Cross My Heart

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Ben said a silent prayer for her, as well as for her brother and their mother. He might not know the nature of the problem, but God did. When he was finished, he looked around the room. A clock ticked. The refrigerator whirred. The sounds seemed to exacerbate the emptiness he’d felt since watching Ashley drive away. The feeling was more than a little disconcerting. He’d always felt comfortable here, first when he’d stayed with his grandparents, later when the farm had become his and he’d moved in on his own. He’d never minded being alone.

  All the same, he minded it now. He wished he’d offered to accompany Ashley to her mom’s house. Maybe he could have been some kind of help to them. Emotional support if nothing else. He took his phone from his pocket, almost put it away again, then opened the app and typed in a text.

  Ben: If I can help, let me know. Praying for you.

  He hit Send and let the message whoosh away before he could think better of it.

  The silence surrounded him a second time, and now he decided to escape it. He grabbed the keys to his pickup from the side table and headed out of the house. He called for Dusty to join him. Soon enough the pair were on their way to town.

  * * *

  When Ashley arrived at her mom’s, she looked at her phone before getting out of the pickup. She read Ben’s text, and his few words were enough to strengthen her for whatever awaited inside the house.

  Ashley: Thanks. I will.

  She got out of her truck and hurried to the front door, opening it without ringing the bell or knocking. “Mom?”

  “In here.”

  She followed the voice to the kitchen. “What happened?”

  “He left in the night.” Her mom’s eyes were red from crying. She blew her nose before adding, “They aren’t sure how he got out without being seen. It’s supposed to be a secure facility.”

  It didn’t surprise Ashley that her brother had found a way out. He was as slippery as an eel.

  “The police have a warrant out for him already. If they catch him, he’s going to prison.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “I don’t think I can bear it if that happens.”

  “You’ll have to bear it. So will he. He knew what the consequences would be if he didn’t stay in the program. He’s made his choice.”

  “Ashley . . .”

  “I’m sorry, Mom, but it’s true.”

  Her mom began to sob, hiding her face in her hands. Ashley felt both heartbroken and heartless. Heartbroken for her mom. Heartless about her brother.

  “I don’t want him to have to go to prison,” her mom said after a long while. “He isn’t a murderer or some desperate criminal. What he does wrong, he does to himself. When you’re a mother, you’ll understand how I feel. It isn’t easy to wish for your child to hit bottom, whatever that means.”

  “I don’t know that I’ll ever be a mother.”

  Her mom wiped her eyes with another tissue. “Of course you’ll be a mother. Someday.”

  Ashley was glad her mom’s thoughts had turned away from Dylan, but she wasn’t happy that the attention had turned to her.

  “You just haven’t found the right man yet.”

  Ben’s face flashed in her mind. She shook her head to chase it away.

  “You can’t live your life expecting everyone to fail you, Ashley.”

  She hated to admit it, but her mom was right. That had been her attitude and expectation. Until recently. Until I met Ben.

  Her mom sighed. “Don’t let what happened with Paul throw you off men altogether.”

  “Paul?” Paul hadn’t thrown her off men. He’d only confirmed what she’d already known.

  “You haven’t had a boyfriend since you ended that relationship.”

  “He wasn’t a stand-up kind of guy. I knew it in my gut, but I ignored the warning signs.”

  Her mom sighed a second time as she lowered her eyes to her hands, now folded in her lap.

  Ashley felt like sighing along with her. Because her mom’s words had reminded her that it was better if she didn’t let others get too close. Her words had reminded Ashley that she was a poor judge of character, that she couldn’t spot the obvious to save her soul.

  Ben’s face returned to her mind once again, and she wondered if she would regret letting him into her life.

  Monday, October 25, 1943

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Andrew turned at the sound of Oscar’s voice. As his older brother had done at the same age, the boy had shot up a good four inches since turning sixteen in the spring. His blond hair was paler than Ben’s, his eyes even bluer. But the two boys still looked a lot alike, enough that it made Andrew’s breath catch sometimes when he looked at Oscar—a reminder of the danger Ben was in.

