She shook her head. “No. I’m not staying.
He sat down on the top step. “Is there something . . . going on?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. Did you know Evan and Audrey have been––talking?”
“Talking? What do you mean?”
“Audrey said they want to”––she chalked quotation marks in the air––“see if there’s still something between them.”
He knew his jaw must be hanging open, but he couldn’t seem to close it. “Really?”
She nodded. “Evan hasn’t said anything?”
He shook his head. “Wow. Are you . . . okay with that?” She didn’t look okay with it. Not at all.
“I don’t know. It seems like those two fought a lot when they were dating before and––”
“Yes, but that was back in high school. They’ve both grown up a lot since then. I know Evan has.”
She nodded, but she still didn’t look too thrilled with the whole prospect.
“I wasn’t implying that Audrey hasn’t grown up, too,” he said, suddenly realizing Shelley might have misunderstood. He was still too stunned to decide how he felt about it. He’d never dreamed those two would get back together. He’d actually been relieved when they broke up. Evan had enough trouble concentrating on school without the distraction of a girlfriend. And living next door to the girl had presented all kinds of challenges for him and Jill––and Shelley, too, he was sure.
“No, no . . . I didn’t think you were saying that. I’m just––I’m having trouble adjusting to the idea.”
He motioned between them. “Is it because of us? Because you think it means we’ll have to see each other more?” May as well let loose the elephant in the yard.
Her smoky eyes narrowed. “I’m not the one who wanted to pretend we don’t know each other.” She said it so quietly it took a minute for her words to register.
But when they did––ouch. Well, he had that coming. “I told you why I needed for us to––keep our distance. I’d rather not have to say it again.”
“I’m not asking you to say it again. I just wanted–– This is going to complicate things, Mitch. I don’t want our kids to know that we’re not on speaking terms. I––” Her voice broke.
He hated it when Jill cried. Katie, too. He was a goner the minute either of those women he loved shed tears. Jill had taken to crying in secret “so you won’t think I’m just trying to manipulate you.” But he’d never felt manipulated by her tears. They simply moved him. Jill had accused him of being an old softy. And, maybe he was, but he couldn’t afford to let Shelley “manipulate” him––whether that was her aim or not. He looked away briefly, steeling himself.
She wiped away a tear and took a deep breath. “Evan and Katie don’t need anything else to worry about. And I don’t want Audrey worrying about me. And––maybe I’m flattering myself, but your kids are special to me, Mitch. I know things are different now that they’re grown, but I’d like to see them whenever they’re home. Like before. I can wait until you’re at work or . . . maybe they could come over here sometime and you could”––she shrugged––“find something else to do.” She looked at him again with pleading eyes.
“Shelley––” He’d been such an idiot. “Of course I want my kids to see you. They love you. And you’ve been––so good for them through everything that’s happened this year. I’d feel terrible if my own stupid lack of self-control kept you and Katie and Evan from seeing each other. That was never my intent when I said we needed to avoid seeing each other. I’m so sorry if I ever made it seem that way.” He swallowed hard, threatening to choke up himself.
The way her countenance brightened only made it worse.
“Please forgive me, Shelley. If I could take back what I’ve done . . . What I did . . . I would do it in a heartbeat. Will you forgive me?”
She gave him a tight smile. “I forgive you. I haven’t exactly been innocent though . . .” She seemed to think better of finishing that sentence.
He was grateful.
“I’m just glad I can see the kids,” she said. “Maybe you guys can all come over for spaghetti some night.”
After his big, dramatic apology, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to put the brakes on. But he hoped she didn’t think things could ever go back to the way they’d been when––when she’d begun to consume his thoughts and take the place in his heart that should have belonged to Jill.
He had to guard his heart, and the only way he knew to guard it from Shelley was to keep some distance between them.
Saturday, May 14
The house smelled like Little Italy and the smiles around her dining room table did more to lift Shelley’s spirits than anything had in a very long while. It did her heart good to see Audrey and Evan and Katie laughing like children, playing a new board game Evan had brought from college.
She and Mitch bowed out after the practice round. It was one of those convoluted role-playing card games where the rules seemed to change just when she was getting the hang of it, and she’d been relieved when Mitch pled too-dumb-to-get-this.
She was afraid he’d view her following suit as a ploy to spend time with him alone, so she excused herself to the kitchen to clean up while the kids played their game. She rinsed dishes and loaded the dishwasher, and she couldn’t help but smile hearing the raucous laughter coming from the family room.
“Kind of reminds you of the good ol’ days, doesn’t it?”
Mitch’s voice behind her reminded her of the good ol’ days, too––or at least better days. But of course, she couldn’t tell him that.
He picked up a soggy dish towel. “Can I dry?”
“No, it’s okay. I think I can fit everything in the dishwasher. But thanks.”
“The spaghetti and meatballs were great. Thanks for doing this.” He folded the towel in quarters and leaned his back against the counter, bracing the heels of his hands on the countertop.
