Cross My Heart

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Her mom shook her head. “Nothing. I don’t know. Some new show, I think.” She looked at Ashley. “The noise is better than silence.”

  “Maybe you should go to bed. You’ll want to be rested for . . . tomorrow.”

  “Oh, honey. I won’t sleep, even if I do go to bed.”

  She took her mom’s hand. “We’ll get through this.”

  “Dylan’s going to prison this time.”

  “Probably.”

  “The things they say happen to men in prison.” Her mom’s voice caught. “How can I bear it?”

  “He’ll be okay. Maybe . . .” Ashley hesitated, then made herself continue. “Maybe this will be what he needs to finally get clean and sober. For good.”

  Her mom lowered her head. Her shoulders shook as she began to cry again, though she made no sound. Perhaps there were no sounds left inside of her.

  Friday, March 17, 1944

  The train raced north on Friday morning, carrying Andrew and his daughter toward home.

  He and Louisa had visited Samuel Valentine every day that week, staying as long as the hospital—and the stern-faced nurse—allowed. The rest of the time they had explored the city of San Francisco. They’d even managed to get tickets to a road show of the hit Broadway musical Oklahoma! That was an experience Andrew wouldn’t soon forget. The only thing that would have made it better was if Helen could have been with them.

  “Dad.”

  He looked over at Louisa, seated beside the window. “Yes.”

  “Do you think Samuel will come to see me when he’s released?”

  “He said he would.”

  “I know, but I think he’s afraid of how I’ll feel if he loses his hand or he doesn’t get full sight back in his eye.”

  “How will you feel, Louisa?”

  Her eyes widened. “I won’t care. I love him.”

  “Has he told you he loves you?”

  “Not in so many words. But in a hundred little ways, yes.” A tiny frown furrowed her brow. “You like him, don’t you? You would agree to let us marry?”

  Andrew felt cornered by the question. “I do like him, but I would have to know him better than I do now before I could give you my blessing for marriage.”

  “Dad, sometimes you’re terribly old-fashioned.” She turned her gaze toward the passing countryside.

  He almost laughed. He didn’t feel old most of the time. He was strong and in good health and still in his thirties. But there were moments when his children could make him feel ancient. This was one of those times. Not the first and undoubtedly not the last.

  “Louisa, listen.” He took her hand in his. “I may seem old-fashioned, but I do know a thing or two about being in love. And I know that marriage can be hard, even when two people know each other well. Even when they start out in love.”

  “Like you and Mom.”

  “Yes.”

  She faced him again. “I know Samuel better than I know any of the boys I’ve gone to school with my entire life. I may even know him better than my own brothers. Or you.” Her voice rose steadily. “We’ve shared everything in our letters. Our experiences. Our feelings. Everything.”

  “Calm yourself, Louisa.”

  “Sorry.”

  “If Samuel comes to Idaho, your mother and I will make him welcome. Just know that we expect you not to rush into anything.”

  Chapter 22

  Dusty’s bark alerted Ben to Ashley’s arrival shortly after one o’clock. He walked away from the chicken coop where he’d finished a few modifications in preparation for the chickens he planned to buy soon. But he stopped before he got too close to her truck, sensing it was better to let her make the first move. At last, the truck door swung open, and Ashley dropped to the ground. When she stepped into view, she found Ben with her eyes and sent him a quick smile that faded almost at once.

  It was clear the morning hadn’t gone well.

  Drawing a breath, he returned her brief smile and gave her a short wave. That seemed to be enough to put her in motion. She walked toward him, stopping about three yards away. “Sorry I’m so late.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “It’s not the sort of employee I mean to be.”

  “I didn’t think it was. Life happens. To all of us.”

  She nodded, her gaze dropping to the ground for a few moments.

  Despite having guessed the answer, he asked, “How did it go?”

  “About as expected. No bail. He has a public defender.”

  “What was his plea?”

  “Not guilty.”

  Ben nodded.

  “Which everyone knows is a lie.”

  “It’s standard procedure, from what I understand. Now they’ll start negotiating a deal with the DA, trying to get lesser charges, maybe less jail time.”

  “Oh, Ben.” She seemed to crumple from the inside out.

  He reached her in two strides, gathering her in his arms, pressing her close to his chest. She turned her face against his shirt and wept, sobs torn from some place primal. His heart broke at the sound. “I’m sorry, Ashley.” He pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her fingers gripped his shirt.

  “Shhh.” He moved his head, allowing his mouth to brush across her hair. He caught a whiff of her fruit-scented shampoo. He’d give just about anything to help stop her pain. Just about anything.

  “Ben,” she whispered, drawing her head back to look up at him.

  Kissing her in that moment was as natural as breathing, and Ben thought he could have stood there forever, holding her close, his mouth upon hers, drinking in her sweetness. He wished he could stay forever. The longer he kissed her, the longer he could avoid the harder conversation that awaited them.

  But, of course, the time arrived when he had to break the kiss and withdraw. Not far. Only far enough that the two of them could look at each other. A mixture of emotions swirled in her beautiful eyes. Turquoise colored, he realized. More green than blue, and yet not truly green. Her dark lashes were thick. How had he not realized before how beautiful she was?

