Remember (12 page)

If only you knew, Tim. God is so good; he’s giving me another chance at life.

On the way home she turned left instead of right and wound up at the cemetery.

The day was decked in bright blues and vibrant greens. Sunshine streamed through the clusters of trees and splashed light over the quiet sea of death. Kari gazed across the field. On a summer day like this, the rows of gray cement tombstones appeared almost warm.

She grabbed a bottle for Jessie, took the sleeping infant from her car seat, and cradled her close. “Come on, little girl.” She nuzzled her face against her daughter’s. “Let’s go talk to Daddy.”

Kari had come here a handful of other times since Tim died. For the most part she did her grieving at home, a Bible in one hand and a box of tissues in the other. But sometimes she just needed to remember, needed to connect once more with all that would never be again.

She drew a deep breath and crossed the parking lot.
Give me strength, God.

Carefully she maneuvered past stones of varying shapes and sizes until she found one that looked newer than the rest. Around its base, fresh grass poked up through the dirt—a sign that life was pressing on. The stone was simple, traditional, but it expressed the way Kari had felt about Tim. The way she still felt:
Timothy Allen Jacobs. Loving husband and father.

It was true, no matter what people said. Tim had made some awful mistakes, and yes, she’d been angry at him—angry enough to hate him at times. But he had also come to his senses. He had moved back home and committed himself to a full course of counseling sessions with Kari. In the months before his murder the two of them had grown closer than Kari had ever dreamed possible.

And during those precious months, she’d caught a glimpse of the type of father Tim would have been. He would hold his head near her abdomen and make up songs for their unborn child. Just before he was killed, he’d brought home a tiny stuffed eagle, white and downy soft. Jessie’s first toy—the one Kari set at the foot of her daughter’s crib each night.

Kari stared at the stone.
How can you be gone?
She glanced at the two dates engraved beneath his name, not nearly enough years spread between them. He had been so young—only thirty-four years old. It was still hard to believe. He lay deep in the ground while his killer sat behind bars in the local jail, winning one delay after another in the trial proceedings. The district attorney had said it could be spring or later before Tim’s killer would finally face a jury.

Little Jessie began to stir, and Kari leaned against a tree. She slipped the bottle into her daughter’s mouth, as a breeze picked up and played through the leaves in a nearby tree.
You’re here, aren’t you, God?
Kari lifted her chin and closed her eyes, letting the cool air move across her face.

The rustling leaves seemed to answer in response.
Always . . . always . . . always.

A Scripture passage from a recent sermon filtered into Kari’s mind like so many more rays of sunshine:
“His compassions never fail. They are new every morning.”

Kari opened her eyes and gazed at Jessie.
Yes, Lord, they are. Every single morning.

Her eyes moved once more toward Tim’s gravestone. “It’s happening, Tim.” She uttered a quiet laugh. “Just when I thought it never would.” She paused. “I’m learning to live.”

Jessie was more awake now, the sound of her sucking more pronounced. Kari swallowed, searching for her voice. “I’m praying that God will let you know something.” Tears nipped at the corners of her eyes, and a small, happy sob welled up from someplace in her soul. “He’s given me a way to help—a . . . a way to share what I learned with you.” A single tear slid down her nose. Kari wiped it on her sleeve before it could fall on Jessie. She sniffed twice. “I’m going to be okay, Tim.”

Jessie drew back from her bottle, cooed sweetly, and gave Kari a dreamy smile. Kari smiled back, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “We’re both going to be okay, aren’t we, Jess?”

The breeze stilled, and a silence hovered over the place where Tim was buried. “Well . . .” Kari looked back at the stone. “We have to go now. Jessie needs to get home.” She felt a sudden catch in her throat. “I . . . I wish you could see her, Tim. She’s so pretty. You would have been the proudest father.”

Again Kari sniffed, and this time she stood, staring into the blue.
Lord, lead me forward. Please.

Then, with a strength that was not her own, Kari clutched more tightly to Jessie and set off toward the car. One step after another, away from the sadness and sorrow that had gripped her for many months.

And into a future she hadn’t believed in until that week.

Chapter Twelve

Landon was no longer the enemy.