He looked relaxed and handsome––and exactly how she’d imagined him looking in her kitchen. Stop it, Austin!
“It was fun having the kids all together,” he said. “It’s good to see they haven’t outgrown each other.”
She frowned. “Do you mean Evan and Audrey?”
“Oh, no. That’s not what I meant. I just meant it’s good to see our kids enjoying each other––all three of them––like they used to when they were little.” He picked at an invisible thread on his sleeve before looking up at her. “It’s been good being neighbors, Shelley. Over the years, I mean . . .”
She stopped short and glanced at him. “You make it sound like that’s coming to an end. Did––did you sell your house?”
“Oh. No. I’m sorry. I didn’t think how you’d take that. In fact, I took the house off the market. You were right. That wouldn’t be fair to the kids. And besides, I didn’t have a clue where I’d go.” He shot her a sheepish grin.
She tried not to let him see the relief she felt. And it took everything she had not to say, I told you so.
“I just meant . . . We’ve been blessed to raise our kids in this town. Next door to each other. They’ve been good years. And I’ve missed it these last few weeks––being neighbors. I’m sorry, Shelley. I overreacted and overcorrected and over-just-about-everything I could ‘over.’ I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head and offered a cautious smile, surprised at another apology from him. “Forget about it. I understand. I probably did some overreacting myself.”
“It’s been a strange time for all of us.” He circled a hand toward the dining room, including the kids. “But I’d like to get back to normal––to the way things used to be.”
She got the feeling he was choosing his words very carefully, and she was quick to put him at ease. “I understand. I know you’re not suggesting anything more than neighborly friendship. I promise I won’t abuse the privilege.”
“I feel bad for making you feel like you even had to say that.”
She shrug
ged, grateful that he was calling off the ridiculous impasse between them. And for that she was so happy she could have cried. “I’d like to be neighbors again, Mitch. And friends. I’d like that a lot.”
He bobbed his head as if that fixed everything between them.
She knew better, but she was grateful for a truce. They could figure out the rules of engagement as they went along.
“Do you think there’s anything between Evan and Audrey? Has she said anything?”
“No. Has Evan?”
He shook his head. “They seem to be enjoying each other.”
“Yes, but if there’s anything romantic going on, they’re hiding it well.”
He shrugged. “Who can tell? I never have been any good at this romance stuff.”
Shelley ignored that comment and pretended not to notice Mitch squirm when it hit him how she might take that. “Do you want some ice cream?”
“Um, sure. Sounds good. I’ll go see if the kids want any.” He smiled, trying, she knew, to put her at ease.
“Thanks.” She went to the deep freeze in the laundry room and opened the lid. Tears pushed at her throat, taking her aback. But they were tears of gratitude. For with just a few words, Mitchell Brannon had made everything right with her world again.
No, it wasn’t her daydreams come true, but she could live with this. She had her friend back. And she would somehow make that be enough. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered.
She waited a long minute, fighting to get her emotions in check before she retrieved cartons of chocolate and vanilla ice cream and carried them back to the kitchen.
Chapter 28
Tuesday, May 24
“Mr. Brannon?”
Mitch looked up to see Jennae Wilcox, a student office aide, standing in his doorway. “Hi, Jennae. Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Janssen said I have to ask you about using the library for our Pet Awareness Training meeting this summer.”
“You’re not going to bring a bunch of horses and potbellied pigs to the meetings, are you?”
Her bright eyes went wide. “Oh, no. Definitely not. We don’t even bring our pets to the meetings. It’s just about raising aware––”
“Um . . . Jennae? I’m teasing.” He winked.
“Oh.” She giggled.
“If community ed doesn’t have the meeting room scheduled, I think that would be fine for your group to meet there this summer. As long as you have a sponsor, right?”
“Yep, Brandy Fishbern’s mom is going to be our sponsor.” She flashed a smile that made him miss his Katie. “Thanks, Mr. Brannon.”
Jennae gave a little wave and dashed down the silent hall toward the front door.
Graduation was over and the halls were quiet with only underclassmen in the building for the last week of school. He was looking forward to the quiet of his office during the upcoming summer months. There would still be plenty to do, but a lot fewer distractions.
Except that next week Katie would be home from college for the summer. It would be tough on her being there without Jill. He wished Evan would come home, too, and thought he might if there was anything going on between him and Audrey. But coming back to Sylvia would’ve meant giving up the summer job he’d already lined up. Besides, it was too late to try to find work here in town when he’d be going back to Lawrence in the fall.
Mitch went back to his computer and pulled up his calendar, flipping through meeting dates for the upcoming school year. Another year. Jill had disappeared at the beginning of a school year, and now that year was ending. And plans were under way for a new year that, right now, didn’t look like it would include Jill.
Slowly, things had returned to normal at work. Teachers and students had quit looking at him with those doleful, pitying eyes. He could finally walk into a room without everyone turning silent. He was glad and relieved––and guilty at the same time. Because those very things meant that people had forgotten Jill, or at least gotten used to the idea of a world without her in it. Maybe they were just giving him permission to carry on with his life without her. But he still had trouble fathoming a life that would never again include Jill.
