He shrugged, but the look he leveled at her held challenge. “You’ll never know if you don’t look.”
“Whatever.”
He blew out a breath. “Now you sound like Katie.”
She laughed, glad the subject had been defused. She slipped her phone from her purse and pressed the icon for the GPS app. “Which way are we going home?”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Mitch shook a finger at her. “Don’t think you can shrug me off that easily. I want to hear more about this idea of yours.”
She gave a sheepish laugh. “It’s not even an idea, Mitch. It’s . . . barely a dream.”
“So dream a little with me. What about that old Victorian on the south end of Elm? You know the one I mean? Or are you picturing something more modern?”
She nodded. And blinked back tears. Did the man have any idea how much she longed to “dream a little” with him? She wished she could tell him to be careful . . . with her dream and with her heart.
Chapter 23
Sunday, January 16
The worship team was already onstage singing when Mitch and Shelley entered the sanctuary. She’d been surprised when he suggested they attend church before heading out on another search trip this morning. But not as surprised as having him lead the way down the center aisle to seats in the fifth row from the front. She didn’t think she was imagining that more than a few heads turned to watch them slide into the row. But maybe she was just being paranoid. Or feeling guilty?
She was glad they were here, though. It seemed right. And even as the thought came, she whispered a prayer that they would learn something today––anything––that might provide a clue about what had happened to Jill.
They’d spent four full days on the road together, driving from dawn till after dusk each evening. Searching for what seemed like the proverbial needle in a haystack. They had this final day of combing the back roads before they both had to return to work.
If this day didn’t produce some answers, she wasn’t sure how Mitch would handle it. Whether he could go on without some hint of hope.
Pastor Radley, the worship leader, strummed his guitar and segued into a slower, deeply worshipful song. She blended her voice with Mitch’s, struggling to focus on the lyrics, struggling against the urge to imagine what it would be like to sit beside Mitchell Brannon every Sunday––as more than just his friend. Jill’s friend.
“Forgive me, God.” How could she entertain such traitorous thoughts––and in church? The words of the song convicted . . . Create in me a clean heart, oh, God.
And still she warred with her thoughts.
She was glad when the last note died away and the worship team left the stage.
An hour later, amid the buzz of fellowship, she felt Mitch’s hand at her back, guiding her through knots of animated conversation. Again, she felt eyes on them.
Most people smiled and nodded. A few stopped Mitch and gave masked condolences, telling him they were thinking of him, praying for him. But no one asked if there was news about Jill. Mitch received their words graciously, but Shelley knew he was sick to death of their sympathy––or perhaps he was sick to death of not having any news of Jill week after week.
“Shelley, how are you?”
She turned to see Trudy Beason eyeing her with curiosity. Trudy looked at Mitch, then pointedly back at Shelley. The former teacher was a friend of Jill’s who’d quit her job a couple of years ago to stay home with her children. But Shelley knew Trudy and Jill had gotten together for lunch occasionally. “I’m fine. How are you, Trudy?”
“As well as can be under the circumstances.” She looked past Shelley again. “Hello, Mitch.”
He greeted her cheerfully, as if he hadn’t heard the melancholy in her voice. “I hear Micah had a great game the other night.”
Trudy was off and running, giving Mitch a play-by-play of the middle school game. It was a technique Shelley had seen him use before to divert unwanted sympathy––focus on the other person, get them talking about themselves. She admired him for it and wished she’d thought to use it herself just now.
“Well, we probably ought to get on the road,” he said quietly to Shelley when Trudy had finished with her play-by-play.
“Are you back at work yet? I heard you’d taken more time off.” Trudy put on her solemn mask again, and looked to Shelley as if she might answer the question for Mitch.
Shelley looked away, waiting for Mitch.
“I’ll be back in the office tomorrow,” he said. “I just had some things I needed to take care of this past week . . .” He let the sentence hang unfinished between them.
For the first time, Shelley wondered what he’d told people about where he’d been all week. She was thankful she hadn’t said anything to Jaclyn about why she needed the days off.
Mitch took a step toward the door, and Shelley followed his lead.
But Trudy reached past her to grip Mitch’s forearm. “Is there any news at all?”
He shook his head, frowning, but he left it at that. Before this week she might not have picked up that he was being evasive, but she read his silent cues differently since they’d spent so much time together. For whatever reason, he didn’t want Trudy Beason to know what they were up to.
She gave Trudy a nod and moved forward. Again, she felt Mitch’s hand at her back. The foyer had cleared and Shelley pushed through the door into the airlock entry.
“Let me know, Mitch,” Trudy called after them, “if there’s anything I can do. Anything at all.”
“Thank you,” he said.
The door closed, muffling her reply.
“Let’s go.” Mitch said, close to her ear, his voice tense. He practically pushed her along across the parking lot and started the car almost before Shelley was inside.
Fastening her seatbelt, she looked out her window to the door they’d just exited. Trudy stood just outside the door watching them, when her eyes met Shelley’s, she looked away, but Shelley saw her turn animatedly to another woman––someone Shelley didn’t know––and say something, gesturing toward Mitch’s car.
