Where She Belongs (20 page)

“Because of me. Because of what's going on right now.”

“You mean with Jonah.” She punctuated her words with wild gestures. “I know you're concerned about him, but what does that have to do with you and me?”

“Everything.” As if unable to help himself, he drew her into an embrace. She froze, afraid her slightest movement would cause him to pull away again.

“Jonah is my son.” The whispered words, feather soft, floated between them. They seemed no more real than a will-o'-the-wisp caught on a summer breeze.

“Your . . . son?”

“I'm sorry, Shelby.” He tightened the embrace, then let her go.

She staggered backward, instinctively seeking the shelter of the porch. Mesmerized by the departing taillights, she clutched the rail.

AJ has a
son?

Why hadn't he mentioned the boy before? It would have been the natural thing to do on any number of occasions when he was with her and the girls. Her mind raced back to when she was at his cottage. The only photograph she'd seen was his grandmother's. There were no others, she was certain of it.

As the lights disappeared, she sank onto the cushioned swing and curled into a tight ball. Where there was a child, there was also a mom. A woman who must have some claim, even if a reluctant one, on AJ's heart. She must be at the hospital too, watching over her injured boy and desperate for his recovery.

Shelby pressed her fists against her chest. Her heart ached for Jonah's mother even as she fought against the ugly green monster growing inside her. She couldn't be jealous of this woman, not when her own two daughters slept peacefully in their beds.

But the monster refused to be tamed. And nothing could stop the tears pouring down her cheeks.

AJ slammed the cottage door and flung his keys on the desk. Plopping in a nearby chair, he dug his elbows into his knees and knocked his forehead against his clasped fists. How could he have been so stupid?

Lila stuck her nose between his arms and whimpered. Sliding to the floor, he gripped her behind the ears. “Why didn't you stop me?” he murmured. He hadn't meant to kiss Shelby, but in the summer moonlight, the tight control he normally had on his desires had slipped.

He wouldn't let it happen again.

The guilt that gnawed at his heart ever since Meghan disappeared had prevented any meaningful relationship with another woman. Though he despised the way Brett treated the women he dated, what AJ had done to Meghan was worse. How could he get close to someone else after abandoning her when she needed him most?

God was giving him another chance to do the right thing. To support Meghan through this nightmare. To be her hero.

Perhaps God meant for them to be the family they would have been if not for Sully's interference and AJ's cowardice.

He sighed heavily, and Lila licked his chin.

“I'm okay, girl.” Except he wasn't. He might not love Meghan in the same way anymore, but that didn't change the facts.

God had brought them together again, and AJ needed to give a relationship with her a chance. If she'd allow him. Didn't they both owe it to Jonah to at least try?

Like an old-time movie, the evening with Shelby replayed in his mind beginning with the moment she touched his chin until he saw her stricken expression in his rearview mirror.

It'd taken every ounce of his willpower not to stop the Jeep and race back to her. But this movie couldn't have a happy ending.

T
he phone's ring jarred AJ from a dreamless sleep. He grabbed the annoying offender and glared at the display.

Shelby.

Clad in pajama pants and a T-shirt, he swung his legs to the side of the bed and braced his heart to hear her voice.

“Hey, there,” he said with forced cheerfulness as he inwardly groaned at the clock radio. The display read 9:17. He should have been on his way to the hospital by now.

“Hello, Mr. AJ? This is Elizabeth Kincaid.”

Amusement at her formal tone conflicted with concern that she was calling him. “Hi, Elizabeth. Is everything okay?”

“Tabby is here too.”

“Hi, Mr. AJ.” Tabby's chipper voice blasted against his eardrum, and he momentarily pulled away from the phone.

“Gimme that,” Elizabeth said.

He grinned, picturing the girls fighting over the phone. Apparently Elizabeth won because she spoke to him next.

“We just wanted to know something. Does Lila miss us?”

“I'm sure she does.” He scratched the retriever's head, and she pawed at his arm.

“We miss her too.”

“A lot,” Tabby added loudly.

“You both took good care of her, I can tell.”

“If you have to go away again, can she come and stay with us?”

“I'm sorry, sunshine, but I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a while.” Not until Jonah was fully recovered. Maybe then he could take his son camping.

“What if you have to go to the store?” Tabby asked. “I don't think Lila wants to be home by herself.” She sounded disapproving.

He chuckled. “She's kind of used to it.”

“Couldn't she come over sometime?” Elizabeth pleaded. “You can come too, and maybe we can have a picnic and go fishing by the 'gagement tree. That'd be fun, wouldn't it?”

“I wanna fish.” Tabby again.

“Mommy says no, but you could ask her. Then she'd say yes, I know she would.”

“Mommy likes you.”

Tabby had more confidence in Shelby's feelings for him than he did. “Where is your mom?”

