Unexpected Reunion

by Carolyn Greene

  He clearly didn’t want to go there, but she could be just as stubborn.

  “Are you saying you didn’t love me?” She paused, and when a sigh was the best answer she could get from him, she pushed on. “You did love me. You told me so many times, even in that awful letter you sent.”

  “Look, I’m sorry—”

  “I’m not asking for an apology. You did what you felt was right at the time.” She toed a crack in the sidewalk, and Cali read the gesture as an invitation to sit on her foot. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.”

  “You have every right to be angry.”

  “You don’t understand. I was never angry about the breakup. Confused, hurt and bewildered, yes. But never angry.”

  In the stages of loss and grief, she’d gone through denial, bargaining and depression, but never anger. And certainly not the final stage...acceptance. Always, always, she had believed they’d get back together someday. But that would not happen until they swept the emotional clutter—the ranzatsu—out of the way.

  “The day your letter came, I was at church, waiting for Bible study to begin. Sobo handed me your letter. She and Pop tried to pretend they weren’t watching me while I read it, but I could feel them waiting for whatever good news you might have sent.”

  Gray groaned and shifted where he stood, but he made no move to leave. To try to escape.

  “It was devastating,” she said, pulling no punches. “For me. For your grandparents, parents and sister.” She wasn’t telling him this to hurt him in repayment for the pain he’d caused all of them. She was telling him because it had weighed so heavily on her heart these past four years. The only way she could begin to let go of the hurt was to confront its source.

  Gray initially stood mute, and it was clear he didn’t know how to respond.

  Maybe it wasn’t a very nice thing to think, but part of her was glad he was finally experiencing a fraction of the discomfort she’d felt on that fateful day.

  Gray seemed to finally find his tongue. “My family always cared a lot for you.”

  She ignored his sidestepping and turned the subject back to the Dear Jane letter. “Maybe the breakup doesn’t compare to what you faced in Afghanistan, but hurt is hurt. I loved you, and you destroyed me.”

  He looked down at his feet, then met her eyes. “I know, and I’m sorry. I told you in the letter how I felt.”

  “That was a beginning,” she acknowledged, “but we’ve never fully cleared the air. We’ve only danced around the subject. It would help to actually address it head-on.”

  The leash twisted in Gray’s large hand. When she turned her attention to the nervous gesture, he stilled his fingers and asked gently, “Are you sure you want to hash this out?”

  More sure than she’d ever been. It might hurt to dig down to the truth and expose it to the light of day, but knowing where they’d skidded off course wouldn’t hurt as much as wondering and waiting. She nodded.

  “Okay,” he said, as if considering the repercussions of going into their past. “You’re always taking in strays. Always protecting others.” He motioned toward Cali, who lifted her ears to a woman exiting the small veterinary office with a cat in a carrier. “Protecting this dog from the pound.” Then he motioned toward the vet’s front door to emphasize his next point. “Protecting her from rabies.”

  “Right,” Ruthie agreed. “And for four years, I’ve been protecting you by not forcing a showdown.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw while he considered what she’d said. Quietly, he said, “Yes, and how is what you’re doing any different from my wanting to protect you?”

  Protect her from what? She needed to know, even if only to put the past behind them so they could move on. However, she didn’t want to move on. The problem was that when he set his mind to something, there was nothing anyone could do to change his stubborn mind...or heart.

  “You haven’t changed,” she said.

  He gave a tug on Cali’s leash to distract her from the cigarette butt someone had carelessly tossed to the ground. “And neither have you,” he said, then murmured something under his breath that sounded like “please don’t.”

  Don’t what? Don’t change? Hope skittered through her chest and landed directly on her heart. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Other than addressing the problem he struggled with and refused to share, she didn’t want him to change, either.

  “Tomorrow please come join us for the Sunset Blessings gathering.” Prompted by his hesitation, she added, “The others have been asking about you.”

  “Don’t you think if I do, they’ll assume we’re involved again?”

  That was the whole point. If she and Gray spent enough time together, perhaps they would indeed become involved again.

  “Since when,” she asked to redirect his focus, “did you start worrying about what other people think?”

  Chapter Seven

  By that afternoon, Ruthie was the proud new owner of a basic alarm system on her house, and now Gray was working on putting one in at the shop. Distracted by his presence and by Savannah, who was keenly aware of her fixation with their self-appointed security man, she tried to turn her attention to the items that had cluttered her counter for the past week. The situation with Sobo, the doll and, of course, Gray had interfered with her usual fastidious organization, and she was determined to rectify that before the day was done. She had put a lot of time into searching for the woman who’d bought the doll, and now she took a moment to tidy the temporarily neglected shop.

  She positioned herself behind the counter, where she could watch the door for customers while she worked. Cali automatically moved with her, circling out a comfy spot on the old blanket Ruthie had brought in for that very purpose. She told herself the added advantage of being able to subtly peek at Gray while he installed the security device had nothing to do with her decision, but the truth was that he offered the best view in the shop.

