Tender Vow (18 page)

From there, she moved on to her drawers of socks, summer shirts and shorts, and sweaters. She kept two garbage bags at the ready: one for anything with holes or stains, to be thrown away, and the other for items in decent condition, to be donated to charity.

When she finished her chore and was tying the bags, the doorbell chimed. She went to the window to look down at the driveway and spotted her father-in-law’s car. Rarely did her in-laws drop in unannounced. Donna, in particular, considered it improper.

She skipped down the stairs, surprised to discover only Tom standing on her doorstep. “Dad? Well, gee whiz! To what do I owe this honor? Come in, come in,” she said, holding the door open with one arm and giving him a quick hug with the other.

He wore an awkward expression as he glanced around the foyer. “Don’t mean to barge in on you, but I was in the neighborhood. I had coffee with several of my cronies at that River House restaurant.”

“Yes, I know the place. John and I went there on occasion. You didn’t have to work today?”

“Naw, I took the day off. Got a lot of vacation to use up before year’s end.”

She brushed several blonde hairs out of her eyes and thought about her awful appearance—her stained T-shirt and holey, worn jeans. “Would you care to sit down?” She gestured toward the living room.

“No, I— Are Meagan and Johnny here? Just thought I’d stop by to see them.”

“No, sorry. Meaggie’s at preschool, and Johnny’s at my parents’ place. Tanna’s watching him.”

“Ah.” He gave a slow nod and inhaled. “I smell Lemon Pledge. Have you been cleaning?”

“Yep! I’ve been organizing closets, sorting through drawers, straightening shelves….”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“You sure you don’t want to sit?”

“No, I’m heading over to the lumber store. My son pointed out a few things around the house that need fixing, so I’m getting at it. Kid’s got an eagle eye when it comes to houses. ’Course, Donna’s plain overjoyed.”

“You should just have Jay do it for you. He thrives on that sort of thing.”

“I can take care of my own house.” His tone carried a stubborn tautness. “I heard he’s been doing some odd jobs around your house. That’s…good.” Outside, the wind picked up, drowning out the classical piano CD she had set at low volume. Tom looked at the front window. “You heard from him since Thanksgiving?”

“Jason? No, why?”

He waved a hand. “Oh, nothing. Just wondered, is all.” He looked down, assessing her with his gray green eyes. “You seem like you’re doing better these days.”

“Do I? I still have lots of hard times, but it’s nice when people tell me they’ve seen subtle changes. It’s hard to believe it’s been an entire year since—the accident. How are you and Mom holding up?”

“Us? Oh, good. Fine.”

Of course, he never came clean with his true feelings. “I’ve been memorizing Scriptures—especially verses from Psalms,” she said. “The support group I attend at church has been a big encouragement to me, too. I was telling Mom a few days ago that you guys ought to come with me sometime. It’d be good for you.”

“Pfff, that’s not really my scene. I’m findin’ my own way to work through this thing.”

“With the Lord’s help, I hope.”

He looked at his shoes, then scratched his head before giving her a sideways glance. “I s’pose I got some issues—about the accident an’ all.”

Her stomach soured in an instant. “Like what?”

He gave another wave of dismissal. “Aw, it’s not worth talking about.”

“No, really. You can tell me.” So seldom did Tom Evans speak about that day that it seemed imperative she draw out whatever she could about how he thought or felt, despite her slight apprehension to know the truth.

He pushed up his left coat sleeve to look at his watch. “I better get going. Donna will wonder what’s become of me.”

“Okay,” she said, placing a hand on his arm, “but tell me something first. Do you blame Jason for the accident? I said things at the cemetery I had no right saying, remember?” His head bobbed slowly. “Shock overruled my common sense, and I lashed out at him. Why didn’t you stand up for your son that day?”

He pulled his arm away and turned toward the door. “This isn’t the time for talking about it.”

“Of course, it is. There’s nobody else around. If you carry blame in your heart, at least you can tell me why. Sometimes, it just helps to get your feelings out in the open.”

With his back to her, he put his hand to the doorknob but didn’t turn it; he just stood there staring at his hand. “They argued,” he murmured.

