Who I Am with You

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Who I Am with You Page 20

by Robin Lee Hatcher


  “From one of the psalms.”

  He felt more than saw her turn her head to look at him. “Psalm 127. You know it?”

  “My grandfather quoted it to me. About five years ago, I think. Something about children being like arrows and a blessing from God. He was telling me it was time for me to settle down and have kids of my own.”

  Jessica laughed. “It obviously didn’t do any good.”

  Not yet, he thought, keeping his eyes on the road despite wanting to pull to the shoulder and take her in his arms—a desire that was getting harder and harder to resist. And not just to kiss her once. To kiss her time and again. Today and tomorrow and the next day and the one after that. To sit beside her on the sofa and watch television while she cradled a baby in her arms. To have her trust him to care for her and for this baby and for any future babies. He’d never expected to want anything as much as he wanted those images to be his future.

  “Have you ever come close?” she asked. “To getting married, I mean.”

  “I’ve never proposed to anybody. No.”

  “Have you been in love?”

  A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. It amused him that the woman he was undoubtedly falling in love with—had already fallen in love with—was the one who’d asked the question. Did she have no clue what she’d done to him?

  “Too personal?” she asked as the silence between them lengthened.

  “No. Sorry. Not too personal.” He glanced over at her, but she was staring out the passenger window. You’re not ready to hear my answer just yet, he silently told her.

  “Love can be complicated.” Her words were almost too soft for him to hear.

  “Seems that way.” But not for long, he added to himself. I’m going to find a way to change your mind, Jessica Mason. I promise you that.

  Jessica’s parents lived in the north end of Boise in a two-story home built in the thirties. They’d purchased and remodeled it as newlyweds, close to forty years before. Large, ancient trees shaded both front and back yards, and there were glorious bursts of color everywhere, thanks to her mom’s green thumb.

  Jessica had waited until shortly before she and Ridley left Hope Springs before texting her mom that they were on their way, adding matter-of-factly that they were coming in Ridley’s car and bringing his dog. Thus, neither of her parents showed any surprise over whom she’d brought with her to Sunday dinner. Ridley was greeted warmly and made to feel at home, and Kris was turned into the backyard along with a tasty treat that Jessica’s dad had purchased at the grocery store especially for her.

  “Ridley,” her mom said, “would you like something to drink? We won’t eat until two. Iced tea or lemonade. Or if you prefer, I’ve got Diet Coke.”

  “Lemonade sounds good, Mrs. Alexander.”

  “Pat, please.”

  Jessica headed for the fridge. “I’ll get it, Mom. Dad, do you want something?”

  “Lemonade for me, too, honey. Thanks.”

  Before long, the four of them were settled around a table on the patio. The forecast promised the temperature would top a hundred degrees, but the trees and a waterfall and small pond on the west side of the patio made it comfortable to sit outside for now.

  “Were you able to attend the Independence Day celebration in Hope Springs?” her mom asked Ridley, getting the conversation started.

  “Yes, I was. It was a lot of fun.” His gaze flicked to Jessica.

  As had become its habit, her stomach tumbled in response. She lowered her eyes to her glass of lemonade, watching beads of water slide down its sides.

  “As far as I could tell,” Ridley continued, “the whole town was in the park that day.”

  Her mom laughed softly. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “I even managed to win the last three-legged race of the afternoon. It was a narrow victory but a victory all the same.”

  Jessica lifted her eyes. “You didn’t win it by yourself.”

  Her mom sucked in a breath. “Don’t tell me you raced with him. Not in your condition.”

  “Of course not, Mom.” She shook her head. “His racing partner was an adorable redhead.” She smiled at Ridley.

  “She was cute, wasn’t she?” He laughed before taking a sip of lemonade.

  “Nine years old and about half your height.” Silly though it might be, the memory of watching that race in the park felt intimate and special to Jessica. A memory the two of them shared.

