Cross My Heart

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “You’re a man of compassion who always wants to help others.” Ben took a different chair. “But sometimes the real kindness is to let the chips fall where they may. He broke into the church, Trent, and then he was trying to get to the cash registers in the coffee bar. That sounds like attempted robbery to me. I don’t believe letting him sleep it off on your couch is the best option.”

  Trent sighed. “Neither do I.” He stood and went to the phone.

  While the pastor made the call, Ben stared at the man on the sofa. He could see now that he was young. Early twenties, more than likely. A stupid young man much like Ben had been not all that long ago. Judging by the smell of him, he’d had no access to a shower stall or bath for a while. His cheeks seemed gaunt. Was he as hungry as he looked? Had he been choosing booze or drugs over food when he managed to get some money? Probably.

  By the mercy of God, Ben had found his way out of that life. He could only pray that this young man would do the same.

  “The police are on their way,” Trent said. “They asked if he had a weapon, but I didn’t know. I never saw one. I suppose if I had seen one, he wouldn’t be sleeping it off in my office right now.”

  A groan from the direction of the sofa drew Trent’s and Ben’s gazes back to the intruder. The fellow rubbed his face, opened his bleary eyes, muttered a curse, then pushed himself upright. He looked like he wanted to bolt from the sofa but hadn’t the energy to do so.

  “Don’t try it,” Ben said in a level voice. “I’m in better shape than you are. You’ll never make it to the door.”

  He tried to glare at Ben, but his eyes couldn’t quite focus, making the look ineffective.

  “My name’s Ben. What’s yours?”

  The only reply was a string of curse words.

  “I doubt that’s your name.”

  There was a long silence, then, “Dylan.”

  A knot formed in Ben’s gut. Was it possible? “Dylan what?” he forced himself to ask, dreading the answer.

  “None of your business. That’s what.”

  “Maybe not. But it will be the police’s business, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s them at the door right now.”

  This time Dylan did push to his feet, but Ben stretched out his arm, causing him to fall back on the sofa. Before Dylan could right himself a second time, the police officers were entering Trent’s office. Ben moved out of the way to let the cops do their jobs. Dylan clammed up, saying only one thing when an officer asked him a question: “I want a lawyer.” After that he remained mute.

  Ben knew he wouldn’t hear the kid’s last name after that. But he didn’t need to hear it. He knew. Despite the fellow’s disheveled, haggard appearance, Ben had seen a resemblance to Ashley. Something around the eyes and the cut of the jaw. This had to be Ashley’s brother—and Ben was going to have to tell her about Dylan’s arrest . . . and his own part in it.

  Sunday, March 12, 1944

  It was ten o’clock on Sunday morning when Andrew and Louisa arrived at the naval hospital in San Francisco. Andrew had learned enough about Samuel’s injuries to believe it would be all right for his daughter to see the young man. However, as a nurse led them down a dimly lit corridor, he began to doubt the decision. Even if Samuel’s injuries weren’t frightening, could the same be said of the other men in the ward?

  “It’s all right, Dad,” Louisa said softly. “I know. I’ll be fine.” Something in her eyes told him she’d read his mind. Moreover, what she’d said was true. She would be fine. She was prepared for whatever was beyond that doorway, despite her tender years.

  Quick glances into the wards they passed proved the hospital—built to hold five hundred beds—was as overcrowded as Andrew had been told to expect. The medical staff now cared for over thirteen hundred wounded officers and enlisted men. He wondered how the doctors and nurses managed. And this was only one hospital in one city.

  The stern-faced nurse stopped and faced them. “Remember, please. Keep your voices down. Try not to disturb the other patients. Someone will let you know when you must leave.”

  “We understand,” Andrew answered. “Thank you.”

  With a crisp nod, the nurse opened the door and took them into the ward. Andrew tried not to look anywhere but at the nurse’s back. Still, he saw legs in slings above the narrow beds and heads wrapped in white bandages.

