Who I Am with You

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “I’m good, Mom. I waddle more than walk now. Even worse than when you last saw me. And my house needs a good cleaning. I have a hard time bending over, so I ignore anything that is out of easy reach. Otherwise, all is well.”

  “What about . . .” Her mom hesitated. “Have you seen Ridley Chesterfield lately?”

  “Seen him?”

  “Honey . . .”

  “Yes, I’ve seen him. In fact, I see him every day. He’s my neighbor.” She knew her mom wouldn’t believe that excuse any more than she believed it herself. “He’s planning to stay in Hope Springs, Mom.”

  “What?”

  “He’s trying to buy some property here. He wants to open a type of retreat center.”

  “Good heavens.”

  Jessica smiled again, imagining her mom’s expression. “It’s quite exciting to hear him talk about it. He’s full of plans and ideas. And the property he’s found is amazing. It’s a home I’d never seen before. A mansion, really. It’s been here almost a hundred years, and I didn’t even know it existed. I couldn’t believe it. It’s far out from town, to the east, near the mountains.”

  “It sounds as if he’s going to be very busy. Starting a new business is never easy. Whatever he’s planning has to be a precarious undertaking.”

  Jessica hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Quite precarious, I’m sure.” She longed to add that it wasn’t any more precarious than making one’s living as an artist, but good sense told her she’d said enough. Instead she changed the subject, asking questions about her sister and brother-in-law and what the family planned to do for the remainder of her mom’s stay in Florida. Was it going to be a day at the beach or a day at one of the theme parks? It sounded as if they planned to squeeze in both.

  After the call ended, Jessica rose from the stool, groaning as she rubbed her lower back. She picked up the stainless-steel tumbler she’d left near her paint palette and took it to the kitchen to refill with ice and water. Afterward, she went to the back door and stepped outside. Heat rose off the patio, forcing her to take a step back into the shade. Her yard was green, thanks to irrigation and sprinklers, but beyond the fence, July had painted the wild grasses in shades of tan and brown. The sun was an intense yellow in a cloudless blue sky.

  She looked toward the neighboring house. No sign of Kris or Ridley. She leaned forward. Ridley’s car wasn’t in sight, but a blue pickup truck sat parked at the side of the house. She wondered whose vehicle it was and where Ridley had taken his guest. No doubt out to the Pearson place. She wished she’d been asked to go with them.

  She’d told her mother the truth. She saw Ridley every day, if only for their evening walks. But the whole truth was she didn’t see him as often as she wanted. She thought of him first thing when she awakened in the morning, and she thought of him last thing before she closed her eyes at night. Too many times a day, she looked out her studio window or went to her back door, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

  “I love him.”

  There. She’d admitted it at last. It was true. She’d fallen in love with Ridley Chesterfield. She wasn’t falling in love. She was there already. She loved him. Maybe it wasn’t smart. Maybe she wasn’t completely ready for romance. Maybe there were obstacles and complications. But she loved him all the same. And although he’d never said as much to her, she thought he might love her too. At least a little.

  The baby dragged a heel or an elbow across her belly, as if to get her attention. It worked. She cradled the sides of her stomach with her hands, knowing that she loved this child with all her heart, no matter the heartache that had accompanied its conception. She also knew that, despite all that Ridley had come to mean to her over the summer, one niggling doubt remained. The biggest of obstacles and complications: even if Ridley loved her, could he love her child—another man’s child—as if it were his own? It was a question that had to be answered before there could be any hope of a future for her and Ridley.

  Chad Evers stared at the fireplace in the living room and whistled softly. “This place is unbelievable.”

  Ridley chuckled, enjoying his friend’s reaction.

  “And the owners have accepted your offer?”

  “Yes. I didn’t think they would right away. I lowballed my offer, expecting that we would have to negotiate back and forth for a while. I even made requests for some repairs. I never thought they’d go for them. Instead, they said yes to everything I asked, including the price.”

