Secretly Smitten

by Colleen Coble, Kristin Billerbeck, Denise Hunter, Diann Hunt

  Maybe the reunion wouldn’t be magical, maybe whatever they’d had all those years ago would have evaporated. But maybe not. Maybe they would find love again, and Grandma could spend the rest of her years being cherished like she deserved.

  True, it might cause more friction between her and Aunt Violet, but wasn’t the potential payoff worth the risk? She didn’t use to think so.

  It didn’t really matter, though. David had already refused to come back.

  Clare sipped her coffee, watching through the window as Grandma eased into the driver’s side, her silvery hair glowing under the lamplight. But what if they hadn’t tried hard enough? What if David just needed a little more persuasion? What if . . .

  Clare’s eyes swept the party stragglers and settled on Zoe. Making up her mind, she dumped the remainder of her coffee and made a beeline for her sister.

  Half an hour later she was entering her house, a scrap of napkin wadded in her hand. She checked her watch. It wasn’t too late, she didn’t think.

  She picked up the phone, surprised at the way her hand shook. Looking at the scrawled number, she punched it in and waited as it rang once.

  Twice. Three times.

  Maybe it was too late. How would she persuade a tired and cranky old man to drive seven hundred miles to see a woman he’d known sixty years ago?

  “Hello?” It was a woman’s voice.

  “May I speak with David, please?”

  “I’m sorry, he’s not in. May I take a message?”

  “Um . . . I’m calling from Vermont. My grandmother is a friend of his.” Well. They were a long time ago.

  “Oh, right. He’s, ah, out of town right now. I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

  “Oh. I see. Well, I’ll try another day. Thanks anyway.”

  They said good-bye and Clare set the receiver down, the rush of adrenaline draining, leaving her weak and shaky. It wasn’t a no. He was just gone—for an indefinite amount of time. Well, she wouldn’t give up. She’d call back until she reached him. One way or another, she had to know she’d done all she could for Grandma.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Here they come,” Clare said.

  The parade rounded the bend and headed toward the train depot. A celebratory song floated from the instruments of the Smitten High School band, the engine of the parade. Behind them, flags spun in synchronized rhythm, their twirlers proudly high-stepping.

  The whole family, except Aunt Violet, who was readying for her speech, clustered closer to the curb for a better view.

  Howard and Carson Smitten, descendants of the town’s founders, carried the first banner. HAPPY 200TH BIRTHDAY,

  SMITTEN! it read in large block letters. The crowd cheered as they passed.

  “Look at the loggers,” Mom said. Men from the community had dressed in vintage clothing, axes resting on their shoulders. Behind them, a team of horses pulled a wagon full of logs.

  Several floats followed, each by a different community group, representing significant events in Smitten’s history. The fire of 1872 when the chapel burnt down and the town came together to rebuild. The railroad coming through Smitten in 1935. The opening of Sugarcreek Ski Resort in 1971.

  Clare was impressed. She’d known Aunt Violet and the celebration committee had worked long and hard, but she’d never seen a parade that told a story like this one, taking the viewers from the first days of the fledgling community to the most recent.

  “Look,” Grandma said awhile later. “There’s Mia!” Nat’s little girl led her Sunday school class, waving to the crowd. They all wore lavender wreaths, symbolizing the faith that had helped transform the town so recently.

  Another float, decorated in red and white with hundreds of flowers, served as the parade caboose. A bride and groom, played by Julia and Zac, waved from beneath an ivy-covered arch. The float’s banner read SMITTEN: THE ROMANCE CAPITAL OF THE WORLD!

  A thunderous applause went up as the final float passed. Smitten had come such a long way in two hundred years. Clare was moved, reminded how proud she was of the heritage they all shared.

  “Wow, that was wonderful!” Mom said.

  “They outdid themselves,” Michael said.

  Tess took Ryan’s arm. “Let’s head over to the depot.”

  They milled in with the crowd heading toward the depot’s natural stage where Aunt Violet would say a few words. Clare whispered a prayer for her aunt. She’d been a nervous wreck this morning over the speech.

