by Jillian Hart
She pulled her car to a stop in Danielle’s driveway and turned off the ignition. The headlights died, leaving such a thick darkness that it felt as if she’d been turned inside out and she were looking at the contents of her heart.
She carefully gathered the plastic-encased bridesmaid dress from the seat beside her and stepped out into the darkness. The humid puff of wind was oppressive and smelled like steam. A storm was on the way. Already the sky was endless and moonless. Clouds had blotted out the stars on her drive over, and now it was hard to make out the steps to the front door, even with the ambient light from the street and the other neighbors’ houses. Danielle’s windows were dark. The kitchen window, the closest window to the door, was curtained and dark, too.
Not wanting to wake the kids, Aubrey found the key on her ring and unlocked the door. Danielle knew she was coming over with the dress, but she called out softly in the entryway, not wanting to startle her. “Dani?”
“In here,” came a thin reply.
Aubrey followed the sound of her sister’s voice through the dark to the living room, where a small reading lamp illuminated Danielle seated in an overstuffed chair. The rest of the living room was dark and quiet, which was definitely not normal. Had something else happened when they’d been at the dress fitting, and then out to dinner? Worry ratcheted through her. “Are you all right? Jonas? He is all right?”
“Yes. I’m just tired.”
Whew. Aubrey set her keys and the dress down on the couch and came farther into the room. “You look a lot more than tired.”
“I think it’s the letdown. I’ve been running on fear and adrenaline and willpower for so long, now that the crisis is over, I can’t move.”
“Then you don’t have to. I can stay and help, if you want.”
“You have done too much already, although there is one more thing. I could use a hug.” Danielle stood and held out her arms. Her clothes hung on her. She’d lost so much weight. Exhaustion marked her lovely face.
Aubrey held her tight. Maybe she needed a hug, too. When she stepped back, she resolved to stay a little longer and make sure Danielle didn’t need anything else. “The good news is that you can sleep all night in your own bed.”
“Now that Jonas is sleeping peacefully, yes.” Danielle took a step back, letting the dark take her. “It was all I could do to leave him, even when the doctors said he would be fine tonight.”
“It’s been a long road for you.”
“Yes, but I haven’t been on that road alone. How can I ever thank everybody? And you, too.”
Just what I needed, Aubrey thought. A reminder of how full her life was and how blessed. “Thanks aren’t necessary. Taking care of you is. Did you manage to get any supper?”
“Oh, I fed the kids some mac and cheese and nibbled on that. It was nice to be able to make their meal and give them their baths and put them to bed. Everything is going to go back to normal. And get better from here on out.”
“That’s what we’re all praying for.”
You know what? She was who she was—sensible, practical—and she was glad for that. Perhaps she would never be adorable like her twin or classy like Katherine or truly lovely like Danielle, but Aubrey didn’t mind so much about that anymore. She made a difference being who she was. After all, someone had to be sensible.
She took Danielle by the hand. “Let me make your favorite sandwich. We’ll get food in your stomach and put you to bed. A good night’s sleep will make tomorrow easier to deal with. Do you want me to stay in the guest room? I can keep an ear out for the kids.”
“No, the sandwich would be enough. If you don’t mind.”
“Are you kidding? It’s my pleasure. Oh, and before I forget the reason I came over here in the first place, here’s your bridesmaid’s dress.” Aubrey clicked on another lamp so they could both admire the exquisite gown.
Danielle sighed in admiration. “Katherine has such good taste. This is lovely.”
“If you need any alterations, just give the dress lady a call. I’ll put her card by the phone in the kitchen just in case.” Aubrey snapped on lights and seated Danielle down at the table in the eating nook. “Here are some chips to munch on while I grill the sandwich.”
“You didn’t notice.” Danielle sounded surprised as she tore open the new bag of Ruffles.
Aubrey knelt to drag the frying pan out of the lower cabinet. She slid it onto the stove’s burner with a slight clatter. “Notice what?”
“Where I hung William’s picture.”
William. Like another blow to her heart, she almost lost her balance. She quickly grabbed onto the counter as her head began to spin. Her heart shattered all over again. The feelings she’d tucked away to deal with later rushing through her fortifications like a wall of water through a dam’s concrete wall. She could feel every piece breaking. Every crack and fissure and fracture.
Why had he kissed her if he didn’t love her? If he’d never loved her?
She gulped in air, refusing to cry. Knowing that it was too late. Her eyes burned, and her vision blurred. And there was Danielle at her side, reaching to pull her into a sisterly hug and wipe her tears.
It was Danielle who was taking care of her now, leading her to the table, sitting down to comfort her. “What happened with William?”
“Nothing.” It was the simple, painful truth. “Nothing at all.”
Danielle’s voice broke with sympathy. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. We all had such high hopes for the two of you.”
“Me, too.” It hurt even worse to admit. The tears came for a second time, blurring the picture hung on the wall, where light still found it, even in the shadowed recesses of the room. An image of faith, despite the tragedy of winter’s numbing cold.
She laid her head in her hands and let go of the last of her hope. The last of her hope for William’s love.