  “Unreal.”

  Ridley let his gaze roam the room. “But just like God.” With every passing day, he became more and more convinced of that. He was experiencing Romans 8:28 in real time. All things were working together for good, including what he had considered the darkest moments of his life.

  “My dad was impressed with the proposal you wrote up,” Chad said. “I think you’ll have the investors you need before long.”

  “I appreciate his help with that.”

  “You know Dad. He loves a challenge, and you’ve given him a great one.”

  Ridley laughed again. “I aim to please.”

  The two men left the living room and wandered through the rest of the house. Chad didn’t look at everything in the same way Jessica had. He was curious, but he didn’t care about the molding or the paint color choices or the window and floor coverings. He didn’t care about the furniture that lay beneath the white sheets. Although he did seem to like the look of the pool table in the basement.

  When they stood on the steps outside the front door again, Chad said, “You know, when all the trouble broke about Tammy and the campaign and you, I sure never imagined this was where you’d end up before the end of summer.”

  “Me neither.”

  “You look happier than I’ve seen you look in a long time. You’ve been reinvigorated by your plans. A whole different man than the guy I came to visit back in June.”

  Ridley grinned, but it was thoughts of Jessica and not plans for a retreat center that made him do so. Still, he kept that bit of information to himself as they went down the steps.

  As Chad opened the passenger door, he looked at Ridley over the roof of the car. “My mom thinks she might know a vocational counselor who’d be interested in working with your clients a couple of days a week. She’s in Mom’s book club, I think.”

  “Great. Have your mom send me the counselor’s contact information.”

  They drove back to Ridley’s place, enjoying the beauty of the valley. After so many years of friendship, they felt no need to fill the silence with small talk. When they arrived, Ridley parked his car in its usual spot. His gaze went over to Jessica’s house and he saw her taking sheets off the clothesline.

  “Chad, come with me. I want you to meet my neighbor.”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  They started across the field. Before Ridley could call out to her, she saw them. She waved, then picked up the basket that held the sun-dried sheets and moved to stand in the shade while she waited for their arrival.

  “Chad, this is Jessica Mason. Jessica, this is Chad Evers. We’ve been friends since high school.”

  Jessica put down the basket a second time. “Hi, Chad. It’s nice to meet one of Ridley’s friends.”

  “Nice to meet you too.”

  The two of them shook hands.

  “Jessica’s an artist. I’m going to hire her to do some artwork for the retreat center.” He smiled at her. “She’s really talented and very inspirational.”

  “Is that so?” Chad said.

  Ridley was barely aware that his friend had spoken. “Chad and I were out at the Pearson house. I wanted to show him around. His dad’s helping me with finding a group of investors.”

  “That’s marvelous.” Her gaze moved to Chad. “I trust you were duly impressed.”

  “I was. I still am.”

  She laughed.

  Chad poked Ridley in the upper arm with his knuckles. “I’d better be heading back to town.”

  That, at last, forc
ed Ridley to look away from Jessica. “So soon?”

  “Afraid so.” Again to Jessica, Chad said, “Very nice to meet you.”

  “I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

  “You probably will.”

  Ridley gave Jessica one last smile, then walked away next to his friend.

  They were almost to the back door of the house when Chad said, “An artist, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  “Yeah.” Ridley grinned.

  “She’s also pregnant.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  Chad stopped walking, forcing Ridley to do the same. His friend stared him in the face for a long while before saying, “Man, you’ve got it bad for her.”

  The words pleased Ridley. “Yes, I have.”

  “She isn’t why you’ve decided to stay in Hope Springs, is she?” Chad’s expression sobered. “I mean, you aren’t doing this retreat center so you can be near her, are you?”

  Ridley shook his head, but he considered the questions carefully before he answered. “No, Chad. Not that being near her won’t be a perk, but the inspiration for the retreat center is something separate altogether. I think the center is why God brought me here in the first place.”

