A Promise Kept (5 page)

“Of course, dear.”

Tony motioned for Allison to come stand beside him, which she did, making sure not to look anyone in the eyes for fear she would give away their secret too soon.

Once both their mothers had come out to the patio, joining Tony’s and Allison’s fathers and her brother, Chuck, Tony put his arm around Allison’s back. “Allie and I have important news.” He leaned over and kissed her on the temple. “We’re having a baby.”

Excitement erupted. Everyone spoke at once. Allison was hugged again and again until she felt dizzy from being passed around.

“When’s the baby due?” her mother-in-law asked as the hubbub died down.

“April,” Allison answered.

“You’ll need to find a bigger place to live. Your apartment is going to feel terribly small once there’s a baby in the house.”

Her father-in-law said, “Give them time, Lois.”

“April will be here before any of us know it,” Mom Kavanagh retorted. “I’m just trying to give them some good advice.”

“You two, lay off,” Tony said with a grin. “We’ll figure this out. Won’t we, Allie?”

She smiled at him, joy spilling over in her heart. “Yes.”

A few hours later Allison wasn’t feeling quite so happy when she looked at her husband. He was tipsy. Obviously so. She’d only seen him have one drink, when her father-in-law toasted the new baby. How many more had he had when she wasn’t looking?

Once, in her first year of college, Allison had gone to a party with friends and had a few drinks. She hadn’t liked the taste but she’d hated the way it made her feel later even more. The next morning she’d sworn off alcohol for good. It hadn’t bothered her when Tony had the occasional drink, but then, she’d never seen him like this.

Before they left her in-laws’ home, Mom Kavanagh pulled Allison aside. “You’d better drive home. Tony doesn’t seem to be feeling well.”

Not feeling well?

“You’d better send him to bed the minute you get home. I hope it wasn’t something he ate. Food poisoning would be terrible for all of us.”

Allison nodded. Was it food rather than alcohol that made Tony look and sound like that?

“If you get sick,” her mother-in-law continued, “you call the doctor right away. You don’t want to risk anything happening to the baby. Promise you will?”

“I’m feeling fine, but I promise to call the doctor if I need to.”

Mom Kavanagh kissed Allison’s cheek. “I am thrilled for you both, dear. Now you get on home and put your husband to bed.”

Some of the tension left Allison. If Tony’s mother wasn’t worried, then she wouldn’t be either.

Allison

Perhaps it was knowing her mother was praying for her that made Allison get up on Sunday morning and drive into Kings Meadow to attend church. Or perhaps it was knowing church was still the best place to meet the kind of people she wanted to know. Especially since she wouldn’t cross the threshold of a bar for any reason. There weren’t a whole lot of other options in a town this size.

In Boise she and Tony had been members of the same non-denominational fellowship since before Meredith was born. But Allison had attended less and less often after Tony walked out on her. It wasn’t because she’d stopped believing in God. It wasn’t because she’d turned her back on Christ. It wasn’t even because she felt judged by anyone in the church, before or after they’d divorced. In fact, people had been nothing but kind and supportive. Still, she’d felt like a failure.

She’d failed at marriage.

She’d failed as a wife.

She’d failed as a believer.

She’d failed. Period.

The dirt and gravel parking lot at the side of the simple brick church building was filled with an odd assortment of vehicles, ranging from an enormous 1950s Cadillac, seemingly held together with duct tape, to a bright red, late-model Ferrari convertible. Mostly there were beat-up pickup trucks, primer but no
paint, and monster four-wheel-drive diesels that must have cost as much as she earned in a year.

Allison had arrived on the late side, perhaps five minutes after the start of the worship service. She slipped into the last row of padded chairs while the congregation sang a contemporary worship song. The woman at the opposite end of the row smiled and nodded in her direction. Allison returned it before training her eyes on the overhead screen. Not that she needed to read the words. She knew the song by heart. It was one that had comforted her countless times as she walked through the desert place.