“Planting flowers for Nanna.” She was obviously repeating what Shelby had told them. “My favorites are the purple ones.”

“I like purple too.” He'd transplanted several plants from Gran's Columbus home when she moved to the house up the road. Lilacs. Lilies. Irises. A memory tickled—something about an old friend giving her heirloom iris cuttings. Even though she hadn't told him a name, somehow he knew as surely as if he had seen it happen that the old friend was Aubrey Lassiter.

If so, Shelby should have them for her garden.

But after last night, would she accept them?

“Mr. AJ? Are you still there?”

“I'm here, Elizabeth. Just thinking about the flowers.”

“Will you come for a picnic?”

“I'd love to, but—”

“He said yes.”

In the background, Tabby cheered.

“Elizabeth, honey, I didn't . . .”

Before he could say any more, Shelby's voice came faintly through the phone. “What are you doing with that?” Alarm heightened her pitch. “Who are you talking to?”

“Mr. AJ,” Elizabeth said. “He said yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“Picnic. Picnic,” Tabby chanted.

“And fishing. With Lila.”

“Give me that phone. Go outside, both of you.”

“Bye,” Elizabeth said quickly.

AJ waited for the tone indicating Shelby had disconnected the call. It didn't come.

“Good morning.” She sounded tentative. And tired.

“I heard you've been gardening.”

“Guess I should have taken my phone with me. I'm sorry they bothered you.”

“They're never a bother.” Walking barefoot to the long room, he pulled up the wooden blinds covering each window. The midmorning sun warmed his skin as he peered through the glass. Over the hill and beyond the fields, only a few miles away as the crow flies, stood Shelby's house. “I think they miss Lila.”

“I thought it would be easier on them for you to pick Lila up while they were sleeping. But they're disappointed they didn't get to tell you how much fun they had with her.”

“I'd like to see them too.”

“But you're busy.” She said it as if she were finishing his sentence. He imagined her standing in her kitchen, perhaps looking out the window above the sink. Toward his cottage.

Toward him.

The few miles between them telescoped into a distance neither seemed capable of crossing.

Except through memory. As long as he lived, he'd never forget the soft warmth of her lips, the alluring fragrance of her perfume, the bittersweet thrill of holding her in his arms.

“When's this picnic-slash-fishing trip supposed to take place?”

He blew out air. “I didn't mean to say yes. Elizabeth misunderstood.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll make some excuse.”

“You can't do that.”

“I think I can,” she said firmly.

“How about later this week?”

“You need to be at the hospital. With your son.”

“I need to keep my promise to Elizabeth and Tabby.”

“You didn't make a promise.”

“But they think I did. Don't they?”

“Looks that way,” she said, sounding both irritated and amused. “They've already packed the paper plates and napkins.”

“That settles it then.”

“Does it?”

“I don't want to disappoint them. Or you.”

“I'm used to being disappointed.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. How could he ease her pain when his expertise was in disappointing the ones he cared about?

“I'm sorry, AJ. I shouldn't have said that.” She sighed, and he pictured her tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “But after last night, it just feels awkward to plan something like this.”

“We survived the awkwardness last time we were out there. We'll survive it this time too.”

“How about if I invite Cassie and Jason to go along?”

“Sure, if we can make it for Thursday.”

“That's right. Tomorrow's the softball game you're not playing in.”

“But Jason is. And he teaches a class at church on Wednesdays.”

“Thursday then. But only if you're sure.”

“I'm sure.” He turned from the window and wandered into the kitchen. The cookie jar sat in the center of the table. Shelby's attitude toward him had changed while he was out of town. If
he'd never looked for Meghan, perhaps he'd have had a chance with Shelby after all.

Except then he wouldn't know about Jonah.

The same thoughts chased each other round and round, providing no answers and getting him nowhere. All he had to hold on to was the unmistakable prompting to find Meghan. God had whispered that message into his heart, and he had to trust in the perfection of God's plan for each of them.

If only he knew the details of that plan.

W
hen Shelby pulled into her driveway later that afternoon, her stomach tightened as she stared in disbelief. AJ's Jeep Cherokee was parked up by the weathered barn. He had no right rummaging around in there. No one did.

She parked in her usual spot near the kitchen patio, thankful that the girls hadn't noticed the Jeep. The last thing she needed was for them to run up to the barn. Though they'd been warned to stay out of it, AJ's presence would undoubtedly kick that rule right out of their heads.

“Into the house, everybody,” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt. They scampered from the car with their bags of library books.

“Mommy, look. Flowers.” Elizabeth pointed to a bucket sitting near the kitchen door. Sunny yellow and velvety brown irises overflowed from the container. “They're so pretty.”

“They're late-blooming lodestar irises. See how the yellow petals stand up? They're called standards.” She gently touched a velvety brown petal. “These brown ones are called falls.”