“I know that. Brothers tend to. Did he ever tell you what they argued about?”

“No, and I don’t want to know!” he shot back in a gruffer tone than he’d ever used with her. “Sorry,” he said, immediately turning to look at her with regret in his shiny eyes.

“It’s all right.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed. “It’s just—whatever they were fighting about precipitated the accident. Jay could have prevented it.”

“How could he have prevented it? John acted of his own free will when he set off down Devil’s Run.”

Her father-in-law took several labored breaths and looked at the low-burning fire she’d started that morning. “I don’t like to think about that hill.”

“Nor do I,” she whispered.

“Then, let’s not discuss it further. I’ll—I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

“Dad.” She touched his arm again and breathed a prayer for strength. “Jay feels like he can’t measure up to your standards…that he’s always lived in John’s shadow.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. Why would he think that?”

“Well, have you ever driven down to Harrietta to check out his office or seen the houses he’s built? Have you ever swung through some of the neighborhoods he’s developed? He told me he put a bid on a new housing development just ten miles from here, and they accepted the deal a week before Thanksgiving. Did you know that?”

Tom’s chest swelled, and he arched an eyebrow. “Really? That’s somethin’, huh?”

“You ought to tell him you’re proud of him.”

“Pfff, he knows that,” Tom grumbled. “Why are you so concerned, anyway?”

The sense that her father-in-law harbored the tiniest bit of resentment toward her made her stomach lurch. “He’s my brother-in-law, and I care about him.”

“Humph. You know, there was a time when I thought you and Jason were better suited for each other than you and John.”

She rocked backward, nearly losing her balance. “I loved John very much,” she said firmly, emphasizing every word.
Is he actually calling our marriage and my love for John into question?

He backpedaled. “Oh, ’course, I know that now. I just wondered, you know, if you ever wished you had married, well—”

“What? No! Gracious, no!”

He let out a slow sigh and shifted his weight. “Well, I was just a little curious.”

“Dad, for goodness’ sake! I can’t believe you’d even hint at such a thing. John was the love of my life.”

He looked down at her and bit his lower lip. Then, with a manufactured grin, he said, “Oh, I know that. Good grief, I hope I haven’t upset you, honey. That wasn’t my intention. Sorry if I have.”

“It’s all right—it’s fine.” Now, she was the one not wanting to express her true feelings. But how could she have shared them, given the simmering anger his subtle accusation had provoked? She might say something she’d regret.

“Well, I’ll be going now.”

This time, she made no effort to stop him.

***

“You idiot! What are you trying to prove?”

John adjusted his goggles and ski cap and grinned a smile that lacked warmth. “Challenging you to a race, brother.”

“On Devil’s Run? You must be crazy. Come on, let’s take Steeple Run instead.”

“What? You scared I’ll beat you for a change?”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s not safe—not today. Look, it’s starting to sleet. Come on, John, quit playing.”

“You think I’m playing?” John yelled. “This is not playing, bro.”

“What’s been eating at you?”

Ski poles stuck firmly at his sides, John hollered against the biting, stinging wind and icy sheets of sleet. “You’ve always wanted her, haven’t you?”

“What?” Jason stepped closer, his gut tumbling and his brain whirling with sickening disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“I guess I always knew it, but I kept pushing the notion aside—until now. You’ll never marry that Candace woman. She’s not really what you’re looking for in a wife.”

“John, you’re making no sense. What are you suggesting, anyway?”

“You know very well what I’m suggesting. I’ve seen it in your eyes. You’ve wanted Rachel since ninth grade, and now you think you can steal her right out from under me!”

“What in the—? I liked her back in school, sure. Those were the days you and I battled back and forth over who would finally win her. And it was you she wanted, remember? You’re the one she married. She loves you, John!” This he screamed as if to someone at the top of the next mountain peak, wanting to make it good and clear. He figured it was better than punching John in the gut for his foolish words. He’d known something was gnawing at him ever since they’d left for the airport. John had spoken no more than a few sentences during the flight, and Jason had finally gotten out of him that he and Rachel had not parted on good terms. A lovers’ spat, Jason figured. It would iron itself out by the time John was home again.