  “I take it there’s no husband in the picture.”

  “She’s a widow. Her husband and their daughter died in an accident back in December.”

  “That’s rough. But don’t you think you might be rushing it a bit? Maybe she’s not ready.”

  “I love her, Chad. That’s all I have to know. And I’m willing to wait until she’s ready to love me too.”

  Chad put a hand on Ridley’s shoulder. “And what about the baby?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve given her baby plenty of thought too. I know they’re a package deal. When I realized how I felt about her, I started some soul-searching of my own. You know, wondering if I was ready to take on that responsibility. And I discovered the answer is yes. When Jessica’s ready to have me, I’m ready to have them both.”

  Chad took a step back. “Friend, when you change your life, you really change your life.”

  KUNA, IDAHO

  Tuesday, December 31, 1935

  Another New Year’s Eve rolled around, but unlike the previous year, as the hour grew late, Andrew didn’t sit at the table alone. Helen was with him. At nearly eight months pregnant, she often had trouble sleeping. The baby, she said, seemed to press upon her lungs, making it hard to breathe. About her only place of comfort was the rocking chair.

  Tonight, as they stayed warm near the woodstove, Helen knitted something for the baby while Andrew read aloud to her from the short novel Goodbye, Mr. Chips. Last night they’d finished reading John Steinbeck’s Tortilla Flat, and before that it had been The Thin Man. Spending the evenings in this fashion after the children were in bed had become a favorite part of his days.

  “‘A great joke, this growing old,’” he read, “‘but a sad joke, too, in a way. And as Chips sat by his fire with autumn gales rattling the windows, the waves of humor and sadness swept over him very often until tears fell, so that when Mrs. Wickett came in with his cup of tea she did not know whether he had been laughing or crying. And neither did Chips himself.’” Andrew turned the book face down on the table.

  Helen looked up from her knitting. “Why did you stop?”

  “Do you suppose it will be like that for us?”

  “When we get old? I imagine so.”

  He reached out to place his hand on her belly. “Old age is a long ways away for us.”

  “Mother says everyone our age believes that, but that old age isn’t as far off as we think. It gets here in the blink of an eye.” She placed her hand over his on her belly. “If that’s true, why do nine months pass at a tortoise’s pace?”

  He laughed with her. But when he leaned back in his chair, he let himself imagine the two of them, sitting in this same kitchen, in another forty or fifty years.

  Hair turned white.

  “Lord, make me to know mine end,

  And the measure of my days, what it is:

  That I may know how frail I am.”

  Faces lined with wrinkles.

  “Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth;

  And mine age is as nothing before thee.”

  Fingers gnarled from many years of work.

  “Seeing his days are determined,

  The number of his months are with thee,

  Thou hast appointed his bounds that he cannot pass.”

  Now he took Helen’s hand in his, causing her to meet his gaze again. “‘Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be.’”

  “Robert Browning?”

  He nodded.

  “You’ve always been a romantic, Andrew Henning.”

  “Only with you.”

  She smiled as she resumed her knitting. “Read some more, dear.”

  Obediently, he picked up the book on the table. “Chapter Two.”

  Chapter 28

  It amazed Jessica that, even as she grew as broad as a barn, Ridley had a way of making her feel lithe and beautiful. When he looked at her, her heart skittered. And when he kissed her . . . Oh, when he kissed her. Neither of them had declared their love in so many words, and Jessica had come to understand why it was so. They were waiting on the baby. Both of them, although in different ways, perhaps for different reasons.

  All the same, she was happy in a way she’d never expected to be again. She was content to let the days of summer meld one into another. Ridley threw himself into the task of launching his retreat center while Jessica worked in her studio as much as possible, nested a little in preparation for the baby, and reveled in the hours she spent with Ridley. And when she wasn’t with him, she daydreamed about him. Like she was doing right now.

