by Jillian Hart
“For your mom.” William softened the gruffness in his voice. He liked little kids, and he figured this one had enough hardship to deal with.
He leaned the framed photograph, carefully wrapped, against the inside wall safely away from the garbage cans and the lawn mower. “I’ll just leave it here, alright? You make sure your mom gets it, okay? With all you’ve got going on in your family, it might be easy to forget this is here.”
“I never forget nuthin’.” The little boy said with a trembling lip. He gave a sigh that was part sob, sounding as if he were doing his best to hold back more tears. “My daddy’s sick in the hospital.”
“I’m real sorry about that.”
“Me, too.” The kid sniffed once.
William had questions, but he didn’t know exactly what to ask. An illness? That didn’t seem right; Jonas was the type of guy to hit the gym three times a week without fail. Not that William knew him well.
The little boy looked so lost, holding on to the doorknob with one hand, as if he were hanging on for dear life. What on earth should he say to him?
William stood in the shadows of the garage, as still as the boy, feeling big and awkward and lost. He’d been alone too long, out of the world so long that he wasn’t used to making small talk with adults, much less a little boy.
“I miss my daddy. You haven’t seen him, have ya?”
“No. Sorry.” William could feel the kid’s pain—it seemed to vibrate in the scorching heat. The silence stretched until it echoed in the empty rafters overhead. “How long has he been in the hospital?”
“A l-long time.” The boy scrubbed his left eye with his free hand. “For-ev-ever.”
William had a bad feeling about this, a strange reeling sense of the present lapping backward onto the past. “How old are you, kid?”
“I’m gonna be this much.” He held up his whole hand. “Daddy’ll be well, cuz he’s takin’ me to the f-fair. He prom-mised.”
William studied the fat gleam of two silver tears spilling down the boy’s cheeks and felt the sorrow of his own past. Things didn’t always turn out well, stories didn’t always end happily, and ill loved ones didn’t always recover.
Maybe that wouldn’t be the case for Jonas.
Faintly, from inside the house, came the woman’s—Aubrey’s—voice. “Tyler, close the garage door and come try to finish your supper, okay?”
Tyler hung his head and didn’t answer. His pain was as palpable as the shadows creeping into the garage and the heat in the July air.
“You’d better go,” William said, ambling toward the cement driveway, where birdsong lulled and leaves lazed in the hot breeze and the dog across the street was still yapping with protective diligence.
“Mister?”
The little boy’s voice drew him back. William stilled. Even his heart seemed to stop beating.
“You could p-pray for my daddy so he can come ho-me.” Tyler scrubbed his eyes again, took a step back and closed the inner door.
Leaving William alone in the heat and the shadows with an ache in his chest that would not stop.
Chapter Two
Aubrey breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the inside door snap shut and Tyler plod across the linoleum. One problem down, and now she’d move to solving the next.
“Just eat something,” she said softly to him, brushing her fingertips through his hair as he wove past her.
“Okay,” he said on a sigh and halfheartedly climbed back up onto his chair.
Madison gave a hiccup and relaxed a little more. Good. Aubrey stood in place in the center on the kitchen, gently rocking back and forth, shifting her weight from her right foot to her left. The stinging tracer of pain fired down her left femur, as it always did when her leg was tired, but Aubrey didn’t let that stop her, since Madison’s breathing had begun to slow. She became as limp as a rag doll. Her fingers released Aubrey’s shirt, so the collar was no longer digging into her throat.
Aubrey sent a prayer of thanks winging heavenward and pressed another kiss into the baby’s crown of fine curls. Somewhere outside came the growl of a lawn mower roaring to life. Aubrey didn’t know if it was cruel or comforting that the world kept on turning in the midst of a tragedy. That lawns still needed to be mowed and housework done. The gift Jonas had ordered for Danielle—now that was getting to her. She tried to swallow down the hot tears balling up in her throat.
