Hope Out Loud

by Kristina Riggle

  And with that he shuffles off onto the bark chip path, swallowed up by the dark woods.

  “Geez, some bodyguard I turned out to be.”

  I jump and whirl around to see Beck a few feet away. “How long were you there?”

  “When I saw you trotting toward the woods I guessed who was out there and followed. But you looked like you had things well in hand. You’ve never needed much saving, Anna Geneva.”

  “No, I guess I haven’t. But I’m glad you were there. Just in case.”

  “You can think of me that way. As a just-in-case guy. I won’t mind.” Beck jumps as if someone shocked him. “Oh! I have something.” He roots through his pockets and produces a piece of crumpled paper. “Your dad gave me this. Said it’s for you and your mom. It’s how I got him to go away, by promising to hand this over.”

  I’m glad it’s dark enough that Beck can’t see my hand shaking as I accept the paper. Here, in my hand, is what my dad wanted to tell my mother and me, what he’d come all this way to say. It could be an apology, a real one. It could be that he wants to get to know me through more than just postcards and a promised lunch that will never materialize. It could be the way I get to know my dad before he dies, because I don’t actually want him to, no matter what drifts through my brain in angry moments.

  I look back toward the woods. He could be there, just a few strides away. He can’t have gotten far with that limp of his.

  I turn instead toward the beach, then start an uneven, wavering jog through the sand toward the water, skirting away from the party. I hear Beck catch up to me, puffing slightly. “Anna?”

  The revelers don’t notice us as we keep beyond the remaining party lights.

  At the water’s edge, the lake licks my toes and rolls back like a puppy playing games. It’s rocky here, and it’s easy for me to find a stone even though a cloud has passed over the moon and the dark has resurged. I jam the rock into the center of the ball of paper, then fling it with as much strength as I can muster. In the black-blue dark, I can only hear the splash. I picture the rock sinking, Lake Michigan eating away at the cheap paper, blurring the ink.

  Beck reaches for my hand, but I reflexively step to the side and fold my arms. I’m still cold, even more so in the lake breeze, which flutters my dress behind me like a little flag. Silent, we stare at the lake as the cloud passes, and the moonlight bursts free again.

  Car doors slam, people are calling goodbye to one another other. In the distance I can see the last of the tables and chairs are being stacked. The twinkle lights in the tent are coming down, and nature is reclaiming her beach. I hear my mother call out, “Anna?” her voice only curious, not yet worried.

  “Guess you’re heading back tomorrow, now that your mom is off to her honeymoon.” He clears his throat and shuffles his feet. Even in the silvery blue moonlight I can discern his longing. “I had some hope you might consider staying.”

  I chuckle, but my voice comes out thick and it sounds nearly like a sob. “How can you still have hope? After all I’ve said?”

  “It’s not a choice to hope or not. It’s only a choice whether to say it out loud.”

  No wonder I’ve had to fight so hard to stay away from Haven, from him. I was hoping all along but trying desperately not to. My resistance melts away and instead of feeling defeat, or fear, or anything I’d imagined, I finally feel like I can breathe.

  I step into Beck with my full weight, catching him by surprise enough that he staggers back before he steadies me, steadies us. We hold each other tight as if there is something trying to pull us apart, though I know that at last, there’s nothing at all.

  Chapter Eleven

  Beck

  Sunday, July 7, 2013

  A growly, rumbling thunder awakens me, and I am confused about what time it is, what day it is. I roll to look at my clock and it’s 6:56 a.m. Another early wake-up for me in my townhouse.

  I slide out of bed and into my pants, scenting the air like a mutt. Is that . . . coffee?

  Anna is at my kitchen table, her red hair huge in all its curly, frizzy glory. The room is dark with the gray stormy morning, but she’s sitting in the circle of lamplight with a coffee cup and the newspaper like she’s done this every day for our whole lives.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  She beams a smile at me, puts down the paper. “The storm woke me, and then, you know, sleeping in a strange bed . . .”

  “Not that we slept so much, did we?”

  Anna’s wearing my shirt from last night, her panties, and that’s all. The sight is so adorable, sexy and so long-awaited I can’t make up my mind whether to bawl or fist-pump.