  “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.” Strangely, he hadn’t known it until he said it.

  A smile flickered at the corners of her mouth, although a touch of sadness lingered in her eyes. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “Complicated. Right?”

  “Ben, I like you. But I’m not sure—”

  “We won’t know unless we try.”

  “The timing is bad.”

  Knowing what he needed to tell her, he said, “You’re right. It’s bad timing. In fact, we should talk. Let’s go sit down.”

  “Okay.” Her expression changed to one of bemusement.

  On the porch, they settled onto a couple of chairs.

  Ashley flipped her hair over her shoulder, leaned back, and released a sigh. “Sorry for breaking down like that.”

  “You’ve been staying strong for your mom. Something has to give every once in a while.”

  “You had a unique way of making me forget it for a minute or two.” There was that sad-sweet smile of hers again.

  Oh, how he would prefer to take her in his arms again and kiss her until they both forgot everything else. He thought she might want that too. But he couldn’t give in to that desire.

  “Ashley, I need you to know what happened on Friday night.”

  The smile vanished as she squared her shoulders, as if bracing for the worst. “All right.”

  “When your brother broke into the church, he was completely wasted. To the point of passing out. Trent didn’t really stop the robbery. He just got there in time to see Dylan collapse in mid-progress. Trent saw how bad off your brother was, and he called me for help. Dylan was still unconscious when I got there. I asked Trent if he’d called the cops. He hadn’t, and I told him he should.” He hesitated to see if this would get any reaction beyond her immediate nod. It didn’t. Apparently, she wasn’t bothered that he was the one who’d set Dyla
n’s arrest in motion. That was something. “It was while we were waiting for the police that I learned his name was Dylan and began to suspect who he was.”

  She pushed loose strands of hair away from her face. “Why is it important that you tell me all of that?”

  “I guess it isn’t. But what is important is why Trent called me to help with your brother.”

  “You’re the pastor’s friend.” She shrugged. “I get it.”

  “It’s more than that, Ashley. It’s because I’ve done a lot of work with guys like Dylan. Recovery work.”

  This caused her eyebrows to arch. “You have?”

  “I have.”

  “Why?”

  “For lots of reasons.” He drew in a breath and pressed on. “One is that it helped keep me focused on my own sobriety.”

  She paled. “Your what?”

  “My recovery. I was like your brother for a lot of years, Ashley. I started drinking as a teenager, and my life spiraled out of control until I finally reached the point of admitting I was an alcoholic. It was Jesus who turned my life around. Faith in Jesus, working the steps of recovery, and the love of my grandparents got me sober. Ever since I’ve done what I could to help others find it too.”

  “You aren’t anything like Dylan,” she whispered.

  “Maybe not today.” He reached as if to touch her shoulder.

  She drew back from him.

  * * *

  There was a buzzing in Ashley’s ears that made it hard to concentrate. Or maybe she simply couldn’t believe what Ben had said. He’d worked with guys like Dylan to help keep his own sobriety. He was an alcoholic or had been an alcoholic or something like that.

  Did he lie to me? No, but he fooled me. Somehow. Somehow he fooled me.

  She rubbed her forehead with the pads of her fingers. She’d quit her job. Her secure but low-paying job. She’d quit to go to work for Ben Henning, and now he’d told her he used to have a drinking problem, that he’d worked with people like her brother to help keep himself sober. In other words, he might not stay sober. He could fall off the wagon. Just like her brother had done time and again.

  “I’d like to help Dylan,” Ben said, as if he’d read her thoughts, “if there’s any way that I can.”

  “He’ll be in prison.”

  “If he is, he’ll need help there too.”

  She rose from her chair, holding up a hand between them. “Don’t say anything else. I need to . . . I need to think.”

  She walked off the porch and headed for the paddocks. Paisley, the black-and-white paint, was the first horse she came to. She looked the gelding in the eyes, then buried her face against his neck. Why had she let Ben kiss her like that? Why had her heart thrummed in response? He was supposed to be a friend. Only a friend.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.” His voice whispered in her memory, causing her pulse to race again.

  No. No. No. She wouldn’t fall under his spell. He’d fooled her, making him the same as Paul. He’d manipulated her, making him the same as Dylan.

  Be fair. It isn’t the same. Look at Ben. Look at his life. Look at the way he lives now. The rest is in the past.

  She drew in a deep breath. Was addiction ever in the past? Even he had said working with others helped in his own recovery. Did she dare trust him?

  Paisley snorted and bobbed his head.

  Ashley drew back and moved to look the horse in the eyes again. “I’m working for him as of today. He’s given me a chance to do what I want to do. It’s a step in the right direction for my future. But it won’t become anything else. It can’t be personal.” She brushed her lips with her fingertips. “That was the absolute last time he’ll kiss me. He’ll have to understand that. I’ll make sure that he does.”