“Don’t think I don’t know, Jason!”

“Don’t know what? You’re making about as much sense as a drunken buzzard!”

“Meet me at the bottom, lunkhead—if you’re man enough, that is. Or does the Run scare you today?”

Jason was unsettled by the enigmatic, accusatory challenge in those eyes. “What the—?” His head whirled with confusion, and then, suddenly, John shoved off and out of visibility down the steep ravine. Wind and sleet cut Jason’s exposed cheeks like shards of glass as he searched for his form in the blinding whiteness.

“John!” he yelled, planting his poles to give himself a thrust into the obscurity. “John, hold up!” He hoped he could catch up to him before he lost control and veered off the trail.

But he was wrong. Dead wrong.

When Jason spotted him, he skidded to a stop. There was blood everywhere, crimson-red against a blanket of white, and then a body—John’s—bleeding from his face and head, his neck bent abnormally, his eyes open yet not seeing. Several yards away stood the ancient tree he must have hit. His skis were splintered, and the trunk was splayed with snow.

“Help! Help!” Jason screamed to the blurred skies.

Cold and wet, he dropped to his knees beside John’s motionless body and shivered uncontrollably. It wasn’t long before he heard the drone of snowmobiles. The ski patrol had arrived. They’d get him airlifted. In a couple of days, they’d be laughing at his foolhardiness, and they’d get this whole misunderstanding about Rachel and him squared away.

But that wasn’t to be, either.

***

Jason awoke in a pool of sweat and a mass of rumpled sheets. His blanket had been tossed to the floor, and his pillow was at the foot of the bed. The clock on the bedside stand registered 5:45. He hauled himself up, swung his heavy legs over the edge of the bed, and put his feet on the floor. Bending over with exhaustion, he buried his head in his hands, waiting to catch his breath and willing his pulse to slow. After several minutes, he mustered the strength to stand and stagger to the bathroom to prepare for another day on the job.

The month of December ushered in more snow than Fairmount had seen in the past two winters combined. A major snowstorm, now classified as a blizzard, had shut down virtually every school within a seventy-five-mile radius, forced motorists off the roads, and even closed down some area businesses. Local and state police asked citizens to stay in their homes to allow the road crews to do their jobs. The trouble was, the snow kept coming down, and the plows were soon forced to abandon their work.

Rachel had been busy and managed to miss the weather reports, so she wasn’t prepared for the storm when it hit. As payback for her ignorance, she was running low on diapers, baby food, and milk, not to mention the prescription refill for Johnny’s asthma medication she needed to pick up.

At four o’clock in the afternoon, Rachel got a call from Ivy, her next-door neighbor. “You and the kids come over here,” the elderly widow insisted when she heard about her predicament. “I have a pot of stew cooking on the stove and plenty of milk and supplies.”

Rachel gratefully accepted the invitation. When Meagan and Johnny had been bundled up, Rachel put on her coat and boots, and they trudged through the knee-deep snow to Ivy’s house. Rachel walked in front of Meagan to carve out a path, Johnny clinging tightly to her neck and squealing with delight at the fast-falling snow. On Ivy’s front porch, they stomped their feet on the mat before walking into the warmth of her house.

While the wind bellowed and the snow fell outside, Meagan played with Buffy, tossing a ball for him to retrieve, and Johnny explored uncharted territory. Two bookshelves, a magazine rack, and a basket of fake fruit were a few of the items he found the most fascinating. As the children played, Ivy and Rachel engaged in a game of Scrabble near the fireplace, Rachel’s still-frozen toes propped up on the raised hearth, seeking warmth. She jumped up every so often to send Johnny in a different direction, trying to keep him away from Buffy. The last thing she wanted was for him to have an asthma attack.

Yet, in the next hour, she thought she detected a slight wheezing in his breath and decided that she couldn’t put off picking up his medication much longer, even if it was just a precaution. So, around six o’clock, she turned to Ivy and said, “Do you think you could watch the kids for about half an hour while I make a quick run to the pharmacy? Johnny usually takes his asthma medication around this time, and I need to pick up his refill.”