by Leah Atwood
“I had to spend a lot of time soul-searching. Are you familiar with the Bible verse that says He will give us the desires of our heart?” When Amie nodded, Aunt Sally continued. “I used that to convince myself God didn’t care about me because my greatest desire was to have children. However, I conveniently ignored the parts that came before and after.”
“Which are?”
“Delight in the Lord, and commit your way to Him, neither of which I did. I wanted my will and my way. One night my sister—your grandmother—came over and prayed with me on a particularly rough day.” She tugged at her shawl, pulling it tighter with the drop in temperature. “For the first time, those words entered my heart. I made the decision to trust in God, whatever the future brought.”
“Did the bitterness go away over night?”
“No, but each day I started my morning with a prayer asking God for His will to be done. I took the focus off myself and turned it back to Him.”
Amie frowned. “It sounds so simple, but difficult at the same time.”
Aunt Sally chuckled. “That’s because it was both of those things, at least for me. But you know what? A month after I made that decision, our church hosted an adoption Sunday and brought in foster care workers and children. At the time, it was a revolutionary idea for the church to host such an event, but I left that day knowing my next course in life. Hank had the same nudge.”
“How come you never adopted any of the children you fostered?”
“That wasn’t the call God placed on our hearts; however, we fostered many teenagers and saw them through adulthood. They were our children, even if not legally so. As they grew up and had families of their own, we welcomed all of them into our lives as well.”
“I’m bitter, and I don’t know if it’s at Tim, God, or both.” She’d thought the confession would be hard, but the mere fact of saying it aloud lifted a weight from her shoulders. “I want to be married and start a family, but Tim ripped those dreams from me. After what he did, I’m not sure I could let myself trust another man.”
“It’s only been a week, dear. You have to give yourself time to heal.”
“Maybe.” She drew in her bottom lip and thought for a minute. “While I was at the store, I ran into Drew Sullivan. Remember him?”
“Of course.” Aunt Sally threw a wink her way. “How could I forget him?”
“When I saw him, I was transported to a time when life was easier, less complicated. For a little while, I forgot about Tim.”
Aunt Sally’s smile came alive in her eyes. “That’s good.”
“I thought so too until I realized it. Once he crept into my mind, the happiness I felt at seeing Drew evaporated, and the crushing blow of Tim’s leaving struck me all over again.”
“That’s a normal reaction.” Reaching over the table between them, Aunt Sally patted her knee. “A broken heart doesn’t heal overnight.”
She inhaled a soothing breath and released it. “Will you pray for me, like Grandma did with you?”
Aunt Sally nodded. “I’d be honored to.”
Chapter Four
A week into his return, Drew spent the morning fishing on the lake. He started the day before sunrise by casting a rod from the docks. If he was lucky, he’d get an hour or so in before people began making their way to the lake for the day. The amount of people to show up could be hard to gauge since it was the first week of June. Most schools in the area hadn’t ended yet, but Jasper Lake attracted tourists from the south where many schools dismissed by Memorial Day.
Within two weeks, there wouldn’t be an empty dock or pier to fish from after five a.m. That’s when he’d take the boat out or hike the woods and find a spot along the stream. His family’s house butted to the water, but the fishing there wasn’t ideal. On occasions, he’d had good catches behind his house, but generally reserved it as a launch point.
His line wiggled, and he felt a tug. He reeled in slowly as to not lose the catch. Lifting the rod, the fish flopped out of the water, flapping its tail. A brook trout, ten inches long to his estimation. He carefully removed the hook and placed the fish in the cooler. If he caught any more, he’d invite Dena and Clint for dinner tonight and grill his specialty recipe. And if he didn’t, he’d fry it up for breakfast.
Before he cast again, he set his rod down on the wooden slats and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with pure, unpolluted mountain air—the kind that restored and invigorated rather than made him cough and want to exhale hurriedly. He stretched his arms to the sky and exhaled. Here, at this moment, he forgot about all the events leading up to his departure from the city.
