Tapestry of Trust (20 page)

She looked at Humphrey, who occupied the other half of her desk. “How about a nice,
forgive me, I forgive
you
note. That should be enough to settle things, right? Then we could both move on. No looking back.”

Humphrey stood, arched his back, and flicked his tail.

“I’ll take that as a no.” She scratched between his ears. “You’re right.” Which she hated. “I suppose, I’ll need to head over to his place in a few minutes.”

Humphrey hissed.

She pulled her hand back. “OK. I’ll go now.”

Probably better anyway. The sooner she talked to Charlie, the sooner she could cuddle up with her new novel. Grabbing her keys, she went to the door and opened it. She paused. Licked her lips. Said a quick prayer.

A faint moon, round and full, rose in the darkening sky as she crossed the grass and headed to the next building.

Stepping into the past one last time, she reiterated, because after tonight, she’d start on a clean slate. No more guilt. No more Charlie.

She took the stairs to the second floor, marched to end of the corridor, ready to round the corner to Charlie’s apartment.

“Erica. I’m sorry.”

Halting, Isabelle tensed. She knew that voice.

“Charlie. I do want to try again.”

OK, that’s it.
Isabelle threw up her hands. She turned on her heels to stomp away, but something inside her made her pause.

“I’ve already told you, I have no interest in trying again,” Charlie answered.

Good.
Isabelle exhaled. She took a small step and peeked around the corner.

Charlie was leaning against the apartment door, tapping his lip. He looked bored. Erica, on the other hand, stood ramrod straight with her fingers balled into fists, looking ready to punch someone.

“I’m not waiting forever, Charlie.”

“I’m not asking you to. You need to move on.”

Isabelle cringed. No woman wanted to hear that.

“You’d like me to move on, wouldn’t you? Just so you can snuggle up with that Isabelle.”

Surprise shot through Isabelle, knocking her breathless.
How did I get involved?
She sucked in some air and squinted, watching closer.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Erica, our relationship died long before Isabelle re-entered my life.”

Thank you, Charlie.

I think.

After a second, the woman flushed and jutted her chin. “Charlie, I want to fill you in on the Hanson account and their embezzlement issue.” Her voice went low. Isabelle now strained to listen.

“What about it?” Annoyance, ripe in Charlie’s tone.

“Calvin Hines, their accountant, finally figured out the culprit.”

A shrug from Charlie. “Good for Calvin.”

“Oh, but not good for you, Charlie.” Suddenly, Isabelle liked Erica even less.

Charlie’s eyes went wide. “What are you saying?”

“Calvin has it all in black and white, darling. Documents that point to you. I’m sorry I can’t protect you.”

Charlie straightened, his shoulders squared. “Protect me? From what?”

Erica’s twisted smirk told Isabelle everything.

A setup. That woman had set Charlie up. Isabelle considered popping around the corner, putting a stop the charade. But when Erica reached up and stroked Charlie’s face with her finger, Isabelle ripped her gaze away.

She’d seen enough. This wasn’t her business. A jilted lover’s threat, that’s probably all it was. She took off in a jog, heading back to her apartment, all the way thinking the note sounded better all the time.

19

The heat was oppressive even for Texas. Isabelle stood on the sidelines, fanning herself with a clipboard. “How many games are left?”

Coach Ramsey looked at his list. “Just the wheelbarrow race. We’ll start in a few minutes.”

“Hallelujah.” Kate’s glum voice came from behind her.

Isabelle turned to find her friend, dripping wet, and lugging an armful of super-soaker pistols.

“Get caught in the crossfire?” Isabelle chuckled, not sure whether to feel bad or envious.

“Something like that.” Kate flicked her hair over her shoulders. “And no one’s getting these back until their parents arrive.”

“At least you’re not dying of heat like the rest of us.”

Kate cocked an eyebrow at Isabelle. “I’ll take the heat, thank you.”

The loudspeaker blared. “All participants for the wheelbarrow race on the soccer field now.”

Isabelle perked up at the announcement. She rose on her toes and scanned the field, hoping Drew wasn’t playing too far away to hear Coach Ramsey. This was his last chance for a ribbon.

