Where She Belongs (8 page)

A
J packed the wagon and parked it beneath the willow while Shelby helped the girls pull shorts and tops over their swimsuits.

“Ready?” he asked.

Nodding, she finished tying Tabby's sneaker.

“I'll take her.” AJ picked up Tabby, still drowsy from her nap, and led the way alongside the lazy curve of the bank until the creek veered sharply north beside a cornfield. As they walked single file through a corn row, the green stalks rubbed his bare legs. At the edge of the field, they crossed a wooden bridge over a narrow branch of the creek.

“My place is just over that rise,” he said when they reached the other side. “Not much farther.”

“Are we going to beat the storm?” As if to answer Shelby's question, thunder cracked overhead, and another bolt of lightning split the sky. She flinched and grasped Elizabeth's hand. Giant raindrops pelted their heads, gaining momentum with each passing second.

“Come on.” AJ tucked Tabby's head beneath his chin and raced awkwardly up the hill on the well-worn footpath. Halfway up, he glanced back at Shelby. Her head was bent against the down
pour, and her arm was around Elizabeth's shoulder. Together they stumbled up the path several feet behind him.

When he neared the top of the hill, he paused and waited for Shelby to catch up.

“The grass will be slippery going down,” he said. “Can you make it?” He followed Shelby's gaze to where his cottage nestled into the hillside. The rectangular house, painted pale beige with deep brown trim, seemed practically a part of the hill itself. A secluded place, hidden by the rise on one side and surrounded by tall hedges and taller trees on the others. When Gran lived in Columbus, the cottage had been her refuge. Now it was his.

“We'll manage.”

“Let's go.” He half-ran, half-slid down the slope, praying he wouldn't fall. Or die of asphyxiation from Tabby's arms gripping his neck. Who knew a three-year-old could be so strong?

Reaching the back door, he fumbled in his pocket for his key and unlocked the door. Once inside the tiny kitchen, Shelby and her girls stood in a huddle, water pooling around their soaked feet.

“Doggy!” Tabby exclaimed.

His dog, a creamy Labrador retriever, plodded into the kitchen and sniffed Tabby's outstretched hands. White bandages encased one foreleg.

“This is Lila. She had a wrangle with a mean old groundhog a few days ago.”

“Poor Lila,” Elizabeth murmured, patting the dog's head and whispering in her ear. “Does it hurt much?”

AJ gazed at Shelby, wishing he could read her thoughts as she looked around the small room. His cottage, not much wider than a double-wide trailer, couldn't compare to Misty Willow with its many rooms.

At least he'd washed the dishes.

“The bathroom's through here.” He opened the door and stepped inside. “Plenty of towels. Use whatever you need. I'll try to scrounge up some dry clothes.”

Grabbing a towel for himself, he slid open the pocket door on the other side and entered his bedroom. He closed the door behind him, quickly dried off, and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. After rummaging through his drawers, he came up with sweatshirts, a pair of navy sweatpants for Shelby, and three pairs of thick white socks. He grinned at how big they'd be on the girls, but at least their little legs would be warm.

He knocked on the pocket door. “Are you decent? I've got clothes.”

“Decent enough.” Shelby slid the door halfway open, and he handed her the stack. “Thanks,” she murmured before disappearing behind the closed door.

“Come on, Lila.” The retriever sprawled across his bed. “I bet those girls would like some of my famous hot chocolate.”

Unable to take the shortcut through the bathroom to the kitchen, he went the long way. Lila followed him into the study next to his bedroom and down a step into the long room that ran the front length of the house. Built-in cabinets and shelves lined the lower half of the long wall, a row of windows above them. Outside, the rain came down in thick gray sheets, obscuring his view of the trees and hedges surrounding the place. Thunder rolled overhead.

He stepped up into the kitchen, Lila close behind him. She caught the treat he tossed to her, then curled into a tight ball under the table.

As AJ stirred milk into his melted chocolate and sugar mixture, he heard Shelby's soft voice. His chest tightened, a pang for what he didn't have.

A wife. Children.

Carrying Tabby through the rain, being mindful of Shelby and Elizabeth behind him . . . He shook his head against the aching truth. For a short time, their need had fulfilled his instinct to protect. But now they were safe, and his heart beat with yearning.

