Cross My Heart

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  And the one time she’d let someone get closer than most, he’d—

  Remington huffed. The sound seemed a confirmation to Ashley’s dour thoughts, and she laughed. Better to laugh than to cry.

  “I shouldn’t let it get to me this way.”

  The mare huffed again, this time adding a bob of her head.

  “And I do have friends.”

  There was Ruth for one . . . and Ben for another. Ben. It was unexpected, the way she’d let him into her life, despite lessons from her past urging her to be cautious. She’d liked him from their very first meeting. Trust had come more reluctantly, but it had come, along with an understanding that a special friendship had blossomed between them.

  Why is that?

  With another steadying breath, she slipped out of the enclosure.

  * * *

  The certified equine therapy instructor, Emily Cooper, paid her second visit to the Henning farm on Monday evening. The first visit, a few weeks earlier, had solidified her willingness to work with Ben, based on the recommendation of their mutual friend, Larry Dennis. This second visit was a more in-depth facility inspection.

  Emily was in her thirties, tall and reed thin with long, straight red hair and a pale complexion. She wore a sleeveless top, skinny jeans, and boots that had seen better days. Like Ashley Showalter, Emily knew her way around horses and tack. Ben hung back and let her do her thing, staying just close enough to answer questions if any were asked. None were. When Emily finished, the two of them walked to the porch. They sat and discussed the timetable for opening the barn, first to the volunteers and then to clients.

  “The website will be operational in a couple of days,” Ben told her.

  “Who’s doing it for you?”

  “I’m doing it myself, with help from a friend in my men’s group.”

  Emily tipped her head slightly to one side, giving him a close look. “You’ve got lots of people helping you with the program, don’t you?”

  He paused to consider her comment, realizing how true it was. Too often he’d focused on the number of refusals he’d received. He needed to get better at focusing on the good news. “Yeah. I do at that.”

  “It says a lot about you, Ben. I can tell you this: Larry thinks highly of you.”

  “It’s mutual. They don’t come any better than Larry.”

  “Well . . .” She stood. “I’d better get on my way.”

  He got up from his chair.

  She offered her hand. “I’m glad to be a part of the Harmony Barn. I think we’re going to do good work together.”

  “I think you’re right, Emily. I think you’re right.”

  She started to walk away, then stopped. “You should think about holding a fund-raiser while the weather’s still good. You’re set up enough for folks to get a good idea of what you hope to accomplish with the barn.”

  “I have a couple of donors lined up, but I wasn’t planning on holding any fund-raisers until spring. Or at least not until we have our first sessions planned.”

  “Sooner rather than later, I think. Even before you’re holding sessions, you’re going to have expenses crop up. There’ll be vet bills for sure, and you already know the insurance will be high. I don’t doubt that you’ll get the volunteers you need or that the right horses will come your way. But fund-raising is a part of a nonprofit like yours. You might as well get used to it now.” She smiled. “If you need me, I’ll be glad to help.”

  As Ben watched Emily Cooper drive away in her pale-blue SUV, his first thought was to call Ashley and tell her about this second meeting with the instructor and Emily’s suggestion about the fund-raiser this fall. Ashley would respond with enthusiasm, as usual. She would be ready to jump in and help. She would rejoice with him over how much closer he was to starting the program than he’d been when he first called upon her, asking for help with finding horses. That had been only a month ago, but it felt as if he and Ashley had been friends for years instead of weeks.

  Yesterday he’d been tempted to kiss her, which would have changed their relationship from friendship into something else. Not wise. He wasn’t in the market for a romantic relationship. He’d steered clear of them since getting sober. He’d seen them derail other guys in the program. He didn’t mean to be among them. Besides, all he had to do was imagine an introduction between some nice young woman and his mom to put a damper on any desire for something more serious. Any woman with a lick of sense would run away the minute she met Wendy Henning and felt the barbs of her tongue.

  Although, to be fair, Ashley was a nice young woman, and she hadn’t been intimidated by his mom. At the memory, a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. She had a backbone, that one, while at the same time she was kind. A nice combination.

  He gave his head a shake, trying to dislodge thoughts of Ashley. Better to focus on work. There were plenty of things he needed to get done before he called it a day.

  Monday, March 8, 1943

  Although Andrew didn’t tell Helen, he fell a little bit in love with Greer Garson in Mrs. Miniver when they saw the movie in the summer of 1942, so when both the actress and the movie won Academy Awards in March of 1943, he could only think the Academy voters had gotten it right.

  Andrew and Helen had begun going to the movies on a somewhat regular basis. Depending upon the film, sometimes the children and Mother Greyson went too. He didn’t know about the others, but movies helped to distract him from his concerns for Ben—even the movies that included references to war. Sitting in the dark interior of the theater in Kuna, he could let the stories on the big screen replace reality for a couple of hours. Casablanca. Random Harvest. Yankee Doodle Dandy. Holiday Inn. The Pride of the Yankees. Road to Morocco. All those and more had played at the Rialto, and the Hennings had been there to see them.

