A Promise Remembered

by Elizabeth Mowers

  “You came to the right place.” Annie laughed, landing a kiss on top of Betsy’s head.

  James tugged on Annie’s apron, pulling her focus to him.

  “Can we go to the art fair?”

  “Please, Mom?” Betsy begged, joining the cause. “I really have a taste for an elephant ear.”

  “When have you ever had an elephant ear?”

  “You and Sean took me before.”

  Annie thought for a moment before recalling they had taken Betsy years ago, when she’d been expecting James. Sean had also punched his fist through the sliding glass door later that night. She’d all but repressed it.

  “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  “We saw the art fair on the way here, and the children spotted the elephant ear stand,” Marjorie explained.

  “Do you want to come with us?” Annie asked.

  Marjorie shook her head. “Thanks, child, but I have too many errands to run.”

  “So we’re going?” Betsy pressed.

  “Please, Mom?” James chimed in, wrapping his arms around Annie’s waist and peering up at her. She had to check her tips, but she could probably squeeze together a few loose dollars for an elephant ear. His innocent little face could always sway her.

  “Okay, I suppose elephant ears win the day.”

  “I love elephant ears,” William added, his voice light and cheerful.

  “Me, too,” Betsy sang, skipping around the counter to greet him. “Do you want to come with us?”

  “No,” Annie quickly interjected. “William has to work.”

  William shrugged. “I’m done for now. Gosh, I can’t remember the last time I saw The Peninsula art fair.”

  “Come with us!” Betsy squealed. “Please, William.”

  James smiled up at William as he considered the invitation.

  “How’s your tummy, buddy?” he asked, squatting down to be eye level with the little boy. “The last time I saw you, you were nearly green.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, his voice small but his eyes glistening. William poked James lightly at the belly button, making him giggle and stick his belly out farther for another go.

  “Children, go use the restroom before we leave. I have to...uh...check something in the office.” She went to the back, hoping William would get distracted, and she could quickly wrangle the children out the door.

  “Are you leaving?” Mia asked, picking up an order from the kitchen.

  “Yep. See you tomorrow.”

  “Is William going with you?”

  “What? No.”

  “You should invite him along. Break the ice a bit before the wedding.”

  “Break the...? Goodbye, Mia.”

  Annie grabbed her purse and returned to the dining room only to find William and the children waiting for her outside on the sidewalk.

  “Ready?” William asked, putting on his sunglasses. Annie squinted at him, surprised he had enough nerve to tag along on her outing with the children. “You might want your sunglasses, you know.”

  “I have sunglasses,” she quipped, fumbling through her purse for them as she located her keys. “I’m parked over here.”

  “There won’t be any parking available this time of day. We can walk. Come on.” And with the jerk of his head, he and the children were on their way. William cruised down the sidewalk like the Pied Piper of Hamelin as the children paraded behind him.

  “Traitors,” she mumbled as they giggled and bounced along. But as she hurried to match her strides with his, an inkling in her heart told her his company wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to her children—or her—that day.

  * * *

  WILLIAM STROLLED BESIDE Annie as Betsy and James bounded all over the walk in front of them. The artists were tightly lined up in their designated spots, most of them in tented booths and all of them eager to make a sale. Clay sculptures, oil paintings, quilts, textiles, pottery, woodwork and metals adorned the rocky stretch of Lakeview Boulevard, with Lake Superior as the backdrop. Cobalt blue and generously peppered with white waves cresting, Lake Superior was the ideal backdrop to inspire the collection of creativity that had congregated that afternoon. While the breeze whipping off the lake kept the black fly swarms at bay, it also caused the artists to tamp down their tents and anything else that could be lifted from a sudden gust.

  “Have you kept up your artwork since high school?” William asked, a booth of sketches triggering a memory.

  “Not really,” she replied. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

  “You drew something about Halloween, wasn’t it? For one of the art shows?”

  “It was for El Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. It’s a Mexican holiday.”

  “I was close.”

  “Yes, that’s pretty good.” Annie chuckled.

  “Do you still sketch?”

  “I haven’t in a long time. I should, but life seems to get in the way.”

  “You were good, as I remember.”

  Annie smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  “Is that something you want for yourself?” he asked. “Time to sketch?”

  “Sure. Time to sketch or paint or...create. Walking around down here reminds me of how much I miss it, but it’ll be a while before I ever have the time again.”

  “We’ll need a new sign for the diner. You could start there.”

  “What’s wrong with the old sign?”

  “Just that. It’s old.”

  Annie meandered a ways, contemplating his suggestion. “I suppose I could paint something.”

  “I want to change the name, too.”

  “Why would you change the name? Pop’s Place has been a fixture in this town for decades.”

  William stopped at a booth of photographs. “Pop’s Place was Dennis’s place. The new diner belongs to Joyce. New diner, new name.”

  “Does she have anything in mind?”

  “She told me to pick it, so I have to come up with something good. No pressure, huh?”