Now that Ashley had been honest and explained how her love for him had nothing to do with commitment or marriage or even dating, suddenly everything about Landon wasn’t bad at all.

It was almost fun.

He was still off work, waiting for his leg and burns to heal, and Ashley had started bringing Cole over to his house on Saturdays to help him pass the time. They would spend the afternoon watching TV or playing games.

Always, on these visits, the mood between Ashley and Landon was light and upbeat—playful even. None of the deep eyes or serious tones that had colored that memorable night at the hospital. Not even the uncomfortable game of pursuit that marked their encounters before that.

Landon was wonderful with Cole, letting the little boy draw with markers on his cast, partnering with him for Uno or Go Fish, and teaching him the difference between a ball and a strike if the Cubs were on TV.

Later, when Cole was busy coloring or playing by himself, Ashley would tell Landon everything about Irvel’s longing for her husband and Edith’s screaming and Helen’s insistence that everyone who entered Sunset Hills was a potential spy.

Landon was a patient listener. He seemed interested in everything she said, and not just because he was a captive audience. In fact, he was the perfect sounding board, and talking with him gave her a way to process her experience at Sunset Hills.

At times Ashley would catch herself watching Landon a bit longer than necessary, enjoying herself more than she’d intended. But in the end she always kept her focus. All the reasons for their not being together were still valid, after all—and besides, Landon was moving to New York. These were possibly their last times together, the final days of a friendship that had taken root back when they were barely more than kids. They were on safe ground. Landon spoke nothing of the feelings he’d admitted to in the hospital. Ashley chose to believe that he’d finally let go, that he had taught himself not to think of her that way.

One Friday afternoon four weeks after Landon’s injury, he called Ashley at work, desperate for a diversion. “Can Cole come over and play?”

“Don’t do that to me!” Ashley laughed. “I need to know the world outside these walls is still sane.”

“Sorry.” Landon let out a half-chuckle, half-moan. “I’m so bored, sitting here in this body armor, and my leg is itching like crazy. Tell me you’re bringing my favorite little boy over tomorrow.”

“Well . . .” Ashley carried the portable phone into the living room. Edith, Irvel, and Helen were snoring peacefully while
Matlock
played out on the old television set. “I have to clean my garage. And later, let me think . . . oh, yes. I’m supposed to straighten my bookshelf.”

“That busy, huh?”

“You know it.” She stifled a giggle and leaned against the living-room wall. “Never a dull moment.”

“How’s the screamer?” Landon’s mood was still light, but his tone was softer. He cared about the people at Sunset Hills. The more Ashley talked about them, the more connected he seemed to get.

“She screamed right on target, poor thing. The minute she hit the bathroom.”

“Did Belinda dope her up again?”

“No.” Ashley let her eyes settle on Edith. “Belinda was out running errands.”

“So, what’d you do?”

“Talked to her, sat with her.” Ashley gazed out the window. It was another beautiful summer day, the kind that made her feel like painting. “Took about half an hour, but eventually she calmed down. She said the strangest thing.”

“What?”

“She said she’d seen a witch. A witch that wanted to kill her.”

Landon whistled low. “No wonder she screams.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Ashley looked back at Edith again. The woman was completely at peace now, with no memory of whatever she’d seen earlier.

“Maybe it’s spiritual, Ashley. Maybe she really is seeing something.”

“Come on, Landon.” Ashley resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“Well . . .” Landon’s tone was even. When it came to matters of faith, he never preached at her. He knew her position and didn’t try to change her way of thinking. “I do, actually. Tell you what. I’ll make you a promise.”

“What’s that?” Ashley looked down and made invisible flower patterns on the table with the tip of her finger. Why was she so uncomfortable whenever he talked about God things?

“From this day on I’ll pray about Edith’s screaming. Until something happens, okay?”

“Okay.” Ashley kept her voice light. “Whatever makes you happy.”

There was a pause and Ashley wondered if he was frustrated with her. After a moment she heard a munching sound. “Mom brought me homemade caramel corn.” He chomped a bit more. “Cole would love it.”

