01_The Best Gift

by Irene Hannon

  His face relaxed, and a slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “We were in St. Louis one summer, right after Jo opened the shop. I don’t even remember why we were there. Anyway, she hired Dad to do some work. I went with him every day, and she sort of took me under her wing. For that one summer at least, there was stability in my life. She was the best friend I’d ever had. And we never lost touch. So when the shop was on shaky ground financially three years ago, I was happy to come and help out.”

  “What were you doing before that?” Blake was always so close-mouthed about himself that A.J. wondered if he’d take offense at her question. But he answered easily.

  “Investment banking. In Chicago.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You gave that up to run a bookstore?”

  “Initially, I just took a leave of absence. I wasn’t sure I’d stay. But I was getting tired of the international travel and the long hours, even though the money was great. After I was here for a few weeks, I discovered I liked the book business. And St. Louis. So I stayed.”

  It made sense to A.J.—St. Louis, with its Midwestern values and small-town feel, was surely a world away from the nonconformist lifestyle he knew as a child. And the town also held happy memories for him. “I’m sure Aunt Jo was very grateful for your help.”

  He shrugged. “It was small repayment for all she gave me. Including that great summer in St. Louis. That was the first time in my life that I felt like I belonged somewhere. She gave me more of a sense of family than my parents ever did.”

  The bitter edge was back in his voice. A.J. finished her tea and set the cup on the chest. When she spoke, her voice was sympathetic. “I can see how growing up like that would be tough,” she said.

  Blake looked at her warily. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing to my parents’ defense. You got along with them famously.”

  “They seem like great people,” she affirmed. “But they’re probably different now than they were twenty-five years ago. We all learn and grow and change. Maybe they’d do things differently if they had a second chance. Maybe not. Maybe they thought the life they gave you was the right one at the time. But in any case, you can’t change the past. And it seems to me that they’d very much like you to be part of their future.”

  “It’s a little late.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. They obviously love you, Blake. I think they’d like to reconnect, if you’d just let them in.”

  Deep inside, he knew that A.J. was right. His parents did love him. Maybe they hadn’t demonstrated that love the way he’d needed them to as a youngster, but he’d never doubted that they cared for him. And he knew that with a little encouragement they would welcome him back into their lives. He was the stumbling block. His resentment ran so deep, and the chasm between them was so wide and of such long duration that he wasn’t sure it could be breached. For a reconciliation to work, he’d have to find a way to forgive them. And in all honesty, he wasn’t sure he was up to the task.

  A.J. sat quietly, watching him, her eyes telling him silently that she understood his dilemma. She had certainly disproved his first impression of her as a ditzy airhead, he admitted. Instead, she was smart, insightful, empathetic—and beautiful. He’d been noticing that more and more lately. Hers wasn’t a dramatic, model-like beauty. It was quieter than that. And deeper. It was the kind of beauty that gave a face dimension and character and soul. When you looked into A.J.’s eyes, you knew that she was a strong woman. A survivor. A woman with deep convictions who would stand beside the people she loved. In good times and bad.

  A startled look flashed across Blake’s face. Now where had that phrase come from? He certainly didn’t think of A.J. in that way. True, he’d never met anyone quite like her. She was…interesting. And she was easy to talk to. He’d never told anyone as much about his past in one sitting as he had tonight. She would definitely make someone a good wife. But not him.

  Blake stood, and A.J. seemed surprised by his abrupt movement. She quickly followed suit, and he was relieved to note that she didn’t struggle this time.

  “I need to leave. It’s getting late.”

  “Okay.” She reached for his coat, studying him while he shrugged into it. He’d been quiet for so long after her last comment that she was beginning to think she’d overstepped her bounds. He wasn’t a man given to personal revelations, and she’d pushed him pretty hard tonight about his parents. His jaw was set in a firm line, and twin furrows still creased his brows. He definitely did not look like a happy camper. Maybe she needed to make amends.

  “Blake, I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you.”

  He gazed at her, his cobalt-colored eyes guarded. “You didn’t.”

  She put her hands on her hips and studied him. “Why am I not buying that?”

  He turned up the collar of his jacket and sighed. “Look, A.J., this is the first time in years that I’ve spent a whole evening with my parents. I’m still trying to process everything that happened. Cut me some slack, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  She walked with him to the door, where he turned. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Her tone was more subdued, and her eyes looked troubled. He felt an urge to reach out and touch her, just as he had at the dinner table. Again he stifled it, jamming his fists into the pockets of his jacket. “I mean that. Everything was really good.”

  The ghost of a smile whispered around her lips. “I thought you were going to have a fit when you found out the main dish was vegetarian.”

  His own lips lifted in a smile. “I probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Knowing you. But I enjoyed it.”

  “See? Sometimes it pays to take a chance and try something new.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded.

  “Be careful on your way to the car,” she cautioned.

  He was glad she’d brought that up. Though signs of turnaround were evident, he hadn’t been impressed by the run-down neighborhood.

  “I will. This isn’t the safest area.”

  She frowned. “I was talking about the ice.”