  She leans back in her chair, stretching her body long with a satisfied sigh. “This is quite a luxury, isn’t it? Spending a whole night together without having to sneak around. It might, in fact, be a first for us.”

  I smile to consider this as I make my way to the cupboard for a mug. “True. When we were kids we were trying to pretend we were virgins—”

  “—Like anyone believed that.”

  “No, but we all liked to make the grownups feel better. And, well . . .”

  “Then we had our affair. We can quit dancing around it. We did it, it’s over and can’t be helped.”

  “And God, we sucked at it, didn’t we?”

  Anna laughs. “We did! We only actually had sex one time. If everyone was going to hate us to death we should have done it every chance we got, anywhere we could.”

  “My office.”

  “The alley behind the Nee Nance.”

  “The car.”

  “We can take that one as read.”

  I sit down at her elbow and take my free hand with hers. “Now we can be together like this all the time, no hiding, no sneaking.”

  “No giving two shits what anyone thinks.”

  “They’ll be happy for us anyway, when they see we’re happy.”

  Anna tries—and fails—to hide her skeptical smirk behind her coffee mug. I open my mouth to score a point for optimism, but my cell phone rings.

  I snatch it up. There’s only one person and one reason for a call this early on a holiday weekend Sunday.

  “Sam, what’s wrong?”

  “Will, Harry’s sick. He’s got a fever that won’t come down even with Tylenol and he’s been throwing up all night. I’m taking him to urgent care.”

  “I’ll drive down.”

  Anna stands up, tense and alert. I recognize that look. She wants to spring into action.

  “No, don’t. For all we know by the time you got here things would be fine. I’m just letting you know. We had a nice time until then.”

  “Geez, I’m sorry. Can I talk to him?”

  “He doesn’t feel up to it.”

  Anna’s cell phone chimes now, and we both jump. She shoots me an apologetic look and silences it.

  “What was that? Is someone else there?”

  Here is where it is easy to lie, redirect the conversation. That noise could’ve been anything, after all.

  “Will? I asked you a question.”

  “Yes, someone’s here. I don’t want to talk about it now.”

  “I can just about guess who it is. Having a stroll down memory lane?”

  “Sam, please. Not now. Just keep me posted about Harry. If it’s bad I can be down there in no time. Hell, if it’s dire I could see about a flight. Hug my buddy for me, ok? Give my love to Maddie.”

  She sighs roughly. “Of course. I’ll keep you posted.”

  I hang up and give Anna the update on Harry, and she settles back into her chair, her expression fading from alarm to thoughtful concern.

  “I’m sorry he’s sick. And I’m also sorry about the phone. I thought I’d turned the sound off. It was just a client email.”

  “Real life barges in.”

  “It always does.”

  Thunder fills our silence, all our giddy buoyance wafting away.

  “So. She didn’t seem happy about you having company.
”

  “No. But she’ll have to get over it. My life is mine. No amount of punishment, from myself or Sam, is ever going to make her forgive me.”

  “Have you forgiven yourself?” Anna reaches out and clasps my hand.

  “I don’t think that’s a one-time deal.” I snap my fingers. “You?”

  “Not a one-time deal for me, either. But I’m here in your kitchen, and I’m allowing myself to enjoy it.”

  “Not just my kitchen, I hope.”

  Anna laughs, a little flush rising under her freckles.

  I squeeze her hand. “How long can you stay? When do you have to get back?”

  “I can stay as late as tomorrow morning, but then I absolutely have to go.”

  “I might have to leave anyway, if they can’t get Harry’s fever down. You know it will always be like this. Our plans, our time, always getting tossed aside for the kids.”

  “I know, and my work doesn’t fit neatly into nine to five. But we’ll manage. We’ll work something out.” She gives me a little smile, and my heart lifts. Here’s some genuine optimism. Anna turns brisk, and stands up for more coffee. She refills her mug, and chatters to me about her plans—something about law school contacts in Muskegon, maybe teaching, seeing one client through a bitter divorce, apparently she also wants to rent Cami’s house—and I just have to smile and shake my head in wonder. Here she is in my shirt, no pants, tangled hair standing at attention like a mane around her face, and she’s taking command like she was born to it.

  She finally takes a breath long enough to notice me grinning at her. “What? What’s that face for?”