  The crowd gathered on the depot lawn, drawing close to the redbrick building.

  “I wonder why they’re doing this at the depot,” Grandma said. “The square has a bigger lawn.”

  “Guess they figured we may as well use it for something,” Zoe said, “after we spent all that time sprucing it up.”

  “It’s kind of sad—a reminder of what could’ve been,” Aunt Petunia said.

  “The railroad would’ve helped,” Grandma said, “but we’ll survive. The parade was the perfect reminder of all the difficulties we’ve come through.”

  The depot looked beautiful with its new canopies, freshly painted green doors, and restored trusses. Clare took a minute to admire the landscaping she’d worked so hard on. Peonies and pansies dotted the beds with color. A cobbled walkway meandered through the perennials, merging with ivy as old as the building itself, which crept up the brick walls.

  They pushed close to the stage, waiting for the others who’d be walking in from the start of the parade route. Her sisters began talking among themselves, but Clare found herself retreating inside, something she’d done a lot lately.

  She found herself thinking of Ethan—something else she’d done a lot lately. She wished he’d been here to see the parade. She would’ve enjoyed sharing their rich heritage with him. She knew he would’ve appreciated the deep community roots, having none of his own.

  God, be with Ethan wherever he is. Keep him safe on that crazy bike of his, use him for your glory, and . . .

  Clare’s thoughts tangled like a wad of yarn. I don’t know what else to say, Lord. I miss him. Let him know somehow I’m sorry.

  He’d offered her himself, and she’d not only rejected him, she’d sent him away. All because she hadn’t liked hearing the truth. Her gut churned with regret.

  Thank you, Lord, for never turning me away. For never getting scared, for never lashing out when I hurt you, for always being there with arms wide open, ready to take me back. Help me to love better next time. Fearlessly.

  Love. Was that what she’d felt for Ethan? Why his kiss had frightened her so, why his absence made her feel hollow inside? She was beginning to think so. Beginning to see that sometimes taking no risk was the biggest risk of all.

  She’d lost the only man she’d ever loved. It was too late to change things with Ethan. She’d resigned herself to that. But she’d made other changes in the week since her birthday. She’d changed things around at the nursery as Ethan had suggested, recruiting her family to help after closing. The new flow plan was an improvement, and the customers had complimented her on it.

  She was even making plans toward starting her own garden design business. She was still afraid—that hadn’t changed. But she was moving forward anyway, asking God to help her be brave, trusting him to help her.

  She’d looked into purchasing the old Victorian on the edge of town near Tess’s bookstore. The downstairs would make a perfect office space and the upstairs a nice living quarters. The yard, now just a boring patch of lawn, offered a clean slate to showcase her God-given talent.

  Lead me, Lord. I don’t want to hold back out of fear, but I don’t want to jump ahead of you either.

  “May I have your attention?” William Singer, their city manager, spoke into the mike, and the crowd slowly hushed.

  “Doesn’t he look handsome?” Zoe said. “I love him in blue.”

  Aunt Violet and her committee stood behind him against the brick wall. Her aunt looked nice in a lime-green blouse and white capris. Clare
could do without the bright red lipstick, but she wouldn’t be Aunt Violet without her clashing lip color.

  “Thank you all for coming out on what has turned out to be a glorious day,” William said. “The Celebration Committee has worked hard to bring Smitten’s unique heritage to life, and God has given us the perfect day in which to enjoy it. Let’s show them our gratitude.”

  A boisterous round of applause followed. Behind her, Zoe let out one of her earsplitting whistles.

  “Now, I know you’re all eager to fill up on tasty treats and spend your quarters on the dunk tank . . .” He shot Pastor Walden a grin, and Pastor, wearing Hawaiian trunks and a T-shirt, pretended to bite his stubby nails.

  The crowd chuckled.

  “But, first, an important word from your Bicentennial Committee Chairperson. Please welcome Violet Garner.”

