After All These Years (13 page)

“I'm supposed to be a tough cop, not a stinking teddy bear.” Cal shook his head, but couldn't help grinning as he climbed into his truck. Both the china dolls were strange…a nice kind of strange.

He drove from the alley behind the pharmacy and around the block to the front of it. Although he was on his way home to get ready for work, he decided to play the tough cop first and visit the video store housed in the same old brick building as the pharmacy. Much of the block had been built in the early 1900s. A florist was on the other side of the video store, also part of the same building. The post office butted up against that. Next, a narrow walkway leading to the alley separated the post office from the hardware store on the corner.

He parked between the lines painted directly in front of the darkened pharmacy and got out. Light shone in a second-story window, probably from Chloe's room. The other window was dark. He guessed that would be Lia's bedroom. From the looks of the kitchen, she'd be in there a long time.

A faint garlic aroma lingered in the air. He smiled. Maybe it was his breath. He unwrapped a piece of gum and thought again about how much he had enjoyed dinner. Tammy could take some lessons from Lia. On second thought, that wasn't such a good idea.

He strolled into the video store. To the left of the display shelves near the front, he spotted the owner, Mitch Conway, at the checkout counter. They'd gone to school together, but Mitch's hair was already thinning, and he had a good start on a beer belly. They hadn't gotten along since Cal won the MVP football award in seventh grade. Of course, it didn't help their relationship any that Cal won it every year after that. Coaches were always on them about teamwork on and off the field.

Cal raised his voice above the pulsating music. “Hey, Mitch.”

“Good evening, Cal. Help you find a movie?”

“No, thanks. Just stopped in to ask you to turn the noise down.”

He cocked his head and crossed his arms across his barrel chest. “Noise?”

“You gone deaf on me, Mitch? It's a little loud in here. It's a little loud outside.”

“Come on, Cal. It's Saturday night. My kid and his buddies like to hang out in the back room and play video games and ping pong. They brought in a jam box. Gotta turn it up full blast to hear it. No harm. I don't mind. It's not like we got any businesses open in downtown Valley Oaks at ten o'clock.”

“You've got neighbors. Lia Neuman lives above the pharmacy with her niece.”

“No kidding. Did she complain?”

“She didn't have to. Your kids are making a racket in the alley.” He didn't mention how it vibrated in Chloe's room.

“Hey, at least they're off the street.”

Like 13-year-olds have any business being
on
the street.
He had picked up Mitch's son once for curfew violation.

“I close at midnight. What's the harm if what's-her-face didn't complain?”

“I'm complaining, Mitch. Cool it, or I'll give you a ticket for disturbing the peace.”

“Ain't nobody's peace being disturbed except maybe yours. You sick? You were in that pharmacy an awful long time. Figured it must be a real special prescription the doctor ordered.” His grin was more of a leer.

Cal's eyes narrowed. He caught himself gripping the counter. Not a good sign. “Consider this your first warning, Mitch. And by the way, I only give one.”

He walked away before he gave Mitch a citation for being obnoxious.

Who's ringing the doorbell at seven o'clock on a Saturday night?
Isabel stuck one more pin into her French twist and smoothed her flowered sundress. The weather was still warm. The open weave cardigan should suffice. Slipping on gold hoop earrings, she padded in her stocking feet to the front room, crossed it, and flung open the door.

“Tony! What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up for the party. You're late, by the way.” He wore his charming lopsided smile, a white T-shirt, black slacks, and a grey sport coat. “But that's okay. You're definitely worth waiting for.”

“
You
were invited?”

He made a tsk-ing noise. “Still underestimating me, Izzy. Of course I'm invited. And it's all because of you.”

“Me?”

“Two weeks ago you challenged me to come back and put Brady under a microscope—”

“Those weren't exactly my words—”

“And he thought it was a great idea and suggested I start with his and Gina's engagement party tonight, which is at his parents' farm, for which I need directions. Are you going to make me stand out here all night?”

Isabel felt her entire body sagging. “Why didn't you call? How do you know I don't have other plans for tonight?”

Those deep-set blue eyes grew serious. “You would have let me know before now if there was a special someone in your life.” From behind his back he produced a potted mum
plant bursting with burnt orange blossoms. “The grocery store didn't have any fresh flowers tonight.”

“Tony!” It was an exasperated groan. “I was planning on going by myself. I'm tired. I probably won't stay long.”

“I don't mind leaving early. I can drive us.”

“Oh, come in. Leave the plant outside on the step. Thank you; it's pretty. Have a seat.” She hurried toward the hallway. “I'll be right out.”

She shut her bedroom door, sank onto the carpet beside the bed, and buried her face in the comforter. “Jesus, I can't do this. I can
not
do this. Why, why,
why
did You bring him back?” Straining her ears, hoping for an audible voice, she forced herself to take three deep breaths. “Okay, okay. Use me. Be real to him through me. Open his heart to Your saving grace. And give me patience. Oh! I didn't mean
that
, Lord!”

“Tony, you're not watching the road.” Isabel felt his eyes on her again. “We have to make a left-hand turn after this curve.”

He shifted his gaze toward the highway. “I caught your show. Nice interview with the teacher.”

“I'd been at the studio since five. Somebody has to manually turn on the AM then, so I was running on empty. Not very spontaneous.”

“Let's try again. That was a nice interview. You did a good job.”

She met his glance.

“Izzy, you have a great radio voice and personality. You're fun to listen to.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn't too hard, was it?”

