“Of course. I didn’t know your wife personally, but like I told Mrs. Waverly,”––she motioned to the classroom across the hall––“after seeing the photographs on the TV, I realized she was in one of my breakout groups that first night of the conference.”
“Really?”
“I sent a card to your house after I heard. I hope you got it. I was just sick when I heard that she’d passed away.”
Beside him, Shelley gave a little gasp, and Mitch knew his face must have reflected his shock. “No. That’s wrong.” A horrifying thought nearly strangled him. “You don’t mean . . . recently? You didn’t just hear that news, did you?” He glanced briefly at Shelley, and wished there were something sturdy nearby to steady him.
“Oh, no,” the teacher said quickly. “We heard about it right after the whole thing happened. Or shortly after anyway. Maybe a week or two. It was all over the news.”
Relief flooded over him. “No, you’re mistaken. Jill didn’t die. She’s not dead. But she’s still missing.”
Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t know. Well . . . That’s wonderful! I mean––” The woman sputtered and flushed twenty shades of red. “Not wonderful that she’s still missing, of course, but . . . We heard she’d died.” Her brow crinkled. “But––how do they know she’s alive?”
“The search is ongoing.” Shelley stepped forward and answered before he could. And she said it with a conviction Mitch hadn’t heard in her voice in their private conversations. “That’s why we’re here.”
He could have hugged her.
“I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding,” the woman said. “I’ll be sure to correct that rumor wherever I can. And of course, I’ll do my best to help in any way possible.”
“Do you remember any conversations you might have had with my wife during the conference?” He slipped the small notepad he’d been jotting notes in from his pocket and poised his pen over it.
“I wish I could remember more, but I didn’t really speak privately with your wife. She seemed like such a sweet woman. And so pretty. I felt like I got to know her so well just sitting in that workshop with her and discussing our mutual passion for children and for teaching.”
“Did Jill seem upset or . . . preoccupied?”
“Not when I was around her. She was very friendly and animated. Very insightful, too. She added a lot to the discussion.”
People sometimes thought Jill was shy, but that was only because they hadn’t seen her in her element. This woman was right. Jill was passionate about teaching and about kids. He asked a few more questions, and when it became clear that the teacher really didn’t know anything helpful, he excused himself and walked with Shelley back to the office.
“Did you notice how that woman wanted to be Jill’s new best friend?” he said when they were out of earshot.
“What do you mean?”
“It just seems like as soon as Jill went missing, suddenly anyone who’d had any relationship at all with her tried to magnify that connection––make it more than it really was in a lot of cases.”
She shook her head. “You’d think, if anything, they’d want to distance themselves from the tragedy of it––like it might rub off on them or something.”
“I know, but it’s actually the opposite. Teachers Jill barely knew claim she was like a sister to them. And people we’re only mildly acquainted with––from church and around Sylvia––suddenly want to claim her as their dearest friend . . . It just strikes me as very strange.”
“It is kind of weird. And you’re right–– Remember that article in the Sentinel where your mail carrier claimed he talked to Jill almost every day?”
Mitch gave a little snort. “Interesting, since she rarely got home till long after the mail was delivered.
Shelley looked sheepish. “I guess I’ve probably done the same thing though.”
“What do you mean? You are like a sister to her. And her best friend.”
“And I did talk to her every day.”
He smiled. “Sometimes twice a day.”
“Man, I miss her.”
“Yeah . . . Me too.” A deep sadness washed over him. I miss her. Such inadequate words to express the hole in his heart. In his life.
As they passed the office on the way to the exit, a man in a dress shirt and tie stuck his head out the door. “You found Mrs. Marvinot okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The man stuck out a hand. “I’m Kenton Rosemond, principal here.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Mrs. Hitchcock told me why you were here. My condolences.”
“Thank you.” He curbed a smile. Grapevines apparently worked the same at this school as they did in Sylvia.
Mitch introduced Shelley, and Rosemond shook her hand, holding it a few seconds too long, Mitch thought, and looking her up and down appreciatively. As many men did, he’d begun to notice.
Jill had often commented about how beautiful Shelley was. In fact, Jill had been intimidated by Shelley’s beauty at first. More than once he’d reassured his wife that their neighbor had nothing on her. He hadn’t been exaggerating either. Jill was lovely. Exactly his type. She was what most people––men anyway––probably thought of as “cute” or “pretty.” Her blond hair, freckled skin, and wide blue eyes gave her a wholesome girl-next-door look.
Shelley fell more into the drop-dead gorgeous category. Her dark eyes and thick lashes, full lips and creamy skin gave her a mysterious, almost exotic, aura . . .
He pushed away the comparison. How had his thoughts even taken this trail? It wasn’t that he’d never noticed Shelley’s looks until now, but he’d put up certain walls.
But during these hours they’d spent on the road, their conversations were no longer only about Jill. They’d begun to talk about other things––their kids and their jobs. Dreams and disappointments. Mitch was disturbed to realize that Shelley had taken Jill’s place as his confidante and sounding board.
