by Mary Manners
Lawson’s Hardware was right where Jack remembered. The old-fashioned structure, tucked among a bookstore, a coffee shop, and a row of quaint boutiques, brought back waves of memories. Jack’s dad had bought him his first tape measure from Old Man Lawson, his first hammer and a level, and later on—for his fifteen birthday—a skill saw. He still used all of them—kept them tucked carefully in his tool chest.
A bell rang over the door as they entered, and Old Man Lawson glanced up from the counter. Though his hair was now a shock of white and the stoop along his shoulders much more pronounced, a smile still lit his face, and his rich chocolate eyes danced with mischief.
“It smells funny,” Allie said as she took a few tentative steps toward the counter.
“That’s the scent of sawdust.” Jack squeezed her hand. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah.” She sniffed, wrinkling her nose, and sneezed. “But it tickles.”
“You get used to it.” Jack breathed deeply and, for the first time, felt a little homesick for the job he’d left in Mike’s hands. “I love the smell.”
“Then I’ll love it, too, Daddy.”
Old Man Lawson came around the counter. “Hello there, Jack.”
“Hello, Mr. Lawson.” All at once Jack was sixteen again, and buying lumber for his first professional building project—a doghouse for Mrs. Jellico’s Golden Retriever down on Eighteen Street. “How are you?”
“Just dandy. And who is this pretty doll-baby?”
“Allie…my daughter.” The word rolled off his tongue now as if he’d been using it his entire life.
“I see.” Old Man Lawson offered Allie a bin of lollipops, and she chose one that was orange-flavored.
Jack had always chosen the same type as a child. Coincidence or a product of shared genes?
“I reckon you saw the sign down on Sixth?”
“What sign?” Jack chose a second lollipop, unwrapped it, and slipped it into his mouth. The sweet flavor helped dislodge the lump that had formed in his throat. All of this was nothing short of overwhelming. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“You’d have to be blind to miss it.” Lawson cackled in the rugged, low-pitched way that Jack remembered. “Property for sale…development property—commercial. Luke’s handling the sale.”
Old Man Lawson’s son—Jack’s childhood friend. They hadn’t seen each other in years.
“Is that so?”
“That’s what you’re into now, isn’t it—commercial land development?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, your Mom and Dad would be proud of what you’ve accomplished. It’s too bad, what happened to them. You know…no one should lose their folks so early on. It’s a mighty sad thing.”
“I know.” The words smarted, but Jack knew Old Man Lawson meant well. After all, the curmudgeon was never known for his tact. “As for the property, I just got in this morning. Haven’t had much time for sightseeing.”
“Well, you’ll want to take a look. It’s a prime piece of land and sure to be snatched up quick, even in this anemic economy. Mill’s Landing is ripe for growth, and I’d be pleased as punch to see some of that growth carry your name—and your expert touch. I’ll let Luke know you’re in town. You plan to be around for a while?”
“Um…” Jack hesitated, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he glanced at Allie. The jet lag was catching up to him. “I’m not sure.”
“You’ll need a place to stay then, won’t you?”
The question startled Jack. He hadn’t thought ahead that far. He hadn’t really considered anything, truth be told.
“I suppose I will, at least for a few days.”
“It’s settled, then. You’ll stay at the wife’s bed and breakfast. Just so happens we’re slow this time of year. I’ll text her, let her know you’ll be by later.”
Text her? So Old Man Lawson had come into the techno-age…a sure sign that anything was possible.
“That’s very generous of you.”
“Least I can do. Your folks would do the same for my Luke.” He cleared his throat, wiped a splash of mist from the corner of his eye. “In the meantime, what can I get for you?”
“I’m planning a special project, and I hope you have everything I’ll need.”
“Sure, son. Give me a list, and I’ll see what I can do.”
