Back on Blossom Street

by Debbie Macomber

  If Colette was frightened before, it couldn’t compare to what she felt now. Wherever Christian was inside China, she had to believe it was connected to the mess he’d become involved in. She’d pleaded with him to get out; unless he did, there could be no future for them. Colette had begun to suspect that Christian had heeded her words. He’d tried to get out—and his disappearance was her fault. He’d done this for her…

  Colette bit her lip. Christian had gotten in deeper than he’d ever intended and now he was trapped. The men involved in operations like this weren’t the forgiving kind. Maybe it was too late to get out; maybe he knew too much. That seemed the only logical explanation.

  “It’s weird, you know,” Jenny was saying.

  “What do you mean?” Colette asked. “Weird, how?”

  “There’ve been all kinds of government agents here the last couple of days.”

  Colette closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “Do you have any idea what they were looking for?” Another thought hit her. Maybe Christian didn’t want to be found. Maybe his disappearance was all part of some escape plan to avoid prosecution in the States. It made sense, and yet Colette couldn’t make herself accept it. He’d told her he was coming back, asked her to wait. He would never have done that if he’d planned to disappear.

  Jenny sighed. “The agents talked to several people but not to anyone I know well, otherwise I would’ve asked what it’s all about. As you can imagine, the office has been buzzing, but it’s hard to tell which rumors have any basis in truth and which don’t.”

  “Would you phone me if you hear anything new?” Colette asked.

  “I would if I had your number,” Jenny said tartly. “You never answered my question. How come you disappeared like that?”

  “I…needed a change.”

  “Of friends, too, it seems.”

  “I’m sorry, Jenny, it was just…too much. Do you understand?”

  “Why are you so interested in what happened to Mr. Dempsey?”

  “I worked for him for five years. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Okay, okay. Give me a number where I can reach you.”

  Colette rattled off her cell phone number. After thanking Jenny and agreeing to get together when this was all over, she replaced the receiver.

  Elizabeth stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall. “What did you learn?” she asked.

  Colette told her what little she knew, but she kept her own suspicions—and the part about the government agents—to herself.

  Christian’s great-aunt seemed to be more in control of her emotions now. “I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do other than pray,” she said. She looked older and frailer.

  “Let’s have a cup of tea,” Colette suggested. “My mother told me everything seems better after tea.”

  Elizabeth favored her with a smile. “Your mother is a wise woman.”

  “Yes, she is,” Colette said. “I’ve missed her very much since my parents moved to Colorado.”

  Elizabeth headed back into the library. “I’d be honored if you’d consider me family,” she murmured after slowly lowering herself into her chair.

  “Then I will,” Colette told her.

  “Will you stay?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Until we know?” she added. “I don’t think my heart can deal with more bad news.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Colette promised. Her own heart couldn’t take any more bad news, either.

  CHAPTER 33

  Alix Townsend

  Jordan’s parents had invited Alix and Jordan to a barbecue at their home on Sunday afternoon. Hoping to patch things up with her future mother-in-law, Alix had readily accepted. She made a bowl of potato salad and baked a rhubarb cake, one of Jordan’s favorites.

  Alix looked forward to being part of the Turner family, which she’d always seen as a delightful bonus to marrying Jordan. It was invitations such as this backyard barbecue that she’d longed for as a child. If her parents had friends over it was so they could drink together. What food there was on those occasions came from a fast-food joint.

  When the kids at school talked about camping trips and picnics, Alix had nothing to say. Not once in the entire time she was growing up had she walked through the woods or experienced a family outing.

  Her fantasy family in the closet did all those things, though, and that was where Alix laughed and played and escaped.

  Jordan picked her up before church and placed the salad in a cooler he’d brought in his trunk.

  “That cake doesn’t happen to be rhubarb, does it?” he asked, eyeing the glass dish hopefully.

  “It might.”

  Grinning, he settled his arm around her shoulders. “You love me, don’t you?”