  Her dad cleared his throat. “Looks like your dog has her eyes on the goldfish in the pond.”

  Ridley didn’t smile or wink at Jessica, but it felt to her as if he’d done both before he turned to look at her father. “Your fish should be safe. Kris doesn’t think much of the water. She might bark, but she won’t go in.”

  As if to prove Ridley’s point, the sheltie stepped close to the pond, barked, then backed several steps away, snorting her displeasure before giving her head a vigorous shake.

  Jessica’s dad chuckled. “I see what you mean.”

  Her mom stood. “I’d better check on our dinner.” She glanced at Jessica, a silent request to go with her, before walking inside.

  “I’ll give her a hand.” She looked at Ridley, wondering if he minded being left alone with her father.

  He seemed to understand and gave his head a nod to let her know he would be fine.

  She rose and went inside. Her mom was in the kitchen, the oven door open.

  “I thought Dad was barbecuing chicken.”

  “That was the plan.” Her mom straightened. “But something’s wrong with the grill, so pot roast it is. I hope you aren’t disappointed. I still made the key lime pie.”

  “I’m not disappointed. I love your pot roast. Anything I can help with?”

  “Not a thing. But you can sit at the counter and talk to me, if you want.”

  “Sure.” She set her glass of lemonade, now half full, on the counter, then settled onto the nearest stool. “Talk about what?”

  Her mom sent her a pointed glance.

  “He’s still just my neighbor, Mom.”

  “Is he? That isn’t what it looks like to me.”

  Jessica sighed. “Okay, maybe it’s a little bit more than that. But like I told you before, I’m not foolish.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I know you’re not. But so much has happened in the last year. I can’t help but want you to protect yourself from any more pain.”

  Jessica ran a fingertip around the edge of her glass. “I don’t want to live that way, trying to protect myself from getting hurt. Because if I’m protecting myself from pain, I’m protecting myself from feeling other things too. Like joy. Like pleasure.”

  “Like love?”

  She met her mom’s gaze again. “Like love.”

  “Do you think you love Ridley?”

  “I don’t know. It’s too soon to know. Besides, as you’re well aware, it’s complicated. He doesn’t live in Hope Springs. He’s only there for the summer.” She looked down at her belly. “And that isn’t even the biggest complication to a relationship.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t go to Florida.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “Of course you should go. Deidra needs to spend time with you as much as I do, and you shouldn’t miss seeing Trish play Peter Pan.”

  “But it’s so close to your time.”

  “Not really. You’ll be back four or five weeks before the delivery. More if I’m as late as I was with Angela.”

  “Second babies often come sooner.”

  “But sometimes they come later.”

  “Oh, you.” Frustration laced the two words.

  Jessica grinned in victory. “Oh, me.”

  Her mom drew back slightly. “You are emotionally stronger. I can see that.”

  “I am stronger.”

  “All right. I’ll try not to interfere again. Just . . . be careful.”

  “I will. I promise.” Although she wasn’t at all sur
e she could keep that promise. Was it possible to be careful while falling in love?

  KUNA, IDAHO

  Monday, December 31, 1934

  A bitter wind whipped the corners of the Greyson home, and snow swirled beyond the window glass. Inside, the house lay silent. The kids as well as Helen and his mother-in-law had retired for the night. He was the only one likely to be awake to see in the New Year.

  Not that he expected 1935 to be much different from 1934. Many believed the depression was loosening its grip on the nation. The mood of most people seemed more upbeat. Perhaps it was the repeal of Prohibition that had made the difference. Or maybe it was all due to that adorable new Hollywood child star Shirley Temple.

  Andrew chuckled before lowering his gaze to the ledger, open on the table.

  Farmers in the Midwest had suffered through a brutally cold February, followed by searing temperatures in the month of July. Crops had withered in the drought that struck throughout the breadbasket of America. The silver lining for farmers like Andrew, living in other areas of the country, were the resulting agricultural price increases. His hay had sold for more this past growing season, bringing in a tidy sum.