  Monday, March 20, 1944

  Andrew’s first thought upon hearing the news that eight hundred US Flying Fortresses had bombed Berlin in a daylight raid had been about Ben. The reports stated that the flight in and out had taken nine hours and that losses for the USAAF had been high. It could be weeks before they had a letter from their son that would tell them if he’d been part of the mission. Ben wrote regularly, but the mail could be agonizingly slow. Whenever Andrew saw an automobile on the road, headed toward the farm, he felt a catch in his breath, wondering if it might be the delivery of a telegram with news that would break the family’s heart.

  “He will be fine, my friend,” Hirsch Finkel said as the two men stared at the map on Hirsch’s wall. “I feel it in my old bones.”

  “I hope your old bones are reliable prognosticators.”

  Hirsch chuckled over the comment. “Come. Sit. Ida has made us some tea.”

  Andrew had never cared much for tea, but he wouldn’t insult his neighbor by refusing. He knew it was Hirsch’s way of trying to take his mind off of Ben.

  “Tell me about Louisa’s friend. When is he expected to arrive?”

  He stared into the teacup for a short while before answering. “We’re not exactly sure. He thinks he’ll be released from the hospital in the next week or so, according to his telegram. It came as quite a surprise that it happened this soon, but Louisa is overjoyed. Especially because Samuel means to come straight here. She was afraid he wouldn’t.”

  “Too bad they did not release him while you were in San Francisco. He could have returned to Idaho with you.”

  Andrew didn’t know if that would have been better or not. He worried about his daughter’s heart, worried that she might rush into something for which she wasn’t ready.

  “It is good he did not lose his hand. Ja?”

  “Yes. We’re thankful to God for that.”

  “And his eye?”

  “He didn’t say. Right now, our main concern is where to put him when he gets here. Louisa doesn’t want him to have to share the attic room with Oscar and Andy. She thinks that would be a fate worse than death.”

  “My friend, I know the answer to your dilemma.”

  He looked up.

  “Louisa’s young man will stay with us. We have a room. It will be his as long as he wants it.”

  “But you don’t—”

  “Let us do this, Andrew. Let us help a young man who has fought for liberty in this world. He has made sacrifices enough. His hand. His eye. Let us give him our thanks in this small way.” Hirsch’s voice broke at the end.

  “All right,” Andrew answered softly. “If that’s what you want.”

  “We do.”

  The topic turned to farming while Andrew leisurely finished his tea, then he bid his neighbor a good day and returned home. When he entered the house, he found Louisa helping Helen with dinner preparations.

  “Louisa,” he said as he hung his jacket on a peg, “I have solved the problem of what to do with Mr. Valentine when he comes. The Finkels have invited him to stay with them.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “But he’s coming to see me. He won’t want to stay there.”

  “It’s only across the road, Louisa,” Helen said, irritation in her voice.

  Andrew stepped into the kitchen and put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Better with the Finkels than in the barn.”

  “Dad!”

  “Well, you don’t want him to room with your brothers, and if not with our neighbors, then the barn is the only other option.”

  Louisa released a dramatic sigh. “Okay, I guess staying with the Finkels is the best choice.”

  “It was very kind of them to offer Samuel a room. You might be a little grateful.”

  “Yes, Dad.” She nodded. “It was kind of them.”

  “Perhaps you should tell them so.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “Good.” He kissed the crown of her head.

  Helen turned from the stove. “I’m glad that’s settled. Louisa, please tell your brothers and sister to get washed up for dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  After Louisa was gone, Helen moved closer to Andrew while wiping her hands on a towel. “Ha
ve we made a mistake, allowing that young man to come?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He seems a decent fellow, Helen.”

  “She’s so young. And so determined to marry him. No matter what.”

  He put his arm around his wife and drew her close. “We remember what it’s like to be young and in love.”

  “But we didn’t rush into marriage.” She looked up at him. “We waited until you got your degree and found a job.”

  Andrew refrained from reminding his wife what had happened soon after their wedding, beginning with the stock-market crash. The road they’d traveled in the early years of marriage had been difficult, full of surprises and more than a little heartache. They could advise Louisa. They could counsel her. They could offer caution. But in the end, they couldn’t live their daughter’s life. She would have to live it for herself. Same as for all of their children.

  His thoughts turned once again to Ben, somewhere in the European theater.

  “Do you suppose he’s all right?” Helen whispered, reading his thoughts.

  “All we can do is pray and wait.”

  Chapter 23

  While drinking his second cup of coffee the next morning, Ben stared out the kitchen window, watching Ashley as she fed the rescue horses in the farthest pasture from the house. He’d felt the dread fall off his shoulders this morning when her truck arrived, towing the horse trailer behind it. Having the final mare in that pasture made him a little more confident about Ashley staying in the position of barn manager. He hadn’t been any too sure after her reaction to his revelation.

  When she’d returned to the porch yesterday, she’d thanked Ben for telling her his history, then had made it clear theirs was to be a business relationship only going forward. She hadn’t mentioned the kiss, but her meaning had been clear. He’d been wise enough to agree to her condition, although he had to believe—based on her response to his kiss—there was hope for more, given time.

  “She’s afraid,” he said aloud as he rinsed out the mug. Now all he needed to know was how to relieve that fear. For now, he hadn’t a clue what to do except to prove himself dependable, to be kind, to be patient. He needed to be a good employer and a trusted friend.