The bathroom door opened, and Shelby's girls spilled out in
oversized sweatshirts that hung below their knees. The rolled-up sleeves still reached to their wrists.

“Do you have a bag I can put these in?” Shelby held a folded stack of wet clothes.

“You can put them in the dryer. Right there.” He pointed his wooden spoon at a bifold door in the corner. She opened it, revealing a stacked washer/dryer unit, and fiddled with the dryer settings.

“Hot cocoa coming up.” AJ pulled a bag from the pantry and shook it at Elizabeth and Tabby. “Who likes marshmallows?”

The girls raised their hands, chanting, “I do, I do.”

The hum of the dryer lessened when Shelby shut the door. “How can I help?”

“Do you mind if they have cookies?”

“Not at all.”

“Cookie jar's beside the fridge.”

Shelby picked up the ceramic jar, a calico kitten peeking out from a wicker basket, with both hands. “Aww. This is so adorable.”

He shrugged sheepishly. “It was my mom's when she was a little girl.”

“An heirloom.”

“I guess so.” More like a reminder of happier days, a time when he was too young to realize the depth of turmoil swirling around the adults in his life. But his parents couldn't hide their dislike for each other from him forever. No matter how hard they tried.

Removing the pan from the burner, he ladled the steaming hot chocolate into mugs and sprinkled tiny marshmallows on top. “Cocoa's ready.”

Once the girls were settled at the table with their snacks and napkins, Lila sat between them. Her wagging tail beat a rhythm on the linoleum floor.

“This is a cozy place.” Shelby leaned against the counter, twisting a cookie in two. And looking too cute in his too-big clothes.

“It suits me.” He handed her a mug, the steam rising through a creamy blanket of melting marshmallows.

“I'm sure I was on this road hundreds of times when I was a kid. I never knew this place was here.”

“Most people don't. The hedge along the road hides it. Would you like the tour?”

They stepped down from the kitchen, and Shelby gasped. “So many windows. It's more like a vacation house than a home.”

Heavy raindrops pinged the glass in a melodic harmony punctuated with thunder. Irregular lightning revealed flashes of the lush property.

“It was my grandmother's retreat. When I got my teaching job at the local high school, she insisted I move here. I installed central heating and A/C, but otherwise it's pretty much as it's always been.”

“Even the pool table?” Shelby brushed her fingers along the polished wood.

“That's also my addition,” AJ said with a chuckle. “Do you play?”

“Not well.”

“You want to shoot a few?”

“Thanks, but no.” She turned from him, wandering past a square pub table toward the seating area and television at the other end of the room.

“We might as well sit down. This rain is going to last awhile.”

As they settled in midnight-blue club chairs, Shelby tucked her feet beneath her. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I'm afraid it's going to sound ungrateful. But I'm only curious.”

“Now I'm curious. What is it?”

“Who was trespassing today? You or me?”

“Good question. I sure didn't mean to give up my favorite fishing hole.”

“Do you really catch fish there? I mean anything bigger than what Elizabeth caught today?”

“Are you questioning my angling abilities?”

“Just asking.”

“Like most fishing holes, it's best for thinking.” And praying. “Lila likes it there too.”

“So that piece of the farm still belongs to you?”

“I honestly don't know. Does it matter?”

“I very much meant to buy the willow.”

“Very much meant?” he teased.

“You know what I mean.”

“Why the willow?”

“There's an old family story.” She stared in her mug, seemingly fascinated by the melting marshmallows. Her cheeks flushed.

“Tell me.”

She peered at him under long dark lashes. “Are you sure you're interested?”

“I teach history. Of course I'm interested.”

“According to Lassiter legend, a Rebel soldier escaped from a prisoner-of-war camp near Lake Erie. My great-great-great-great-grandmother found him, near death, beneath that tree. She hid him in an old hunting cabin near the woods east of there.”

“What hunting cabin?”

“It's long gone. Though if you know where to look, you can still see the outline of it. At least, you could fourteen years ago.”

“Did the rebel ever make it home?”

“Only once. For a brief visit.” An engaging smile curved her delicate lips. “He's my great-great-great-great-grandfather.”