****
Misty procrastinated as long as she could. Washing the dishes by hand, scrubbing the counters and mopping the floor until the entire kitchen gleamed like it hadn’t in months, soothed the ache in her heart and coaxed her pulse down to a manageable rate. The house seemed so still and quiet without Allie. Sure, it was quiet while the child was at school, but that was a normal quiet. There was certainly nothing normal about this kind of solitude. It was almost unbearable.
Allie will be back soon, Misty reminded herself. And there was work to occupy the time—a lot of work.
She gathered files and fanned them along the table. Opening her laptop, she downloaded the pictures she’d snapped at the park yesterday and clicked through each one. She kept the photos she liked, peppering them here and there throughout the Web display. The rest she deleted.
She wished life was that easy…just hit delete and make the unwanted memories—the snapshots in her mind—go away. If that was the case, she’d never again think of the time she’d watched her first sunset over Mill’s Landing with Jack, or the bouquet of wildflowers he’d brought her on her twenty-first birthday. She’d delete all the times he’d told her he loved her and just forget it ever happened. But it had happened—all of it. Allie was certainly proof of that. So the snapshots-in-time of what she and Jack had once shared set up residence in her memory like an elephant lodged in a birdhouse.
What would happen now? What was she—were they—going to do? Had Jack returned simply to claim Allie, or did he still want Misty, as well.
She forced the thought aside. Even if Jack did want to rekindle their relationship, she didn’t share the feeling. Too much time had passed and too much water rushed under the bridge. Sure, he still made her tingle at the sight of him. But he’d made her tingle before, and look where it had gotten them.
Opposite ends of the country—that’s where. Not a good place to be for either of them. Jack would realize soon enough just how much work a child could be. Days were filled with much more than trips to the playground and lunchtime banter around the kitchen table. Once he got a clue, he’d bolt for California once again. Perhaps he’d come around once a year, maybe more. It wasn’t enough. Allie deserved much better. There was no time for Misty to indulge in irresponsibility—or for her to cling to dreams that could never be. Allie needed at least one of her parents to be strong.
Misty turned her attention to the computer. Though her lips trembled, she refused to give in to tears. She’d finish the project and have it delivered to Spence Tucker in the morning, as promised.
Because once one was made, she never, ever broke a promise.
10
Jack retired to his room early. Mrs. Lawson was just as chatty as he remembered, playing Twenty Questions while she pierced him with her signature narrowed gaze. Guilt stabbed him, yet he just didn’t feel up to defending himself while explaining the how’s and why’s of his return—and the fact that he was with Allie in the hardware store. He imagined the newsflash would continue to wind its way through the grapevine with blistering speed. There was no sense in him adding fuel to the fire.
Besides, exhaustion seeped through every pore of his body, though the sweet release of sleep refused to come. It was beyond frustrating, and he tossed and turned in the bed as the last twenty-four hours ran through his head like a bad re-run of a movie.
The dinner Mrs. Lawson had warmed for him—pot roast in rich, creamy gravy with a generous side of baby reds and a hunk of warm bread slathered in garlic butter—stabbed like nails in his stomach. It had gone down easy enough, but the aftereffects d
idn’t sit so well.
Wasn’t that so much like the willful mistakes he’d made in his life? For way too long, he thought he’d held all the answers and knew best the path he should take. His stubborn pride had left him distanced from everyone—including the only woman he’d ever loved and the Savior who longed to counsel him. Time—and a pallet of heartache—had softened the pride and taught him to bury it and leave it behind.
Jack switched off the bedside lamp, and moonlight streamed through the window he’d left open in the hopes that a cool breeze and the song of crickets would lull him to sleep.
Conscience tugged. Misty had all but shut him out, and he really couldn’t blame her. Now, she was most likely seated at the kitchen table, enjoying a cup of decaf coffee and finishing up the final details of her project after tucking Allie into bed. What was it like to read a bedtime story, to watch your child drift off to sleep? He’d never even considered it before, but now that he’d returned, he wanted more, needed more. It drove him to imagine all kinds of crazy things.
