A Promise Remembered

by Elizabeth Mowers

  He released a breath when it finally fell silent and waited for the inevitable vibration to signal a new voice mail.

  “Mr. Kauffman, this is Special Agent Corrigan. I trust you have received my prior voice mails and understand the consequences of your actions...and inactions. I take your failure to return my calls as your intended response. Let me remind you that it is still in your best interest to contact me immediately, however, an arrest warrant for you will be processed. Thank you.”

  William shoved his cell phone back into his pocket, tugged on his gloves and adjusted his goggles. He shifted the bike into first gear, eased off the clutch and applied the throttle, thundering down the neighborhood streets with an eye on Lakeshore Boulevard. Today was the day to kiss Chinoodin Falls goodbye forever.

  * * *

  ANNIE POURED COFFEE for the Old Timers with one eye on their table and the other one sneaking a peek out the window. William’s truck had been parked on the street outside Pop’s Place for a couple of days and was drawing interest that morning. A fellow had been loitering around it for at least ten minutes, but William was nowhere in sight.

  “’Bout time you were back, dear,” Danny said, raising a coffee cup to Annie’s honor. “The place don’t feel right without yous.”

  “Did you have fun giving Mia and Karrin a hard time?” she asked.

  “They don’t have the right sense of humor, dontcha know?”

  “They’re not gluttons for punishment the way I am, Danny.”

  “You dish it just as much, though. Dat’s what makes it fun.”

  Annie took the few seconds of quiet to jet out the front door. A middle-aged man in overalls and haggard work boots moseyed next to William’s truck.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m supposed to meet a guy about this truck in a bit.”

  “Oh, no. That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “How’s that now?” the man asked, rasping his hand over a bristling jaw.

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this...”

  “What?”

  “He stood you up.”

  “Eh?” The guy tipped his ear toward her.

  “Yeah. He decided to keep the truck. He didn’t want to call and tell you, so he sent me to keep an eye out for you.”

  “That dirty son of a—”

  “I know,” Annie said, her face twisted in sympathy. “He’s left people out on a limb before, I’m afraid. Twisting in the breeze. I’m so sorry to be the messenger of bad news.”

  “I got off the night shift almost an hour ago, and I’ve been putsin’ about all this time for nothin’?”

  “He says he’s really sorry, but—”

  “Tell him to stick his apologies.” The man stomped off. Annie checked over her shoulder for any sign of William before zipping back into the diner.

  “Is everything okay?” Joyce asked.

  Annie smiled. “Yep. Just peachy.”

  * * *

  WILLIAM TORE INTO the parking lot of Pop’s Place. A nasty voice mail from a prospective buyer for his truck had sent him speeding all the way from Miner’s Leather Goods, blowing through two yellow traffic lights and nearly skidding onto Main Street. He’d barely hurtled through the back door of the diner when he spotted Annie. Her eyes flashed with alarm when she spotted him moving toward her.

  “You!” he hollered.

  “Take it easy, kid,” Karrin called after him, but he didn’t slow as he followed Annie into the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?” Miles asked, leaning away from the grill.

  “Outta my way, Miles,” William cautioned.

  Annie, feigning innocence, was all wide-eyed and smirking.

  “What’s your problem, William?”

  “You, Curtis, have got some serious explaining to do.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Annie protested, backing out of the kitchen and into the storage room. William wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

  “Mike said he talked to a waitress with sad brown hair and paintbrush eyelashes. Sound like anyone you might know?”

  “Is he still going to buy your truck?”

  “Come on, Annie.”

  “What?” she scowled, frantically eyeing the doorway.

  “You’re not getting off that easy.”

  She defiantly thrust out her chin and blew wisps of hair from her face.

  William leaned closer, the scent of her strawberry lip gloss that stained her pout clouding his senses. Scrambling to focus on his anger instead of her rosebud lips tilted up toward him, he pushed on with his interrogation. “What are you tryin’ to pull?”

  “Nothing,” she sputtered.

  “Something.”

  “Let me pass, William.”

  “Or what?”

  But as soon as the words left his mouth, he sensed her defiance turn to panic. The whites of her eyes flashed with more than a fear of being confronted for her foolish trick.

  “I mean it, William,” she shrieked. “Get out of my way.”

  “I’d never hurt you, Annie,” he declared, putting several feet between the two of them.

  “Are you sure about that?” she snapped.

  “I’d never hurt you,” he said again, his words slow and deliberate.

  She smoothed her hair off her forehead, her nerves noticeably frazzled. “I... I... Don’t do that again.”

  “I won’t.”

  She focused on him then, as if searching for an authenticity he hoped he projected. If she had genuinely been worried that he could...what?

  “Are you okay?” Miles asked, standing in the open doorway. William’s eyes still latched on Annie.

  “Sure,” Annie said, nodding. “We’re fine, Miles.”

  William waited for Miles to leave before beginning again. “Why’d you sabotage my sale?”

  “You can’t leave yet.”