“The family accepted him?”

“Not at first. It took time for him to gain their trust. My ancesters were part of the Underground Railroad.”

“You know a lot about your family history.”

“Because of the willow. Jeb Lassiter was the first to carve initials on the engagement tree. His and Eliza's. My ‘four-greats' grandparents.”

“The engagement tree?”

“You've never noticed all the initials carved on the weeping willow?”

“Can't say that I have. But I'll look next time I'm out there.”

Coloring slightly at the thought of him noticing her initials, she set her mug on the pine table beside her chair and picked up a framed photograph. Her eyes narrowed as her casual curiosity turned into something more intense. “Who is this?”

“My grandmother.” He leaned forward, hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees. “Joyanna Stewart Sullivan.”

Shelby's knuckles whitened as she gripped the frame, and her lips quivered. “Your grandmother?” she asked, her voice quaking. The color seemed to drain from her face.

AJ moved near her and carefully pried the frame from her icy fingers. He clasped her hands in his, trying to warm them. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“I saw her. By the willow.” She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I thought she was an angel.”

M
ommy, Tabby's climbing.”

“No, I'm not.”

A crash and a yelp sounded from the kitchen. Her heart in her throat, Shelby sprinted to her girls.

Tabby lay beside an overturned chair amid pieces of broken ceramic, her eyes scrunched up. Elizabeth knelt beside her, smoothing her little sister's hair from her face.

“Oh, Tabby, what did you do?” Shelby moved the chair and gathered the sobbing girl in her arms. “Are you all right? Where does it hurt?”

“Here,” Tabby whispered, pointing at her chin and hiccupping as she tried to stop crying. An ugly bruise formed around her scraped skin.

“She wanted another cookie,” Elizabeth said. “I told her not to, but she didn't listen.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?” AJ asked as he squatted beside Elizabeth. She leaned into him, and her green-flecked eyes, red-rimmed and watery, sought reassurance. He gave her a smile, and her pixie face relaxed.

“Just ice, if you have any,” Shelby said.

AJ immediately retrieved an ice pack from his freezer. “Try this.”

“Thanks.” She placed the pack on Tabby's chin, rocking slightly back and forth.

“I broke the kitty.” Fresh tears dampened Tabby's cheeks as she stared at AJ. “I sorry.”

“It's okay, Tabby. These things happen.” He brushed a tear from her cheek then busied himself picking up the pieces. Elizabeth bent to retrieve a broken shard from beneath the table, and AJ clasped her hand. “I'll get it.”

“But I want to help.”

“Tell you what.” AJ gently swung her hand back and forth. “Take Lila in the other room, okay? We don't want her cutting her paws, do we?”

Elizabeth shook her head, then took Lila by the collar. “Come on, girl. Come on.”

Shelby kissed the top of Tabby's head as Elizabeth led Lila from the kitchen. “I'm so sorry, AJ. She should have known better.”

“She's just a little girl.” He placed the larger pieces in the trash, then grabbed the broom.

“But it was your mom's.” She blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. AJ didn't have a lot of knickknacks cluttering up the cottage. He must not have many keepsakes from his parents. And now something he treasured was gone. She should never have left the girls alone in the kitchen.

The broken pieces pierced her heart, tangible reminders of the heirlooms she'd lost when her grandparents died. She buried her face in Tabby's damp hair. All she'd wanted was to take her girls to the creek. To let them play where she had played as a child. To give them a memory. How had she ended up in this predicament?

“I'm so sorry,” she murmured again.

AJ swept the last of the debris into the dustpan and knelt beside her. His deep brown eyes were solemn, and his voice low. “At the end of the day, it's a thing. And things are never as important as people.” His gaze shifted to Tabby. “God has been good to you, Shelby.”

Her arms tightened around her daughter as his words floated into her heart. She gave thanks for her daughters every day, and yet the gratitude was mostly from habit. For too many years, God had taken more than he gave, forcing her to regain as much as she could on her own.

Some
things
were too important to ever give up. Things like Misty Willow.

She kissed Tabby's temple, then tilted her head, listening to the drops splattering the kitchen window. “The rain's letting up.”

AJ picked up the overturned chair. “Looks that way.”

