Home to Hart's Crossing (27 page)

Most Saturdays the hum of his mower was one of several. But on this first weekend in September, many of their neighbors were gone for the final three-day holiday of summer, leaving the neighborhood oddly silent.

Last Labor Day weekend, she and Al had borrowed a tent trailer from a friend and gone camping in Grand Teton National Park. During the days, they hiked trails, rode horses, and ate copious amounts of food. At night, they huddled together near the campfire and talked about their future and what God might have in store for them.

That was the same weekend Patti first suggested they should start a family. Her job with the publishing company, which she’d been able to continue after their wedding via telecommuting, had ended due to in-house changes. Maybe now, she’d said, was the time to think about having children of their own. She hadn’t shared with Al that her heart longed to be part of a family, a family that was whole, where the husband loved his wife, the dad loved his kids. She hadn’t told him because it was a truth she barely acknowledged to herself.

The doorbell rang, drawing her thoughts to the present. She hurried to answer it.

Sven Johnson, the mailman, stood on the front porch. Grizzled, gray-haired, and bent at the shoulders, he smiled at her through thick spectacles. “Morning, Patricia.”

“Good morning, Mr. Johnson.”

“Have a package for you.” He held a box toward her, the rest of the mail stacked on top of it.

“Thanks.” She took hold of the items with both hands.

“Give my best to Alfred.”

She swallowed a chuckle. No one but Sven called Al by his given name. “I’ll do it.”

As soon as the door closed, she carried the mail into the kitchen and set it on the table. The return label on the box told her these must be the books she had ordered a week ago. She grabbed a knife from the drawer and sliced open the packing tape.

“Wow,” she whispered as she pulled the first of two coffee-table books free of its wrapping. “It’s even more beautiful than I expected.” She flipped through the pages, admiring the nature photos, reading the captions.

“What’s that?” Al asked from the back doorway.

She set the book on the table and closed its cover before looking in his direction. “The mail. Mr. Johnson brought it to the door.”

Al removed his grass-stained athletic shoes before entering the house. “I meant the book.”

“Oh, it’s the most beautiful collection of photographs from around the world. The captions are all Bible verses. I bought the pair for the coffee table in the living room.”

He looked at her for a few moments before picking up the receipt. “Forty dollars?”

“That includes the shipping. They were marked way down. I saved 50 percent.”

“We didn’t
need
them, Patti.”

She sent him a glare that told him what she thought of his tone.

Al let the receipt float to the table before stepping toward the sink to wash his hands. Patti stared at his back, all the while hoping one of the twins would cry so she would have an excuse to leave. She didn’t want to continue this conversation. It would lead to another argument, the same old argument they’d had for months.

But no sounds came through the baby monitor. She was stuck where she was.

Drying his hands on a dishtowel, Al turned to face her. “Honey, I know you want our home to look nice. So do I. But we’ve got to stick to our budget.” He spoke slowly, as if afraid she wouldn’t understand. “We’re already carrying too high of a balance on our credit cards. The interest is killing us. We’re barely touching the principal each month.”

She wasn’t a complete fool. She knew their finances were stretched to the limit. But sometimes she wanted to buy things because she
liked
them, not because they were a necessity. Was that so terrible? Did her whole world have to consist of diapers and laundry soap? Couldn’t he cut her some slack? Didn’t he know she did it for him?

* * *

There was a time when Al thought that stubborn tilt of Patti’s chin was adorable. Not so much lately.

“You know what?” He tossed the towel onto the counter. “Maybe
you
ought to pay the bills for the next month and see what it’s like. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so quick to order things we don’t need or to order pizza delivered two nights a week.”

“I could do as good a job as you’re doing,
Alfred
Bedford. And without so much bellyaching.”

Al clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to say something he would have to apologize for later.

“But if I’m paying the bills, buster, you can take care of the babies while I do it.”

“You mean, take care of them without so much bellyaching?”

Her eyes went wide, and her mouth formed an
O
as she sucked in air.

Well, now he’d gone and done it. Said something he’d have to apologize for. But he wasn’t apologizing right now. “I need gas for the mower. Be back in a while.”

He was still mad when he pulled up to the pump at the Main Street Service Station ten minutes later.

“Women,” he muttered as he opened the driver’s side door.

