now. He had to quit wavering on this. Either he was committed to Jill or he wasn’t.
And he was. Lord, I am! I want to do what’s right. Please, God, I want to do the right thing. Help me. Please. Make my heart right.
May
Chapter 26
Friday, May 6
The bell on the door jangled and Shelley looked up from the back of the store where she was stacking leftover Easter merchandise on the clearance table. “Welcome to Serendipity,” she called out, peeking around a display shelf to catch the customer’s eye. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”
“Just browsing,” the woman said. “Thank you.”
Shelley went back to arranging pastel egg-shaped candles and a few dented boxes of chocolate bunnies on the clearance table. Thankfully, it was a small table. Serendipity had enjoyed brisk sales all year, and, thanks in part to an ad campaign that had been her idea, they’d done record sales so far this
spring.
Since Tom left her––just before their fifth anniversary in May––the season that had once been her favorite had become one that was full of reminders. Outside, the pear trees on Main Street were in full bloom, and a fat robin splashed in a puddle from the recent rains. But she struggled to find joy in the advent of spring.
Cheer up, Austin. Enough of the pity party already. She hated the blanket of melancholy that had settled over her the night Mitch asked her to stay out of his life. Okay, maybe she was being a tad overdramatic to think of it that way, but in essence, that’s what he’d asked for.
And that’s what she’d tried to give him. She timed her comings and goings so she wouldn’t be outside when he was, and on the few occasions when they’d seen each other across their adjacent driveways, she pretended she didn’t see him and quickly drove inside.
Most days she felt like a prisoner in her own home. She’d told Mitch that day that she rarely saw her neighbors on the other side, and that was true. It wasn’t quite as easy to ignore the man she’d once been friends with, the man her best friend loved.
Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her work apron. Audrey. She hadn’t talked to her daughter for more than a week. She hurried to the opposite corner from where the only shopper browsed and pasted on a smile before she answered the phone. “Hello there, stranger.”
“Hi, Mom. You sound like you’re at work. Do you want me to call back later?”
“No, it’s okay. We’re not busy right now.”
“Uh-oh. Is that bad?”
“No, actually things have been hopping for the last few weeks.”
“Well, hey, that’s good. Listen, the reason I called––”
“Wait––let me guess . . . you need money.” She smiled genuinely, her spirits already lifting.
“Why do you always say that?” An exasperated sigh. Then a pregnant pause. “Well, okay . . . don’t answer that. I know that’s usually why I call, but not this time. And you’re gonna like this.”
“Oh?”
“I’m going to come home for the weekend––not this coming weekend, but the next one.”
“Well, that’d be great, but . . . You’ll be home for the entire summer just two weeks after that. I’d love to see you, honey––you know that––but that’s a lot of gas money to make two trips.” She hated that money ruled her life the way it sometimes did. She would have loved nothing more than to have her daughter home, but it cost well over a hundred dollars in gas every time she made the trip, and that simply wasn’t in her budget right now. And Audrey didn’t have the cash. She swallowed hard and put on her best teasing voice. “It’ll be extremely tough, but think I can survive without you a couple more weeks,” she teased. “Why do you want to come home now anyway?”
“No reason really.” Something in her voice hinted otherwise.
Audrey had come home more often her first year of college, but this year, besides having a weekend job, she had good friends in the dorm. Since school started last fall, she’d come home for two weeks at Christmas and that was it. Shelley nudged away a pang of loneliness. “No reason, huh? Just want to spend some time with your ol’ mom?”
“Mom, if I tell you why you’ll just freak out and then I––”
“I promise I won’t freak out.” So there was a reason. She held her breath, waiting, and trying not to “freak out.”
“Well–– Swear you won’t jump to conclusions?”
“You know I don’t swear.”
“Mom! You know what I mean.”
“I promise I will remain calm and rational.”
“And reasonable?”
“And reasonable.”
“And civil?”
“Out with it, you crazy girl!” She laughed, relaxing a little and suspecting whatever Audrey’s news was, it wasn’t going to rock her world as much as she’d first feared. It probably had something to do with a boy if she read her daughter’s nervous giggles correctly.
“Okay, but remember, you promised.”
“Audrey . . .”
“Okay, okay . . . Here’s the deal. Evan is going to be home this weekend and I want to see him.”
“Evan? Evan Brannon?”
“Duh, Mom. What other Evan would it be?”
“Okay. So why do you suddenly want to see Evan?”
“We’ve been talking––mostly e-mail and texting, but he called me last night, too, and we talked for a long time. He wanted to let me know he was coming home for that weekend. I think he’s pretty worried about his dad, so he and Katie are going to try to come home more often.”