The lawn mower was awfully loud. Either that, or awfully close. Aubrey eased forward a few steps to peer outside, careful not to disturb the sleeping toddler in her arms. The lawn had gone unmowed. Since everyone in the family was so busy juggling kid care and sitting with Danielle at the hospital, there wasn’t any time left over for much else.
Not that she minded at all, but she hadn’t been to the stables to ride her horse or able to work on her ceramics in her studio. There hadn’t been time for normal living—only working at the bookstore and helping Danielle out afterward. But now that her dad and stepmom were flying in, they wouldn’t all be stretched so thin.
Then she saw him. William. He was wrestling with the mower at the far end of the lawn, lining it up for the next pass. Dappled sunlight gilded his strong profile and broad shoulders as he guided the mower out of sight. For a moment she didn’t believe her eyes. He was mowing the lawn?
She knew he was, and yet her mind sort of spun around as if it was stuck in neutral. She could only gape speechlessly at the two strips of mowed lawn, proof of a stranger’s kindness. A tangible assurance, small but much needed, that God’s goodness was at work. Always.
Don’t worry, Aubrey, she told herself. This will work out, too.
She took a deep breath, watched William stride back into her sight, easily pushing the mower in front of him, and she knew what she had to do.
William wiped at the gritty sweat with his arm, but it still trickled into his eyes and burned. He upended the final, full lawn-mower bag into the garage waste bin. It was hot, and although the sun was sinking low in its sky, the temperature felt hotter than ever.
All he wanted was to get into his rig, turn on the air-conditioning full blast and stop by the first convenience store for a cold bottle of water. He gave the heavy bag a shake to make sure all the cut grass was out and a dust cloud of tiny bits of grass and seed puffed into his face. He coughed, and the tiny grit stuck to his sweat-dampened skin. This was why he had a riding mower, not that it would be practical for Jonas’s patch of lawn.
Jonas. In the hospital. It had to be an extended stay, since William had been leaving messages for the past week and a half or so. Which meant it was a serious deal. Sick at heart, William reattached the bag to the mower and wheeled it against the far wall, out of the way. Every movement echoed around him in the carless garage. There was the photograph, wrapped and propped carefully against the wall. The photograph he’d sold to Jonas for practically nothing.
He closed his eyes, and there was the memory, as vivid as real life. Jonas grinning, still in his trooper’s uniform after a long shift. He was standing in front of the Gray Stone Church, where the united church charities in the valley met for their monthly meetings. He’d produced a hardback book of William’s photographs for his signature.
“I really appreciate this, Will,” Jonas had said in all sincerity. “My wife loves your work. It’s a gift for our anniversary. It’ll be seven years.”
“Seven years,” William had said while he’d scribbled his signature on the title page. “Isn’t that said to be one of the most critical years?”
“Sure, I’ve heard of folks talking about the seven-year itch or whatever, but I don’t get it. I’ve got the best wife in the world.”
William had remembered, because he’d believed Jonas. The man had actually planned for his wedding anniversary a month in advance. He’d been telling the truth about his feelings for his wife. That was rare, in Will’s opinion. After all, he knew. Once, the blessing of marriage had happened to him.
Maybe that’s why he’d off
ered one of the photographs from his personal stash. He liked to think that the things he’d lost in life still existed somewhere. That there was a reason to hope, although he’d lost that hope right along with his faith, and a lot of other things.
Standing in the baking heat of Jonas’s garage, William pulled out his wallet and searched through it until he found a battered business card, which he tucked around the string that held the brown paper wrapping in place. He thought of the little boy’s sorrow, his request for prayer, and vowed to honor that request tonight. It had been a long time since he’d said a nightly prayer.
As he turned to go, the inside door opened. The sister—Aubrey—stood framed in the doorway, one slender hand on the doorknob, poised in midstep. She hesitated, as if she were a little shy, and she made a lovely picture with the child asleep in her arms.
The painful lump was back in his throat. A ghost of memory tried to haunt him, but he wrestled it down. The trick was to keep your heart rock hard.
