“So what about you?”
“Me?” Ainsley asked.
“Yeah. I’ve told you why I’m in Skary. Why are you in Skary?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I was born here.”
“I know. But I have this feeling that all you want to do is leave.”
She smiled a little. Read like a book. “It’s complicated.”
He narrowed his eyes, studying her. “I see a woman who’s carried a tremendous burden on her shoulders her whole life. She’s taken care of her father since she was little. And even though she’s grown and he’s been widowed many years, she still can’t let go of that sense of duty.”
“It’s not a duty. I love my dad.”
“Your father’s able to take care of himself.” Wolfe leaned forward, as if to make sure she heard it.
Ainsley looked away. She heard the words, but it was hard for her to understand them. Just listening to them felt like a betrayal. “It must seem so simple to you,” she said. She tried not to sound resentful, but she knew she did. “As if I could just walk out the front door and go do my own thing.”
“You could.”
“Black and white. Easy for you to say.”
“Hard for you to say, I know,” Wolfe said. “I know, Ainsley. I see your struggle. I see sadness in your eyes. I hear bitterness in your voice. You’re the darling of the town, the person that everyone has such high expectations and hopes for. You’re the girl every father wants his son to marry. You’re a rock. But you never wanted this. Just like me. You were labeled, given an identity that others thought you should have.”
“You should’ve known my mother. She was the darling of the town. Perfect in every way. She was a friend to everyone. A saint. An amazing cook. Seamstress. Gardener. Wife. Mom. Whatever. Her death left this huge hole in the town.”
“You’ve been trying to fill that hole ever since.” Wolfe grabbed her hands. “You’re like my Elaina.”
“Who?”
“Elaina and Thomas. Don’t you remember? You said that underneath all of Elaina’s layers was a vulnerable woman, without all the answers, in need of a hero.”
Wolfe was indeed peeling away her layers, and it was making her uncomfortable. Everyone else had always let her be her way. But now she was being questioned. Sure she was miserable, but there was a certain comfort in being the same way for so long. Didn’t he understand that in a town this size nobody rocked the boat? Nobody came out of his shell? No one broke free?
“I have to go home and let my dogs out,” Wolfe said. He winked. “They’re used to me being home a lot more than I have been.”
“I understand.” She tried to smile back at him, but the lump in her throat made it hard. “I’ll just finish up my coffee here. I’ll walk home. It’s just a few blocks.”
He stood and put his coat on, studying her. “I hope I haven’t upset you.”
“Not at all,” she lied.
“It’s the affliction of a novelist,” he said as he buttoned up his coat. “We can see things about people. Their mannerisms. Their expressions. All tell a story. We’ve studied these our whole lives in order to write them into our stories. We’re observers of human nature, and sometimes knowing us can be a curse.” He shrugged and laughed at himself. “You can probably see why I haven’t had a date in some time. That’s not exactly the way to endear yourself to a person.”
They exchanged pleasantries, and then she waved at him as he left. Her coffee was cold, but she didn’t want to bother trying to flag a waiter for a warmup, so she sipped on it absent-mindedly, trying to understand why Wolfe seemed to think he had her all figured out. Did he have her all figured out?
“Bitter’s an awfully harsh word,” she mumbled, just in time to notice someone standing across the table from her. She looked up.
“Martin?”
“Hi, Ainsley. I’m, um … I’m sorry to disturb you. I was just leaving, and I wanted to see if I could, uh, talk to you.”
“Sure. You look like something’s troubling you.”
“Well,” he said, taking a seat across from her, “I have to be honest. There is.”
“What is it?”
“A woman.”
“A woman?” Ainsley smiled. “We do have tendencies to cause trouble.”
“Yes, well, I don’t know what to do. I’m quite smitten with her.”
“Who is it?” Ainsley asked, leaning forward.
“You wouldn’t know her. She’s from, uh, Giford.”
“Really? That’s kind of far away. Where did you meet her?”
“Not important,” Martin said, with a wave of his hand. “What’s important is whether I should date her.” He looked her in the eyes. “And I thought I’d ask you, since you are, well, you’re just so upright, and good, and you’ve been to church your whole life. I mean, I figure you should know about such things.”
Ainsley frowned. “Martin, I’m sorry, I’m not following. How does me going to church help you with this woman?”
“You see, she’s … unchurched.”
“Oh.”
“Really unchurched. Not a clue.”
“Oh.”
“Doesn’t even own a Bible.” Martin shook his head. “I just thought maybe you could help me decide. Since you’re such a righteous person, Ainsley. And you love God so much. I mean, would I be betraying God? Am I um … what’s the word … compromising? Just because she’s cute?”
Ainsley stared at Martin and disappeared into her own thoughts. Her head pounded with indecision. Martin’s eyes followed hers as she searched for an answer for him.
“Look, I’ve probably put you on the spot here, and I’m sorry,” Martin said. “I just don’t know too many people who take God as seriously as you do. And I just wanted to know I wasn’t making a mistake. A life-altering mistake. One huge, gigantic mistake.”
“Martin, you’re being a little overdramatic, aren’t you?”