  Andrew set the pitchfork aside. “What is it, son?”

  “Would you let me take the car to drive over to Rose’s? The Atwaters got word that Charlie was killed in action.”

  A heavy band tightened around Andrew’s chest. Charlie Atwater, Rose’s older brother, was the same age as Ben. They’d gone through school together. “Does your mother know?”

  “Yes, sir. She took the call.”

  “Let me wash up. I’ll drive you over. I’ll want to offer any help I can to Peter and Bertha.”

  Oscar nodded, although his eyes said he was disappointed he couldn’t take the car on his own.

  Andrew strode to the house, the late afternoon sun warm on his back. Despite it, he felt a chill in his heart. Inside, he found Helen seated at the kitchen table, crying. He knew her thoughts had gone in the same direction as his own—to Ben and the missions he flew over enemy territory. If Charlie Atwater could die despite so many prayers lifted on his behalf, then so could Ben. Not that they hadn’t each known it already, but this news made it all the more real.

  “I’m going with Oscar,” Andrew said as he placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Do you want to come along?”

  She sniffed before answering, “Not today. All I could do is cry and upset them more. I’ll go tomorrow when I’m a little more in control of my emotions.” She looked up at him. “Is that terribly selfish of me?”

  “No.” He kissed her forehead. “It’s all right. They’ll need lots of support for a good spell to come. Go when you’re ready.”

  “Oh, Andrew. What if—”

  “Don’t, Helen. Don’t do that to yourself. We can’t live in the what-ifs. We have to live in the present.” And please, God, let me follow my own advice.

  After another kiss placed on his wife’s forehead, he went down the hall to the bathroom. He washed up in the sink, put on a clean shirt, and then he and Oscar were off.

  His son was quiet during most of the drive, but when the Atwater house came into view, Oscar said, “I wish I could be part of the fighting. I’d like to shoot the guy who killed Charlie. I want to make those dirty Nazis suffer.”

  “Son, I understand what you’re feeling. But if we live with hate in our hearts, we are the ones who suffer, not the people we hate.”

  Oscar grunted, his gaze turned out the window.

  Andrew pulled into the barnyard of the Atwater farm and cut the engine. They weren’t the first to arrive. Several other cars were parked nearby.

  “Dad?”

  “Hmm.”

  “If it’s not right to hate, how can it be right to go to war? If Christians are supposed to love everybody, then how can we fire weapons and drop bombs and all that? I mean, people are gonna die.”

  Andrew didn’t answer quickly. In truth, he’d pondered similar questions himself since the bombing of Pearl Harbor. “Oscar,” he said at long last, “followers of Christ have had to wrestle with such questions for almost two thousand years. Many, like the Quakers, are pacifists, and I do not think they’re wrong in their position. Nor do I think those who fight are wrong, assuming the fight is just. In the end, I believe each one of us has to listen to the Holy Spirit and to our own conscience.”

  “You, then. Would you go if you were called? W
ith a clear conscience?”

  He paused only a moment this time before answering, “Yes, I would go, and with a clear conscience. Because if those of us who are able don’t stand up to evil, if we don’t resist tyranny, then many, many more people will needlessly die. Germany and Japan were the aggressors. Now we have to respond and protect.”

  Oscar’s gaze went to the Atwater house, and he gave a grim nod. “Thanks, Dad.” Then he opened the door and got out.

  Heart heavy, Andrew did the same.

  Chapter 17

  As usual, Ben and his grandpa went to lunch after church. This time at a popular pancake house. After ordering, Ben took his phone from his pocket and laid it on the table next to his knife and spoon. The screen remained empty of any message notification.

  “Why don’t you call her?” Grandpa asked.