  “Oh. Well, I’ll watch for that, too. But this isn’t the best part of the city. I hope you’re cautious, as well, especially at night.”

  “I spent three years in Afghanistan, remember? Caution is my middle name. Besides, this area seems fine to me. The Realtor said it was turning around.”

  “It still has a long way to go.”

  She tilted her head. “Let me guess. You live in suburbia, in a house with a white picket fence.”

  At her accurate conclusion, he felt hot color steal up his neck. “I don’t have to defend my lifestyle.”

  She shrugged. “Neither do I. This suits me fine. And it suits my budget even better.”

  How did this woman continually manage to outwit him? He’d always been good at thinking on his feet, but she was even better. Especially now, when his brain was reeling from all he’d learned this evening—about his parents’ second shop, A.J.’s sojourn in Afghanistan and his own feelings about his childhood. It was time to call it a night.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, A.J.,” he said, suddenly weary.

  “See you, Blake.”

  As the door shut behind him and he started the trek down the three flights of steps, he realized he still didn’t know what had caused A.J. that awkward, obviously painful moment as she rose from the couch.

  And he also realized that he hadn’t asked the one question he’d been most interested in during her stories about Afghanistan. She’d spent several years earning an M.B.A. from one of the toughest schools in the country. She’d obviously intended to pursue a business career.

  Why had she scrapped those plans to go to Afghanistan?

  “What time does the bus leave, A.J.?”

  A.J. glanced at her watch before responding to Nancy. “Not until four. We should arrive by nine in the morning.”

  “I wish I could go.”

  “You have a little one
to take care of here. God understands.”

  “I’ll be with all of you in spirit.”

  “We know. And thanks for filling in for me tonight.”

  “It’s the least I could do.”

  “I have all my stuff in the car, so I don’t need to leave until three.”

  “Don’t put yourself in a bind. Go whenever you need to,” Nancy assured her.

  Blake overheard the last part of the conversation as he arrived at the front counter. He turned to A.J. as Nancy went to assist a customer. “You’re leaving early?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem? Nancy will be here. And tomorrow is my Saturday off.”

  “I wanted to go over the list of new releases before I placed the order.”

  “Can it wait until Monday?”

  “I guess it will have to.”

  A.J. knew he was aggravated that she hadn’t told him of her early departure. But it had been a last-minute decision. She hadn’t been sure she could force herself to make another church-sponsored bus trip. In the end, though, she’d felt compelled to go because the cause was so important. “Sorry for the short notice on this, Blake. I didn’t decide about this trip until yesterday.”

  “You’re going on vacation?”

  “Hardly. I’m going with a church group to Washington for the annual pro-life march. A lot of area churches are sending buses.”

  He frowned. “You’re going to a protest?”

  She studied him. Her trip probably reminded him of the rallies and marches his parents had participated in when he was a child. “It’s not exactly a protest. It’s just a peaceful march to let our legislators know that a lot of people have serious concerns about abortion.”

  He glanced out the window, at the bleak January landscape. “It’s going to be cold in Washington.”

  “My body may be cold. But my heart will be warm.”

  “Is it really worth going all that way just to make a point?”

  She looked at him steadily. “Not everything is worth fighting for, Blake. But when it comes to saving innocent lives, I want my voice to be heard.”

  A customer came up just then, and A.J. turned to assist him. Blake watched her walk away, chatting animatedly with the man, then glanced out the window once again. He couldn’t think of anything more unappealing than riding all night on a bus, marching for hours in the cold, then riding home on the bus again. He’d rather compete in two marathons back-to-back than do that.

  But A.J. wasn’t doing this because it was comfortable. She was doing it because she believed that it was right. He’d never met anyone with such sincere convictions. His parents had always been rallying behind different causes, and they’d been passionate about them at the time, but then they’d moved on to something else. Their passions were fleeting. And more on the surface. A.J.’s went deep. And seemed to be long-lasting. And completely unselfish.

  Blake admired that. But it also made him a little uncomfortable. Because somehow he didn’t feel that he measured up. Sure, he had causes that he believed in. That’s why he was the treasurer for a local homeless shelter, why he served on the board of directors of the local Big Brothers organization. But he didn’t have to get his hands dirty to do that. He wasn’t in the trenches. He hadn’t made a personal investment, like A.J. was making this weekend. Or like she’d made in Afghanistan. Maybe his convictions just weren’t as strong as hers.

  And there was no question about the strength of her conviction about abortion. He’d never really thought about the issue too deeply before. It was easier to buy into the woman’s-right-to-choose opinion. It was easier not to get involved. It was easier not to take a stand.

  But A.J. didn’t go for the easy way out.

  And maybe he shouldn’t, either.

  Blake looked around the shop, which had been transformed since A.J.’s arrival. She’d rearranged so many things. Including his life.

  And he had a feeling she wasn’t done yet.

  Chapter Six

  A.J. groaned and fumbled for the alarm clock, intent on stilling the persistent, jarring ring. It couldn’t possibly be Monday morning already! But when she squinted bleary-eyed at the clock, the digital display confirmed that it was.