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that”—he paused dramatically—“what if she changes me?”
Ainsley swallowed, and to her horror all she could hear was Wolfe’s voice in her head, his suggestions on how to set herself free. She became aware of Martin’s quizzical eyes.
“Look, Martin, I appreciate you thinking of me. And I wish I could help. But I’m not … I’m not all that you think I am.”
“Sure you are. You’re the most righteous person I know.”
“Then you don’t know too many people.”
“Listen to you. Humble.”
Ainsley shook her head. She had no idea what to say.
“I’m just thinking that even though she’s cute, and she likes me, and she makes me feel a way I haven’t felt in years, it might not be in my best interest to continue to see her.” Martin leaned forward. “Don’t you agree? She might, in the end, be bad for me?”
Ainsley stood and zipped her coat, looking down at Martin but not really seeing him. “Martin, it doesn’t sound like you need me to figure this out.”
“You have to go?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to get home to my dad.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’ve got things to do.”
Martin stood too. “So I should just follow my heart?”
Ainsley bit her lip and sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I guess the heart isn’t always the most reliable ally on the narrow road.”
Martin held the door open for her, and they both walked outside. “Well, thanks for the advice, Ainsley. I really appreciate you listening to me. See you later.”
Ainsley waved and watched Martin walk to his car. Oh, how she wished Aunt Gert were still here. She slowly made her way down the sidewalk in the direction of the park, dragging her feet, wondering how so much that was right just a day before seemed wrong now. She needed to sit and think awhile.
She saw him at the first park bench in sight. “Reverend!” She rushed to him. He looked up and offered a mild smile. “Reverend, are you okay?”
Without lifting his eyes he sa
id, “Is the meeting over?”
“What meeting?” Ainsley asked.
“The meeting everyone had instead of church.”
“I don’t know,” Ainsley replied. “We didn’t really go. Me and Wolfe.”
The reverend looked up. “Oh? What did you do?”
“We went to visit Mrs. Owen and Mr. Laraby. They’re always fond of people coming by, even on a Sunday.”
“That’s my girl. I knew it. I knew someone must’ve been listening all these years.”
“Listening to what?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” Ainsley said softly.
The reverend focused on an empty flower bed in the middle of the small park. “Do you know how often I’ve thought of being somewhere else? Don’t think I haven’t thought about that big church in the suburbs. Nice office, plenty of bookshelves. A large crowd hanging on my every word. I’ve thought about it all my life. I think about it more and more every day. But for all the wrong reasons, if there is a right reason at all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I’ve been here nearly my whole ministry, and life goes on every day as if I haven’t uttered a single word. Ainsley,” he said, turning toward her, “don’t you understand? I’ve failed.”
“Failed?” Ainsley took his hands. “How can you say that?”
“Look at the people in this town. Look at their lives. No one seems to be paying attention to what I’m saying. I stand up there and talk, and everyone feels good about hearing me talk, but that’s where it ends. It all ends the second everyone leaves church.” He patted her on the knee. “At least for almost everyone.”
“Reverend,” Ainsley said intently, “you can’t really believe that all you’ve done over the years has been in vain.”
The reverend only stared at his shoes. They sat in silence awhile, each watching something different in the park.
“See that man over there? The gardener?” Ainsley pointed to the man working on the hill in a flower bed. “What is he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s planting bulbs.” Ainsley put her hand gently on his shoulder. “He’s putting the bulb deep into the earth, and with a lot of watering and care, eventually that bulb will grow into what I suspect will be a tulip. Which,” she said, turning to him, “is exactly what you do. Don’t you know that? You’re planting the seed of God’s Word in our hearts. When it blooms is up to God.”
The reverend smiled at the thought. “Ainsley, you’ve always been so wise.”
“Because you’ve been my pastor since the day I was born.”
“I hate for you to see me like this.”
“To see you like this gives me hope that God loves the deepest part of our humanity.”
“Well,” the reverend said, “I suppose I should go. Spend some time in prayer.” He stood and smiled at Ainsley. “Have a good day.”
She watched him walk down the sidewalk and out of sight.
CHAPTER 19
WOLFE HAD BEEN whistling for nearly an hour. It was driving Goose and Bunny nuts. Their ears would perk; they were just sure they were supposed to run somewhere, fetch something. But there was no further command … just whistling. And Wolfe couldn’t stop, despite the fact his two dogs were walking in circles of confusion. He certainly hadn’t expected this day to turn out so wonderfully, but it had. And as dusk began to settle over the small town of Skary, Wolfe’s wild imagination, which had always been reserved for his books, now wandered to Thanksgiving, to Christmas, to spring … to a wedding, to a honeymoon, to children … to life. Real life. With Ainsley.
His daydreaming was intruded upon by only one thing, and that was Alfred Tennison and why in the world he was still hanging around Skary. Wolfe thought he probably had something up his sleeve, some scheme to get him to start writing again.
His lips finally tired, and his whistle turned to a hum, something he thought might have been a hymn he’d heard long ago. He didn’t know, but he liked the melody. He was just about to fix himself a light dinner when a knock came at the door.