  But one good summer wasn’t enough to ease his worries. There always seemed to be needs beyond income—Frani’s stay in the hospital for a high fever last spring, Ben’s broken arm in May, the loss of a milk cow in the fall, clothes and shoes for four growing kids. Andrew wasn’t yet thirty, but there were days when he felt older than his father.

  Last spring, when he’d read in the newspaper that Henry Ford had restored the five-dollars-a-day minimum wage to the majority of his workers, Andrew had been tempted to pull up stakes and move the whole lot of them to Michigan. But he’d had enough good sense to resist the impulse. If he’d had that thought, no doubt there were thousands, tens of thousands, of other men thinking the same thing. No, he and his family were better off right there in Idaho, on the farm.

  Has the Lord failed to provide for us?

  No. God had been ever present and ever faithful. As long as Andrew had the good sense to set his eyes and thoughts on the Father, he could enjoy peace.

  He closed the ledger and pushed the book to the side of the table. He replaced it with his Bible. He turned to the title page and stared at his father’s handwriting:

  To our beloved Son,

  Andrew Michael Henning,

  on the occasion of his graduation

  from the university.

  Follow God and you will never lose your way.

  Papa and Mama

  Kuna, Idaho

  1929

  He closed his eyes, remembering the day of his graduation. How proud his parents had been as he’d stood there in his cap and gown. How proud he’d been. How sure that he had life by the horns and nothing but good times and success ahead of him.

  Success. He flipped the pages to the beginning of the book of Joshua, found the verse he wanted, and underlined the words with a pencil as he silently read:

  This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth; but thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therein: for then thou shalt make thy way prosperous, and then thou shalt have good success.

  He had come to believe that God’s definitions of prosperous and success differed from what most men believed. What mattered was not the size of his bank account. What mattered was the type of men and women his children became. What mattered was that he loved his wife as Christ loved the church, enough to die for her. What mattered was that he cared for the widow in his midst. What mattered was that he honored his parents. Now he needed to live in that truth, in that definition, every single day, depression or no.

  He took the pencil and wrote their names in the narrow margin: Helen. Mama. Papa. Madge. Ben. Louisa. Oscar. Frani.

  Chapter 24

  Ridley and Jessica settled into a comfortable routine in the days immediately following the Sunday dinner with her parents. Mornings were spent alone, Jessica working in her studio, Ridley making more repairs around his parents’ place. At noon, Ridley, with Kris at his heels, wandered over to Jessica’s house where they ate lunch together and talked about little things, seemingly unimportant things. And yet those times together felt important to Ridley as he caught more glimpses of who Jessica was, who she had been, and who she wanted to be. With each glimpse, he fell a little more in love. He hoped she felt the same, but he didn’t rush her.

  After lunch, Ridley returned home with his dog. Now that the cable and internet had been installed, he spent the afternoons doing research on his retreat ideas. He had yet to share his ideas for the future with Jessica. He wanted his thoughts to feel more concrete before he did that. He didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep. She’d had enough of those in her past.

  In the evenings, after the earth started to cool, they took long walks together down their country lane. They listened to the clapping of aspen leaves, stirred by a breeze. They watched the sky turn from azure to pewter as the sun settled beyond the mountains. They took turns throwing a ball for Kris to chase. Unlike their lunches, they talked little during these nightly walks. Instead, they simply enjoyed the presence of the other and the beauty of the valley that surrounded them.

  Ridley heard Kris’s whimper through a haze of sleep. He wasn’t ready to wake up, not since it meant letting go of a dream that made him feel joyous. Sadly, the details of that dream had already slipped away. Turning onto his side, he opened his eyes. The dog’s face was mere inches away, her muzzle now resting on the edge of the mattress. She whimpered again.

  “I’m gonna install a dog door,” he muttered.