  “I must,” she returned. He’d been teasing but she was entirely serious. She’d never been this happy, never known she could be. It still astonished her that this very special man could see past the gruff exterior she’d maintained a few years ago, when she was working at the video store. That was where they’d reconnected. She would be forever thankful for his persistence and his ability to recognize the real Alix Townsend beneath the spike-haired, leather-jacketed tough girl she’d been back then. Come to think of it, though, her appearance hadn’t changed that much….

  Today, however, in deference to his parents, she wore a straight khaki skirt, plain white blouse and ballet-style flats.

  After church, Jordan drove to his parents’ house in south Seattle. His father, Larry, was a pastor at the Free Methodist Church there. The parsonage was next door, a brick, single-family home built in the 1950s, long before either Jordan or Alix was born. The front lawn had recently been mowed and Alix could see a thin line of smoke spiraling from the backyard.

  “Looks like Dad’s already got the barbecue going,” Jordan said as he led the way into the house. “Less work for me.” He didn’t knock, but opened the front door and walked in, calling out as he did. “Mom, Dad! We’re here.”

  Susan came out of the kitchen, her face wreathed in a smile. She hugged each in turn, and Alix could tell that her welcome held nothing back.

  “I brought a cake and a salad,” she told her, setting the cake on the table. Jordan put the cooler on the kitchen counter.

  “Alix,” Susan said, “that wasn’t necessary. My heavens, your wedding’s next week! You must have a hundred things to do.”

  “Oh, no, everything’s under control.” Or it was now that the wedding had been scaled down to just Jordan’s family and their own close friends. Alix loved the simplicity of it—especially compared to the five-act play, complete with sets, props and a cast of thousands that Jacqueline and Susan had tried to produce.

  Jordan’s father came inside, and father and son exchanged hugs.

  Alix liked the fact that her fiancé and his father had such a good relationship. When it came time to start their family, she knew Jordan would be a wonderful dad and his parents would be ideal grandparents. That was a comfort—although the thought of motherhood still scared her. She told herself repeatedly that it was something she didn’t need to worry about yet.

  Susan had prebaked the spareribs and while Alix set the outdoor table, Larry and Jordan stood on the lawn by the barbecue. They chatted as Larry slathered the ribs in sauce, and their laughter floated over to her. Alix enjoyed their easy camaraderie.

  “I talked with Grandma Turner,” Susan said, joining Alix on the patio, carrying two glasses of lemonade. “She’s very pleased that you and Jordan are using the lake house for your wedding.”

  “She’s been so good to us.” Alix didn’t know what she would’ve done without the love and support of Jordan’s grandmother.

  Susan handed Alix her lemonade. “I invited her to join us today, but she called this morning and said she was feeling a bit under the weather.”

  “The wedding isn’t too much for her, is it?” she asked anxiously. Although she and Jordan had done everything they could to ensur
e that none of the burden fell on his grandmother, Alix was still concerned. Sarah was eighty-six, after all.

  “No, no.” Susan dismissed her question. “Grandma would be terribly disappointed if you and Jordan were married anywhere else. Besides, your wedding will be like a family reunion for her.”

  Alix took a small sip of her lemonade.

  “What’s going on with Colette’s friend?” Susan asked next as they sat at the picnic table across from each other. “I was at the flower shop and Susannah said Colette’s been off work because someone she knows—her former boss, apparently—has gone missing.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “His name’s Christian Dempsey.”

  The word was out to the media now, and there was plenty of speculation. “Isn’t it bizarre?” Christian Dempsey’s disappearance in China had made all the local newscasts.

  “There’s a front-page article in this morning’s paper,” Susan told her. “No one seems to know what’s happened to him. When’s the last time you talked to Colette?”

  “Yesterday.” Alix remembered their lengthy conversation. “She’s staying with Christian’s great-aunt Elizabeth. He’s like a son to her and she’s taking the news badly.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Susan murmured. “We’ll keep all of them in our prayers.”