And now, when he dared to think about what it would be like if Jill was ever found, he couldn’t imagine how he and Shelley could go back to the way things were before Jill went missing. He’d come to treasure the close friendship that had grown between them. Yet, when he tried to imagine Jill in the picture, it left him feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
Because Shelley is becoming more than a friend.
The thought was disturbing and exhilarating at the same time. Spending so much time together over these past five months, going through everything they had surrounding Jill’s situation, being so . . . vulnerable with each other . . . All those things had begun to chip away at the walls he’d once erected.
He needed to build those walls back up again. And quickly.
Chapter 22
“Do you want to stop and get something to eat?”
I’m fine.” Shelley shifted in the seat beside Mitch. He looked as weary as she felt after a full day on the road. “I am kind of thirsty though. Maybe a Coke would be nice. If you don’t mind stopping.”
“I don’t mind.” He eased into the right lane and trained his gaze on the signs littering the exit ramp. “There’s a Dairy Queen up ahead. That okay with you? I could go for a milkshake.”
“Oooh, me too, now that you mention it.”
He laughed and guided the car to the exit. It was good to hear him laugh. He’d been pensive most of the day, and especially so since the last school where the stupid teacher had told Mitch she’d heard Jill had died.
At least he wasn’t snapping at her as he sometimes had when his hopes were being dashed. If anything, he’d been extra sweet to her, thanking her for coming in with him at the last couple of schools. She didn’t tell him she would have been happy to go inside with him all along if he hadn’t been so insistent that she wait in the car.
There were three cars ahead of them in the drive-through and they waited in line, not talking, the radio turned low, playing some classical piece she didn’t recognize. Over the few days they’d b
een traveling together, they’d grown past feeling awkward at the silence between them. She felt comfortable with Mitch. Safe. In dangerous ways.
The idling car purred and Shelley’s eyelids grew heavy. Her phone rang and she jumped. Mitch picked up her phone from the console between them and handed it to her.
She mouthed a thank-you and answered the call.
“Hey, Shel, sorry to bother you.” Besides Jill, Jaclyn was the only one who called her Shel.
“Hi, boss.” She suddenly ached with longing to see Jill, to tell her friend everything that had been happening.
“I hope I’m not calling at a bad time?”
“Not at all. What’s up?”
“I hate to impose, but is there any way you could close tomorrow?”
She glanced at Mitch who stared out the window in a vain effort to give her some privacy, she knew.
“I . . . really have another commitment, Jaclyn. Cindy can’t do it?” She wished Mitch didn’t have to hear this conversation. He already felt bad enough about taking her away from work.
“No, Cindy’s dad was rushed to the ER this morning. They think he had a stroke.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard. Yes . . . I guess I could come in. Will they be okay if I just come in at six and stay to close?”
“Yes, sure. And thank you.” Relief was thick in Jaclyn’s voice. “I’ll take whatever hours you can give me.”
Shelley finished the call, then tucked her phone in the side pocket of her purse so she wouldn’t forget it when Mitch dropped her off at home tonight.
“Everything okay?”
“One of the girls can’t come in for her shift.” She explained the situation.
“Well, don’t turn down the extra hours on my account.” The car ahead of him exited the drive-through, and he pulled up to the window and paid for their milkshakes. He handed her the chocolate one and a handful of napkins.
“I’m doing fine, Mitch. I won’t short myself on hours I need. If you could have me back in time tomorrow to get to the store by six or so I could still come with you during the day. Jaclyn needs me to close.”
“Of course. There won’t be anyone in school to talk to tomorrow, so we’ll just be driving the roads. Won’t do any good to stay out once the sun starts going down anyway.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mitch.”
He gave her a sidewise glance. “Hey, don’t thank me. You’re the one who’s doing me a huge favor.”
She waved him off.
But he turned and held her gaze. “Listen . . . Are you getting along okay? Financially, I mean.” He held up a hand. “Not that it’s any of my business. I don’t mean to pry, but I don’t have any way of knowing, and I’d feel bad if keeping you away from work is causing a hardship. Jill usually keeps me up to date on how you’re doing and––” He winced. “That makes it sound like Jill blabs everything you two talk about. I promise she never––”
She put a hand on his arm, wanting to put him at ease, but a little charmed by his discomfiture, too. “Jill always made it clear that you two were one, and that if there was something I didn’t want you to know, I’d better not tell her, because you guys didn’t keep secrets from each other.” Shelley cringed inwardly, remembering the secrets Jill had kept from Mitch.
She felt sure from the faraway look that came to Mitch’s eyes that he was remembering too. She cleared her throat and mentally kicked herself for broaching the subject.
But to her surprise, Mitch didn’t press the issue. “Well, rest assured, Jill never told me anything about you that I’d consider a deep, dark secret. Unless you count that night you spent in jail.” He looked at her over his straw, an ornery glimmer lighting his eyes.
“I did not spend the night in jail!” She switched the cold styrofoam cup to her other hand long enough to smack his arm.
“Hmm . . . That’s not how Jill told it.” He took another sip of his shake.