  He met the older man’s gaze. “Do you think I should? I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You care about her, Ben. Showing your concern isn’t the same as intruding. Or at least it needn’t be.” Grandpa gave him a searching look. “My boy, I wonder if you realize that you’ve changed since you met her. You’re . . . happier.”

  “Happier?”

  His grandfather took a sip from his water glass, looking as if he was gathering his thoughts before continuing. “Son, you were lost in your troubles for a lot of years. Then, after you got sober, you needed to work your program. You needed to be well grounded in both your sobriety and your faith. And you did that. Since then, you’ve given of yourself generously in many circumstances to many people. You’ve sponsored other men in recovery. You’ve helped in various ministries at the church. And now you’re pouring yourself seven days a week into this equine therapy barn and all it entails.”

  He nodded, not sure where his grandfather was going.

  “But you’re like a doctor who’s on call 24/7. Ben, you are allowed to have a life of your own. You are permitted to be happy.”

  “I am happy.”

  “You can’t fall in love if you don’t open your heart to the possibility.”

  “Love?” He drew back in his chair. “Whoa! Are we talking about Ashley again? She’s a friend, Grandpa.”

  As if to question his own words, he remembered the moment he’d almost kissed her. He remembered the way he eagerly anticipated the next time he would talk to her, the next time he would see her.

  “Friendship is a good place to begin. She’s a nice girl, and I can see that the two of you have a lot in common. You enjoy her company. You’re at ease with her in a way I haven’t seen you with other single women. I just don’t want you believing you don’t deserve more, that you don’t deserve love and a family. God’s plans are often more than we expect. We simply have to be open to them.”

  Ben wondered if his grandfather was right about him. Had he closed himself off from something God might want for him? Then again, wasn’t the Christian life one of sacrifice and service to others? Weren’t they told to put others first, before self?

  “Remember,” Grandpa continued, “we can become so busy doing good things for God that we miss the best things He intends for us.”

  * * *

  When Ben returned to the farm an hour and a half later, he took a walk with Dusty, much as he’d done the day before with Ashley. He tried to envision all of the changes he had in mind, but he couldn’t quite see them without her at his side. Finally, he quit trying. He pulled out his phone.

  Ben: How are you? How’s your brother? Is there anything I can do? You remain in my thoughts and prayers.

  He waited as the text was sent and saw the notification that it had been delivered. He hoped for an immediate response. It didn’t come. After a long while, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and strode to the barn. Maybe some physical labor would take his mind off of Ashley until she responded. He would begin by finishing that last stall in the barn. After that, he would mow the area to the west of the barn and chicken coop where he’d already staked out the site of the new indoor and outdoor arenas.

  * * *

  Ashley stared at the message on her phone.

  Ben: How are you? How’s your brother? Is there anything I can do? You remain in my thoughts and prayers.

  Tears blurred her vision. She wanted to answer Ben, but what could she say? She wasn’t ready for him to know about Dylan. Especially since she didn’t know if her brother would be found. Perhaps he’d escaped north and found a way to cross the border into Canada. Perhaps he’d had the help of one of his friends, and now they were hidden in some cabin in a dense forest, far from authorities. And what if, despite everything, he’d found lasting sobriety? Would she want him sent to prison in the midst of that success?

  After blinking away the tears, she checked the time. “Mom, I’ve got to go home. I need to take care of the dogs and horses.” She stood. “If you want me to come back afterward, I can.”

  Her mom’s eyes were red rimmed and bleak. “No. You don’t have to come back. I’m all right.”

  “Are you sure?” She stepped over to her mom and kissed the crown of her head.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then I’ll call you later. And of course you know to call me if anything comes up.”

  Her mom sighed. “I will.”

  “Try not to worry too much.”

  Ashley knew it was useless advice. No matter what she said, her mom would worry about Dylan. She’d been worrying about him for years. It was an old, ingrained habit by this time. A well-deserved one.