  With a sigh, she sank back against her pillow and stole a few extra moments under the downy warmth of the fluffy comforter. In the past seventy-two hours, she was lucky if she’d managed more than twelve hours of fitful slumber. She hadn’t been able to find a comfortable sleeping position in the bus on the way to Washington. But she’d figured she’d be so tired after standing for hours in the cold that she’d have no problem sleeping Saturday night on the way home.

  However, that theory was never put to the test. Because only a couple of hours into their return journey they’d had to pull into a truck stop when light snow suddenly turned into a blizzard. And they’d been stuck there until Sunday morning. They hadn’t gone hungry, but sleep was difficult. When they’d finally resumed their trip, many of the people were so exhausted that they slept all day. But by that time, A.J.’s hip was feeling the effects of the march, the cold and the confined conditions. She’d had to keep standing to prevent her muscles from cramping.

  A.J. didn’t normally think much about the accident and its aftereffects. But today it was hard not to, when her hip was throbbing so painfully. Carefully, she turned over and scrunched her pillow under her head. Even after eight years, the nightmare was still vivid in her mind. She closed her eyes, swallowing as the memories engulfed her, willing her frantic pulse to slow.

  Dear Lord, please stay with me, she prayed. Please see me through this dark moment, like You always do. Help me to feel Your care and Your love. To know that I’m not alone. Help me to be strong and to accept Your will, even when I don’t understand it. To trust in You and not be afraid. Help me deal with the pain and the loneliness. Let me feel the warmth of Your presence, especially today, when I am hurting and the memories are so vivid.

  Slowly, A.J.’s breathing returned to normal and she gradually released the comforter that was bunched in her fists. It had been a long time since the pain had been so stark. Not just the pain from her hip, but the pain of loss. For a few moments it had felt so fresh, so intense, so raw. Prompted, she was sure, by the bus trip this weekend and the blizzard. But she’d get through this. God hadn’t deserted her before. He wouldn’t now. She might be exhausted and hurting and shaken by the flood of memories, but she’d been through worse. Far worse. She could make it through today.

  And tomorrow would be better.

  By Wednesday, A.J. had caught up on some sleep, and the burning pain in her hip had diminished to a dull throb. She was beginning to feel human again.

  But Blake didn’t see it that way. He’d been watching her since her return, and she didn’t look good. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and she was limping. But she’d brushed off his careful questions, assuring him she was fine. Obviously, she wasn’t going to talk.

  But he figured Nancy might. A.J. confided in her. So she was his best source for information.

  “Blake, when you have a minute could you help me move that box in the back that just came in? I need to check on a special order for a customer, and it’s blocking the computer.”

  He turned to Nancy. Perfect timing. “Sure. Be right there.”

  When Blake joined her, she gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry to interrupt you while you were with a customer. Normally I would have asked A.J. But I didn’t want to bother her. She still looks so tired.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. What happened?”

  “Didn’t she tell you? They ran into a snowstorm on the way back to St. Louis and had to spend Saturday night in a truck stop. So they drove all day Sunday to get home. I doubt she had much sleep from Friday morning to Sunday night.”

  That explained the dark circles under her eyes. But what about the limp?

  “Did she hurt her leg on the trip?”

  “Not that I know of. Why?”

  “Haven’t you noticed her
limping?”

  “No. Is she?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it was my imagination.”

  But it wasn’t. The limp had been pronounced on Monday. However, Nancy had been off that day. By Tuesday, A.J. was managing to hide it pretty well. Today it was hardly discernible. Most people wouldn’t notice. But he could see it. As well as the fine lines of strain around her mouth that told him she was in pain. And that bothered him. A lot.

  By Friday, A.J. not only still looked tired, she had a doozy of a cold. Her nose was red and running, her cheeks were flushed and she had a hacking cough. Twice he urged her to go home. Both times she refused.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m not going to let a little thing like a cold slow me down.”

  And she didn’t. She made it until closing, through sheer grit and determination. Blake admired her spunk—but not her stubbornness—and told her so. And for the first time in their acquaintance, he saw evidence of her Irish temper.

  “Just leave me alone, Blake, okay?” she said angrily. “I’ve taken care of myself for years. I know what I’m capable of. I don’t need any advice.”

  He was so taken aback by her abrupt tone that for a moment he was speechless. Then he felt his own temper begin to simmer. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He turned on his heel and left.

  A.J. was immediately sorry for her rudeness. And she was even sorrier when she woke up on Saturday morning. It was her weekend to work, but she didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed. Calling Nancy wasn’t an option because she was throwing a birthday party for Eileen. Which left Blake.

  A.J. groaned. She doubted whether he would be very receptive to her request after her curt behavior yesterday. But when her temperature registered a hundred and one, she knew she had to try.

  He startled her by answering on the first ring. At his clipped greeting, she hesitated.

  “Hello?” he repeated, this time with an edge of impatience.

  “Blake, it’s A.J. Have I caught you at a bad time?”

  He frowned. If she hadn’t identified herself, he would never have recognized the thin, raspy voice on the other end of the line. “I was just heading out the door. What’s wrong?”