  Samuel was in the last bed on the right. His face was covered in cuts, and there was a patch over his left eye; the right eye was closed for now. His left arm lay wrapped in a cast from wrist to above his elbow, and that hand was bandaged as well. Andrew knew the young man had lost a couple of fingers above the middle joints and wasn’t yet out of danger of losing his whole hand.

  Louisa cast a questioning glance up at him. Andrew nodded, and she moved to the side of the bed. “Samuel?”

  No response.

  She drew a chair close to the bed and sat on it, leaning in close to the patient. “Samuel, it’s Louisa. Louisa Henning.”

  He stirred, but it took what seemed a long while before he opened his eye.

  Louisa smiled.

  At first he was quiet. But finally, he said, “You’re even prettier than your picture.”

  “And you don’t look much at all like yours.” There was tenderness in her teasing tone.

  He grunted. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”

  Louisa looked toward the foot of the bed. “This is my father, Andrew Henning.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” There was pain in the young man’s voice, a pain he tried to disguise.

  “And you, Samuel.”

  “I appreciate you bringing Louisa to meet me.”

  A lump in Andrew’s throat stopped him from speaking. He settled for a nod.

  Samuel’s gaze lingered on Andrew only a few moments more before it returned to Louisa. “Tell me your news. What of school?” His head sank deeper against the pillow.

  Louisa took hold of his right hand. “I’ll graduate at the end of May. But you know that. I’m doing well with my studies or else my parents would never have let me make this trip.”

  “And the farm. Tell me about the farm. The way you do in your letters.” His eye closed. “I’ve always loved reading about your farm.”

  For the first time, Louisa looked a little uncertain. But she squared her shoulders and began. “It’s spring, so Dad and Oscar have been preparing for planting. They’ve plowed the ground already, and the air is rich with the scent of just-turned earth. My mother and I have been getting the garden ready too. It’s very large. We hardly have any yard left, but we eat well in the summer, so it’s worth it. We have all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables. And what we cannot eat fresh, we preserve so we’ll have food in the winter.”

  Eye still closed, Samuel said, “You’re making me hungry.”

  Louisa laughed softly. “Don’t you have good food in the navy?”

  “Tolerable.”

  “Then when you are well, you’ll have to come to Idaho and enjoy one of my mother’s dinners. She’s the best cook in all of Ada County.”

  At last he looked at her again. “I’d like that very much.”

  Andrew saw Louisa squeeze Samuel’s fingers, her smile blossoming into something womanly, erasing any sign of girlishness. It startled Andrew. He knew she was growing up, but he wasn’t prepared for his little girl to be gone for good.

  Chapter 21

  The melody of her mom’s ringtone yanked Ashley from a sound sleep. She reached for the phone on the nightstand and managed to swipe to answer on the first try. “Morning, Mom,” she mumbled.

  “Dylan’s been arrested.”

  Ashley’s heart hiccupped. “Where was he?”

  “Right here in Boise.”

  “When?” She sat up, then pushed her hair back from her face.

  “Last night.”

  Ashley drew a slow breath. “What did he do, Mom? How did he get caught?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m on my way to the jail now.”


  “Is he getting bail?”

  Her mom ignored the question, instead asking one of her own. “Will you meet me there?”

  Everything inside Ashley wanted to refuse. But she couldn’t. For her mom’s sake. Not Dylan’s. “I’ll meet you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll have to take care of the dogs and horses first, but then I’ll come. Don’t worry.”

  After ending the call, Ashley shoved aside the bedcovers and got up. She dressed in haste and hurried to take care of her chores. After the animals were fed and watered, she returned to the house for a quick shower. A cup of coffee and a slice of buttered toast served as breakfast before she raced out the door a second time.

  It wasn’t her first time to drive to the jail because of her brother. She knew exactly where to go. What she hadn’t expected was to find Ben Henning sitting in the waiting area beside her mom. The sight of him stopped her cold.