  “There’s nothing you can’t figure out.”

  “Easy, tiger. It’s not an overnight project. But someday, and I can’t promise when . . .”

  “You’ll come back to Haven.”

  “Assuming you’ll have me.”

  “I’ll have you anytime.” I give her my best crooked grin, the same one I deployed to charm her all those years ago in the school cafeteria, over a Styrofoam tray of square rubbery pizza.

  I’d sweep her into my arms and carry her off right now, except the hum of worry about my son won’t let me reclaim the abandon of last night, when we left a trail of clothing from the door to the bedroom, then lay entwined and nude as the storm rolled on around us.

  She reads my expression as only Anna can. “I’m sure he’ll be okay. Kids get fevers all the time.” She leaves her coffee mug and comes back to me at the table. She reaches down to run her fingers through my tangled hair.

  “Thanks. We’ll hope for the best.”

  Her compassion, her calm, loosens a knot in my chest. I guide her into my lap. We reach for each other, and share a soft, chaste kiss, until my phone rings once more.

  “It’s Sam.”

  It seems Harry’s fever has already started to come down and he has started to perk up, just on the way to the urgent care clinic. Murphy’s Law, Sam groans, but they will see the doctor anyway, just to be sure. Sam asks me to hold on, and I can hear her urging Harry to take the phone and talk to me.

  Anna stands up and whispers, “I’ll be right here when you need me.” As Anna walks to my kitchen window and watches the rain lash the windowpane, I know this is finally true.

  The End

  About this Book

  Thanks for reading Hope Out Loud. I hope you enjoyed it! The novella Hope Out Loud is a continuation of the story first told in my novel, The Life You’ve Imagined.

  Reviews help other readers find books and I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative. Please take a moment and write a review for Hope Out Loud.

  Follow me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/krisriggle.

  My Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/RiggleNovels.

  Visit my Website at http://www.kristinariggle.net.

  Acknowledgments

  Heartfelt thanks to my early readers, Eliza Graham and Kelly O’Connor McNees. I’m indebted to you for your talent, insight and courtesy. For guiding me through this new publishing frontier, much gratitude to my agent Kristin Nelson and digital liaison Lori Bennett. For the gorgeous cover, thank you to Mumtaz Mustafa; your work always shines. Thanks to copyeditor Reem Abu-Libdeh for being my safety net and helping me produce proper ellipses. To my brother in law, Bob, thanks for helping me get Anna’s career details right. If I screwed any of that up, dear reader, it’s my fault, not his. Better yet, assume it’s poetic license.

  About the Author

  Kristina Riggle lives and writes in West Michigan. Her debut novel, Real Life & Liars, was a Target “Breakout” pick and a “Great Lakes, Great Reads” selection by the Great Lakes Independent Booksellers Association. The Life You’ve Imagined was honored by independent booksellers as an IndieNext “Notable” book. Things We Didn't Say was named a Midwest Connections pick of the Midwest Booksellers Association. Her latest novels are Keepsake and The Whole Golden World, which was lauded by Bookreporter.com as “a riveting and thought-provoking page-turner that will appeal to fans of Jodi Picoult and Chris Bohjalian.”

  Kristina has published short stories in the Cimarron Review, Literary Mama, Espresso Fiction, and elsewhere, and is a former co-editor for fiction at Literary Mama. Kristina was a full-time newspaper reporter before turning her attention to creative writing. As well as writing, she enjoys reading, yoga, dabbling in (very) amateur musical theatre, and spending lots of time with her husband, two kids and dog.

  For more information about Kristina and her books, visit her Website at:

  http://www.kristinariggle.net.

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/krisriggle

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RiggleNovels

  Also by Kristina Riggle

  Real Life & Liars

  The Life You’ve Imagined

  Things We Didn’t Say

  Keepsake

  The Whole Golden World

  HOPE OUT LOUD

  A Haven Novella

  Kristina Riggle

  Copyright © 2015

  All Rights Reserved.

  978-1-62051-180-0

  AGENCY INFORMATION

  NLA Digital LLC

  Cover design: Mumtaz Mustafa

  Cover photography: Daniel Sheehan Photographers

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Please respect writers and their work by buying their books from legitimate sources. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.