He retrieved the gas can from the back of the minivan
no way did he haul gas in his sports car
and set it next to the pump. Straightening, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and checked to see how much cash he had. After the words he’d exchanged with his wife, he preferred not to use the credit card.

Three bucks. That should get him through the last mowing of the year. He lifted the nozzle for regular gasoline and stuck it into the can.

He shouldn’t have said what he did to Patti. He should have kept his temper in check. He knew she was tired. She didn’t get enough sleep. But neither did he, and he had to face a classroom of eleven- and twelve-year-olds five days a week. She didn’t have to go to an office every day where someone judged her performance.

Besides, Patti was the one who’d wanted to buy the new house. He would have been just as happy with something smaller and less expensive in an older part of town. He’d told her they would have to cut corners if they bought the new house, and she’d agreed to it.

Lost in thought, he was past the three dollar mark before he realized it. “Idiot.” Now he would have to use his credit card.

He saw himself in his mind, scowling at the gas can while talking under his breath. He acted like charging three dollars and twenty-seven cents was the end of the world.

Recalling what he’d said to Patti before storming out of the house, his amusement faded. He’d hurt her, and that wasn’t funny. It didn’t matter if he had cause to be angry. He shouldn’t have said what he did.

He needed to get home and apologize. Fast.

* * *

Patti hid her face in her folded arms on top of the kitchen table, the sound of the slamming door echoing in her mind. Her chest ached.

Oh, God. What’s wrong with me?

She recalled another slamming door, the one that closed behind her father the day he walked out for good. Her parents had fought a lot too. Her childhood home had been filled with tension whenever her parents were together. Even at thirteen, Patti had promised herself that when she got married her home would be different. She would make it a haven for her family.

What if she drove Al away, spending money she shouldn’t, getting angry at the drop of a hat? What if he walked out that door and never came back?

She heard the garage door open. Seconds passed, counted by the ticking of the mantel clock.

“Patti?” Al stepped into the kitchen, stopping when he saw her at the table. “Patti, I’m sorry.”

She rose from the chair. “Me too.”

“I lost my temper and said things I shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t have bought those books.”

He moved toward her. She stepped into his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest.

“I’ll curb my spending, Al. I promise.”

“I love you. We’ll be okay.”

Please, God. Let it be true.

Chapter 4

“REMEMBER TO BRING YOUR permission slips to school tomorrow,” Al called to his departing students the following Thursday.

Not that any of them listened. Once that dismissal bell sounded, they tuned him out. He’d been the same at their age.

After everyone was gone and he’d performed a quick sweep of the room to see if anything important was left behind, Al sank onto his desk chair and reached for the top paper in the stack of essays that awaited him. He liked to begin the year by asking his students to write about the favorite thing they did during the summer and three reasons why they liked it so much. Sure, it was a knock-off on “How I spent my summer vacation,” but it worked. It helped him get to know the kids.

The first essay was by Lyssa Sampson. If he was a betting man, he’d bet hers was about Little League Baseball. He would have lost that bet. She’d written about a camping trip with Mel Jenkins, her soon-to-be stepdad.

He smiled as he read the essay. Lyssa had a way with words that brought the vacation experience to life on the page. Her writing also made him see Mel, manager of the Farmers Independent Bank, in a whole new light. He hoped his own kids would write as affectionately about him when they were Lyssa’s age.

His gaze drifted to the framed photo on his desk. In it, Patti sat on the living room sofa, holding a baby in each arm. The twins were about two weeks old at the time, their eyes closed and frowns creasing their brows, as if to say, “We don’t want our picture taken.” Hard to believe those two small bundles would be writing essays for their sixth grade teacher eleven years from now.

He shook his head. Eleven years ago, he’d been a cocky college student, staying up too late, living on pizza and breakfast cereal. Despite his youthful antics, he’d managed to graduate with honors, but in the meantime, he was responsible for more than a few of his parents’ gray hairs.

“Knock, knock.”

He looked toward the classroom doorway. “Hey, Cassandra.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“Not really. What’s up?”

Cassandra Coble
a tall, model-thin blonde
leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed one ankle over the other. “Nothing, really. I just needed to hear an adult’s voice for a few minutes before I tackle my lesson plan.”