She unlocked the kitchen door, puzzling over the plants and glancing toward the barn. The old brick meat-smoking room jutting from the back porch hid it from view. But it was there, a dark
shadow from the past that chilled her bones. And AJ was up there too. Why?

“Change into play clothes before you go back outside,” she instructed the girls as she systematically placed her groceries in the pantry. “And put the library books in the basket where they belong.”

The girls headed toward their room, and she folded the recyclable bags. She should go see what AJ was up to, but the thought of entering the barn made her weak in the knees. She hadn't stepped foot in it since they moved to the farm. Whenever she walked by, she averted her eyes, pretending it didn't exist. A well-known toddler's game—if she couldn't see it, it couldn't see her.

She hadn't even been able to summon the courage to plant the sunflower house along the side wall but paid Seth Norris to plant the seeds. The sunflowers had to be there, just like they had been when she was younger. But when the stalks reached their full height, she didn't know how she could permit Elizabeth and Tabby to play house among them.

The easiest, the most obvious solution, was to tear down the barn. But destroying it somehow seemed sacrilegious, even though its very existence caused her such pain.

A knock sounded on the door, and she jumped.

“Didn't mean to scare you,” AJ said through the screen. “Mind if I come in?”

“Only if you promise never to do that again.” She waved him inside. “What were you doing up there?”

“Looking for a spade. Or a shovel.” He opened the door and stepped aside for Lila to enter. The girls raced up the hall, eager to greet AJ and his dog. After a boisterous reunion, Shelby managed to shoo them outside.

“Why do you need a shovel?”

“When Elizabeth called me, she said you were ‘planting flowers for Nanna.' It got me thinking about Gran's flowers. She told me once a friend had given them to her. Maybe that friend was your Nanna.”

“Do you really think so?”

“We'll never know for sure, but somehow it seems right. So I brought you a few plants from Gran's house. I can plant them for you if you'd like.”

“You know, September is the best time for transplanting irises.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Apparently your thumb hasn't gotten any greener.”

He held up his thumb and examined it. “Guess not.”

“Let's just get them in the ground.” She gripped the back of a kitchen chair and smiled. “You're a very thoughtful man. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. For the flowers and the compliment.”

“The tools are in the back room. I'll get a spade.”

“Never mind, I found one.”

She jerked upright, her heart pounding. “In the barn?”

“Um, yeah, that's where I was.”

“You can't use it. Put it back.” Her voice edged toward hysteria, but she couldn't control its pitch. Her heart throbbed against her chest, and her knees weakened. She grabbed for a chair, and AJ grabbed her. After helping her to sit down, he knelt beside her and clasped her hand.

“What's wrong, Shelby? Tell me.”

“There's nothing to tell.”

“You're white as a ghost, and your hands are clammy.”

“I just need to sit a minute, that's all. I'll be fine.”

He filled a glass with water from the faucet. “Drink this,” he said, wrapping her hands around it. He pulled up another chair and sat beside her. His voice comforted as much as his arm across her shoulders. “Tell me about the barn.”

She stared into the glass. Tiny ripples marred the surface of the water. “It's where he died.”

“Who?”

“Grandpa.” Tears welled in her eyes. “He just . . . he was lying there. In the blood.” The image wavered before her eyes, and the kitchen spun around her.

AJ took the glass and guided her head to her knees. “Deep breaths now,” he urged, gently rubbing her back. “Everything's okay. Just concentrate on breathing.”

She inhaled then exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. The black dots receded from sight, and her dizziness lessened.

“Maybe you should lie down.”

“I'm fine now.” Fine except for the embarrassment of falling apart in his presence and the confusion of him being so close. “Really, I am.”

“I don't think so. Come on.” With his arm around her waist, he led her down the hall to the family room and settled her on the leather couch. “Lie still for a little while. You'll feel better.”

“I'm okay, honest, I am,” she protested. But in the depths of her heart she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms, to share her secret with him, and have his reassurance that he'd never leave her. But it was too late for that. She'd have to settle for his hand closed around hers as he adjusted a cushion beneath her head and covered her legs with a lightweight afghan.

She shoved away the memories, filling her mind with all the things she should be doing instead of having a nervous breakdown because of a spade.

He perched next to her on the couch. “Can I get you anything?”

“A clone.”

“Why's that?”

“There's so much around this place I still need to do, but I don't have time. It's partly my fault. I signed up the girls for swimming lessons, and I registered for a master gardeners class, and I volunteered for the church landscaping committee, and Cassie asked me to contribute something to some bake sale. And crafts for Vacation Bible School. I'm in charge of that too, and there's still so much to do around here.”

“Whoa, there, Martha Stewart. What is all this?”

She rubbed her forehead. “I want to belong. To the church, the community. To be a part of a . . . a place.”

“You can belong without doing everything by yourself.”