“I think we should go home now.”

“The Jeep's out front.”

“We have a slight problem.”

“What's that?”

“I don't suppose you have a car seat.”

“You suppose right.”

“I know it's only a few miles, but I can't take a chance . . .”

“Of course not.” He poured the remaining cocoa into a pitcher and set it in the fridge. “I've got an idea, but I'm not sure you'll like it.”

“I'm listening.”

“You stay here with the girls, and I'll go get your car.”

A memory pricked Shelby's heart. Gary had spent the day helping a buddy fence his yard. The job took longer than expected, so he called Shelby to have her join them for supper. That's when she realized he'd driven off with two-year-old Elizabeth's car seat. It had just been one of those things, but he pouted the rest of the evening as if it were her fault.

“You sure you don't mind?” Her stomach knotted waiting for his reply.

“Unless you're going to walk,” he said, grinning, “it's the only thing to do.”

He was right, but he didn't have to be so good-natured about it.

“Of course, you'll have to take me home with you so I can get my Jeep.”

“If I must, I must,” she teased as she pulled a leather cord over her head. “Here's a key to the house. The car key is on a hook inside the kitchen door.”

“I'll find it.” He turned on a television show for the girls to watch, then selected a ball cap from a rack by the front door.

Shelby walked outside with him, arms wrapped tightly around her chest against the chill. “Be careful.”

“I'll be back soon.” He settled the cap on his head and jogged to the Jeep parked several yards away on a cement slab. Gravel formed a curving drive from the slab to a gate, barely visible in the tall hedge.

Shelby shivered in the rain-drenched air, then returned to the house. Lila climbed on the couch between Elizabeth and Tabby while Shelby washed the mugs and folded their dried clothes. In the last couple of minutes, the storm had strengthened again. It was too chilly to put the girls back into their shorts and tank tops. She hoped AJ didn't mind if they wore his clothes home.

After returning to the main room, she settled in the club chair and studied the photograph of AJ's grandmother. Silver hair framed vibrant eyes and a porcelain complexion. Her engaging smile exuded warmth and confidence.

The same dear face Shelby used to see in her dreams. The same smile that bestowed affection and comfort when she had needed it most.

AJ's grandmother. Joyanna Sullivan. Apparently staying at the cottage. Wandering to the creek. Finding fourteen-year-old Shelby, distraught, practically hysterical, beneath the weeping willow.

Tires crunched on the gravel outside. Shelby peered out the window as AJ parked the Jeep and jogged to the porch. She hurriedly opened the door for him.

“I thought you were bringing my car.”

“The road's flooded on the other side of the bridge. I wasn't sure your car would make it through.” He took off his ball cap and ruffled his hair. “But I got the car seat.”

The girls balked at leaving Lila behind so AJ put her in the Jeep too. He drove cautiously, expertly maneuvering through the flooded section of the road. When he turned into the drive at Misty Willow, he glanced at Shelby. Her features were drawn and tired.

“Bet you're glad of this gravel on a day like today.”

As he hoped, fire lit her eyes and enlivened her face. Then she unexpectedly laughed.

“Not just today. Every time I pull in this lane, I'm thankful.”

And who said gravel couldn't be romantic? He smiled before squelching the flame her laughter had ignited. To her, he was still a Sullivan. She'd never let him into her heart. Even if she wasn't already seeing somebody else.

He parked in the oval drive near the kitchen patio. Shelby ushered the girls and Lila into the house while he wrestled with the car seat. Despite the pelting rain, he fastened it into Shelby's Camry then sprinted up the back steps and into the kitchen.

“I put Tabby's seat in your car,” he said, hanging Shelby's key on its hook.

“You didn't have to do that.” She handed him a towel, and he dried off as best he could.

“Didn't want you to have to. Might be nice if you had a garage, though.”

“I'll add it to my list. One garage.” She directed a stony glare his way. “And I better not come home someday and find one from you.”

“I wouldn't dare.” He surveyed the kitchen with its gleaming appliances and cherry cabinets. A square table, covered in a blue cloth, sat in the middle on a new wooden floor. “Sure looks different than the last time I saw it.”