  “Because?”

  “Joyce needs you.”

  “Nobody needs me, Annie.”

  “She won’t tell you because she doesn’t want to guilt you into helping.”

  “Guilt me? All my mother has ever done since I was a kid was guilt me. Every time Dennis got revved up into one of his dark moods and took it out on me—”

  “I know.” Annie sighed. “I know, William, but you can’t leave right now.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I care about Joyce.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  William shook his head. “I can’t stay here, Annie, regardless of what you think I can do.”

  “Fine. Do what you want,” Annie huffed, storming away. “You always did anyway!”

  William ran his hands through his hair and released a long breath. There had been a time when he would have walked to the moon and back for Annie Curtis, not that she had been the kind of girl who would have ever asked him to. Seeing her was stirring up old feelings he had long forgotten. But if he indulged himself for even a minute, he might not be able to leave her again, and he had to leave—while he still could.

  * * *

  ANNIE HURRIED TO the front door as soon as she heard Sean’s car pull into the driveway.

  “Hi, pumpkin,” she greeted James, her mood dancing with merriment as soon as she spotted her son running up the sidewalk. But her relief of having him home turned to concern when he pushed past her and fled up the stairs. She lingered as Sean strode toward the house.

  “You’d better get back here and show your father some respect!” he shouted loudly enough for Mr. Mosely from across the street to peer up from his gardening and gawk.

  “He’s probably tired, Sean. I’ll get him to bed early tonight.” Her placating voice an unwavering calm meant to soothe his temper.

  “You baby
him,” Sean mocked. “And when I try to toughen him up, he can’t handle it. Then I’m the bad guy.”

  “He’s just a little boy.”

  “Don’t start with that ‘he’s just a little boy’ hooey,” he said, protesting. “He’s my son, Annie, and no son of mine is going to grow up to be a weakling.”

  “Then love him like a son. Talk to him, listen to him—”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” Sean yelled.

  Annie faced off in front of him, her gentle facade dissipating. “I don’t know, Sean. He’s the one crying.”

  “Listen, I’ll...ah... Never mind.”

  “Good night,” Annie said, hastening to close the door, but Sean stuck his foot over the threshold at the last second. She firmly pressed on the door to prevent him from opening it any wider. “It’s late, Sean.”

  “Late? What do you mean late? The sun is still out.”

  “I have to get the children ready for bed, and I’ve had a long day.”

  “I had a long day, too, but I still took the kid out for a slice of pizza, didn’t I? You don’t seem too grateful about that.”

  Annie clenched her jaw. She didn’t want Sean to come anywhere near James, but she appeased him with these mini outings to keep him from taking her to court for custody. He really was dense. It pained her whenever he took James for a visit, and she certainly didn’t feel gratitude. “I could come in for a while,” he offered. “After you put the kids to bed, I could put you to bed.”

  “I really can’t, Sean.”

  “You’re a little flushed, baby.” He smiled. Annie’s heart thudded hard, her fingertips whitening against the door. She wondered if Mr. Mosely was still paying attention.

  “I have to get to the children.”

  “I could make you forget about your long day, you know. We could make each other feel better tonight.”

  “I don’t need anyone else to make me feel better.”

  “That’s not what I heard. Rumor has it Joyce’s son has been hanging around here.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Sean grinned, though his eyes narrowed on her.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “You can’t keep secrets from me, baby. I know everything happening in this town.”

  “William hasn’t been hanging around, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “It’s all my business,” Sean whispered. “You’d be wise to remember that.”

  “Good night, Sean,” Annie stated forcefully. After what seemed like an eternity, he reluctantly eased off the door.

  “I want a rain check, baby,” he said, puckering an air kiss. “Don’t forget it.”

  Annie didn’t wait for Sean to step down off the stoop before bolting the door and racing upstairs to find James. She could only assume Sean felt threatened by William and was tossing out suspicions to gauge her reaction. The other possibility, which she shuddered to entertain, was that he had been watching her house the night William had turned up on her front porch. But she didn’t have time to think about that now.

  Hidden in his bedroom, in a tent he’d strung out of bedsheets, James was nestled beside Betsy. She cradled an arm protectively around him. Annie dropped to her belly and crawled into the tent so the top half of her body could fit snugly beside them. James stared at her, his big brown eyes pleading with her to make him feel better, safe. She didn’t need to know what had happened with his father. Sean was always in the wrong. And the longer she subjected James to his mean-spiritedness, she was in the wrong, too.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WILLIAM POKED HIS head out of Dennis’s office, straining to hear if anyone was approaching. When he was sure the noise had been something other than his mother arriving home, he returned to the filing cabinet jammed full of paperwork.

  Dennis would blow a gasket if he could see his office now in complete disarray. When William had snuck in here to check out his stepfather’s baseball card collection—the lure of the antique cards too much for his thirteen-year-old self—he’d taken several mental pictures before placing a finger on anything. He’d exercised the stealth moves of a ninja to prevent leaving even a speck out of place. The old man had had a few things that set off his temper, and when he’d somehow discovered William had snooped around his office, William sure heard about it.