It was another perfect Montana summer’s day, William thought as he guided Jet through the trail’s head. The air smelled sweet. Birdsong filled the vastness of his mountain paradise. There was nothing but beauty in every direction, beauty which he’d managed to capture with his camera’s lens. He was back among the living. He should be happy, right?
Not. There was the truth like a big dark hole stuck in the middle of his heart, sucking at the brightness of the day and draining any chance he had for peace. It was that truth he kept doing his best to avoid, to ignore, to go on as if it didn’t exist.
He was not in love with Aubrey. He didn’t want to be in love with anyone.
After nearly two weeks of telling himself that, he still didn’t believe it. After two weeks of pretending his life would go back to what it was before Aubrey, that hadn’t happened, either. Because he wasn’t the same man he’d been before. He hadn’t been happy back then. He hadn’t been whole. He’d been too afraid to try to live again, and it had happened anyway, the same way summer had come to the mountains, coaxing flowers to bloom and the grass to ripen and the glacier caps to melt.
What did he do now, when staying tough and ice-cold had been his only defense?
I’m not in love with her. How many times did he have to say that to himself to convince his heart? A hundred? A thousand? A million? There was only one love ever in his lifetime that had been something he couldn’t get over. And it felt just like this.
The realization shook him. He was all out of excuses.
This couldn’t be love he was feeling. He didn’t want it to be, and that hadn’t been able to change it. He’d denied it, ignored it, called it by a different name, tried to let it fade away. It was still here, a tenacious light that he could not defeat.
“Whoa, boy.” They’d reached the mailbox and he eased Jet to a stop. A package was already protruding out of the box. He gave it a tug, thinking it was probably his latest online book order.
But no, the return address was from Danielle and Jonas Lowell. How about that? Curiosity got the best of him. He’d been keeping their family in his nightly prayers for a while
now.
He’d heard the auction was a huge success; it had been reported in the local paper. He hadn’t had the heart to attend, although he’d been wondering how Jonas was doing. He kept hope that the state trooper would be restored to full health and be able to take his son to the upcoming county fair for his birthday. It was hard to forget the first time he’d met the little boy, for it had been the memorable evening when he’d met Aubrey.
Aubrey. Knowing her had forever changed him.
Wasn’t admitting it the first step?
He tore through the tape holding the cardboard box, peeled back the top flaps and stared in disbelief. It was the ceramic bowls, in descending sizes, that he’d seen on Aubrey’s worktable. Not, bowls, he corrected, her rain chimes that looked like hammered pewter. Like the lake where he’d taken her riding.
I do love her. The truth was there in his heart. But that wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. For with loving came too much risk. He didn’t know if he could ever imagine risking so much again.
There was a letter, too, on Danielle’s stationary. It was just a short note.
William,
All is well here, which is a welcome change. I picked something up at the auction for you. An original. One of a kind. Aubrey designed it, but didn’t have the heart to make more than this single design. I suspect it hurts her too much.
Proverbs 13:12
It hurt him too much. Danielle’s words hit a familiar note. So did her chosen passage. He knew it.
Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. Remembering those words made hope move through with a powerful force.
Aubrey. There she was in his mind’s eye. He could see, in memory, the image of her when they’d been riding to the lake. Her slim shadow had trailed at an angle beside him, staying directly within his line of sight through part of the ride. He could remember how the sun had beat against his back and shoulder, and how the feel of being with her was like the exact peace he always found in the mountains.
He closed his eyes, and he was seeing her with his heart, riding her dainty Arabian with a born horsewoman’s grace. Sitting easily and straight backed in her saddle, her smile gentle and her quiet presence infinitely precious to him. She had become his innermost dream.
How was that possible? He was a man who’d lost so many dreams that he had none left. None.
Until now.
Loving again made him too vulnerable. It was too much to risk. After surviving what he’d been through, could he put everything he was on the line and open his heart to love? To Aubrey?
He did not know if he had enough hope for that.
Chapter Fifteen
It was another lovely Friday evening. Aubrey pulled into Danielle’s driveway, leaving room for her to back her minivan out of the garage, and grabbed the big take-out bags she’d picked up on the way in. The wonderful spicy fragrance of Mr. Paco’s Tacos made her stomach rumble.
At least she was starting to get her appetite back. It seemed that recovering from heartbreak was more complicated than she’d ever expected, but she was starting to feel more like herself. And surely copious amounts of nachos and Mexi-fries would help.
Before she made it halfway to the front door, it swung open and there was Tyler in his fireman hat. He was sopping wet, as if he’d stood in a sprinkler for a full hour, and was dripping onto the entryway floor.
“Aunt Aubrey! I put out five whole fires.”
“You did good today, kid.”
“I know! An’ we went grocery shoppin’ an’ a fire truck zoomed by an’ Mom had to pull over and everything!”
“It’s a good thing I brought extra tacos. I hear firemen get pretty hungry fighting fires.”
“Yep. Did you bring Mexi-fries?” Tyler tried to peer into one of the bags.
So she gave him the lightest one, with the enormous tub of Mexi-fries. “How could I forget Mexi-fries? Go put those on the table for me, okay, tiger?”
“Okay.” He marched off, leaving wet sandal prints across the kitchen floor.