  Annie flipped through a stack of photographs of Lake Superior, as William thumbed through a stack of his own. The artist was a local and each picture of the Upper Peninsula was more majestic than the next. After a few moments, Annie plucked out a small print, holding it tenderly in her hands.

  “That’s a good one,” he said, noticing. The full moon shining over the bay at night gave off an aura even he could recognize. “Do you like the moon?”

  “Who doesn’t?” Annie sighed. “My problems always seem so much smaller and insignificant when I stare up at a full moon, you know? Sometimes late at night when I can’t sleep and my mind is reeling with thoughts, I load the children into the car and drive down to the lake to stare up at the moon.”

  “Why?”

  “To marvel at it.”

  “Do you do that often?”

  “More often than I’d care to confess. I’m lucky the children are deep sleepers.”

  “Even in the winter?”

  Annie shut her eyes tightly. “Don’t judge me,” she winced with a grin. “I don’t really do it anymore now that they’re bigger. But...” She trailed off, biting her lip in hesitation. He grinned and raised his eyebrows.

  “Let’s hear it, Curtis.”

  “Well, sometimes even if it’s really cold, I climb out onto the roof.”

  “In the snow and ice?” William asked. “You’ll break your neck!”

  “I know! I know. It’s not one of my brightest ideas, but sometimes I can’t help it. I’m drawn to it. Maybe somewhere else in the world there’s another Annie who’s staring up at the moon, too, and she doesn’t have the problems I do. Maybe if I stare at the moon long enough, we’ll trade places.”

  “An alternate life?”

  She heaved a heavy sigh. “Have you ever wan
ted to trade places with a different version of yourself? A version who chose differently.”

  William felt something stir inside him as he studied her. In all his life he hadn’t ever been drawn to another woman the way he had been to Annie. She’d hung her heart around his neck a long time ago, and as he admired her long black eyelashes batting like butterfly wings, something surged within the depths of his soul. A longing to be near her again gripped him; he wanted to hold her. She’d been wounded—that much was evident—and he ached at the realization that it had been his fault. His voice rose slowly as he carefully chose his words. He had to get this right.

  “I never wanted to leave you, Annie,” he began, his voice paced with caution. While she showed little reaction to his admission, her fingers halted over the print. He continued. “That night, when I was supposed to come to you, Dennis and I got into it...again...and this time... I couldn’t take any more from him—I snapped.”

  “Why did it have to be that night?” she whispered. “If you had to run away, why didn’t you run to me?”

  “If I had a logical reason, I’d tell you, Annie, but something inside me needed to fight back and win.”

  “And did you win?”

  “I’m not sure, but it was a relief to get out from under Dennis’s thumb. But you...” He gently brushed a tear off her cheek as she met his gaze. “You were the only good thing I had in my life back then, Annie. If all your troubles now are because of me...”

  “I waited on the porch for five hours.”

  “Five hours,” he repeated softly, studying the supple curve of her cheek. The image of her there, crying when he didn’t show, made his gut twist.

  “I did. But you never called or wrote or anything. You vanished into thin air, leaving me to wonder if I had imagined your feelings for me.”

  Annie turned back to the photograph as William gently touched her hand.

  “I was in a bad place.”

  “How bad?” she asked, pleading for an explanation he could never give her. He shook his head.

  “Is it too late to apologize?”

  “No, it’s never too late. I guess it’s no use wondering what might have been.”

  “Do you still?”

  She wiped another tear off her cheek and shook her head. His gut twinged as he found himself hoping it was a lie. He’d thought of her over the years, but only as the pretty girl who had loved the person he had been. As he had trudged through his twenties and a pattern of bad decisions, pining for her had been too painful. He’d learned to shut her memory out of his heart early on. But now, since arriving back in Chinoodin Falls, something deep in his soul had begun stirring. It was a yearning to connect again. How many years had he cut his own tracks across the globe, looking out for only himself and his best interests? He’d done it to escape the past, to protect himself and protect his heart. He had needed to feel free, to cast all others aside while he convinced himself he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He could face the whole world all on his own. And now...

  He fished his wallet from his back pocket.

  “I’d like to buy that for you,” he said, counting through his cash.

  She quickly tucked the print into the stack. “You don’t have to do that,” she muttered, but William leaned over her and retrieved it.

  “How much for the small print?” he called to the artist.

  “Forty-five for the lady.”

  “See? It’s meant to be,” William said, handing over exact change. Annie reached again to stop him.

  “William, I don’t need anything from you...” But before she could finish her protest, he clasped her outstretched hand tightly in his and closed the gap between them. Her eyes widened in surprise, her breath catching under the sharpness of his stare.

  “Anyone who loves the moon as much as you do deserves to have this at her fingertips. This way you’ll always have the moon with you.”

  Even if I can’t be with you, too, he thought, a sinking melancholy banking against the inside of his chest. He placed the print in her hands as her eyes searched his.