She didn't respond.

“It's a Christian thing, isn't it? Not accepting praise. It's worm theology. We're all worthless creatures.”

“No, we're not. God created us. He loves us just the way we are. He gave me this voice and personality.”

“Then don't get so down on yourself. You do that a lot.”

“Well, I'm not perfect.”

“Do you have to be?”

“No, but—”

“So can't you accept yourself like God does? Recognize my compliment for what it is: my opinion—which I think is a pretty fair assessment—of your ability. Say thank you and forget it.”

“I don't want my ego getting in the way.”

He chuckled. “Not much danger of that. I truly don't believe you have an ego. You seem totally unaware of yourself.”

“Turn left up there.” Strange. Tony was teaching her a lesson on God's acceptance. She should be the one teaching him. “Why are you familiar with these Christian concepts?”

He signaled and made the turn before answering. “My sister…got into it hot and heavy.” His jaw tightened.

“And?”

He shrugged.

“Is that why you're so set against faith in Christ?”

“Say, how about those Cubs this week?”

The subject was off limits for him. And she couldn't tell him that she knew from Cal about his missionary sister being killed. Yet… “I'm sorry her conversion evidently turned you against—”

“Drop it, Izzy.” He turned toward her, eyes narrowed and mouth distorted. His voice was almost a growl. “You have no clue.”

“I don't, but God does.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes. The county highway was like a dusky tunnel through cornfields, the tall stalks partially brown as the time for harvest drew near.

Tony slowed as they approached dozens of cars parked on the narrow shoulders. To the left the Olafsson farm came into view, more cars crammed onto its long blacktop drive. Tony whistled. “This must be the place. Picture postcard, corn belt farm. Circa turn of the last century, gracefully restored into this one. Ni-ice place.”

It was beautiful. A long white fence bordered the drive. At the end of it stood white barns to the right; to the left, a large white square house with black shutters. The last rays of the setting sun glimmered gold in the third-story windows. “Brady's grandparents built the original place in the early 1900s. We probably should park out here if you don't mind leaving your car along the side of a county road.”

“Nah, not this serviceable, nondescript car. Good thing I left the Porsche at home, though.” He caught her raised brows and smiled. “I don't have a Porsche. I'm a reporter, remember? I can drop you off at the door. Save you a trip in those shoes, which are fetching, mind you—”

“I can walk.”

Tony parked and then hurried around the car to offer an elbow. She grasped it to steady herself as her high heels wobbled on the gravel scattered at the highway's edge.

“Izzy, when we leave, I'll pick you up at the end of the drive.”

“Tony, I can catch a ride with somebody else. My house is out of your way. There's a quicker route from here to Rockville.”

“Oh, didn't I mention I'm not staying in Rockville this time?”

There was no motel in Valley Oaks. “Where
are
you staying?”

“Brady actually invited me to stay with him, but I thought that would be just a bit too much togetherness for the both of us. So I rented a furnished apartment for a month. More reasonable than hotel rates, plus I'll save all that driving time and gas money. I'm just down the street from you.” He grinned. “Don't look so happy.”

Her thoughts scrambled, leaving her wordless. She let go of his arm and stopped. He couldn't do this!

“Hey, Iz, I promise not to bug you too much, even though you are the closest resemblance to a friend in a hundred-mile radius.”

“Tony!”

“What?”

Emotions bombarded her. Ferris wheel stomach…her very bones melting in warmth that enveloped her like the desert sun…those Mexican sky blue eyes promising the world…

No!

It had all been a lie, all those emotions, all those words of endearment. “You left without saying goodbye,” she whispered, the long-buried ache pressing the uninvited accusation through her lips. “We were living together, and your hometown
girlfriend—
whose existence had never even been mentioned before—came for graduation with your
parents
.”

He stared at her. “I— Hometown girlfriend? Oh, you mean what's-her-name. My folks and her folks thought— Ancient history. I saw her maybe once after that weekend.”

“I had to pack my bags and make your apartment look as if I'd never existed. You practically shoved me out the door ten minutes before they arrived. I had given you
everything
, and suddenly I wasn't worth an introduction.”
Everything
. She had given him herself…that which should have been
given to her groom…and she had paid in spades for her foolishness.

“Izzy, I was a jerk in college. I admit it!”

“You can't live down the street from me!” As always, her arms gestured, embodying feelings she couldn't form into words. “You can't!”

“Izzy!” He grasped her flailing hands and held them to his chest. “What does me living down the street for a few weeks have to do with our college relationship?”

She bit her lip to keep from crying aloud.
Jesus, help me!

“I'm sorry, Izzy, I'm sorry. I hurt you, didn't I?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Of course it matters!”

He wouldn't understand. She wasn't about to waste her breath trying to explain. “It was a long time ago. I'm just…I'm just tired, and I don't want to live under your microscope!” She tried to pull her hands away, but he held them fast.

“Brady is willing to.”

“Brady's Mr. Macho Mature. I'm just—just—”

“You're just
real
.”

She hung her head and willed the tears not to fall.

“Izzy,” he said softly, “it's my job.”

Dear Lord.
She tried to pray, but the thoughts wouldn't form. She had good reason to be angry and hurt. Why should she let it go? Tony had walked out on her and never looked back. He didn't know the devastating consequences their behavior played on her psyche and her plans for school. If he was going to pry into her life after all these years, he deserved to be chastened and made to feel guilty. He owed her. He didn't deserve her forgiveness. He didn't deserve—