  The crowd applauded, giving Aunt Violet her due. Even Grandma, standing beside Clare, clapped enthusiastically.

  Aunt Violet shuffled her papers on the podium as the crowd hushed. Her hands shook as she lifted her reading glasses from the chain on her neck, perching them on her nose.

  “Good afternoon, friends.” She cleared the tremble from her voice and continued, “We gather today on this momentous occasion to celebrate this town’s great and long heritage. Whether you’re a native of our community or are visiting for the first time, we invite you to celebrate our special town, born two hundred years ago, withstanding difficult times, and thriving today as a beacon of hope and love.

  “The survival of Smitten has taken the effort of many people over many years. Common folk, like you and me, working together to provide a safe and peaceful place to raise families and a productive place to learn and grow.”

  Aunt Violet paused, finding her family in the crowd before returning to her notes. “One such man was born right here in Smitten almost seventy-nine years ago. A man of honor, he went off to fight for our country, making all of us proud, the way so many of our young people have.”

  Clare glanced at Grandma, whose brows puckered in a frown. Where was Aunt Violet going with this?

  “Unlike our other fine Smitten veterans, this young man didn’t return from the battlefield. The community was informed he’d become, like so many others, a casualty of war.

  “A mistake had been made, though. A mistake with repercussions that would ripple across the generations. Our veteran hadn’t died at all but had been imprisoned until two years after the war’s end. When he returned, it was only to find his family moved and his first love married to another.

  “Distraught and disillusioned, our young man of Smitten went off to find his own way in the world. He took a menial job with Central Vermont Railway, worked hard, taking night courses, and after many years, against all odds, reached the level of corporate leadership.

  “Meanwhile, the people of Smitten went on believing that the young man had died. Years went by . . . and then the veteran’s dog tags were mysteriously found in an attic. The mystery stirred up a tale of betrayal and deceit.

  “But it also stirred up the truth.” Violet looked up from her notes. “And as you are about to see, sometimes the truth changes everything.

  “Please welcome to the stage an honorable Smitten veteran, and the retired president of RailAmerica, David Hutchins.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Grandma Rose palmed her chest and drew in a deep breath.

  The crowd applauded as David Hutchins appeared, rising up from the side stairs, tall and slender in a crisp gray suit. He had white hair and a sure gait. He crossed the stage to the podium.

  Grandma’s face had gone pale. Clare put an arm around her trim waist, as did Anna from her other side.

  “You okay, Grandma?”

  “Davy. Oh, Davy,” Grandma whispered as the crowd hushed.

  His gray eyes pierced the crowd. “Thank you. It’s so good to be back home among friends. Smitten is the kind of place that always lives inside you no matter how far away you go.

  “I don’t have any notes or a fine speech to deliver, but I do have good news for this special town, these special people. Violet Garner has been in contact with me over the past several weeks. She went to great lengths to persuade me to return, and when I heard the full set of circumstances, I knew I had to come home.

  “The reason for my return is twofold, but it’s the second reason that involves all of you. I’ve been in contact with the fine people at RailAmerica. I’ve told them about a charming village in the shadow of Sugarcreek Mountain, a place where community and tourism walk hand in hand, a place where lovers reunite. A place more people need to know about. I encouraged them to revisit the idea of a partnership with this special town.”

  He stopped, smoothing his red tie.

  “And it’s with great pleasure that I announce a new contract with RailAmerica and the town of Smitten. The deal has been struck and the papers have been signed. Welcome back to the Central Vermont rail system, Smitten.”

  A stunned silence followed, then a loud cheer rose and whistles pierced the air, the noise building into a thunderous applause.

  “Oh my goodness!” Anna said.

  Tess turned to them, hugging Grandma. “Can you believe it? Aunt Violet did all this?”

  “I suppose she did,” Grandma said, still staring trancelike at David.

  “It’s about time,” Zoe said.

  Once the hubbub died down, William wrapped up with some final words and the crowd began dispersing. The atmosphere had gone from nostalgic to jubilant in the space of five minutes.