  Andrew was thankful movies weren’t rationed the way sugar, canned goods, and coffee were. But he tried not to complain about the things he had to do without. After all, the Hennings were far better off than people who lived in the cities. His family ate well from their own garden and livestock. They had milk from the Jersey cows and eggs from the chickens and meat from the hogs and beef calves. They had fruit and vegetables, fresh in the summer, home canned the rest of the year. Of course, some rationing was not easy to get used to. Gasoline and shoes were the two that came quickly to mind.

  Ben still wrote in his letters that the Army Air Forces fed him well. Andrew wondered if his son would tell them if the food was ghastly. He thought not. One thing he didn’t doubt: Ben loved the training. He loved flying, and he hoped to be sitting in the cockpit of a bomber, taking out the enemy, before much more time passed. Ben didn’t care if he was sent to Africa or to the Pacific. The boy was ready to fight.

  The boy . . .

  Andrew supposed it was time he stopped thinking of him that way. He would turn twenty soon. He was a pilot and about to become an officer. Ben was a man and a fine one. Andrew and Helen could be proud of him.

  May God keep him safe and bring him home to us.

  Chapter 13

  The intense heat of summer began to ease. There was the hint of fall in the early morning September air. A nice change. Ashley was ready for autumn to arrive in earnest. It was her favorite time of year. Crisp nights and mild days. Perfect for working outside. The entire world seemed to explode with brilliant colors—yellows, golds, oranges, and reds.

  Five days after her lunch at Ben’s ranch, she was repairing the gate to the paddock when her phone buzzed. She felt a flash of pleasure when Ben’s face appeared on the screen. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she’d hoped he would call. Not that she couldn’t have been the one to call him. Silly that she hadn’t. Friends called friends.

  “Hey, Henning,” she answered.

  “Hey. How are you?”

  “Fine. You?”

  “Good too. Listen, are you working today?”

  “Just around my place. Why?”

  “Nicki Day is delivering Pa
isley this afternoon. Wasn’t supposed to be until tomorrow, but something came up and today worked better for her. I was hoping maybe you could be here when she delivers the horse. I know it’s an imposition, but I value your opinion.”

  She smiled. “It’s not an imposition. And it isn’t like it’s that far between our places. I drive about as far to get to the grocery store. What time do you want me there?”

  “Come for lunch again.”

  “You don’t have to feed me to get me to come over.”

  He laughed. The sound was nice in her ear. “I know, but come anyway. Noon. It’ll just be sandwiches and chips. Nicki’s supposed to be here around one.”

  “All right.”

  After finishing her most pressing chores, Ashley took a quick shower. Her hair went into a ponytail. Her only makeup was a bit of eyeshadow and mascara. It was her day off, after all. Then she dressed in a sky-blue T-shirt, jeans, and the requisite boots.

  Before leaving the house, she texted Ben.

  Ashley: Okay if I bring Speed and Jack?

  A reply came quickly.

  Ben: Sure. The more the merrier.

  “Come on, guys. Road trip.”

  Her dogs knew those two words better than they knew sit or stay. They scrambled for the door, waiting impatiently for her to catch up. Laughing, she grabbed her truck keys and hurried to open the door for them before their tails beat holes in the wall.

  Ashley arrived at Ben’s at ten minutes before the hour. Dusty ran out to the truck as if he knew his new doggie pals were inside the cab, even though this was their first time to visit the farm. Ben stepped onto the porch about the same time Ashley opened her truck door. He wore jeans, a red T-shirt, and that easy grin of his that had become so familiar. The three dogs took off, chasing and tumbling over one another. Ashley laughed at the sight of them.

  “Come on up,” Ben called. “Lunch is ready. Hope you like cold meat loaf sandwiches.”

  “Homemade meat loaf?”

  “Yeah. It was my dinner last night.”

  She approached the porch. “Chili and corn bread. Now meat loaf. What else do you cook, Henning? Anything besides ground beef?”

  “Actually, yes.” He grinned. “My grandmother taught me to cook all kinds of things when I lived here on the farm with her and Grandpa. What some people would call plain food, but good and filling.”

  She wasn’t surprised the teacher hadn’t been his mother. Not after meeting her. “How old were you when you lived with them?”

  He didn’t answer right away. For a while, she thought he might ignore the question. But then he said, “Not until I was in my midtwenties. Actually, I stayed with them quite a bit when I was a teen, but I didn’t come to live here until a little over five years ago.”

  She’d expected a different answer, a younger age.

  “I was kind of . . . lost after high school.” His face clouded over, until no hint remained of his earlier grin. “No. That’s not strong enough. To be honest, I was completely messed up for a long time after high school. I might never have gotten my act together if not for my grandparents. They helped turn me and my life around.”

  She thought of Dylan. “You were lucky to have them.”

  “Don’t I know it.” He cleared his throat. “Come inside. Lunch is waiting.”

  In the kitchen he took two plates with sandwiches and chips from the counter and carried them to the table. Glasses of ice water were already at their places. They each sat. She waited to pick up her sandwich, knowing he would pause long enough to close his eyes and say a silent prayer. She’d learned that about him from the other times they’d shared a meal. He didn’t make her or anyone else join him, but neither did he fail to do it. She closed her eyes and said her own silent thanks. When she opened her eyes, she found him watching her.