Like a life with Misty. Being near her again rekindled all he’d ever felt. It had been there the whole time, deep inside him, just waiting for a warm whisper to coax it back. He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life without Misty—or Allie.
The kid was amazing. It awed Jack that he’d managed to create something—someone—so smart and giving and perfect.
Along with Misty’s help, of course. He could rack up most of the credit to her. She was a great mom; that much was evident. But did it end here…with three people, two homes, and no family?
And could he even manage a family? Where would they live? How would they make it all work? Mike had phoned him three times today with details to handle. Jack had to get back to California soon to close the deal. But how? He couldn’t imagine tearing himself away from Misty and Allie now.
The fact that Jack considered such questions made his gut twist inside out.
Lord, I know how this all started, and I know where I’d like it to end. I also know I don’t deserve it, but I need Your help here. Please, show me what to do through the middle…how to make this all right. I really want to make it right.
The prayer set up residence as Jack drifted, finally, into a fitful sleep.
****
Misty padded to the coffeemaker and refilled her cup. She had no decaf, only full-throttle, which was most likely the reason her heart stuttered as she added a splash of cream and a half-teaspoon of sugar to the mix. She wrapped her hands around the filled mug, thankful for the warmth.
Lucky yawned and stretched from the corner of the room, where he’d sprawled for a nap. He cocked his head to the side and gazed at her as if trying to figure things out.
Misty felt the poor cat’s pain. Confusion reigned all the way around.
The Web-design project was finished and ready for her to present to Spence Tucker in a handful of hours—thanks to Jack’s generous offer to take Allie to the park. Misty figured, as Jack loaded Allie’s car seat into his rental, that they’d return inside an hour. Surely he’d realize what an enormous undertaking having a soon-to-be six-year-old actually was, and he’d come running back in surrender. But they’d stayed gone most of the afternoon and into the evening. He’d even called to check in and let Misty know they were OK. She appreciated that. Even so, she knew he had a job to get back to in California. She’d expected him to board a return flight by midnight.
But Jack didn’t—he hadn’t. He was sleeping across town at the Lawson’s Bed and Breakfast, staying in Mill’s Landing for at least another day. The very idea sent a wave of warmth, coupled by a shiver of dread, through her. How could her emotions be so conflicted?
With the design project finally completed, the weight should be lifted from Misty’s shoulders, and she should, right now, be REM deep in the throes of sleep.
But sleep refused to come.
Maybe the call from her mom had something to do with it. Mom hadn’t said, “I told you so.” Hadn’t even hinted at it. She wasn’t that way. Still, her words lurked in Misty’s heart. How many times, since Jack first left, had her mom tried to coax her into contacting him, asserting there may have been some kind of mix-up or misunderstanding? Misty had refused, time and time again. Now, she understood just how steep was the price of her stubbornness—and pride. She could blame Jack all day long for his absence. But she knew she carried the lion’s share of responsibility, as well.
And Allie had suffered dearly as a result of Misty’s willfulness. When Misty should have surrendered to God’s will, she’d relied only on her own.
Could He ever forgive her, and could she learn to trust His will in all of this, now?
Misty stepped through the French doors overlooking the back deck and leaned into the rail, letting the cool breeze kiss her face. The mountains, veiled in moonlight, rose to hug a sleepy horizon while fireflies danced along the pasture. Misty was swept up in the beauty of the night. She’d always loved it here in Mill’s Landing, had felt a tug on her heart that just wouldn’t let go.
Could she let it go now, if it meant sharing a life with Jack and giving Allie the family she deserved? She’d always leaned on her own perception of what was best for her and Allie. Control—her need for control in everything—was a daily struggle. Perhaps it was time to surrender that control to the One who truly knew the desires of her heart. Even if it meant swallowing her own pride…as well as whatever doubts and insecurities remained.