  Clare looked toward the stage where David mingled with Violet and the committee. “Come on, Grandma, let’s go see him.”

  “Oh dear.” Grandma couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him, but her feet seemed rooted to the ground.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Anna asked.

  “I’m just—I don’t know—so old. I was eighteen years old the last time he saw me, and look at him—he’s so handsome.”

  “Grandma, you look beautiful!” Tess said, and the others nodded.

  “I can’t wait until he sees you,” Clare said.

  Grandma pursed her lips. “I hope he’s terribly nearsighted.”

  “Oh, stop it.” Zoe took her arm and led her toward the side of the stage. “He’s here, isn’t he? How romantic is that?”

  They reached the steps as the committee was descending.

  When David reached the bottom, his eyes were only for Grandma. “Rose,” he whispered. “I’d know those beautiful blue eyes anywhere.”

  Grandma’s eyes filled with tears. “Davy.”

  The girls retreated a few steps, pulling Violet with them, casting glances back at the reunion.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Grandma said.

  “I can’t believe you’re as beautiful as ever.”

  Grandma gave a watery laugh. “Oh, you rascal . . . you always did know how to charm the ladies.”

  David reached out for Grandma’s hand. “I never forgot you, Rose.”

  “So much has happened . . .”

  “We have plenty of time to catch up.” He shook his head. “No one could replace you in my heart. I’ve missed you so much.”

  Clare turned away from the private moment, her heart aching at the devotion in David’s eyes.

  Anna dabbed her eyes. “Oh, it’s so beautiful.”

  “How’d you pull that off, Aunt Violet?” Zoe asked. “The railway, talking him into returning . . .”

  Violet blinked back tears, her mascara already smudging. “The railway deal’s been in the works for weeks, but we didn’t know for sure it would go through, so I didn’t want to say anything.”

  Clare glanced back at Grandma and David. “And that . . . how did you manage that?”

  “That took some doing.” Aunt Violet dabbed at her eyes with a tissue Anna produced. “He was convinced his return would only stir up more trouble between Rose and me. That’s where I went last week—to convince him to come home.”
r />   “Aunt Vi!” Anna said. “You went all the way to North Carolina alone?”

  “Oh no, dear.” She looked at Clare sheepishly. “Ethan gave me a ride.”

  “Ethan?” Clare asked, her heart going into overdrive. That’s where he’d gone?

  “Not on his bike!” Zoe said.

  Aunt Violet laughed. “I’m not that crazy. He left that in my garage and drove my Buick.”

  Clare’s thoughts skidded to a stop. If he’d left his bike in Aunt Violet’s garage, he had to come back for it. She grabbed her aunt’s arm. “Where is he? Is he still here?”

  “I’m not sure, dear. I was so worked up over that speech—”

  She had to try to find him. “I have to go.” She took off across the lawn.

  “Good luck, sweetie!” her mom called.

  Clare dodged the people who milled around chatting. She had to get to her car, parked way over on Maple. She headed west.

  Or would it be quicker to go straight to Aunt Violet’s? The roads were blocked for the festivities. Yes, quicker to go straight there. She changed her course, thinking it through, already huffing.

  Aunt Violet had returned last night. Ethan would’ve dropped her at her house and taken his bike then. Her heart dropped and her pace slowed. She passed through another cluster of people on the lawn. Why would he have stayed? He was probably halfway to Virginia by now. Or Ohio or Maryland.

  Clare slowed to a stop, realization sinking in. She was no better off than she’d been five minutes ago when she’d thought he was gone for good.

  He was gone. Again. This time the realization made her eyes sting, made tears well up, blurring her vision. She caught her breath, that familiar empty feeling swelling inside. She’d lost her chance, not once but twice. He’d been so close. If only she’d known.

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat. If she was no worse off than she’d been five minutes ago, then why did it feel like the bottom had just fallen out of her world?

  Her vision cleared as she blinked back the tears, and a man’s form came into focus. A familiar form, rising from a park bench, his eyes on her. Hope sucked the breath from her lungs.