  “Jessica.” Her mom’s voice from upstairs interrupted her pleasant thoughts.

  “What?”

  “Do you care if I move things around in the bathroom?”

  “Of course not.” Drawing a breath, she climbed the stairs. “Do whatever you want, Mom.” She stopped outside the guest bathroom, leaning her shoulder against the jamb. “Make yourself comfortable. It could be weeks before the baby comes.”

  Her mom stopped what she was doing and faced Jessica. “My place is with you. Although I do wish you would agree to come stay in Boise and have your baby in the hospital.”

  “The clinic was fine when Angela was born. It will be fine this time too. Besides, I like and trust Dr. Young. I want to have my baby in my hometown.”

  “But what if there’s a problem? The clinic isn’t set up for real emergencies.”

  Jessica sighed. “My plan was always to have the baby in Hope Springs. You knew that.”

  “Yes. That is what you said.”

  “And there is no reason to expect any problems. I’m healthy and strong.”

  Her mom nodded. “You’re right, of course. I don’t know why I’m anxious.”

  Jessica stepped into the bathroom and gave her mom a hug. “You don’t need to worry, but I love you for it, all the same.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Do you want me to get it?” her mom asked.

  “No. You settle in. I’ll get it.”

  She descended the stairs slowly. That was her only option. After all, she couldn’t see her feet or the next step. She wasn’t quite to the door when the caller switched from the bell to a knock. When she opened the door, she found a stranger on her stoop. An attractive woman, about Jessica’s age, with big brown eyes and ink-black hair, worn long and straight. She wore a white sundress with yellow trim, striking against her tan.

  “Hi,” the stranger said. “Sorry to bother you. I’m looking for Ridley Chesterfield. I think that’s where he’s staying.” She pointed to the house next door. “But nobody’s answering and his car’s not around. Am I on the right road?”

  “Yes. You are. That’s his parents’ home.”

  The woman smile
d. “Oh, good. I was afraid I’d messed up the directions he gave me. I’ve never been up to Hope Springs before.”

  “He’s probably out at the Pearson house.”

  “Of course. I totally forgot he’d mentioned that. I guess I’ll have to wait for him to get back. Thanks.” She took a step backward, starting to leave.

  Jessica wondered if the woman was one of Ridley’s potential counselors. She wouldn’t want him to lose out because he’d forgotten to return home for an appointment. “It’s awfully hot out. You’re welcome to wait in here if you’d like.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

  “You’re not. Please. Come in.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” She pulled the door fully open. “I’m Jessica Mason.”

  “Selena Wright.” She stepped inside. “This is very nice of you.”

  Jessica motioned toward the sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No. I’m good. I’ve got my water bottle here in my bag.” She looked around the living room before taking a seat. “Your home is nice.”

  “Thank you.” She sat opposite the woman. “Do you have an interview with Mr. Chesterfield?”

  “An interview?” Selena waved a manicured hand dismissively. “No. He’s my boyfriend.”

  An odd feeling shivered through Jessica.

  “It’s been a long summer without him, I’ll tell you. I mean, I know why he came up here, what with all the newspapers and all that mess he was involved in. But I’ve missed him something fierce. Phone calls and an occasional visit aren’t enough.”

  Jessica wanted to stand but a sudden pain kept her in the chair.

  “Honey, I was wondering—” Her mom stepped into view. “Sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”

  She isn’t company. She’s. . . Ridley’s girlfriend.

  She didn’t believe it. Or maybe she didn’t want to believe it.

  Which was it?

  As quickly as the question formed, she knew her answer. Knew it as surely as she’d ever known anything.

  Ridley could hardly wait to reach home. He had so much to tell Jessica. The last of his investors was on board. The bank had approved the business loan, and the sale of the Pearson place was scheduled to close in two more weeks. Another counselor had committed to working with them. New Hope Retreat Center was soon to become a reality. Even earlier than he’d hoped.