  He had dressed for manual labor today, wearing faded jeans and a pale blue button-front shirt with his company’s name embroidered over the pocket. The sleeves had been pushed up to expose lean, corded forearms perfectly suited for wielding power tools, rescuing injured dogs and holding a woman in a way that made her feel like the most beautiful person on earth. He might have been dressed like an ordinary workman, but he was anything but ordinary.

  God’s time. Sobo had often reminded her prayers weren’t answered as quickly as she’d like. Be patient, the elderly woman had urged, just as Paul advised in the book of Galatians. Some translations referred to the fourth aspect of the fruit of the spirit as forbearance, which Ruthie thought of as holding up under a heavy burden. Yep, that fit. And another version called it long-suffering. To her way of thinking, four years of heart suffering had been long enough.

  God’s time. Right.

  She had read the promise in that verse from Jeremiah—“plans to give you hope and a future”—and knew she needed to remain steadfast in that promise. But it wasn’t easy to push aside her impatience and, yes, a little anger at how long it was taking Gray to get his act together and realize that he’d thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to either of them.

  It also annoyed her that being together in proximity to each other—yet not together as a couple—didn’t seem to bother him at all while it was tearing her up inside. So close and yet a thousand miles apart.

  She sighed heavily and tamped down her frustration. Perhaps it might help “God’s time” pass a little faster if she turned her attention to getting this inventory logged into the computer and placed on display for sale.

  She poked through the remaining two boxes of Pop’s, stickered each item with a consignment code and set them in piles according to the area of the shop where they would be displayed. Then she pushed the empty box to the floor and a small, colorful obj
ect fell along with it.

  Ruthie bent to retrieve the thin wallet and was instantly enthralled by the rich colors and vibrant images stitched on the silk cover. Against a background of royal blue to represent a gently rippling pond, several lovely dragonflies of varying sizes and shapes hovered over a shiny koi fish that watched from beneath the silk-stitched waters, while other dragonflies perched delicately on a brilliant pink lotus blossom. The craftsmanship was superb, and she had no doubt this little treasure would sell quickly even at a hefty price. But after the incident with Sobo’s doll, Ruthie deemed it wise to check first and make sure this piece was actually intended for sale.

  She opened the wallet to discover it was not a wallet after all but a checkbook cover or, in this case, an elegant jacket for a purse-size calendar. A flip of the current-year calendar revealed a few handwritten entries, all carefully penned in Japanese script.

  The whine of a hand drill sounded from the door where Gray installed the sensor. She waited until he finished drilling to call him over. On the other side of the shop, Savannah raised her head from a pile of white lace and organza on the sewing machine and flashed a knowing grin.

  Gray ambled over to Ruthie’s counter, his movements precise and fluid, making her wish she was as easy and relaxed about being in his company as he appeared to be in hers. The thump-thump-thump of Cali’s tail against her leg matched the ridiculous pounding of her heart.

  “This was with the boxes Pop brought in,” she said. “Do you think Sobo meant to sell it, or should I hold it back?”

  He reached for the calendar and perused the pages. “It wouldn’t make sense to get rid of a calendar only a few months into the year.”

  Savannah wandered over, supposedly to see what they were looking at, but Ruthie suspected she just wanted to see what was going on between the two of them. A matchmaker at heart, Savannah had once urged her friends to sign up for an online-dating service. The timing of the suggestion had been wrong for Ruthie, having come just a few months after Gray’s now-infamous letter, so she had declined. Paisley also refused, insisting that she preferred to meet people the old-fashioned way...in person. Savannah’s date had been an image-obsessed guy who wanted not only a gorgeous blond beauty, for which Savannah totally fit the bill, but a fitness partner who was willing to enter and run local races with him. Not likely to happen, considering her bum foot. And Nikki’s best match had been a clock-and-watch collector who didn’t mesh in the romance department but who turned into a friend and eventually became one of her best repair customers.

  Soon afterward, Savannah turned her matchmaking efforts toward volunteering at a child adoption agency. But that didn’t stop her from occasionally trying to maneuver people she cared about into each other’s arms. And she definitely cared about both her and Gray.

  “More hats?” Savannah innocently inquired. She reached down and rubbed Cali’s velvety ears.

  “No, it’s just Sobo’s calendar cover. We were trying to decide whether she really wanted to sell it or if Pop had put it in the box by mistake. My guess is it’s too pretty to sell. I would want to keep it.”

  Savannah followed her gaze to the silk-stitched cover in Gray’s hands. “What a coincidence. That design looks exactly like the purse that belongs to the elegant Asian woman who came in here last week. You know, the one who bought Mrs. Bristow’s doll.”

  Gray’s head jerked up, and his gaze met Ruthie’s. He obviously had the same thought she did.

  She grabbed Savannah by the arm. “Are you sure those dragonflies are exactly like the ones on that woman’s purse? It doesn’t just sort of look like it, does it?”

  Savannah looked down at Ruthie’s hand on her arm, and Ruthie let go. “Not sort of like it. Exactly like it. She set her purse on the counter right here,” she said, and motioned to the area where the boxes had sat just minutes ago. “And she proceeded to rummage through the boxes, which I thought was funny because of the way she was dressed.”

