After All These Years (6 page)

Isabel sensed the cogs whirring away in his mind.

He set down his glass. “Your grandmother. She would have influenced— Oh, jeez-louise. Foot-in-mouth disease, as usual. I heard she passed away recently. I'm sorry.”

Isabel looked away. “Two weeks ago. And yes, she was a major influence on my decision.”

“She didn't like me much, did she?”

“She guessed at only half of what you represented in my life. She didn't like you
at all
.”

For a split moment, his features froze.

Isabel laughed. “It was our lifestyle she hated, not you. My
abuela
prayed for you.” She didn't mention that she too had prayed for him through the years.

“That makes total sense.” He glanced toward the ceiling. “So what half didn't she guess?”

Isabel felt a blush erupt over her entire face and neck. Conversing with Tony was the equivalent of tap dancing on a minefield. She couldn't come up with a nonexplosive answer, one that wouldn't ignite emotions.

“You're prettier than I remember.” His voice was low. “There's a depth of life about you, like a rose in full bloom.”

“Say, how about those Cubs this season?”

He laughed. “Izzy, I'm serious.”

“If you say so. Now what do you want to know?”

“Ah, we seem to have a trust issue here.”

The past rushed at her, nothing specific, just negative emotions en masse.

“Iz, the comment about your being pretty wasn't empty flattery. I may have dished that out in college, but it's not my professional style now. I
have
grown up. Well, to a certain extent, at any rate. However, I would like to ask you a few questions for the article. Do you mind?”

“N-no.”

The waitress placed salads and garlic bread before them.

Tony picked up his fork. “All right. If I say Brady Olafsson, what's the first thing that comes to mind?”

“Off the record?”

He stretched out his arms, tanned beneath the short sleeves of his white cotton shirt. “No wire. No pad and pencil.”

“He's for real.”

Dissatisfaction flickered in his eyes. “Do tell.”

“I mean it. Genuine good guy. I doubt there's anything I can tell you that you don't already know.”

“I take it you're friends?”

“Yes. We became acquainted through church. His sister Britte and I are close.”

“Since?”

“About four years ago. I moved out to Valley Oaks when I took the job at the radio station.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did he put the moves on you?”

She clenched her jaw and glared at him.

“I mean, why wouldn't he?” He waggled his brows.

The obvious. Brady was engaged at the time.
She had no intention of revealing that bit of information.

Tony's face brightened and he held up a finger. “Unless one of you was involved.”

She kept her stony silence.

“Izzy, Izzy, why is there no trust? Okay, moving right along. What do you know about the zoning of the property adjacent to his?”

“Digging for dirt?”

“Just trying to see the big picture. Thought you might want to add your two cents worth to balance school board members' opinions. All seven of them who wanted a housing development out there. On the record.”

“He sold his property to Gina. As a zoning board member he voted against the development and for the preservation of history and a wildlife refuge. The town is divided on the issue, but then they often are. Nothing dark and sinister under that bush.”

“Is it Christian versus non-Christian?”

“Hardly.”

The waitress delivered their entrees. “Finished, ma'am?” Isabel eyed her half-eaten salad. The thought of meeting with Tony had squelched her appetite all day. “Yes, thanks.” She watched him interact with the waitress in that totally captivating way of his. The young woman was emerging from her shell. Isabel had always liked that about him, his ability to draw people out. At the moment she didn't want to be drawn out, but it probably wasn't the correct response.
Lord, I need some courage.

After the waitress left, Tony commented, “This is pretty decent food here.”

She smiled at his surprised tone. “More so than you'd expect outside of Chicago?” she teased.

“That's nice.”

She focused on her plate of fragrant garlicky tomato sauce and pasta.

“You actually looked at me. And even smiled.”

It was true. Avoiding eye contact was her self-defense. She gave herself a mental shake and raised her eyes to meet his again.

Tony had bright, laughing eyes, full of anticipation at what the next moment might bring. Their blue pulsated with all the vibrancy of the sky. Deep-set and dark-lashed, they had first drawn her in over seven years ago. Tiny crow's feet had etched themselves around the corners.

A deep recognition flashed between them. She turned away.

“Izzy, you're so familiar to me, but it's as if you've changed so much you're unrecognizable. Does that make sense?” His tone was sincere.

“There's a Bible verse that talks about being a new creature in Christ. Does that make sense to you?”

“No.”

“Jesus invaded my life several years ago. I can't see or hear Him, but He walks and talks with me. It's a supernatural reality, the purpose of which is to make me resemble Him more than I resemble myself.”

“Now you've totally lost me.”

She smiled. “He is pure goodness and light, Tony, and He is my best friend. College was a dark time for me. The memory is that of an alcohol-induced haze.”

“But we had such a blast.”

“It was nothing compared to the blast I'm having now.”

He smacked the tabletop. “The apartment on Linden.”

She set down her fork, all pretense of eating gone.

“Izzy, how long did we live together?”

“Three months, give or take a few days.”

“Hmm. You'd think I'd have remembered something like that.”

Yes, you would think so
, she silently agreed.

He shrugged, as if in dismissal. “There's no accounting for those wild and crazy days.”

Isabel drove home. The miles stretched endlessly as she vainly tried to shut the mental floodgates Tony had pried open. The past was not to be contained. Scenes from their college days flowed, carrying a rash of emotions.

She parked in front of her small rented house, which didn't have a driveway or garage. She got out and stood in the quiet. Willows grew across the street above train tracks that were set in a shallow gully. When trains rattled by, she saw only their tops.