Danielle came around the corner of the kitchen with Madison on her hip, saw the water marks and sighed. “It’s been a busy day. I’ll get that mopped up.”
“No, I’ll take care of it.” After all, she had a flair for taking care of things. “Go have dinner at the hospital with your husband.”
“Since we can’t have dinner out, I’m taking dinner to him.” Madison was wiggling and leaning hard against Danielle’s hold on her. “No way, kiddo. I’m going to belt you into your high chair.”
Madison squealed a loud protest.
“Aubrey, I’ve been chasing her around all day. She’s discovered if she runs at full speed when I’m not paying perfect attention, I might not be able to catch up to her for a while. Oh, and she’s unlocking the door, too.”
“Aw, freedom. I understand.” Aubrey set the restaurant bag on the table next to Tyler’s bag of Mexi-fries. “I’ll keep an eagle eye on her so she doesn’t take off down the street.”
“I have complete faith in you.” Danielle stopped to kiss her kids’ cheeks. “Okay, you know the drill. I rented a movie for Tyler to watch tonight—it’s on the coffee table. I shouldn’t be out too late.”
“Take your time. I’m starting a new book tonight.”
“One of those old thick ones?” Danielle smiled as she grabbed her purse and swung open the inside garage door. “I won’t even tease you about that. Good night.”
The door closed, and she was gone. It felt good having life back to normal. Well, almost normal, she thought, noticing William’s picture on the wall.
Some things time didn’t heal. She suspected the love she had for him was one of them. Neither rejection nor lost hope nor heartbreak had made a dent in that shining love.
The knock at the door had Tyler leaping up from the table before she could start the evening blessing.
“Who is it?” Tyler was all energy as she raced through the kitchen, dripping more water as he went.
“It’s probably Rebecca. Maybe she forgot her key.” Aubrey had half expected Rebecca to stop by at some point. They’d spent a good deal of time on the phone earlier. Things weren’t going well with her boyfriend and Rebecca didn’t want to spend a Friday evening alone.
“You’re not Rebecca.” Tyler declared once he’d yanked open the door.
“No, I’m not. Sorry, kid.” That warm, cozy baritone sounded familiar.
William. She had to be hearing things. Missing him so sorely that she’d dreamed him up.
She wasn’t aware of crossing the kitchen until her sneaker squeaked in a water puddle. She didn’t remember reaching the door or even consider that maybe it would be best not to see William. Suddenly she was there, in front of him, gazing at him, wonderful him. So big and strong, he was all she could see. Her entire spirit brightened with joy.
Oh, Aubrey. You love this man too much. It was probably on her face. Lord knows it was a powerful light in her heart that would not fade. She tried to tuck down her feelings and manage what she hoped was a cordial—and not an adoring—smile.
She would always love him. It would hurt that he’d rejected her. But she was a sensible girl, and she could handle this. “You’re looking for Danielle, right?”
“Uh, no. I came for you.”
“Me?” Renewed pain cracked through her, soul deep. She thought she knew, but she had to ask. She had to hear it from his lips. “Why are you here?”
“Because I want to discuss this friendship thing. We didn’t finish it that day at the hospital, and I have something to say.”
She squeezed her eyes closed, trying against hope to keep the pain hidden. She feared she was failing at that, too. “No, I meant what I said. I can’t go back to being friends.”
“Exactly. That’s what I want to talk to you about. Will you let me in?”
“You don’t know how much this is hurting me. You don’t know—”
“Yes, I do.” He held out his hand, palm u
p, as if offering his heart to her like a knight of old in one of those aged, thick books she loved so well.
She’d never wanted anything more than to place her hand in his. But she could not accept what he was offering. Friendship was no longer enough. Madison chose that moment to start yelling and banging on her high-chair tray. The air conditioner kicked on, as warm air sailed into the house. Inviting him in was the practical thing to do.
She stepped back with a nod and headed straight to Madison. “Be careful of the water on the floor,” she said over her shoulder and above Madison’s ten-decibel-level shout for “taters.”
“You look pretty busy,” he said uncertainly. “I should come back at another time.”
“No, say what you’ve come to say and then you can go.” She didn’t say the words unkindly.
“I need your forgiveness.” William took a deep breath. This wasn’t easy. He didn’t know if he’d destroyed the only chance he had with her. Because he knew—soul deep—that she was his one hope for a real life. A real love. Real happiness.
“Hey, mister.” Tyler skidded to a stop next to him and held up all five fingers on his left hand. “I’m gonna be this much tomorrow. We’re havin’ cake. Aunt Ava’s making me a firehouse cake! With a truck an’ a dog an’ everything!”
“Happy birthday, little man.” His throat ached as he watched the kid rush the rest of the way to the table and climb into his booster seat. That must mean Jonas was well enough, maybe not to leave the hospital, but to have guests visit with cake.
Now he had to face Aubrey. He waited while she oversaw Tyler’s blessing and handed out the tacos and Mexi-fries. The little girl in the high chair dug into her Tater Tots and a hot dog with gusto. They looked like happy kids. Just the way things should be. They had a happy ending. Now he was praying that there would be one for him, too.