Shelley tucked away the news that Evan was worried about Mitch. She tried to fit the pieces together, cautious to keep her voice calm lest Audrey clam up, and accuse her of breaking her promise already. “Is there something––going on between you and Evan? Again?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Maybe.” She got that shy, little girl squeak in her voice. “We just kind of started talking about what we had together––before––and, I don’t know . . . We don’t want to rush into anything, but we just want to see if there’s still . . . anything there.”
“Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say. Did Mitch know this was going on? Jill was the one the Brannon kids usually confided in. But hopefully, with Jill gone, they’d started confiding in Mitch now.
If that was true . . . Her heart lurched. Did this have anything to do with Mitch’s insistence that they keep their distance from each other? At least he’d come to his senses enough that the Realtor’s sign had disappeared from his yard the morning after she’d confronted him.
She tried to breathe and barely succeeded. If Audrey and Evan started dating again . . . She couldn’t process the ramifications of how that would affect her hopes for the future.
Before the thought was even complete, she scolded herself for entertaining thoughts about a future with Mitch. But this news of Audrey’s shook her. It could change every––
“Mom? Are you there?”
“Oh . . .” She started up the main aisle of the store, forcing herself to focus, looking down each corridor for her lone customer. “Hang on a second, honey.” Finding the woman thumbing through a rack of greeting cards, she cupped the phone in her palm and approached the customer. “Are you finding everything okay?”
“Just fine.”
She smiled. “Let me know if I can help.” Making her way to the back of the store again, she put the phone back to her ear. “Sorry, honey. I have a customer. I really need to go, but you know you’re always welcome to come home. You can let me know the details sometime next week. I’ll be praying about the whole thing––with you and Evan. That’s . . . Well, just––wow.”
Audrey’s laughter told her that her reaction hadn’t made her daughter suspicious. But she needed to talk to Mitch. What on earth she would say to him, though, she didn’t know.
How could things have gotten so crazy? It was bad enough that she was barely on speaking terms with Mitch, but if there was something brewing between Audrey and Evan . . . Audrey had told her that first year of college that she thought Evan was doing some partying at school. Shelley had never told Jill. She probably should have, but she hadn’t wanted to betray Audrey’s confidence. And from what Audrey said, it didn’t seem like anything beyond a freshman’s experimentation. But if Evan was still drinking, if he might be driving Audrey places . . . She shuddered. She would have to have a serious talk with her daughter.
Maybe she should say something to Mitch. But that would be about as welcome as a fur coat in July. She’d wait till after she’d talked to Audrey about it.
She sighed, feeling a little queasy. Life was getting too complicated. At least she had her job for a distraction. And Jaclyn was giving her as many hours as she wanted to work––a bittersweet benefit when she would have given every extra dime for a chance to have her friendship with Mitch back.
But it could never go back to the way it had been before that kiss. She knew that. The
y’d crossed a line. And deep inside, she knew Mitch was right about needing to put some space between them.
She would honor his wishes, but she hated that what had happened between them had ruined their friendship. She hated it, even as she dreamed about that kiss. About his arms around her and his breath warm on her face.
The bells on the door jangled again and she took in a deep breath and forced her thoughts back to her work and away from all the “what ifs” swirling inside her.
Chapter 27
Sunday, May 8
“Mitch? Hello?”
He jumped at the voice behind him, and whirled, wielding the oversized spatula he’d been flipping burgers with.
Shelley stood on the bottom step of the deck, looking like Queen Esther waiting for him to raise his scepter and grant her entrance. He laughed self-consciously and closed the lid on the burgers, realizing how ridiculous he must have appeared.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” she said. “I hollered when I came through the gate . . .” She motioned over her shoulder toward the fence that separated their lawns.
“I guess I didn’t hear.” He opened the lid of the grill again, just for something to do.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mitch. I know I said I would make myself scarce, but––” She came up two steps, but no farther. She looked pale––almost scared. “I need to talk to you. Just for a minute.”
He put down the spatula and went to the edge of the steps. “Is everything okay?”
“Audrey said Evan was coming home next weekend?”
He nodded. “Yes. He and Katie both are.” Odd she’d only mentioned Evan. “I was a little surprised when Katie called and said they were coming back again since it’s so close to school being out. Katie will be home for the summer in three weeks. Not that I’m complaining.”
“Audrey’s coming home next weekend, too.”
“Really?” He went to close the lid on the grill and turn down the heat. He motioned to the lawn chairs. “Come on up and have a seat.”
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