The worship team on the stage—the lead singer, a young woman with a guitar, another woman on the keyboard, and a teenage boy on the drums—moved smoothly into another song and then one more before ending in a word of prayer.

Allison anticipated the time of greeting that would follow the prayer, and she was prepared for everyone who shook hands with her to welcome her and say how nice it was to meet Emma Carter’s niece. Everyone would know who she was. It was hard to stay anonymous in a small church just as it was hard to stay anonymous in a small town. What surprised her was that she
felt
welcome.

After the greeting time the offering was taken and announcements given, and then the pastor came to the pulpit. He was a tall beanpole of a man, perhaps in his late thirties or early forties. He had a pleasant speaking voice, and his teaching style drew Allison into the text. By the time the sermon was over, she was convinced she would return. Not that she was ready to commit herself to attending every Sunday. It was too soon for that. Still, her spirit felt lighter as she left the sanctuary.

Gizmo—who went almost everywhere with Allison, as long as the weather allowed—was glad to see her when she got to the car. She snapped on his leash, and the two of them walked down to the creek that ran behind the church building.

“Cute dog,” a deep voice said.

Allison sucked in a gasp of surprise as she turned toward the speaker.

Standing back from the bank was an Idaho cowboy in all his glory, complete with boots, jeans, and black Stetson. He grinned as he dipped his chin in hello. “First time at Meadow Fellowship?”

“Yes.” She hadn’t noticed him inside the church. Had he been there? Must have since he seemed to know she’d been there.

“I’m guessing you’re Allison Kavanagh, Miss Carter’s niece.”

See, everyone knew at least that much.

She answered, “Yes, but you have me at a disadvantage.”

He removed his hat, revealing thick black hair with just a touch of gray at the temples. “Chet Leonard, ma’am. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Allison felt her eyes widen. Did people still talk that way? Apparently up in these mountains they did.

“Actually, I had some help. Susan and Ned Lyle are friends of mine. Susan said she met you the other day when you came to town.”

“Yes, we met. Does she go to this church? I didn’t see her inside.”

Chet Leonard shook his head. “No, the Lyles are Methodists. But I still hold ’em as friends.”

She smiled, liking his sense of humor, but the smile felt awkward. How seldom she smiled these days. How seldom she laughed anymore. Really laughed. Tony used to make her—

“What’s your dog’s name?” Chet asked.

“Gizmo.”

“Because of the ears?”

“Because of the ears.”

He chuckled. She could barely hear it above the sound of flowing water.

“Dad?”

Chet looked up the incline toward the parking lot as a teenager—a younger version of Chet Leonard—stepped into view.

“You comin’?” the boy asked.

“I’m coming.” Chet turned toward Allison again. “That’s my son, Rick. I imagine he’s starved and eager to go eat.”

A wave of familiar loneliness washed over her. She ached for those times in the past when she’d been a part of a family. She’d loved going out to eat after church with Tony and Meredith. She’d loved being one-half of a couple, finishing Tony’s sentences because she knew what he thought before he could say it.

Chet bent his hat brim in her direction. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Kavanagh.”

“And you, Mr. Leonard,” she answered softly, then turned to stare at the creek again, the good feelings she’d felt at the end of the church service forgotten.

Emma

1925

Alexander Monroe leaned across the table in the diner and took hold of Emma’s hand. As usual, his touch caused her heart to beat faster. If only he wasn’t oblivious to her feelings.

“Come on. Be a sport, Emma. Put in a good word for me with your sister.”

Liza. Always his thoughts were on Liza. For three years it had been that way, Emma wanting Alexander and Alexander wanting Liza.

“It won’t do any good. Liza’s sweet on Matthew Steward.”
This month, anyway
.

Alexander sighed as he released her hand and slouched against the back of the booth. “She drives me crazy, and she knows it too.”