“My grandparents were pillars in this community. All kinds of events took place in this house. Wedding showers and potluck suppers. Wienie roasts and cookouts. I want my girls to know what that was like. To be part of people's lives. Their celebrations.”

“Years and years went into those memories, Shelby. You haven't even lived here a month.”

“I know.” Raising herself to a sitting position, she leaned against the arm of the couch. AJ shifted to sit back with her feet across his lap. “The Fourth of July is next week. It'd be nice to have some people over. But there's so much landscaping still to do, and the dining room is half full of stuff I don't know what to do with and partially finished craft projects.”

“People won't be coming to admire your landscaping. And if you close the dining room doors, no one will ever know what's inside.”

Her ploy to distract him from asking more questions about the barn had worked. But she hadn't meant to take him down this road, either. Her expectations had been so great, her impulse to re-create the past so strong, that she was drowning in to-do lists, landscape diagrams, and an overscheduled calendar.

“It's too much.”

The attentive sympathy of his deep brown eyes and the casual pressure of his arms resting on her shins lulled her into admitting a truth she didn't want to face. She was falling for him. Hard.

But what if Jonah's mom was the reason there wasn't a Mrs. Fourth? If AJ still loved her, and if she still loved him . . .

“Maybe you just need a little help.”

“From you?” She twisted then separated the strands on the afghan's fringe. “Shouldn't you be at the hospital?”

“I was until a couple of hours ago.”

“How is Jonah?”

His eyes dimmed. “Still the same.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“They believe he'll come out of it. Given enough time.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Pray.”

She impulsively squeezed his hand. “Always.”

AJ's conscience screamed at him to release Shelby's hand, but he couldn't do it. He might not have the thousand obligations she seemed to have gotten herself into, but circumstances were ripping his heart in two as his responsibility to Meghan warred with his desire to be with Shelby.

For these few moments, the tension that had been dogging him since he first learned of Jonah eased, and he slouched further into the cushions. Behind him, a fragrant breeze slipped through the open bay window. Little girl squeals, punctuated by the occasional bark, interrupted the trills of birdsong.

He had often dreamed of a future similar to this, relaxing with the woman he loved as their children played nearby. Holding Shelby's hand in peaceful silence might be as close as he ever got to that dream.

“Tell me about her.”

“About who?”

“Jonah's mother.” She pulled back slightly, and he released her hand. The dream ended, and tendrils of guilt squeezed his heart.

“Her name is Meghan.” He exhaled heavily. “I was in my first year of law school when we met. She was an art student. A very talented art student.”

“What happened?”

“Sully happened.”

Her brow furrowed as she gave him a quizzical look.

“He, um, sent her away. And I didn't find her again until last week.”

“You didn't know about Jonah.”

“Nope.” He could almost see the puzzle pieces clicking together in her mind.

“That's why you dropped out of law school. Why Sully punished you.”

“Yep.” Moving her legs, he rose and walked toward the fireplace. With one hand on the mantel, he stared at the empty hearth. Only a couple of months ago, it'd been cluttered with empty beer bottles and charred newspapers. Since then, the stone had been scrubbed and burnished. If only his past could be as thoroughly cleaned.

But to wish a different past meant wishing away Jonah. That he could never do. The boy already held a claim on AJ's heart.

Ducking beneath his outstretched arm, Shelby rested her hand on the small of his back. His arm slid across her shoulders.

“If Sully hadn't sent Meghan away, would you have married her?”

“If she'd have had me.”

“What about now?”

“I want to take care of them. To do whatever I can for Jonah.”

She gave him a quick sideways hug. “I was wrong about you.”

“How's that?”

“You're a fine man, AJ Sullivan.” Her engaging smile warmed the lonely ache in his heart. “Meghan should never have given up on you.”

“Sully convinced her she didn't have a choice. And it took me too long to realize we did.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Good question.” He drew her into a casual embrace and rested his chin on top of her head. Her arms lightly encircled his waist.

“I'm going to call Jillian Ross.”

Shelby looked up at him in surprise as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “The girl from the Dixie Diner?”

“You need the help, and she needs the cash. This way, it won't look like charity.”

“Help me do what?”

“Plan your Fourth of July party. Help with VBS crafts. Bake Cassie's cookies. Whatever you need.” He scrolled through his
contacts list. “She's a hard worker, and I know you'll like each other.” He held up the phone showing Jillian's number. “What do you say?”

“Okay, but I pay her. Not you.” She put her hands on her hips and gave him a stern look. “This is your gravel money.”

“How about we go halves?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I don't want your charity, either.”

“But you'll take Gran's irises,” he teased as he hit the send button.

“As long as you plant them.”

“Deal.” He held out his free hand. After a moment's deliberate hesitation, she shook it.

“Deal,” she mouthed as Jillian answered the phone. “Meet you outdoors.”