“Oh, good. I’m glad I caught you,” she said in a voice as soft as grace. “It’s ninety-six degrees out there in the shade. I have a bottle of cold water, or lemonade. I didn’t know which you’d prefer.”
Sure enough, she’d managed to wrap her fingers awkwardly around two plastic bottles, and still cradled the sleeping baby lovingly against her.
“Water’s fine.” Somehow he got the words out.
“Thank you for doing this.” She stopped to deposit one of the bottles out of sight and breezed toward him with a careful step. “You have no idea how much we appreciate it. You must be a good friend of Jonas’s.”
“He’s a good man.” William glanced behind her at the open door, knowing his voice might carry to the little boy inside. “I didn’t know he was sick.”
“He’s not. That was the best way to explain to Tyler.” Her answer came quietly. “He was shot on duty.”
While it hadn’t occurred to him, the possibility had been there, in the back of his mind, William realized.
“He was doing better, but he suffered something like a stroke a few days ago and now he’s in a deep coma.”
“Not good.”
“No.” Pain marked her face and weighed down that single word. She said nothing more.
She didn’t have to. He knew too much about comas. Wished he didn’t. “Is there anything more I can do for his family?”
“Prayer. God’s grace is the only thing that will help him now.”
What could he say to that? It was the truth, and from his experience, a deep coma was a death sentence. William moved forward to take the bottle of water she offered. He tried not to brush her fingers with his or to notice the stunning violet-blue of her eyes or the shadows within them. He would not let himself think too much on the soft feminine scents of shampoo and vanilla-scented lotion or her loveliness. It wasn’t something he ordinarily noticed anymore.
“Thanks.” He held up the bottle, ice-cold from the refrigerator, and kept moving. “Be sure and turn on the sprinkler after I leave. Oh, and I left my number with the package. If his condition changes, will you call me? Leave a message on my machine?”
“Yes, I will. Thank you again.”
He didn’t look back or acknowledge her as he strode straight to his vehicle, all business, and climbed in. He didn’t look at her as he backed into the residential street or lift a hand in a goodbye wave as he drove away.
Aubrey watched the gleam of his taillights in the gathering twilight and couldn’t help wondering who was this Good Samaritan? He hadn’t exactly been friendly, but clearly he’d thought enough of Jonas to have pitched in with the lawn mowing.
He seemed distant and not exactly friendly. She felt as if she’d seen him somewhere before, like in church or in the bookstore her family ran. The look of him was familiar—though not the personality he radiated. That hard steel and sorrow would be memorable.
At a loss to explain it, she went to hit the button to close the garage door and noticed the bright yellow SUV whipping down the curve of the cul-de-sac and into the driveway. Behind the sheen of the sinking sun on the tinted windshield, she could see the faint image of her twin sister busily pulling the e-brake, turning off the engine and gathering her things, talking animatedly as she went, which meant she had to be yakking on her cell phone.
Aubrey kept an ear to the open inside door, where she could hear the drone of the cartoon version of A Christmas Carol that Tyler watched over and over again. Knowing he was safely riveted in front of the television, she waited as the bright yellow driver’s-side door swung open and Ava emerged. Her sister Ava was chaos as usual, her enormous purse slung over her shoulder, thick and bulky and banging her painfully in the hip. Yep, she was definitely on her cell, and judging by her shining happiness, she was talking to her handsome fiancé, Brice.
Madison stirred drowsily between wakefulness and sleep, and Aubrey patted her back gently and returned to rocking again. She watched as her sister gave her a welcoming wave, shut her SUV’s door, then opened it and extracted her keys from the ignition.
“Oops.” Ava grinned, keeping her voice quiet as she shut the door. “You’ve got Madison half-asleep.”
“Working on it.” Aubrey kept rocking, full of questions that would have to wait for later, she thought. Even if Tyler was momentarily distracted, any long discussion would have the little boy hurrying to come listen. But not all of her questions had to wait. “I take it that Dad and Dorrie are with Dani?”