  “Are you in a bad place now, William?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Breezing back into town and then readying to leave again... What haven’t you told me?”

  He paused, his hands grazing over hers before pulling away. “Nothing.”

  Her wide eyes slowly narrowed. “Something.”

  “You and I haven’t gotten off on the right foot, Annie, and I’d like to make a fresh start with you.”

  “A fresh start?”

  “If it’s possible.”

  “I don’t really know what to say.”

  “Consider this gift a peace offering for all the times I should have been with you, staring up at the moon. I really wish you would.”

  “You missed a lot, William.”

  “I know...”

  “And to suddenly start a friendship now...”

  “I’m sorry. I should have been here.”

  “No. You should have called me instead of dropping off the face of the earth. I didn’t know what happened to you. I assumed you didn’t care about me anymore.”

  “I always cared,” William whispered. “I care.”

  Annie clutched the photograph to her chest. He wanted her to believe him. Needed her to. Even if they couldn’t continue a friendship initiated years ago, he needed to calm the squalls of regret in his heart. If he left Chinoodin Falls as no more than her acquaintance, he needed to know she believed his words. He needed to know she still saw something of the man he once was and still believed in him. If she could acknowledge that man, then perhaps he was still in there, even if somewhere very hidden and buried with mistakes.

  “Then let me ask you one more thing, William.”

  “Shoot.”

  She drew a deep breath as the sun emerged and caught each fleck of gold scattered throughout her brown eyes. “Can I trust you?”

  His throat cinched. Images from his past flooded over him as he recalled nights of binge drinking and blackouts. He couldn’t tell her everything without risking the small gains they’d made over the last couple of days. For now he just wanted her in his corner. He needed her there. Her presence left him aching for more, like nourishment for his soul.

  “Always,” he whispered.

  “We found the elephant ears!” Betsy called as she and James scampered up, their little faces pink and dewy.

  “Lead the way.” William winked as the children each took one of his hands. But it was Annie who glided to the front of the pack, setting the pace through the crowd to the elephant ear stand. When she peeked back over her shoulder at him, a glisten in her eyes took his breath away and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was walking on air.

  * * *

  ANNIE SETTLED THE children at the kitchen table with snacks and crafts before leading Mia up to her bedroom. She wanted to talk to someone about what had happened at the art fair, but the embarrassment of exposing her feelings about it made her stay tight-lipped in front of Betsy and James. After all, she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about things. William had apologized for leaving her when they were teens and genuinely seemed remorseful. As much as she’d desperately craved to hear it, she struggled with where they could go from here. Mentally batting around the prospect of a friendship with William, she’d spent the night staring at her new moon picture and imagining...

  It was ridiculous. She was a mother of two. William was leaving Chinoodin Falls. She’d had her heart broken enough times to know when to quit when she was ahead. Stay focused. Be responsible. Hold her cards close.

  She sprawled out on the edge of her bed as Mia dropped two bags on the floor and began pulling out the contents.

  “You’re a little smaller than me, so you can have your pick of the lot,” Mia said, holding out a black stra
pless cocktail dress and a red halter that fell above her knee.

  Annie scrunched up her face, holding the two dresses as if they were about to bite her.

  “Do you have anything a little less...”

  “Amazing?” Mia laughed.

  “That wasn’t exactly what I was going for.”

  “You have a dainty little figure under there, A, and you need to show it off once in a while.”

  Annie dropped to the floor to rummage through Mia’s bags herself, but every dress was short or formfitting. Mia was a young twenty-four, and Annie felt much older than her thirty years.

  “Do you have anything in here someone my age could wear?” Annie asked, shaking her head.

  “Whatever self-deprecating inner monologue you have running away in your head, girl, you need to give it up now. I’m not leaving until I get you into one of these fabulous dresses.”

  “Ans? Are you up here?” Karrin peeked around the corner before proudly handing over a purple gift bag.

  “Did you get it all?” Mia chirped.

  Karrin snickered. “And then some.”

  “What is this?” Annie asked, peering into the bag.

  “Goodies.” Karrin popped open a bottle of wine. “Hair color, makeup, nail polish, strapless bra—”

  “Are these falsies?” Annie gasped, extracting two pads resembling raw chicken cutlets and wiggling them in the air.

  “I didn’t know what you might need for the dress,” Karrin howled, dodging a chicken cutlet.

  “It’s a wedding, you guys. It’s not my wedding.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t look your best. As a woman nearing my forties—”

  “Nearing?” Mia coughed. Karrin raised an eyebrow and sipped her wine before beginning again.

  “Fine. As a woman dipping a toe into my early forties, I can personally attest to the miracle of hair color and under-eye concealer. They are a girl’s best friends.”

  “And falsies.” Mia giggled.

  “I’m not wearing those,” Annie protested, throwing the other cutlet at Mia. “I’m not sure I can even wear these dresses.”