  Taking a deep breath, she left her mom’s house. She’d driven a few miles before she realized her eyes were squinted against a throbbing headache. If she had her way, when she got home she’d go straight inside, curl up on her bed, pull a blanket over her head, and stay there until the world righted itself again. But she had responsibilities, and she’d never been one to shirk them.

  She finished the chores with her usual efficiency, but at the end, she lingered inside Remington’s enclosure. Pressing her forehead against the mare’s neck, she breathed in the familiar horsey scent. It soothed her fractured nerves, helped her feel that not everything had gone wrong.

  Ben drifted into her thoughts. She envied the serenity that seemed to surround him, like the air he breathed. She envied his quiet strength. Even when he was uncertain about details, he didn’t fear the future. So different from her. She wished—

  “Ash.”

  The whispered word almost didn’t penetrate her thoughts.

  “Ash.”

  She stepped back from the horse and turned. At first she saw no one, but then she found him, in the shade of the elm tree. “Dylan?”

  “Will you let me go inside?”

  She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. “Are you alone?”

  “I’m alone.”

  “All right. I’m coming.” She gave Remington one last pat on the neck, then left the enclosure and strode quickly toward the back door.

  Dylan entered the house right on her heels. “Thanks. I was afraid somebody would see me.”

  “You should be afraid. The police have a warrant out for your arrest. What were you thinking, Dylan?”

  Defiance flashed across her brother’s face. “I was thinking I wanted out of that hellhole. I had enough.”

  He was high. She saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. A day after running off, he’d managed to get drugs or alcohol or both.

  Stiffly, she said, “You can’t stay here. They’ll be expecting you to come to either Mom or me. They’ll be watching. You’ve got to go.”

  “I didn’t ask to stay. Don’t want to. Don’t need you looking down your nose at me. But I need some money. Just enough to help me get as far away from Idaho as I can go. They’re not going to search far. It’s not like I’m a real criminal.”

  Not a real criminal. Stealing from a doctor’s office didn’t count in his book. She drew a long, slow breath. “I don’t have any money to give you, Dylan.”

  He swore beneath his breath.
>
  “I really don’t have it. I don’t keep cash on hand. You know that.” He also knew why she didn’t keep cash on hand. He was the reason. She’d learned that no matter where she hid it, he would find it.

  “You can feed those nags out there, but you can’t help out your own brother?”

  She knew this dance of manipulation and guilt. She’d performed it with Dylan for a lot of years. “I’m sorry. I can’t help.”

  “You mean you won’t.”

  “I can’t. As in, I’m unable to do it.”

  For an instant, the rage in her brother’s eyes made her wonder if he might strike her. Instead, he took a step back. “If you won’t do it, will you ask Mom to help me?”

  “Dylan, Mom’s tapped out. Do you have any idea how much money she poured into lawyer fees for you? Money she couldn’t afford and didn’t have.”

  “Let me ask, then.” He held out his hand. “Let me use your phone.”

  She tried to decide the best thing to do. She wanted to protect her mom. But wasn’t that another form of control? She couldn’t be her mom’s protector any more than she should try to protect and control her brother. “All right.” She gave him the phone.

  He dialed quickly, waited, then said, “Mom . . . Yeah, it’s me . . . No, I’m okay. But I need to borrow some money . . .”

  Borrow. Hearing the word made Ashley want to scoff. As if Dylan ever paid anybody back who gave him money.

  “Meet me across from McDonald’s. The one near your office.” He looked at Ashley, as if about to ask a question. He must have figured out what her answer would be. “It’ll take me awhile to get there. I’ve gotta call a friend for a lift.”

  Should she be ashamed of herself for making her brother find another ride? Was she refusing to help him for his own best interests, or was she being selfish, as he’d implied? It was so hard to know.

  Friday, December 31, 1943

  Andrew finished his prayers, then opened his eyes and wrote the date in the margin of his Bible. Afterward, he closed the cover before leaning back in the kitchen chair. A sharp wind buffeted the house. Stinging flakes of snow tapped against the window glass in a rat-a-tat-tat rhythm.