  Her mom noticed her first. Cheeks streaked with tears, she rushed to embrace Ashley. Ben stood too. Ashley saw him over her mom’s shoulder. His expression was grim, his eyes worried. Questions tumbled in her head, but they seemed stuck in her throat.

  Her mom drew a breath before taking a step back. “They won’t let me see Dylan yet. I don’t know when they will.”

  Ashley wasn’t surprised, although she didn’t say so. Her gaze returned to Ben, who had taken a couple of steps toward the two women.

  “I got here a few minutes ago,” he said, as if she’d asked a question. “I introduced myself to your mother after I guessed who she was. You two look a lot alike.”

  “Why are you . . . ? How did you . . . ?”

  He gave his head a slow shake, and she guessed he preferred to explain out of her mom’s hearing. Whatever. She wasn’t sure she would understand, even after he explained. It was too bizarre.

  She put an arm around her mom’s shoulders. “Let’s sit down.”

  “Okay.”

  The minute hand completed a slow, torturous circle around the clock. People came and went, police officers in uniform and lawyers in expensive suits among them. But it was the relatives Ashley noticed most. Relatives wearing bored faces, sad faces, frightened faces, angry faces. Some were tear streaked like her mom’s. Others were frozen, feelings locked inside. Much like her own, no doubt.

  Ben finally stood again. “Why don’t I check to see what’s happening?”

  “Mom.” Ashley turned toward her mother as soon as he’d moved away. “It could be hours before you can see Dylan. Let me take you some place for breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You can’t go without eating. You need your strength. Heaven knows the next few days aren’t going to be easy.”

  Her mom shook her head. “I’m staying here. I can’t miss the opportunity to see him when it comes.”

  “We don’t even know if they’ve filed charges yet. It could be hours.”

  Ben returned and, as if in response to her comment, said, “It’s Saturday. Nothing is going to happen until Monday.”

  “Not until Monday?” her mom whispered.

  “And . . .” He gave his head a slow shake. “Except for an attorney, he doesn’t want any visitors.”

  Her mom’s shoulders slumped. “But we aren’t visitors. We’re his family.”

  “That may be true, Mrs. Showalter, but that’s his choice. No visitors.” He was silent a short while, compassion written on his face. Finally, he added, “I don’t think you’d want to see him anyway. He was plenty hammered when he was arrested. Chances are he’s still in bad shape. Better to wait.”

  Surprise caused Ashley to sit up straighter. “Did they tell you that at the desk?” she asked in a low voice.

  “No.” He sat in the chair next to her.

  “Then how do you know he was drunk?” It was a dumb question. Of course Dylan had been drunk. Still . . .

  Ben glanced at her mom, then back at Ashley. “I was there when he was arrested.”

  “Ben . . . I don’t understand.”

  “He broke into the church last night. Pastor Trent called me. I . . . I got there before the police. When I learned his name was Dylan, I guessed he might be your brother. He resembles you and your mom.”

  “You should have called me.”

  “It was late. After midnight by the time the police took him away. And he didn’t give his last name, so I didn’t know anything for sure. I didn’t want to worry you needlessly if I’d guessed wrong.”

  She supposed he was right, but it bothered her all the same.

  “I came to the jail this morning, still hoping I was wrong about the young man being your brother. Your mom was alone in the waiting area, so I introduced myself and asked if she was Dylan’s mom. Not much later, you got here.”

  “It had to be your church he tried to rob.” Ashley lowered her gaze to her hands, clenched in her lap. “Small world.” She released a humorless laugh.

  “Small world,” he echoed.

  * * *

  Ben wanted desperately to wipe away the wounded expression on Ashley’s face. She tried to act as if she didn’t care what happened to her brother, as if her only concern was for their mother, but he didn’t believe it. She cared about Dylan too. Perhaps reluctantly, but she still cared. He thought about what he’d put his own family through, and it shamed him still. He knew he was a different man today. God had changed him. God continued to change him. Still, he remembered what he’d done. How could he forget it?