She grinned. Good. He wasn’t mad. “You think my bookshelf can wait—is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying, what time can you bring that boy over to play?”

She laughed. “Okay. Fine. We’ll come over after naptime. About three o’clock, okay?”

“In the morning?” Landon sounded hopeful, more like her four-year-old son than the strong, stoic firefighter.

“In your dreams.” Ashley let loose another quiet laugh. It was refreshing to know both sides of the man. Refreshing and just a little dangerous.
He’s not your type,
Ashley reminded herself.
He’d have you cooking casseroles for the church potluck in no time. Besides, he’s moving to New York. Keep it simple.

“Well, Miss Ashley, you flatter yourself.” Landon’s tone was teasing. She could almost see the sparkle in his eyes. “I was talking about Cole. He could come for a sleepover. We could build a tent and play cops and robbers and have guy talks. You know, eat caramel corn all night and not sweep up the crumbs—that kind of thing. It’d be a blast. Come on, Mom.”

Ashley’s smile faded some. A wistful wind blew against her conscience. Sleeping in a living-room tent, playing cops and robbers, guy talks—all the things Cole was missing out on by not having a father.

She swallowed, keeping a lid firmly on her simmering heart. “Very funny. We’ll be there at three . . . in the afternoon.” She glanced at the clock. She had chores to do, and she needed to check on Bert and Laura Jo before her shift was over. “See you then.”

* * *

Ashley let Cole oversleep on Saturday afternoon.

While he napped, she started work on a new painting—a portrait of Irvel with a teapot. Ashley had captured the image with a snapshot taken the week before. Deeply involved in sketching out the piece and laying down a background, she lost track of time. It was four-thirty when they finally picked up two pizzas and drove the short distance to Landon’s house.

He met them at the door, crutches under both arms, his fully casted leg stretched out in front of him.

“Hey, pizza and my favorite boy all in one afternoon!” His grin shot a burst of adrenaline straight to Ashley’s heart. He said nothing about her being late. “Come in, guys.”

“Guess what?” Cole skipped over to Landon’s side and looked up, his eyes wide. “We got the cheese kind!”

“No!” Landon bent at the waist. He couldn’t have looked more surprised if Ed McMahon had stopped by to tell him he’d won a million dollars. “The cheese kind?”

“Yep.” Cole worked his head up and down. “Wanna eat it now?”

Landon shifted his gaze to Ashley. “Do we?”

“No, we do not.” Ashley sent Cole a pointed look. “You just had an apple on the way here.”

“Okay.” Cole looked past Landon into the house. “Wanna play a game?”

“Sure. Definitely.” In a graceful motion, Landon spun around on his crutches and headed toward the living room. His house was small and simple, in an older neighborhood not far from the university. Something about it made Ashley feel safe. Or maybe it was Landon who made her feel that way.

Landon grabbed a deck of Uno cards, eased himself onto the sofa, and patted his knee. “Be my partner, okay?”

“Yippee!” Cole ran toward Landon.

“Watch it, buddy.” Ashley winced. “He’s got a hurt leg, remember?”

“I know.” Cole climbed onto Landon’s lap and settled against his chest. “I was careful.”

The card game got under way, but Ashley had trouble concentrating. She kept sneaking glances over the top of her cards, watching the way Landon brought his face alongside Cole’s as they discussed which card to play. He was the most patient man she knew. She wanted to set up her easel and re-create on canvas the image they made together. Man and boy—her son in the arms of a young man who loved him. The type of moment that had happened only a handful of times in Cole’s life—and most of them in the past month.

Watching Cole and Landon together did unfamiliar things to Ashley’s heart, things she didn’t understand. There were moments when she wanted to join them on the sofa and beg Landon to stay, to promise him that her heart would figure out a way to care for him as more than a friend. But there were also flashes of relief in the knowledge that this intimate family scene couldn’t possibly become anything more serious. Not when Landon was leaving in a few months.

Ashley tried to focus on her cards. But no matter how hard she tried to steer them, her thoughts wouldn’t sail a straight course. Was it wrong to be here, unfair to Cole and Landon? Maybe it wasn’t wrong; maybe she should talk Landon into never leaving Bloomington.