“Yep, so the rest of us figured we’d let the parents stay with Danielle through the night, and we’ll take turns relieving them tomorrow.” Ava dragged her feet in exhaustion as she came closer. “Brice said he can take the kids in the morning, so at least that’s taken care of.”
“See? I told you. You’ve got a great guy.”
“He’s the best guy.” She said it with confidence, as if she no longer had a single doubt.
And why would she? Brice was absolutely perfect. Happiness for her sister warred with the sadness she felt for her family and the odd aching sorrow that William left behind. Which reminded her. “Do you know a friend of Jonas’s named William?”
“Nope. Then again, why would I? I can’t keep my own name straight some days.” Ava rolled her eyes and leaned close to reach for Madison. She transferred the sleepy child into her arms. “I’m taking over. You’re officially off duty.”
“When it comes to family, there no such thing as off duty.”
“Stop being stubborn and go home—”
“To an empty apartment?”
For a moment they both paused in their lifelong habit of interrupting each other and finishing the other’s sentences. Aubrey knew what Ava stopped short of saying. They’d spent their whole lives together. Even when they’d pursued different career paths after high school, they’d still been practically attached at the hip.
They talked throughout the day, all day long, thanks to the invention of cell phones. They met for lunch and dinner, and they shared an apartment. They spent their free time together as they always had. But Ava’s marriage would change that.
Aubrey loved her sister with all her heart, and there was nothing more important than her happiness, but she knew she was going to miss spending so much time with her twin. When she looked into the future, Ava would have a home and a husband, children. That’s where her time and energy should lie. Absolutely. But all Aubrey saw for herself was a long stretch of lonely evenings and weekends. Even now, without Madison in her arms, she felt lonely.
Not that she was going to be sad for herself for a second, because look at all the wonderful blessings the Lord put into her life with each and every day. But still, it was a change. And a big one.
“Tyler’s watching one of his DVDs,” she said with the most cheerful voice she could muster under the circumstances. “Maybe I’ll just crash with him on the couch.”
“Hey, what’s that?” Nothing got past Ava. She pointed with her free hand to the wrapped gift.
�
�No idea. That William guy I mentioned dropped it off. It’s an anniversary gift from Jonas to Danielle.”
Ava looked sucker punched. “That’s just about the saddest thing I’ve heard today, and it’s been a day with a whole lot of sad in it.”
“Tell me about it,” she said over the sound of the garage door ratcheting closed. She stared at the package wrapped so neatly and noticed, for the first time, there was a business card tucked beneath the intersecting twine. “It’s hot in here. Maybe I should take that in.”
“Good idea. It’s probably something really nice, knowing Jonas.”
A beat of silence passed between them when they said nothing at all. Aubrey knew Ava was thinking, too, of how devoted Jonas had been to their stepsister. Now what would happen? She could tell by Ava’s face that whatever the doctors had told them tonight hadn’t been good, which could only mean one thing. Danielle would need her family more than ever.
“I’ll see to this.” Aubrey broke the silence. “You get Madison inside.”
“Ten four.” Ava looked on the brink of tears as she dragged her gaze away from the gift, which was clearly some kind of a wall hanging. “Did you get anything to eat?”
Aubrey shook her head. Not that she was hungry.
“I’ll heat something up for both of us,” Ava decided as she headed inside. The snap of her flip-flops echoed in the empty garage, leaving Aubrey feeling sorely alone.
Okay, call her curious, but she snatched the business card from its secure place beneath the string. The name William Corey was printed in small letters in the lower right-hand corner, in block script. Photographer.
Jonas’s friend was the William Corey? That’s where I’ve seen him before, Aubrey thought, a little shocked. She’d shelved so many of his books at the bookstore over the years, she should have known him on sight. His picture was plastered on the back jacket of his bestselling collections of inspirational photography. How did Jonas know the famed photographer? And why had someone of William’s stature mowed the lawn?