  He leaned slightly toward her. “Ashley.”

  She met his gaze again.

  “Your mom should go home and rest.”

  She nodded.

  “But if you’d like, I could meet you somewhere later. We could talk. About what happened last night.” He had far more than that to tell her, but he would begin there.

  She nodded again, although he wasn’t certain she comprehended. Her attention was focused on her mom. “Let’s get you home, Mom.”

  “But I—”

  “No visitors, he said. There’s no point in staying. We’ll see him on Monday.”

  Ben stood and took a step back, not wanting to intrude, yet wanting to be available if needed.

  Mrs. Showalter—looking beaten and lethargic—allowed her daughter to draw her up from the chair. Ashley put one arm around her mom’s back and guided her out of the waiting area with only a brief glance in Ben’s direction. He remained where he was. If she wanted to meet with him later, she would call.

  He looked one last time toward the front desk, wishing there was a way he could force a face-to-face with Dylan Showalter. Not that it would do any good. He’d told Ashley the truth about the state her brother had been in last night, and it was doubtful he was up to reasoning about his addictions this morning. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be ready. Some people never got to the place of letting go and letting God.

  With a sigh, Ben walked out of the jail, but when he left the parking lot, rather than turning toward the farm, he drove to one of his favorite places on the river. He walked to a little-used bench surrounded by cottonwoods and watched the water as it flowed swiftly past him.

  “How do I help her, Lord? How do I help them? Is this why you brought us together? Is it about them and not about me and Ashley?”

  The ways of the Lord were not his ways. The thoughts of the Lord were not his thoughts. He knew this.

  He cared about Ashley. This he knew for sure. But how would she respond when she knew it was Ben who had told the pastor to call the police? And he would have to tell her. He would also have to tell her why Trent had called him. He should have found a way before now.

  Ben pulled out his phone and opened the messaging app. He tapped on Ashley’s name, causing the string of text messages they’d exchanged to appear. He poised his thumbs to begin typing, then closed the app and slipped his phone back into his pocket. This wasn’t a time for texting. He needed to be patient, to wait for her to make the next move. If she didn’t contact him today or tomorrow, then they
would have to talk it through when she showed up for work on Monday.

  “God, give me wisdom and the right words. Please.”

  * * *

  Of all of the churches in the Boise area, why did Dylan have to try to rob the church Ben and his grandfather attended? That was just one of the questions that repeated in Ashley’s head during the long, torturous weekend. Another was why, oh why, had the pastor called Ben so that he’d been present to see her brother taken away in handcuffs? She felt ashamed on her family’s behalf for her friend—and new employer—to have seen it for himself.

  Several times on Saturday and again on Sunday, she’d nearly called him, nearly taken him up on the invitation to talk. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She stayed with her mom, except for a few quick trips home to care for the two horses. The dogs she brought back to her mom’s house.

  For some reason it didn’t occur to her until Sunday evening that she couldn’t show up for her first day of work at the Harmony Barn until after her brother’s appearance before the judge. Her mom would need her more than ever then. Her gut told her Ben had thought of it already and wouldn’t be surprised. Still, she chose to text rather than call. She was afraid the kindness and understanding in his voice would make her burst into tears.

  Ashley: I’ll be late to the barn tomorrow. I need to stay with Mom until I know about Dylan.

  She didn’t have to wait long for his reply.

  Ben: No worries. Would you like me to come to court? I can arrange it.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she realized how very much she would like his strong presence at her side. Then again . . .

  Ashley: No. But thanks. I’ll see you at the farm as soon as possible tomorrow.

  She waited a short while to see if he would respond again. When no new message appeared, she set her phone on the bedside stand and returned to the living room. The television was on. Ashley went to the sofa and sat beside her mom.

  “What are you watching?”