  “Eat up.” He smiled.

  The look made her stomach tumble. “Tell me more about your grandparents,” she said, trying to ignore her reaction. Then she took her first bite and found the sandwich better than expected. Just the right amount spices in the meat loaf.

  “What can I say? The best kind of people.”

  “When did your grandmother die?”

  “A few years go. Cancer. It happened really fast. She was gone three months after she got her diagnosis.” His expression was pensive. “A blessing and a curse, I think. For her to go that fast.”

  Ashley hadn’t known any of her grandparents. Her mom’s parents had perished in a car accident before she was born. Her dad’s parents had come from the East Coast when she was a toddler, not long after Dylan was born, but she didn’t remember the visit. They’d returned again for her dad’s funeral. Nine-year-old Ashley had been too grief-stricken to remember much about them. After that, they’d sent gifts on birthdays and Christmases and called a couple of times a year. Then her grandmother got sick and died. Ashley rarely heard from her dad’s dad anymore.

  “You know what,” Ben said, drawing her from her thoughts. “You should meet my grandpa. He and I go to church together on Sundays, then we usually go out to eat afterward. Why don’t you join us this Sunday?”

  This was the second time he’d invited her to church. She didn’t feel pressure to accept. Ben probably asked people all the time to go with him. He was that sort of guy. Why not accept? What could it hurt? “Okay,” she answered.

  “Terrific. I’ll swing by to get you about ten.”

  She nodded, hoping she wouldn’t regret her hasty decision.

  * * *

  Nicki Day didn’t linger after delivering Paisley. Only long enough to see the gelding make himself at home in one of the paddocks and to ask a few questions that she hadn’t asked when Ben first met her. Then she was on her way. After waving her off, Ben returned to the paddock where Ashley stood, watching the new arrival.

  “He’s a beauty,” she said when Ben stepped to her side.

  “That’s what I thought when I saw him. Still can’t believe he’s been gifted to the program.”

  “It’s pretty amazing. Does everything in your life happen like this? You know. Good things falling into your lap. You must live right, Henning.”

  “Ha. Not hardly.” Dark memories flashed through his head. “Trust me, anything good that happens to me is due to God’s grace, not because I deserve it.”

  “I’ll bet you’re being hard on yourself.”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Well, pardon me if I don’t believe you. I may have known you only a short while, but all I’ve seen you do is think of others and how you can turn this place into a sanctuary for hurting people and horses. So I think you deserve whatever good stuff comes your way.”

  What if she saw Craig in his wheelchair and knew Ben was the reason for it? That would change her mind about the good she thought he deserved. Maybe he ought to tell her more details about the years he’d called “messed up.” But he wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet. Not now.

  “Trust me,” he said at last. “If not for the grace of God, I wouldn’t be here today.”

  Curiosity flickered in her eyes, but she didn’t press the matter.

  “There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about, Ashley.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Emily Cooper, the instructor I told you about. She thought I should do a fund-raiser right away, even before the barn holds its first sessions. She thinks I need to get the Harmony Barn’s name out there so people are talking about it. What do you think?”

  “I’m no expert, but it makes sense to me. Every nonprofit horse outfit I’m familiar with holds fund-raisers of one kind or another.”

  “But what could we do?” He looked at the horses grazing in the paddocks, placing his arms on the top rail. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  She was silent for a long while before saying, “I think you ought to have an open house. You should let people see the farm and the horses and the barn.” Enthusiasm began to raise her voice. “You should stake out where the
arena will be, and put up a sign out near the road. You should have Emily what’s-her-name be here to talk to potential volunteers. And that counselor who’s going to send you clients can be here to explain the benefits of equine therapy.”

  “And what do you plan to do?” he asked, grinning as her excitement washed over him.

  “Me?” She met his gaze.

  “You’re a part of it too.”

  “Then I guess I’ll be your wrangler for the event.” She returned his smile. “I’ll show off the horses.”

  “We should have a couple of the rescue horses here so people can see what we intend to do for them too.” Ben glanced toward the paddocks, then back to Ashley. “What do you think?”

  “I think that would be great, Henning.” Happiness made her eyes sparkle. “We’ll make it happen.”

  Thursday, May 13, 1943

  Ben came home for ten days’ leave before shipping overseas. He couldn’t give his family details, other than that he would spend some time in England. But soon, Andrew knew, his son would fly bombing missions in some dangerous parts of the world. If the prognosticators were correct, the campaign in Africa was winding down. The Allies had the war on that front almost won. Then the focus would rest upon the invasion of the Continent. Italy or France was Hirsch’s guess. “And then on to Germany,” the older man had said grimly as he, Ben, and Andrew stared at a map on a wall in the Finkels’ home.

  Three days after Ben’s twentieth birthday, he and Andrew stood at the pasture fence, watching a newborn colt kick up its heels as it scampered around its mother.

  “I miss this,” Ben said. “The quiet in the evenings. The way the air smells. Watching the animals.”

  Andrew nodded.

  “I miss home.”