  Paws hit the mattress on either side of Kris’s muzzle, and dark brown eyes pleaded with him.

  “All right. All right.” He tossed aside the sheet and sat up. “You win.”

  Clad in a T-shirt and shorts, he padded barefoot down the stairs and to the back door. He opened it, and Kris dashed outside, in a hurry to do her business. Waiting for the dog to finish, Ridley drew in a deep breath. He loved the smell of morning air in the mountains. The only thing that would make it better was if he was holding a mug of coffee.

  Light had begun painting the valley with a buttery hue. It was early. Not yet six, he guessed. Birds chirped as they fluttered from branch to branch in the trees. For some reason, the sound made him think of his dream, and he smiled again. Not because he remembered the details. Only that he remembered it had made him happy. And if it made him happy, it must have been about Jessica.

  Kris trotted back to the house and went straight to her food bowl, looking back at him to see if he followed.

  “Not a chance, mutt. My coffee first.”

  She released a soft bark.

  He laughed as he walked into the kitchen. It didn’t take long to get his morning coffee started, but as he stood waiting, he felt a nudge in his spirit. It was as if God said, No more waiting. It’s time to act. And just as quickly, he knew what his next step was supposed to be. It was time to discover how he could finance his dream.

  A few hours later, he rapped on Jessica’s back door. Her face revealed surprise when she opened it.

  “Sorry to bother you,” he said. “I need to drive down to Boise on business, and I was wondering if you could look after Kris until I’m home.”

  “Of course.”

  “Afraid I’ll miss lunch, but I should be back before it’s time for our walk.”

  A soft smile curved her mouth, letting him know she liked that he had called it “our walk.”

  He liked the sound of it himself. “I’ve left the key under the mat at the back door. She might need to be fed again before I’m back.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Instinctively, he leaned in and kissed her. He’d resisted the urge for better than two weeks—and it hadn’t been easy. The first kiss they’d shared had been considered bad timing. He hoped the second wouldn’t be considered the same. Her lips warme
d beneath his, and he had his answer.

  “Thanks,” he whispered when they drew apart. “See you tonight.”

  He hardly remembered why he wanted to drive to Boise. He would rather stay where he was, take her back into his arms, and kiss her until they both ran out of air. But he knew that wasn’t an option.

  He cleared his throat and made himself turn and walk away.

  Jessica was putting away her paints when the doorbell rang, causing Kris to bark. Her eyes went to the clock on her studio wall, and she was surprised to see she’d worked straight through the lunch hour. It was nearly two o’clock. No wonder her back ached.

  “Be quiet, Kris,” she commanded as she left the studio.

  The dog obeyed, moving off to one side of the entrance and sitting on a throw rug.

  “Good girl.” Jessica was still looking at the dog as she pulled open the door. When she looked up to see her caller, she felt a jolt of surprise. “Ellery?”

  “I hope it’s all right that I dropped by without calling.” Ellery flashed one of her gorgeous smiles.

  “Of course. Come in.” She widened the opening as she took a step back.

  Ellery moved inside, her eyes sweeping the living room. She’d never been to the Mason home before this and seemed to take a great interest in everything.

  Jessica wanted to ask what on earth she wanted, but good manners kicked in. “Could I get you some iced tea? It’s decaf but it tastes the same.”

  “I’d love some.”

  Jessica’s stomach growled as she walked to the kitchen. She tried to silence it with a bite of cheese from the fridge before she filled two small glasses with tea. The size of the glasses was intentional. She didn’t want to encourage Ellery to remain longer than necessary. She set the glasses on the table, again thinking that sitting there would be less inviting than for them to be seated in the living room. “Ellery.”

  The other woman stepped into view. “This is kind of you, Jessica.”

  “Not at all.” She returned to the kitchen for sugar and lemon wedges. “Help yourself.” She set the sugar bowl and saucer of lemon slices on the table. “I’ll be right back.”

 

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