  He heaved a stack of disheveled papers from the filing cabinet to thumb through, still wondering how Dennis had known he’d been in his baseball collection. He’d probably only guessed and then read the guilt on William’s face.

  It was nearly impossible to find anything in the office today. Every surface, from the desk to the chair to the filing cabinet, was covered with old bills, junk mail and magazines. He’d have to think like his mother, not Dennis, if he were going to place his hands on the title for Old Red. He assumed only Dennis’s name was listed on it, and he wanted to get a look at it before his mother arrived home with a dozen questions.

  Fumbling through a bunch of tax returns and old bills, he figured he was getting closer. He paused, running his fingers over a hefty red folder that read KEEP at the top and flipped it open. Inside were medical bills, all for his mother, with the top one dated two weeks prior to his arrival. As he scanned the billing codes for treatments and procedures she’d had over the last couple of years, his gut seized as particular words and phrases jumped off the page, practically nipping him on the nose: oncology, radiation therapy, chemotherapy, exploratory surgery. He poured over the pages, double-checking and then triple-checking that the bills were in her name, but each page showed procedures for Joyce Green.

  After a few minutes, William’s head was spinning, so he couldn’t concentrate anymore. The words and numbers had blurred together in a muddled collection, mocking him from the page. William carefully slipped the bills back into the folder and tucked it into the filing cabinet. His mother would never know he had been in here. She probably couldn’t find the title to the bike any faster than he could because of the clutter.

  He just stood there, taking in the piles of disorganized junk that had accumulated since the last time he’d been home. Tidying would easily be ignored when a person was in the throes of fighting for their life.

  Cancer.

  Was that possible? He couldn’t fathom how self-absorbed he must have been the last few days to not see the signs that his own mother was undergoing cancer treatments. Had there been signs? Had he even paused to notice?

  “Will? Are you here?” Joyce called from the back door.

  William turned, unable to shift one foot in front of the other. “Yeah,” he said. The word barely uttered from his throat.

  “There you are,” she said in a breathy voice as she pushed the office door fully open and greeted him with a grin. “What are you doing in here?”

  William stared, mouth agape, at his mother. She had seemed more tired and out of breath than when he’d left home, but he’d chalked that up to her aging. Everyone was a decade older since he’d last seen them, including his own reflection in the mirror each morning. The weariness in her walk hadn’t alarmed him, either. Her hair, which had been a wavy chestnut brown falling below her chin, was now a short, cropped auburn and gray. He tried to picture her soft, beautiful hair falling out in clumps and growing back into the straight, wiry texture it was now. He puzzled at how he hadn’t realized it before. He’d been too consumed in his own worries to give her more than a second thought. She’d been so thrilled to see him, it hadn’t even occurred to him...

  “Things have changed since I’ve been back.”

  She sighed, glancing past him to the filing cabinet.

  “I suppose. The diner keeps me too busy to mind after the house. I really do need to hire more help. I’m too old to put in overtime.”

  “You seem tired, Mom.”

  “We�
�re all tired.” She chuckled, leaning against him and taking his arm. “I defrosted some meatballs last night if you want to make yourself a sandwich for dinner. I haven’t gotten to the supermarket this week, so there isn’t much selection.”

  “Are you hungry, Mom?”

  “Oh, no. I think I’ll go lie down for a spell. You go ahead and eat when you’re ready, honey.”

  William nodded as she gave his arm another squeeze and shuffled to the stairs, climbing each one with a labored effort. He needed answers but couldn’t bear to ask his mother. After all, if she had wanted him to know about the cancer, she would have told him when he’d first arrived. Someone had to fill in the blanks, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, there was only one person who could tell him exactly what he needed to know.

  * * *

  WILLIAM SQUINTED, STRAINING to find Annie walking among the rocks of Peninsula Bay. He coasted along, finally bringing the bike to a crawl once he’d spotted her lounging on a park bench, her black sunglasses facing a kids’ play structure as the lake lapped in the background.

  “Hey,” he said, sliding onto the bench beside her. She hesitated, pushing her sunglasses up over her forehead to pin back wisps of hair blowing in a lyrical dance on the late-afternoon breeze.

  “William, what are you doing here?”

  “William!” Betsy yelled, waving furiously from the top of the wooden structure that resembled the tower of a castle. He tipped his chin up to acknowledge her before continuing.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about my mom?”

  Annie’s face fell before turning her attention back to the children who darted across a swaying rope bridge.

  “I’m surprised she told you.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “Then how did you find out?”

  “I have my ways,” he said. “How bad is it?”

  Annie sighed. “She was diagnosed after Dennis died.”

  “Good timing,” William grumbled. “He didn’t have much of a bedside manner.”

  “She underwent chemo. The children and I moved in with her temporarily when I separated from Sean.”