He’d gotten the renewal statement for the insurance on Jill’s Camry last week and he hadn’t yet dealt with that. He wasn’t sure he would ever grow accustomed to receiving mail addressed to Jill, or seeing her photo on a poster at the post office.
Sometimes he contemplated moving to a town where no one knew his tragic story. Just starting over. But if he did that, he would always feel like he had a secret he was keeping from every new person he met. At least in Sylvia, people already knew his story. He was the man whose wife had disappeared off the face of the earth. He would probably always be whispered about behind his back as those who knew about Jill explained the sordid details to those who hadn’t yet heard. It made a good story. He got that.
But that didn’t make it easy.
He rose from his desk and took some papers to the file cabinet in the corner. It was Cyndi’s job to file these, and come Monday she would give him a hard time about trying to put her out of a job. It was too late in the day to start a new project, though, and besides, he needed a distraction. He didn’t want to feel sad today. He’d had enough sad to last a lifetime.
Pulling out of the high school parking lot an hour later took him back to that Friday last September when he’d driven home with such hope for the beginning of a new season of life with Jill. Nine months ago now. The length of time Jill had carried their babies.
How different everything had turned out than his plans. He didn’t think he would ever understand how God’s plans for his life could be so very different from his own. How could Jill’s disappearance––his children losing their mother––possibly be a part of a loving God’s plan?
He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was learning––in spite of himself––to huddle in closer to God, to live one day at a time, trusting that he didn’t need to have answers to those questions any more than his children had needed answers when he’d told them not to play in the street, or not to run with scissors.
No, he didn’t need answers to live. But that didn’t stop him from wanting them.
Sitting at the stop light at Washington and Main, a spot of color caught his eye and he looked down at the median. A bright red poppy had sprouted through the asphalt. He had to admire its pluck. Jill would have made him stop the car and get out to look and snap a photo with her cell phone. Shelley would have done the same.
He smiled, and it felt good to feel happy over a memory of Jill. That he could smile about Jill one minute and about Shelley Austin the next bothered him a little. He prayed he would never overstep his boundaries with Shelley again.
He acknowledged the reminder, but pushed the thought aside. He didn’t want to dwell on the past right now. He only wanted to nurture the feeling of promise he had for this weekend. The temps were only in the midsixties today, but spring was giving way to summer. A new season––in the world, and in his life––and he wanted to find a way to go on living. He’d done everything he knew to do in order to find Jill. And now, he felt God was asking him to simply take each day as it came. Easier said than done, Lord.
He drove into the cul-de-sac and checked Shelley’s lawn as he turned onto his driveway. She’d reseeded her lawn last week and had asked him to help her get the sprinkler system reprogrammed. She’d plied him with the promise of dinner, and he happily accepted. Since that night when the kids were home, ever so gradually, things between them had gone from civil to friendly, and now to . . . something more––he wasn’t sure how to define it yet. He was just glad their friendship was one he could enjoy without guilt. Well, most of the time anyway.
He retrieved the mail from the box at the end of the driveway and went inside to change clothes and grab a Coke from the fridge in the garage before heading over to Shelley’s.
She was waiting for him in her backyard, sporting a Cardinals T-shirt, her hair tied up in a ponytail. “H
ey, there!” she said when she spotted him. “We picked a perfect day to do this, huh? It’s almost chilly.”
He shaded his eyes and looked up into a cloudless, blue Missouri sky. “I don’t know about chilly, but I’ll take this weather any day.”
“Come on around.” She motioned toward the garage. “The controller is in there and I hunted up the manual, too, in case you need it.”
“Ha! Real men never refer to the manual.”
“Oh, sorry. My bad. How could I have forgotten.”
“We’ll let it go this one time.”
Her laughter set the tone for the evening and he felt the cares of the week––maybe the cares of the last nine months––begin to slip off his shoulders. At least for tonight.
He opened the control box and inspected the settings. “Hmmm. This is a little different from ours. Different brand.”
“I do have the manual. . .” She snickered behind him.
He turned and glared at her. “You know, don’t you, that you’re only making it increasingly unlikely that I would even consider reading the manual now?”
She held up her hands, palms out, and backed away. “How about I go finish clipping the rosebushes and let you handle this?”
“I’d say that’s an excellent plan.”
He caught her grin as she pulled pruning shears from a pegboard near the door and ducked into the backyard.
He worked at the control box for a full ten minutes, afraid he might have to eat crow and take a peek at the instruction manual after all, but he finally figured it out and got the thing set up like she wanted it, to run on odd-numbered days of the month. He set the timer for a test run and went to the backyard to find Shelley.
She was at the far corner of the yard near the wrought iron arbor, on a garden kneeler with her back to him. A pile of thorny branches collected at her side.
He hollered her name, not wanting to startle her.
She turned expectantly.
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