  Ruthie tilted her head in a wordless question.

  “She was dressed in a super-nice designer suit, carrying a museum-quality hand-stitched purse. Even her voice and the way she carried herself were elegant,” Savannah said, “but there she was, digging through a box of dusty hand-me-downs, looking for all the world like she’d found a priceless treasure.”

  For one thing, the items in the box had not been dusty. Ruthie could attest to that. Sobo would have been horrified if Pop had passed along anything to sell that was in less-than-perfect condition. As for a finely dressed customer searching through previously owned items—yes, treasures—in her shop, that kind of thing happened all the time. The Carytown shopping area drew customers from a wide variety of social backgrounds and economic means.

  “When she found the doll,” Savannah continued, “she got so excited and her hands shook so bad I thought she was having a seizure. Once we settled on a price, she couldn’t get the money out of her purse fast enough. She dropped her lipstick, her cell phone, then her keys. It was almost comical to watch.”

  By now Ruthie’s hands were starting to shake, and she noticed that Gray’s brows had drawn together. Perhaps he’d made the same connection she had.

  “Do you suppose she might have dropped the case while she was getting out her money?”

  “Honey, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had dropped her teeth, she was that excited.”

  Ruthie turned to Gray. “How rusty is your Japanese? Can you see if her name is in the book?” With a name to go on, they’d have a starting place when they searched the phone book.

  Gray turned the book over in his hands and scanned the front pages for the writing that was as meticulous as Savannah indicated the customer had been. He shook his head. “There’s no identifying information in the front of the book.”

  “What about the calendar entries? If she had a hair appointment, perhaps the stylist could tell us who she saw that day that matches our customer’s description. Better yet, maybe she has an upcoming appointment, and we can meet her where she’s scheduled to go.”

  Savannah stepped back dramatically. “Way to go, Miss Marple.”

  Gray’s finger stopped on yesterday’s date. “This is the last entry. Looks like we missed it.”

  Ruthie’s hopes fell. Miss Marple, indeed. They were so close, and yet the possibility of finding the doll seemed so far away. “We can’t give up yet,” she said, more to encourage herself than to convince him to keep trying. “What does it say?”

  “Obasan. That means aunt.” He squinted as he struggled to make out the meaning of the rest of the characters. “One o’clock. And the rest is an address on Belmont Avenue.”

  “Maybe that’s where her aunt lives.”

  “Or it’s where she takes her aunt’s poodle to be groomed,” he said, a note of defeat edging his voice.

  “On a Sunday?”

  He scowled at her as if to say, “That again?”

  “Whatever the reason she had for writing that address in her book, it’s at least worth a try.” While she was at it, she wanted to suggest he give God another try.

  And her.

  He shrugged noncommittally. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see what’s there.”

  For one crazy, illogical moment, Ruthie thought he was responding to the thought she dared not voice. That he wanted to give God another try. Maybe see what still existed between her and him.

  Savannah flipped her wrist and checked her watch. “If you two are going to check out that address before the prayer vigil begins, you should leave now.” The rational side of her brain kicked in and reminded her that he was still talking about the address, and her heart took yet another plummet.

  “Go. I’ll take Cali home with me.” Savannah wiggled her fingers to shoo them along.

  At mention of the prayer vigil, Gray made a small noise in the back of his th
roat.

  Every Monday, their church held a prayer vigil for those in special need, and this week Sobo’s name claimed the top of the list. Ruthie and her friends had already planned to attend, and Pop and the rest of the family would certainly be there. All believed in the power of prayer, and they were determined to do whatever they could to help.

  They all loved Sobo...Pop the longest and strongest, and of course Gray. But judging by the sound he had made, he wouldn’t be at church tonight.

  * * *

  The address on Belmont Street belonged to a modest-looking café that sat next to an orchid shop. The logo on the flag over the neighboring store drew Ruthie’s attention and called up a long-ago memory of Gray showing up at the Bristows’ house the night of her junior prom with a delicate white flower in a plastic box. He had wrapped the orchid around her wrist and planted a chivalrous kiss on the back of her hand.

  She jerked her thoughts back to the present and shaded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun to squint at the little bistro. The striped awning provided a quaint, homey feel, and a sign in the window welcomed diners with promises of seafood and vegetarian fare.

  “I don’t think her obasan lives here,” Ruthie said. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  But Gray had already removed the key from the ignition and walked around to open her door. “They offer Sunday brunch until two,” he said, pointing to the sign in the window. “The note on the calendar was for one o’clock. Perhaps she and her aunt came here for brunch.”

  “Good point.”

  She followed him into the dimly lit interior, where they were met by a college-age fellow who offered to seat them at a booth.

  “Actually, we’re not here to eat,” she said. “We came to ask about a Japanese woman and her aunt who had brunch here yesterday.”

  “We had a lot of people come in yesterday.”

  “She may have been driving a vintage Mazda Coupe,” Gray said, zeroing in on the facts a man might notice.