  Alix mumbled her thanks. Extra prayers certainly couldn’t hurt, and she’d given it a try herself, as well.

  There was a pause as Susan leaned forward, tension in every line of her body.

  “Uh, Alix.” She cleared her throat. “I hear that Margaret Langley asked a favor of you.” Susan seemed to be making an effort to sound casual.

  Alix hid her frown behind the glass, sipping while she composed a response. She’d told Jordan about Margaret’s request and while she hadn’t explicitly asked him to keep their conversation to himself, she hadn’t expected him to run tattling to his parents, either.

  “Apparently she wanted some…help from you?” Susan elaborated.

  Setting her glass on the picnic table, Alix wrapped her hand around it. “Jordan talked to you about that, did he?”

  “I hope you aren’t upset, but he did mention it to his father, and Larry told me.” Susan seemed surprised by her reaction. “I would never have brought it up if I’d known…well, actually I would have. Do you mind if we talk frankly?”

  Alix pushed the glass aside and nodded. “Sure, go ahead.”

  “I’ve come to love you, Alix. I want you to know that. I remember you as a child, attending Sunday school classes. You were always a sweet little girl, so eager to please and learn. When my husband started the bus ministry, we were so happy that both you and your brother were part of it.”

  It was difficult to hold back a snicker. “My parents were willing to send us anywhere as long as we were away from the house for a couple of hours on Sunday morning.” She stared right into Susan’s eyes. “You know, so they could sleep off their hangover.”

  Susan ignored that. “I remember how hard you tried to fit in with the other girls,” she went on.

  Alix remembered, too. She hadn’t owned any clothes other than what she wore to school. There were no pretty dresses for her at Easter or Christmas. She felt fortunate if she got a piece of clothing that didn’t come out of a secondhand store.

  “I really stuck out, didn’t I?” she said. She recalled how badly she’d wanted to win the Bible that was a prize for the kid who could recite the most verses from memory. She’d been willing to memorize a hundred of them. She’d won it, too, although she’d lost that Bible somewhere along the way. Her Bible and just about everything it stood for.

  “Well, you weren’t typical of the children in Sunday School,” Susan confirmed.

  “I still stick out, don’t I?” Alix asked, getting to the essence of the conversation. “That’s what you want to say, right?” Alix tried to make this as straightforward as possible. “Speaking plainly, you don’t think I’ll be a good wife for Jordan.”

  “No, no, that’s not it at all,” Susan rushed to explain. “It’s just the church where you don’t fit in.” She sighed. “That sounds so unkind and I don’t mean it to, Alix, I really don’t. I’m thinking of Jordan a few years down the road when he’s a senior pastor.”

  “In other words, you’re afraid I’ll be hindrance to him.”

  “Being a pastor’s wife takes a special kind of woman.”

  Alix took a moment to consider that. “You’re saying I need to be more like you.”

  Susan shook her head. “It isn’t easy working in a church, that’s what I’m trying to say. People have no idea they’re being so critical. The congregation will judge Jordan when they look at you.”

  “I see.” Alix hadn’t thought of it in those terms.

  Susan glanced over her shoulder at her husband and son. “Larry doesn’t know we’re having this conversation,” she said in a low voice.

  “Does Jordan?” If he did, Alix swore she’d get up and walk out right this minute.

  “Heavens, no!” Susan said. “I wanted this to be woman to woman.”

  Jordan’s mother didn’t need to say it; Alix already knew. She knew because she’d heard that one-sided conversation at the Donovans’. “Last month, a few days before I called off the big wedding,” Alix said, staring down at her lemonade, “I was over at Jacqueline’s. The two of you were talking on the phone and Jacqueline didn’t realize I was in the house. I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping and should’ve left, but I heard my name mentioned. I got the gist of the conversation in about two seconds. You’d rather I didn’t marry Jordan.”

  A flush of embarrassment rose to the other woman’s cheeks. “No, that’s not it at all! Oh, dear, I’m making a mess of this.”