He’d forgotten how nature brought him closer to God. It was impossible to surround himself with His natural beauty and not be amazed at the intricate world He designed. God was with him in the city, he knew that, but in Jasper Lake, he felt closer to Him. Maybe because he’d eliminated the distractions of corruption and immorality. Regardless, he didn’t miss the city. He’d thought he might have at least a few doubts once reality set in, but so far none had surfaced, confirming his belief that he’d made the right decision.
Limber, alert, and at peace, he grabbed the rod and cast again. In a minute he had another catch. This fishing proved better than he’d anticipated. By the time he left an hour later, he’d caught enough to offer his sister and brother-in-law dinner that night. And someone else…
Amie stayed close to his thoughts since he saw her in the store. He’d dutifully given Dena her number, but hadn’t brought himself to give her a call. The euphoria that had surged through him at seeing her again surprised him. Once upon a time, they’d had a summer romance after years of friendship. They’d agreed to go their separate ways at the end of that time, knowing the likelihood of their relationship surviving was slim. He'd be in college, she—still in high school. The one-year age difference between them had seemed an insurmountable obstacle at the time.
In hindsight, a single year wasn’t so important, yet he knew they would have drifted apart over time. They’d made the right decision, even though it had hurt him. Amie, as well. Better to cut off the relationship early before they risked inevitable deeper pain later down the road. They’d chosen not to keep in touch, thought it would be easier that way.
His one regret was the demise of Amie and Dena’s friendship at the same time his relationship with Amie dissolved. He could only surmise it was too difficult for Amie to stay friends with his sister and have a reminder of him. When he thought that way he felt like a pompous jerk, but he knew he’d feel the same way if Amie had a brother with whom he’d been friends. His freshman year of undergrad, he didn’t return home until Christmas, for the sole reason he hadn’t wanted the memories of Amie. Mom and Dad hadn’t understood why he wouldn’t come home for Thanksgiving, but he’d told them he had a final project to complete, which hadn’t been a total lie.
Why was he hesitant to call her? Enough years had passed that neither should harbor any ill will against the other. Was he afraid to get close to her again and reignite old flames, only to have her leave in a short time? Or was he reluctant to involve himself with any woman because of the disaster in the city?
If anyone could hear his thoughts, they’d laugh. He’d been a high-powered attorney with a prestigious firm. He’d taken a stand against Fortune 500 companies and won. Emotions never played a role in his career—he couldn’t afford to let them—and his mind and resolve were steady as a rock. Now here he was, struggling—for whatever reason—over whether to call Amie or not.
If Dena had talked to her, she hadn’t said anything—but if he knew his sister, she’d called Amie the same night he gave her the number. Had they talked about him? Did Dena tell her what happened in the city? No, his sister wouldn’t do that to him. It had been a very public ordeal, but the details had remained private, and few knew the truth.
No use traveling down those memories—of Amie and his life in the city. The past should remain in its place and not be brought into the present, but there was no rea
son he couldn’t renew a friendship with Amie. He’d like to catch up with her, know if life had been kinder to her than it had been to him.
He packed up his fishing gear and walked the several hundred feet across the public parking area to the beat-up truck he’d bought yesterday. He had admired it since Anson Tillman purchased it brand new a decade ago, and the kind bait-shop owner had been equally impressed with his all-cash full-price offer. As much as he loved his coupe, life in Jasper Lake called for something less flashy, and he’d need the four-wheel drive come winter. Not to mention it was better suited to load fishing rods and tackle in.
After he’d thrown the cooler and gear into the truck bed, he drove home. He fixed a bowl of cereal along with a glass of no-pulp orange juice and carried them to the deck. The tranquility he sought found him again as he scanned the landscape dotted with cattails and willows, rippling waters and soaring birds. In his serene frame of mind, he bowed his head and prayed, thanking God for all He’d done. Despite the last few months, he’d been very blessed over the years. He wouldn’t lose faith because of one incident.