“There's still a lot of work to be done upstairs.” Shelby spread a layer of frozen fries on a baking sheet and stuck it in the oven. Delightful squeals and a splash of water came from the nearby bathroom. “So we're only living downstairs for now.”

“What about the attic?”

“Completely clean, thanks to the Norris menfolk.”

“Did Paul ever tell you what your dad did for him?”

“No, he didn't.” She disappeared behind the open refrigerator door, then peered at him over the top. Uncertainty filled her eyes. “Hot dogs and fries for supper. Would you like to stay?”

AJ twisted his head, exaggeratedly looking behind him, then faced Shelby with a grin. “You talkin' to me?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “It's nothing fancy, but . . . well, I'm sure you didn't expect to spend the day entertaining wet children. Thanks for taking us in.”

“Does this mean you don't hate me anymore?”

“I never hated you.” She closed the refrigerator door, holding a package of hot dogs. “It was just the house. That you didn't do anything to fix it.”

“Maybe I wasn't meant to.” He gazed into her eyes, so vulnerable and lovely. “Maybe God meant that task for you.”

“Maybe. I hadn't thought of that.” She held up the hot dogs. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Despite the lingering chill from the rain and his futile attempt to guard his heart, warmth exuded from his chest clear to his fingers and toes.

The girls squealed again.

“I'll be right back. They'll turn to prunes if I don't get them out of the tub.”

“We wouldn't want that.” He took the package of hot dogs from her. “I'll fix these.”

“You will?”

“Sure. Just tell me what to do.”

“We like them grilled.” Rummaging through a cabinet, she pulled out a grill pan and set it across two burners.

“How many?”

“Three for us plus however many you want.”

The hot dogs were ready when Elizabeth and Tabby scampered
into the kitchen wearing nightgowns and slippers. Lila padded behind them, her tail swinging happily.

Elizabeth got ketchup and mustard out of the fridge, and Tabby found buns in the bread basket in the large pantry. By the time Shelby returned to the kitchen, the table was set, milk had been poured into glasses, and the fries were just coming out of the oven.

While Elizabeth said grace, AJ glanced at Shelby sitting across from him. Her head was slightly bowed, her eyes closed, and her expression serene.

“Bless Mommy and Tabby and Mr. AJ,” Elizabeth said solemnly. “And thank you, God, for Mr. AJ showing me how to fish. Amen.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him, her pixie face radiant. “I had so much fun.”

“So did I.” AJ grinned at her. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

“Me too,” said Tabby. “I wanna fish.”

“You too.” He tapped her nose, and she giggled.

Throughout the meal, Elizabeth and Tabby peppered him with questions about fishing, Lila and the mean groundhog, and teaching. Elizabeth talked about her teacher in Chicago, and Tabby bragged that she could write her name.

When the girls finished eating, Shelby shooed them out of the kitchen, Lila at their heels, and stacked the dirty dishes.

“They're fun kids,” AJ said, returning condiments to the refrigerator. “Though the next time we go fishing, we should figure out a way to drive there. Tabby's heavier than she looks.”

Shelby carried the dishes to the sink, her back to him. “There can't be a next time, AJ.”

“Why not?” He tried to sound nonchalant, though he already knew the answer. Maybe he'd find out a little more about this mystery boyfriend.

Busy rinsing the plates, she didn't look at him. Her shoulders appeared tense. “I just think it's best they don't get too fond of you.”

The refrigerator door closed with a soft click. He went to her
side, stifling the desire to put his arms around her. “Don't you think it's a little late for that?”

“Not if they don't see you again.” She scrubbed an already spotless plate.

“I see.” His stomach turned to stone. “Guess I should get on home then.”

“Wait a minute.” She turned off the faucet and dried her hands. “I meant what I said earlier. If you hadn't been there . . .”

“You would have managed.”

She scrutinized his face as if she didn't believe he meant what he said. Apparently satisfied he wasn't being sarcastic, her mouth thinned into a tight smile.

“Before I go,” he said, “I need to ask you something. What you said about my grandmother. When did you see her?”

Shelby's eyes shifted, becoming glassy as she seemed to retreat to a place of incredible sorrow. She clutched the sink, focusing on something outside the window. “It was a long time ago. Years and years.”