  “Then explain it to me,” Alix said, struggling not to sound defensive or angry.

  “It’s just that…” Susan paused. “I’ll admit I’ve had some concerns and,” she added quickly, “it’s occurred to me that my son’s ready to marry a woman with connections to a hit man.”

  “I know a few whores, too,” Alix said as if this were all a joke. “Actually, they were pretty decent people. I’ll bet that surprises you.”

  Susan blinked a couple of times.

  “Did Jordan ever tell you about when I was living on the street? Or how often I ran away from foster homes?”

  “Alix, I’m sorry,” Susan whispered.

  “Don’t be. You’re probably right. You expected your son to marry a pretty blond church girl. You certainly didn’t expect him to choose someone with a mother in prison and a father who walked out and never looked back. I’ve committed my share of sins, done drugs, lived on the edge. I’m a long way from that skinny little girl working so hard to earn a Bible in Sunday School.”

  Jordan’s mother paled.

  “That isn’t the worst of it,” Alix told her coldly.

  “Please, this isn’t necessary,” Susan pleaded. “Jordan loves you and—”

  “Listen. What you need to understand is that I’m not the person I used to be,” Alix said, swallowing the lump in her throat. She refused to allow Susan to see her cry. “Jordan knows that, but I don’t think you do.”

  “Perhaps not,” Susan admitted. “But what am I supposed to believe when I hear about people coming to you asking to have someone killed?”

  “Not killed, injured,” Alix corrected—as if that really made a difference. “Margaret wanted the man who attacked her daughter to hurt the same way he’d hurt her.” She must have raised her voice because Jordan glanced at them.

  “Did Dad tell you about that?” he asked his mother, hurrying over to where they sat.

  Susan met Alix’s eyes and silently pleaded with her not to divulge the rest of their conversation. “Yes, he did say something about it,” she said tightly. “Alix and I were discussing…the incident.”

  Stepping up behind Alix, Jordan rested his hands on her shoulders. “Did Alix tell you what she told Margaret?” His voice was impassive but Alix could fee
l the intensity of his emotion.

  His mother shook her head. “We hadn’t gotten to that.”

  “She talked to Margaret about forgiveness,” Jordan said. “What a marvelous response, don’t you think? I’m pretty sure Margaret listened, too.”

  “I hope she did,” Alix murmured, but she couldn’t know for sure.

  “She listened because Alix has experienced that kind of anger and pain herself. She doesn’t like me to mention it, I know. It takes a pretty incredible woman to rise above the life Alix was forced into. Every day she amazes me more.” He reached down to squeeze her hand. “Only someone who’s learned to forgive great pain can help someone else who’s still hurting.”

  Clasping his hand, Alix twisted around and shot him a warning glance, which Jordan ignored.

  “That’s one of the reasons Alix is going to be such an asset to me, in church and outside of it,” Jordan continued. “People aren’t afraid to talk to her about anything. That’s the gift she brings to my ministry.” His eyes met hers and he smiled. “Having been raised in the church, I have a hard time reaching street kids. They don’t think I can identify with their problems and they’re right, I can’t. I’ve never spent a night sleeping in some alley. But Alix has and she’s risen above it. They’ll listen to her far more than they ever will me.”

  “Does a street ministry interest you?” his mother asked, sounding surprised.

  Jordan nodded enthusiastically. “Mom, I don’t want to preach to the choir for the rest of my life. A doctor goes to people who are sick. These kids need God’s love. But I can tell them all about it and what they need to do and they’ll yawn in my face. Then they look at Alix and see someone who’s changed her life. Who do you think they’re going to listen to? Me, who’s lived a comfortable life, or Alix who’s been where they are?”

  Susan turned to Alix, her expression unreadable.

  “It isn’t just street kids, either. It’s everyone. I couldn’t have chosen a woman with a kinder heart. She cares about people and they see that and love her back.” He paused. “I see the way kids gravitate toward her. She doesn’t judge them, she listens with love and understanding and tells them there’s a better way.”