11
Jack wound his way through the sleepy town toward the Landing. Mist rose from the river, giving an ethereal look to the waking morning. Through the length of the park and across the road, floodlights illuminated the grounds around Precious Miracles preschool. A glow through the windows of the hardware store told him Old Man Lawson was already at work there, as well. Saturdays were always good for business.
A neon sign in the window of Julian’s Bakery announced the pastries were fresh and hot. He parked the car and went inside where small talk with Mrs. Julian was followed by an order for a half-dozen donuts. Jack was sure to get a few of the chocolate-glazed cream puffs Misty loved, as well as several dusted with rainbow sprinkles for Allie. He was particular to the jelly-filled, so, as an afterthought, he implored Mrs. Julian to toss in a couple of those, as well.
The morning was perfect for a walk. Jack placed the pastry bag in the rental car and started along the river, following the jogging trail until he came to Myers Drive. A quick right brought him to the sign—and the property—Old Man Lawson had mentioned. Jack surveyed it from the road before stepping into the bush-hogged weeds to walk the length of it. He knew, from experience, that a good walk was the only way to get a true feel for the land. It didn’t take long to realize that this parcel was exceptional, prime commercial. The old man was spot-on. Jack grinned as he made a mental note to phone Luke in a bit and gather some details.
Back in the car, he drove toward Misty’s place. It was early, sure, but he’d promised to stay with Allie while Misty went to her meeting this morning for the Web-design project.
With Spence Tucker. He and Spence had once been friends, so it wounded that Spence had swooped in with Jack barely out of the picture. Was the project Spence’s way of trying to claim Misty for his own? Jack didn’t like the idea—no sir, not at all.
Soft lamplight glowed through front windows, washing over the lawn as Jack rounded the corner and approached Misty’s house at the top of the quiet cul-de-sac. He pulled into the drive and sat for a moment, surveying the Currier and Ives scene. OK, maybe not so Currier-and-Ives…the lawn needed a mow and the detached garage could use a coat of paint. Blossoms from a trio of Bradford Pears scattered along the gutters and a few shingles had come loose from the roof in the recent storm.
But Jack would rather be inside than sitting out here in the drive, alone. The house had a certain personality, and the woman inside…well, he loved her.
How could he make her see?
The front door swung open,
and Misty loped across the yard to meet him. “Good morning, Jack. Are you going to come in?”
He was captivated as the breeze caused dark wisps of hair to dance over her cheeks. The linen suit she wore hugged her curves in all the right places while silver teardrops that dangled playfully from her earlobes caught the sunlight.
“You look beautiful.” Jack swallowed the lump in his throat as he slipped from the car. “Do you always dress like this for meetings?”
“Depends on the meeting…and the client. I’ve worked hard to build my business, and Spence is my most important client, thus far. I strive to maintain a professional image where he’s concerned.”
Jack caught one of the teardrops between his fingers and watched it reflect the light. His gaze shifted to her mouth. It almost seemed a shame to mess up the perky pink gloss she’d applied oh-so-perfectly along the plump outline of her lips.
“I want to, Misty…I have to.” He leaned in, his pulse hammering.
“I do too, Jack.” Yet, she took a step back. “But we shouldn’t, at least not yet.”
Did that mean they might…later?
“Ouch.” Jack waited for the ground beneath his boots to solidify once again, for his heart rate to slow to a non-explosive cadence. He released the teardrop and took a giant step back himself. “But, I suppose you’re right. We shouldn’t rush things.”
But he wanted more…oh, how he wanted to share more than a bit of banter with her.
“Allie’s waiting for you in the kitchen. She hasn’t had breakfast yet because she said you promised to bring doughnuts.”
“That’s right.” Jack turned to reach into the car through the open driver’s window and retrieved the bag. “I brought one for you, too.”
“Thanks, but I have to go now.” Misty nodded. “Yes, I think it would be wise for me to go—now. I’ll be back…as soon as I can.”