But what startled him more was Goose and Bunny’s reaction. Instead of hopping up and wagging their tails in excitement of company, they hunkered down, both with a low, guttural growl that chilled his spine.
“Hey,” he said, taking them both by the collar. “What’s wrong?”
They continued to growl and slowly approached the door, their ears standing straight with the second knock. Wolfe commanded them to stay back and went to look through the peephole.
Unfortunately, the figure was backlit by the setting sun, and he couldn’t see who it was. But the body was small, frail, a bit hunched over. Hardly someone threatening.
“Stay,” he told his dogs again, then opened the door, and to his surprise the woman who had organized the morning meeting, Miss Peeple, stood there on his porch. “Oh, uh … hello.”
“Hello, Mr. Boone,” she said, a crooked grin forming on her lips. “How are you this evening?”
“I’m fine. What can I do for you? Miss Peeple, right?”
She straightened on her cane a bit. “May I come in, dear? I don’t stand well, and it’s chilly, you know.”
“Sure. I’m sorry. Please.”
She stepped in, and Goose and Bunny barked wildly, scaring them both half to death. Wolfe grabbed Miss Peeple by the elbow to make sure she didn’t tip backward.
“Goose! Bunny! Stop it!” He thought all that whistling must’ve put them on edge.
They kept barking and growling, and Wolfe thought Miss Peeple just might pass out in fright.
“I’m sorry,” he said over the barking and chaos. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into them. Just a second.” He gently pushed her back onto the front porch and shut the door.
He grabbed both dogs by the collar and dragged their unwilling bodies across the wooden floor to the back door of the house. He pushed them outside, then hurried to the front door to let Miss Peeple in before they could get around the house. Grabbing her by the arm, he nearly lifted her through the door and quickly shut it. Only seconds later he could hear the dogs scratching and barking. Miss Peeple was shaking.
“They’re harmless, I promise,” Wolfe said, taking Miss Peeple’s coat. “A little rambunctious, but harmless. They’ve been in the house most of the day.” That was hardly an explanation, but Wolfe didn’t know what else to say. “Please, have a seat.”
“Your house,” Miss Peeple said, looking around. “Extraordinary. What fine taste you have.”
“Thank you. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, dear. You might as well offer me liquor.”
“What?”
She turned to him, wobbling on her cane. “I was addicted to the stuff for years. Had to have three cups in the morning, one by noon, and I gargled with it at night. It was practically an idol in my life, I worshiped it as if it were. Do you know what I mean?” Her small eyes narrowed as she looked at him.
“Not really.”
“Oh yes,” she said, in a lighter tone. “I’m sorry. You’re new to this.”
“To what?”
“Religion.”
Wolfe swallowed. She was here to talk about religion? He suddenly felt uncomfortable. She was, after all, just a little old lady. But Ainsley had warned him to stay away from her.
She made her way over to his chair near the fireplace, propped her cane against the wall, and sat down. “But I will take a glass of water.”
“Oh. Okay. Sure.” After getting her the water, he took a seat across the room. He almost wanted to start a fire, too. There seemed to be a chill in the air. “So, Miss Peeple, what brings you by?”
She looked at him as if surprised by the question, then smiled slightly. It turned into a grin, and before he knew it, she was baring a full set of yellow crooked teeth. He bit his lip in anticipation of what she might say.
“Why deary, I just came by to
chat, that’s all.”
Ainsley spent the rest of the afternoon alone, thinking. She’d taken a long walk, window shopped, and then found herself at Sbooky’s. Whereas once she would pass the aisle that held his books feeling only contempt and anger, now she was curious. She walked the aisle, looking at each book, daring herself not to pick one up. She came to the end-cap, where a life-size cutout of him stood, promoting Black Cats. The image, shot at a creepy angle, didn’t look a thing like him. She tried to imagine him sitting in that old house of his writing these novels. She couldn’t. She supposed it was because she knew a different man. A changed man. A man whose feelings ran deep and wide.
“Grab one while you can,” the clerk named Dustin said from behind her.
“No thanks,” Ainsley said. “I’m just looking.”
“That’s our second shipment in two weeks. We can hardly keep them in stock. Tourists coming through for the holidays and all.”
The boy went back to doing his work. Ainsley stared into the eyes of the poster. This man she had hated for so long. This same man she could now hardly keep her mind off of. Could she really be falling in love? After all her prayers to be married, this was who God had for her? The mysterious ways of the Lord never ceased to amaze her.
Her conversation with Martin Blarty interrupted her reverie. She had new reservations today. Was Wolfe tainting her? Was he pulling her away from what she knew to be good and right? She’d gone to see a horror movie with him!
She decided to return home. Her father would be wanting dinner, and they had a lot to discuss about the day’s events. Her father had always been very fond of Reverend Peck, and she knew he would be worried sick.
Opening the front door revealed voices coming from the living room. Not aware they were expecting company, she hung up her coat, tucked her windblown hair behind her ears, and walked in. Garth and her father sat on the couch, Thief the cat between them, watching football.
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