Yes, Liza knew she drove Alexander crazy. She drove
lots
of boys crazy. Alexander wasn’t unique in that regard. Emma’s sister loved to toy with boys the same way their tomcat loved to toy with mice. It was all a game to her, although she wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. Liza hadn’t a mean bone in her body.

But Emma wouldn’t toy with Alexander. Not even by accident. She would treat him with tenderness. She would do anything to make him happy—even help him win Liza over. Emma loved Alexander Monroe. She’d started loving him on the night of the Hudsucker party and she’d learned to love him more with the
passing of time, despite his indifference. He barely knew she was alive, let alone that she was a girl. Only enough to call her a sport and ask her to put in a good word for him with Liza.

Their mother liked to remind Emma and Liza that she was praying for their future husbands. “God has just the right man in store for you. Be patient and watch for him. He’ll turn up, and you’ll know it when you see him. That’s how it was for me with your father.”

Her mother was right. When Emma had first seen Alexander, she’d known he was the one for her. Apparently God hadn’t told Alexander yet that she was the one for him. How could He tell him when Alexander never went to church? He had no time for God, he said.

Three months earlier Emma had graduated from high school. Fifteen of her female classmates had gotten married since then. Fifteen. There’d been fewer than fifty girls in the graduating class, and fifteen were married already. Two were expecting babies next year. And in those same three months, Liza had received two proposals of marriage even though she was only seventeen and had another year of schooling ahead of her.

Alexander intruded on Emma’s thoughts. “Will you at least try? You know me. You like me. Tell her I’m a nice guy.”

“I
have
told her.” She looked out the window rather than let him see tears well in her eyes. It was bad enough he didn’t care for her. It would be worse if he pitied her.

“Tell her again,” he said.

“I will, but I can’t promise it’ll do any good.”

Allison

Allison reached into the steamer trunk and, for the second time since discovering it, removed the bridal gown from the tissue paper it had been wrapped in. Then she dropped it over the dress form, carefully, as if clothing a bride on her wedding day.

The champagne-colored silk satin skirt was shin-length. Just right for the twenties. Matching champagne-colored beads and pearls embroidered the bodice and short puffy sleeves. Lovely and stylish, collectors of all things vintage would love to have it. But Allison had no intention of selling it. Something about it spoke to her heart.

Irrational, she supposed. She no longer had her own wedding dress. About ten years ago she’d given it away in a fit of anger. She’d wanted to hurt Tony. She should have known he wouldn’t see the significance in her gesture. By that time he hadn’t noticed much about her no matter what she did.

Allison and Tony had been married five years before she discovered how heavily he drank—a long time to keep that sort of secret. A few months later, at her insistence, he’d entered a thirty-day, in-patient recovery program, and she’d thought she would never have to worry about “that problem” raising its ugly head again.

How naive she’d been.

Two decades and the roller-coaster ride that was part and
parcel of a marriage to an active alcoholic had thoroughly disabused her of naiveté in that regard.

After Tony’s first stint in rehab, Allison went on loving him, even when others thought her crazy to put up with him. Even when he lost another job and then another and another. Even when he landed in the hospital. Again and again. Even when he broke her heart and disappointed her and abandoned her emotionally. With his every new attempt at recovery, she took hold of hope and expected to see him overcome the desire to drink. She believed again and again that he would get sober and stay sober. Only to see him fail. Again.

One good thing came out of her troubled marriage: Allison had been driven to the foot of the cross. Her faith in Christ had been born and then challenged and deepened. A Bible study leader once said to her, “A faith that can’t be tested can’t be trusted.” Well, Allison’s faith had been thoroughly tested. She’d gone through the refiner’s fire more than once.

And then, at long last, had come God’s promise to save her marriage. Or at least she’d believed it was His voice, His promise at the time.

Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory. Disillusionment pierced her heart like the sting of a scorpion.

She’d been so certain God would heal her marriage, but it was clear that she’d misunderstood. For Allison’s marriage was over and God did not lie.

She turned away from the bridal gown and the memories it had stirred to life and left the attic.