She knew from the way Mitch winced that he’d seen the exchange too.
Well, let them talk. They’d done nothing wrong. If those women wanted to gossip right there on the church grounds, there was nothing she could do to stop them.
The curvy road was dotted with cars out for a Sunday drive, no doubt people taking advantage of sunshine and warmer temperatures than eastern Missouri had enjoyed in a while. Mitch had stopped by the house to get TP after church, and the dog lounged behind them on the backseat of the Saturn.
Shelley had run home and changed into jeans, but she looked extra beautiful this morning, with her hair flirting with her shoulders and tiny dangly earrings bobbing up and down when she nodded, attentive to every word. Jill had done that too, never taking her eyes off him when they talked. He’d taken it for granted. Why had he taken so many things for granted?
Mitch relaxed his grip on the wheel and looked over at Shelley in the seat beside him. They’d driven through these woods by another route yesterday, and he’d had to remind himself again that he was on a mission, not a weekend getaway. Though fall’s beauty was long past, the woods held a different kind of magic in winter, especially with a sky as blue and cloudless as today’s.
This was the last day they could search before they both had to go back to work, but the truth was, after yesterday, their time together had begun to feel more like the picnic outing he’d chided Shelley about that first day of this search. Or maybe more accurately, it felt like . . . a date.
He had to work not to shudder at the word. But it was true. He’d already felt like he knew Shelley better than he actually did because of her and Jill’s close friendship. But traveling with her every day this week, sharing their hearts, he’d come to know her apart from Jill.
And it was easy to understand Jill’s deep affection for Shelley Austin. She was thoughtful and interesting and fun. And it terrified him b
ecause at times his brain seemed to fog over and Shelley and Jill fused into one person in his mind. He loved the musical sound of Shelley’s laughter far too much. He was far too fascinated with the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. The way her auburn hair––so different from Jill’s––shone in the afternoon sun.
His thoughts dragged him places he didn’t want to go, and he tried to ignore them. When that didn’t work he looked for something else to focus on. He reached over his seat to the backseat where TP was sprawled. “How you doing back there, boy?” He patted the thick neck and TP’s collar jingled. “Did we wear you out yesterday?”
Shelley reached to pat the dog just as Mitch eased his arm back over the seat. Their elbows collided. Mitch tapped the brakes. “You okay? Sorry about that.” He patted her elbow as if she were a child. Then, feeling awkward, he looked over the backseat again.
TP raised his head, cut his eyes between Shelley and Mitch, and gave Mitch a look that was the closest he’d ever come to seeing a dog roll its eyes. You’re no help at all, pup.
Shelley winced and rubbed her elbow absently.
“Are you okay?”
She laughed. “I’m fine. It got my crazy bone is all. Haven’t done that in forever. I forgot how much that stings.” She opened her mouth again as if to ask him something, then closed it.
“What?” he said.
“I just wondered . . .” She worried the hem of her jacket with her thumb and forefinger. “Did you think people looked at us a little funny in church this morning?”
“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant, but he’d hoped she hadn’t noticed.
“It just seemed like maybe people thought we were . . .” She stared at her lap.
“An item?”
She smiled. “That’s a good way to put it. You apparently noticed it too?”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road, feeling strangely exhilarated to be discussing their relationship. “I guess it probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world for us to show up at church together.” Since Jill’s disappearance, his church attendance had been patchy, and when he did go, he usually sat in the back for a quick getaway.
Shelley shifted, angling her body toward him in the passenger seat. “Why would you say that? I used to sit on the other side of Jill almost every Sunday. Was there . . . Is there anything inappropriate about you and me going to church together?”
“No. No,” he said too quickly. Too emphatically. “Just the whole ‘appearance of evil’ thing, I guess.”
“It’s not our problem if people interpret things wrong.”
“Well . . . it shouldn’t be. I’d say Trudy Beason was doing some big-time misinterpreting.”
“Do you think?” She laughed.
He didn’t need to look at her to know the impish gleam that was in her eyes. It made him smile. “You could solve this issue, you know.”
“How’s that?”
“Start dating someone.”
“What?”
He did look at her now.
The impish gleam had turned fierce. “What are you talking about?” she said.
“I’m just saying that if you had a boyfriend, no one would mistake us for an ‘item.’” He was surprised at the way his gut twisted at the thought of her with another man.
“Well, don’t hold your breath,” she muttered.
“So, how come you’ve never dated? Or . . . maybe I shouldn’t assume. But Jill was always trying to think of a guy to set you up with and––”
“Yeah, and that ticked me off sometimes, if you want to know the truth.” She rolled her eyes. “We had the biggest fight of our entire friendship over her trying to hook me up with that stupid Realtor friend of yours.”
“Glenn?”
She nodded and gave a little laugh. “She just couldn’t get that I was not interested. Not in him or anybody else.”
“Is that because Tom . . . soured you on marriage? Or you just don’t like men in general?” He said it lightly, but sobered when her expression hinted at an alternative he hadn’t considered. “Or do you hope you and Tom might get back together?”