He ate a bite of cereal, enjoyed the satisfying crunch of oats—washed it down with a swig of juice. Pausing his meal, he sent Dena a text inviting her to dinner tonight. He would’ve called, but Fridays were her day off and she’d always been a late sleeper. Somewhere between the initial idea and coming home, he’d decided to include Amie, but only if Dena and Clint were coming. A meal with only him and Amie would be too intimate, might give the wrong idea. He wasn’t sure what idea he wanted to project, but it wasn’t a cozy dinner between the two of them.
By the time he’d taken the last bite of cereal and slurped the milk from the bowl like he had as a child—no one was around to see—Dena had replied and accepted the invitation, with an offer to bring an orzo salad as a side. He told her to bring it, even though he didn’t know what orzo was. It sounded familiar, and he remembered the deli down the street from his apartment sometimes had a mac and cheese made from orzo. He’d never tried it, but his baby sister had developed a knack for creating unique but flavorful recipes. Once or twice a year, she’d visit him in Manhattan and leave his fridge full of homemade food. He’d also consumed his fair share of her cooking in the week since he’d returned—all of it trumped anything he could cook.
He tapped his fingers against the frosted, beveled glass tabletop. Time to call Amie. Too bad a text message wouldn’t suffice in this case. The mountain landscape photo set as his phone’s wallpaper stared at him, daring him to make the call. One simple call. No big deal.
The doorbell rang.
Drew twisted his messy hands to catch a glimpse of his watch. Four-thirty? He wasn’t expecting anyone until six. Thank goodness he’d just finished cleaning the last fish.
“Coming,” he yelled, hoping whoever was at the front door would hear him. He laid the filets on a tray he would cover and stick in the fridge until ready to cook and washed his hands in the outdoor sink.
Rushing to greet the mystery guest, he grabbed the tray and hurried inside. He temporarily sat the fish on the counter and went to the door. Halfway there, he realized he wore a ratty T-shirt and camo shorts that had seen their better days, thus used for cleaning fish.
“Drew, are you home?”
He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Dena’s voice, not stopping to examine why he was glad Amie wouldn’t see him in such a state of disarray. Opening the door, he greeted his sister. “You’re early.”
“Good to see you, too.” Dena laughed and pushed her way into the house.
“Where’s Clint?” He glanced outside but didn’t see his brother-in-law.
“I have to pick him up. That’s why I’m dropping this off now, so it doesn’t get warm before I get back.” She held up a yellow Tupperware bowl.
“What happened to his truck?”
“The brakes went out, and he’s up on Rodham Peak.” Her shoulders shook. “He was leaving to head back to the office. Fortunately, he was still in the parking lot and hadn’t started down the mountain yet, or it could have turned out very bad.”
“Do you want me to drive with you?” He made the offer when he saw the bowl trembling in her hands.
“I’ll be fine, but thanks.” A tight smile stretched her lips thin. “I need to stop thinking about what could have happened, that’s all—and thank God for his protection.”
“Are you sure? If we eat a little later, that’s not a problem.”
“We should be back by six.” She flashed a genuine smile. “Besides, rumor has it you have another guest coming, and I wouldn’t want her feeling stood up if we don’t make it back in time.”
Drew grimaced. “How’d you know?”
“She told me when I called her earlier about going into Farthington for a spa day.” Her shoulders rose in a dainty shrug.
“Since when do you do ‘spa days’?”
Balancing the bowl in one hand, she propped the other on her hip. “Your little sister isn’t the tomboy she used to be.”
He arched a mocking brow. “What did you do this afternoon?”
“Changed my oil and rotated my tires. So what?” She grinned. “I’ve found a balance in life and discovered there are some girly activities I actually enjoy.”
“I’m only teasing you.” He took the bowl from her. “I, for one, am glad you’ve taken up cooking, though I wouldn’t classify that as strictly girly.”