“It was only a couple of hours, and I have the cancelled traffic ticket to prove it.”
He shook his head, the glimmer spreading to his whole face. “That’s not at all how Jill told it.”
“Cut it out.”
He chuckled and turned to study the traffic signs.
It did her heart good to see him lighthearted and playful. And to talk about Jill this way. Shelley hadn’t realized till now how much the tragedy had changed him. It was good to see a hint of the old Mitch returning.
When they were on the main road again, sucking thick milkshakes through too-thin straws, his mood turned solemn. “I’m serious about Jill not sharing too much. I don’t want you to think she came home and gossiped every time you guys hung out. I didn’t mean to––”
“I know that, Mitch. I trusted Jill––and I trust you. I admit I wasn’t crazy about the whole concept when she first warned me that I couldn’t confide anything that she couldn’t share with you, but I’ve come to realize it’s a good policy for marriage. Maybe if Tom and I had kept fewer secrets from each other things would have turned out differently.”
He was quiet behind the wheel. But after a few minutes he turned to her. “Hey, I just want to say how much I appreciate you coming with me. And . . . I know you probably wouldn’t tell me anyway, but I just hope you’re not losing too many hours at work. If I can . . . help make up some of that I’d be glad to pay you––”
“Don’t even think about it.” She gave him a smile she hoped was reassuring. “Really . . . I’m fine. Things are a little tight. I’m sure Jill’s told you that much. But hey, after fifteen years, I’m used to it.” She laughed.
“Well, if I can help, please let me know. I feel responsible for you losing the income.”
She shook her head. “I need to learn to live one day at a time. And not worry so much about how I’ll pay for a wedding some day, about whether Jaclyn will close the shop––”
“Oh? Is she thinking about it?” Concern creased his brow.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, she threatens to shut down twice a week. I don’t honestly think she would, but it’s scary to think about.”
“Have you ever thought about buying the store?”
“Are you kidding?” She formed a cross with her index fingers and held it out as though she were warding off a vampire.
He laughed. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“I’ve seen the kind of hours Jaclyn works. And the headache of the paperwork. And I have a feeling her paycheck is smaller than mine. I’d be crazy even to entertain such a thought.”
He cocked his head and studied her. “If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be? Or maybe you’re already doing that?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t mind my job, but it’s not my dream.”
“So what is your dream?”
Sharing my life with someone like you. For one horrifying second she was afraid she’d spoken the words aloud.
But Mitch’s gaze remained merely curious.
Yet, replaying her thought, she made a correction. It wasn’t just someone like him. It was him. And admitting it, even just to herself, both terrified––and freed––her.
The monotonous whir of tires on the road emphasized the silence between them and she knew he was waiting for an answer and would press her until she gave one that satisfied him.
Outside the windows the wooded landscape rolled by, slate-barked trees standing like an army of Confederate soldiers against a dimming powder blue sky. Here and there an outbuilding sat nestled among the brown hills, and more rarely a humble house appeared around a bend, chimney puffing a steady plume of smoke. Even the air inside the car smelled of wood smoke. It gave a cozy feel to the day, and weary as she was, Shelley wished they had even farther to drive.
“My dream?” she said finally, sighing. “I really don’t know. I guess–– The last few years have taken so much energy just keeping up with the bills and trying to be both mother and father to Audrey I don’t think I’ve dared to dream.”
“So dar
e right now.”
She smiled, realizing that she was completely unafraid to take his challenge. To voice what Tom had once laughed at her for. “I’d love to open a bed and breakfast.”
“Really? So what’s stopping you?”
She gave a dry laugh. “Reality. I’ll be lucky if my savings covers Audrey’s wedding.”
“Won’t Tom help with that?”
She shook her head. “He’s getting college. The wedding bills will be mine. I’m just praying she doesn’t meet anyone for a few years yet.” Too late, she realized her comment might sound like she’d been glad when Evan and Audrey broke up.
But he didn’t react, and simply said, “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’m just grateful Tom is taking some responsibility.”
Mitch’s mouth twisted. “If you want to call it that.” He shifted in his seat and brightened. “So what part of opening a B and B appeals to you?”
“Everything but the bookkeeping.”
His open expression said he was waiting for more, hanging on her every word. It was one of the things she loved most about him, and she wanted nothing more than to share her dream with this amazing man. But she could hardly do that when the dream of her heart––one she’d willingly allowed to grow over the last few weeks––included him. “I know it would be a lot of work,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “but I think I’d love the challenge.”
“You’d make a great innkeeper. I’d just hate to lose a good neighbor. I’m assuming you’d live at the inn. Maybe not . . .”
She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know why I’m even talking about it. It’s not going to happen.”
“Don’t be so sure. If you really want that, Shelley, why don’t you make it happen?”
She tilted her head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“Have you even looked into it?”
She shook her head. “I can barely pay the bills for the house I live in now, and I don’t know if there’s enough equity in it . . . Besides, I don’t even know if there’s anything available in Sylvia that could be turned into a B and B.”
The Face of the Earth Page 16