“Oh, heavens, no. He’s had a dozen ‘serious’ girlfriends in the fifteen years we’ve been separated. That’s not going to happen.”
They were both silent for a minute, the hum of tires on the highway suddenly overloud.
“I have nothing against men,” she said finally. “But I’m plenty leery of the whole idea of marriage.”
“Hey, don’t let one bad apple spoil––”
“You know . . .” She blew out a sigh and furrowed her forehead. “You people don’t get that––”
“Whoa, whoa. . . What’s this ‘you people’ business? Who are you referring to?”
She held up a hand. “People like you. If you’ve only known a great marriage, it’s easy to go on about what a wonderful institution marriage is. Well, sorry, but it pretty much stunk for me. The only thing I don’t regret about my relationship with Tom is Audrey. And for her, I’d go through a hundred years of the hell Tom put me through.”
“I’m sorry, Shel.” He put a hand on her arm––something he’d found himself doing too often the last two days. “I didn’t mean to make light of it. I guess . . . I didn’t realize how bad things were with you and Tom.”
“I told you he cheated on me. Does it get worse than that?” Immediately she looked like she wished she could take the words back.
How had a perfectly good conversation deteriorated to this? He nodded. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I guess I just thought––that was a long time ago. As long as I’ve known you it’s seemed like you were doing okay. Like that was all in the past. But . . . I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sure something like that doesn’t just go away.”
“No. It doesn’t. Ever. But I am doing okay. I’ve forgiven. I really have. And time does heal a lot of wounds. It’s just that . . . In case you haven’t noticed, not very many people have what you and Jill had, Mitch.”
He acknowledged the truth of that statement with a nod. “But a few do, Shelley. It’s not so rare that you should totally give up.”
“I haven’t. Not totally. I would love to have what Jill had–– What you and Jill have,” she corrected, too quickly. “I really would. But . . .”
“Then don’t give up. God has someone out there for you.” It felt like the right thing to say, and yet he felt awkward saying it.
She didn’t seem to notice. “Do you really think so? It’s easy to feel like a failure, comparing my marriage to your and Jill’s.”
“Don’t blame yourself for what was Tom’s fault. I know you know better than that. The past is the past. Didn’t the pastor just read that verse this morning? Forgetting what lies behind and pressing on, and all that . . . Right?”
“Yes, sir.” She gave a little salute, looking appropriately chastened. “I could tell you the same, you know.”
He chose to ignore that. “I just know you have a tendency to blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault. It’s one of the little things Jill did tell me about. Back when we were trying to figure out who to set you up with next.” He winked.
She glared at him. “Not funny.” But a smile crept through the sternness.
They drove on toward Sylvia, and after they turned off on the designated back road––a long shot he had to admit––they rode in silence, each watching out the window on their respective side of the car, looking into the ditches and beyond into the dense woods that grew on either side of the road.
In the backseat, TP sat up and watched out the back window on Mitch’s side. But the dog didn’t seem to take any interest beyond what he usually did on a Sunday drive.
The late afternoon sun filtered through naked trees branches, working its magic on the browning hillsides, shadowing them in myriad shades of blue and purple. He had to keep reminding himself of their mission.
Rounding a curve in the road, they came upon a narrow turn
off, and he slowed the car. “I’m going to stop and let TP out for a few minutes.”
He got out and opened the back door. TP bounded from the car, sniffing the ground before making a beeline for the nearest tree. Shelley got out, too, and came around to lean on the driver’s side of the vehicle, looking up into the treetops. “I bet it will be gorgeous here in the spring.”
He leaned beside her against the car and followed her line of vision. “It’s pretty close to gorgeous right now.”
“It is. I’m just not a big fan of winter. I hate being cold.”
He pushed away a disturbing image. Jill, alone somewhere in these vast woods, blanketed in snow. It had been a while since he’d had one of these waking nightmares. He fought to ignore it and shot up a prayer.
Shelley’s presence helped. She cupped a hand over her eyes like a visor and peered through the woods where TP had disappeared. “I’ve never thought of myself as a country girl, but I can see why someone would want to build a cabin up in these woods.”
“Yeah, me too. You’ve never been to our cabin, have you?”
“No. I’ve seen pictures though. Jill was always trying to get me to take Audrey and go down sometime, but it just never worked out.”
“It wouldn’t be too far out of your way when you go down to Springfield to bring her home for the summer. Maybe you could stay there for a few days on your way back––or even when you take Audrey to school this spring. We won’t be using it.”
He’d grown comfortable enough with her that he’d quit trying to weigh every sentence before it left his mouth. It was one of the things he liked about spending time with Shelley. But now she looked at him like she was trying to decode his words.
He frowned. “No matter what happens, I doubt we’ll be going to the lake this year.”
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I’m truly sorry.” She reached for his hand and entwined her fingers with his.
Only for a brief moment. And then she untangled her fingers and dropped her hand to her side. But the warmth of it remained. If he stood here in the shadows with her, if he inhaled one more breath of her delicate perfume . . .
The Face of the Earth Page 17