Amie laughed. “Don’t you ever let Grandma hear you say that. Girls stay in the kitchen—”
“Boys stay outside,” he finished for her.
“She drove me nuts, but I loved those weekends spent with her.” She scowled. “Even if the indoor chores were relegated to me when all I wanted to do was help mow the lawn.”
“On the flip side, you always got extra cookies and treats since you were Grandma’s taste tester.”
“I’d forgotten about that. I guess being on the inside did have certain advantages.”
“Like air conditioning, too?”
“Ha.” Amie snorted. “Grandpa didn’t believe the air should be set below eighty, and Grandma followed his wishes to a T.”
“Still better than push mowing three acres with temps in the high eighties and ninety percent humidity.”
“Oh, come on. That might have been one day a summer.”
Drew winked. “And that single day was miserable.”
Amie laughed again. “I need to run, but don’t think you won’t be questioned later about Amie’s invitation for tonight.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” He shrugged, blowing it off. “An invitation to an old friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Famous last words.” She reached into her pocket for her keys. “I’ll call if we’ll be late.”
“Drive safe.”
After she had left, he deposited the bowl in the fridge and prepared a marinade for the fish. He mixed a grated lemon rind, freshly squeezed lemon juice, a pinch of minced garlic, a touch of olive oil, and a dash of ground pepper, then brushed it over the filets. It was one of the few recipes he knew he could prepare with success. He covered and stuck the platter in the refrigerator.
Upstairs, he searched through his closet for clean clothes. It doesn’t matter what I wear. This is only a dinner with friends and my sister. There’s no need to dress to impress.
Chapter Five
Amie slipped off her heeled sandals and replaced them with a pair of flats. No point allowing vanity to overcome good sense.
Sure, she enjoyed the way the heels enhanced her toned calves and added height to her five-foot five-inch frame, but they weren’t practical for walking the half mile to Drew’s house. It’s not as though she wanted to impress him, really it wasn’t—okay, maybe just a tad. More like she didn’t want to look her worst. No, that wasn’t true either.
Face it, Amie. A not-so-hidden part of you wants him to take notice. But that was a natural reaction, wasn’t it? Anyone hanging out with an ex after a decade would
want to look her best, and it had nothing to do with wanting to attract his attention again.
She gave herself a once-over in the antique cheval mirror. Her hair had brightened a few shades of blonde since coming to Jasper Lake from the hours spent outside. Despite regularly using sunblock, her skin had tanned a notch, but hadn’t burnt, thankfully. She ran a hand over the flowing white shirt that hung partially over her bubble gum pink and white gingham capris, smoothing a crease. A delicate silver necklace completed the outfit. Satisfied with her appearance, she went downstairs.
Moving to the living room, she spotted Aunt Sally in the recliner. “I’m leaving. Can I do anything for you first?”
“No thank you.” Aunt Sally turned to look at her, a smile gracing her face. “You’re going to knock his socks off.”
Amie ducked her warming face. “It’s nothing like that. Clint and Dena will also be there.”
“Whatever you say.” Aunt Sally winked. “Have fun and don’t worry about me.”
She strode to her aunt’s side and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Love you. There’s leftover salad from lunch in the refrigerator if you want it for dinner.”
A chuckle bubbled from Aunt Sally. “You act as though I can’t fend for myself. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be home by nine at the latest.”
“There’s no curfew, Amie. You’re my guest, an adult one at that.” She waved an upside down hand. “Now scat. Go be young.”
“Have a good night.” She left the house and started down the path she’d traveled many times over years of summers.
Butterflies danced in her stomach. How would the evening progress? This wasn’t a two-minute conversation at the store, but a full meal with lengthy interaction. Would the years apart fuse in each other’s presence or become an obstacle?
She’d talked to Dena on the phone several times—their friendship was seamless, as though they’d never lost contact. But Drew? Their relationship was different, more pain in their history. He was her first love. Her only love other than Tim. She’d had several long-term relationships in between, but never love.