The evening's first stars winked against a navy blue sky. She gazed at them while the evening's conversation with Tony reeled unbidden in her mind, mingling with a darkness from the past. It all nibbled at the fringes of her equilibrium.

“Isabel.”

She turned to see her neighbor walking across his yard. “Hi, Cal.”

“You're standing in the middle of the street.”

She walked around her car and stepped up on the curb. “So give me a ticket for jaywalking.”

Methodically, he pulled a piece of gum from his uniform's shirt pocket, unwrapped it, scrunched it into his mouth, and began chewing. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged his big shoulders and slouched against her car. “Your voice sounds funny.”

“I just had dinner with the reporter who's interviewing Brady.”

“Tony Ward?”

“You've met him?”

“Yep. Why'd you have dinner with him?”

Isabel crossed her arms. Under the cover of the deepening twilight she frowned. “I knew him in college.”

“Small world. If you don't mind my saying, you should have told me you were seeing him. I don't trust the guy.”

“Huntington, don't you ever get tired of playing the
cop
?”

Ever since Isabel had moved next door to Cal two years ago, an easy, teasing rapport defined their relationship. Suddenly, it disintegrated on the spot. Isabel felt the heaviness in Cal's silence.

“Cal, I appreciate your concern, but he's an old acquaintance who wanted to talk about Brady for his article, add some local flavor.”

“Do you know him well?”

She bit her lip. “It was a long time ago. About seven years. We were both pursuing majors in journalism. He was a senior, I was a sophomore. We—we dated for a short time right before he graduated.”

Cal pulled himself up to his full height, unsnapped another shirt pocket and slipped out a tiny spiral pad and pencil. “Look, Isabel, I don't mean to offend you by
playing the cop,
but this Ward guy rubs me the wrong way, and he's about to tell the nation the nitty-gritty details of my best friend's life. Exactly how is he going to interpret those details?”

“I don't have a clue.”

“You do. You just don't know it. Where did he grow up?”

She tightened her crossed arms, pressing them against the nausea beginning in her stomach. “Highland Park. I met him at Illinois State University.”

“What do you know about his childhood?”

Snippets of long-ago conversations came to her. “No financial worries. His dad is a lawyer, his mother some sort of artist who doesn't cook.”

“Any siblings?”

“I think a younger sister.”

“Tell me what you know about his high school career. Sports? Gangs?”

“No, neither. His mind is sharp, but school bored him. He almost didn't graduate. He drifted around for a year, then his dad gave him an ultimatum. He joined the Navy. Four years later he went to college. He said he's been with the
Tribune
for about six years. His father probably knew somebody who knew somebody, but still, he must be very good at what he does.”

“Which is exactly what?”

She spread her arms in a helpless gesture. “Cal, I don't know. We haven't been in touch. He's a reporter. He writes about what's going on in the world.” Was it a lie to omit the fact that she had seen Tony's byline once and never again read the Chicago paper?

“Is he married?”

“No. He said work is his life.”

“Why did you stop dating?”

“It wasn't serious between us. He graduated two years before I did and he moved on. And this is getting way too personal,
Deputy
.”

“It's for Brady's sake.”

“Brady's a big boy. He can take care of himself. And you know, the article is about other Christian artists, too. Brady might rate two paragraphs, hardly major exposure. Now, you'll have to excuse me. I'm very tired.” She strode up the front sidewalk, ignoring her friend's thanks.

Promptly at six o'clock Friday night Lia bid Dot goodnight and locked the shop door behind her employee, grateful no customer remained. She turned to Anne Sutton, a part-time employee. “Whew!”

Anne grinned. “Told you those discounted carnival ride tickets and Autumn Faire T-shirts would bring in the business.”

“But can I cancel tomorrow morning and not open?”

“A Saturday? No way! At least you're only open until one. Okay, I've got this register closed out.”

Lia appreciated her friend's down-to-earth personality. Mother of three and assistant girls' basketball coach, she wore her dark hair in a no-nonsense ponytail and, more often than not, a smile. “Anne, thanks for staying late tonight.”

“No problem. It's Autumn Faire weekend. The whole town lives at Franklin Park, including Alec and the kids. My kitchen is closed for the duration and car pools cease to exist.”

“Chloe couldn't wait to go tonight. I'm so glad your girls invited her.”

“It was Mandy's idea, and for once Amy agreed because she happens to like her little sister's new friend. Even Drew says he doesn't mind her, and he's 16 and usually can't stand little kids! Lia, you've done a good job. Chloe's an adorable child. And Mandy says she's smart as a whip in school.”

Lia laughed. “After only two days?”

“Well, if it's an exaggeration, it's a positive one anyway. I told them to check in with us at the pavilion at seven. They'll probably be too full of ice cream and funnel cakes to eat dinner with us.”

“What's a funnel cake?”

Anne moaned, “Mmm, a piece of heavenly food—but deep fried. Can I do something else to help you close up shop?”

“No, no.” Lia ushered her to the door. “Anne, I can't thank you enough for helping me out.”

“Goodness, you're paying me.”

Lia blinked at tears that were welling up. “It's more than the hours you put in as an employee. You and Isabel and the others have kept me going.”

Anne gave her a hug. “Oh, Lia, it's our big God who's taking care of all of us.”

“I know. The details He's orchestrated this week alone amaze me! Chloe has friends already because she's in your Mandy's class. Isabel arranged for Gina to give her a kitten. Dot and I are swamped but you, Addie, Isabel, and Britte all jump in with two hours here, four hours there—and I don't think one customer has gone away unhappy.”