As if reading her mind, Kate pointed with one of the super soakers into the distance. “There’s Drew.” Isabelle followed her gaze and spotted the child fumbling his way across the field, arms flailing like a baby bird learning to fly.

Isabelle exchanged a knowing glance with Kate. “I think we better say a quick prayer.”

Kate’s eyes rounded. “So he doesn’t fall on his face, or that he wins the race?”

“Both.” Isabelle’s words faded as Drew skidded to a stop near the starting line only to trip over his shoelaces and end up on his hands and knees in the mud.

Kate inched closer to Isabelle. “Look at the positive side. He didn’t fall on his face.”

Thank God.
Isabelle nodded. For a split second she thought of running to his aid but stopped when he jumped up and brushed off his pants. It tugged at her heart, knowing he wouldn’t give up, even after losing every other game he took part in today.

“On your mark, get set—” Someone shouted. Isabelle snagged Kate by the sleeve. “Come on. Let’s wait at the finish line. I want to be there to congratulate Drew.”

“You’re optimistic.” The last words Isabelle heard before the whistle blew.

Not waiting for Kate, she bounded for the end of the field and wormed her way through the gathering crowd to stand at the front. With one hand propped over her brows, she squinted against the glaring sun and watched the second graders as they tottered across the grass. Nine partners in all, one teammate as driver while the other barreled along as a human wheelbarrow. Not too bad of odds, she hoped. As long as Drew’s hands moved as quickly as his partner, Michael, running behind him.
Lord, help him.

For an instant, images of the old Drew flashed in her mind. Angry. Unmotivated. A loner. She remembered what a challenge he’d been. Now, here he was, having fun with his classmates. He’d made progress, socially and academically. If only he could win this race. “You’re doing great, Drew,” she screamed, her voice melding with the whooping around her.

The students pushed harder, hands and tennis shoes splashing through ruts of pooled water. Isabelle closed one eye. She could barely stand to watch as Michael and Drew, neck and neck with Peter and Sam, picked up their pace. The others lagged several feet behind. Drew had a chance.

“Go Drew! Go Michael!”

Kate bustled up beside her, nudging her arm with an elbow. “You might have a winner.”

“I hope.”

Michael stumbled and Drew’s face headed for the dirt. Isabelle slapped her hand over her eyes. “No.”

“They’re OK,” Kate said.

Isabelle dropped her hand in time to see Drew’s fingers inch cross the finish line, a hair’s-breadth ahead of Peter’s.

As laughter and cheers erupted around her, the students hoisted Drew, the smallest member of their class, onto Michael’s hefty shoulders. Pumping both fists in the air, Drew wailed above the crowd. “I knew I could do it!”

She knew he could, too.

Minutes later, Isabelle waved to Drew as he plowed through the crowd toward her. The blue ribbon clamped between his teeth flapped in the breeze. A yard or so away, he skidded to a stop, yanked the ribbon from his lips, and stretched his arms wide. She braced herself the best she could before he tackled her with a hug. “I did it, Miss. Crafton.”

Isabelle sucked in air and gave him a squeeze. “I never doubted you would.”

Taking a step back, he shot his hand in the air, dangling the ribbon an inch from her nose. “Look what I got.”

Isabelle fingered his prize. “First place. I’m so proud of you.”

“Drew Clark, what’s that you’re holding?”

At the sound of the woman’s voice, Drew broke into a toothless grin, and in one mighty swoop, he spun and tackled his mom with a rambunctious hug.

“I won, Mom!”

“You sure did.” Mrs. Clark hugged him back.

Although standing in the sweltering sunshine, a chill washed over Isabelle as she observed the encounter. A tender, sweet moment, one she would never share with her son.

“Mom, guess what else?” Drew jumped up and down as he depicted a moment-by-moment account of the race.

Before regret got the best of her, Isabelle turned and started back into the school building to gather her things. Field Day was over.

“Miss Crafton, wait.” Mrs. Clark called from behind her.

Slowing her steps, Isabelle took a long breath, and waited for Drew’s mom.

“Miss Crafton, I’d like to thank you for all you’ve done for Drew this year. You know, I’m raising him by myself, and it’s hard to keep up with him like I should.” Even as she smiled a tinge of sadness lit her eyes.

Isabelle nodded and leveled her breathing. “Thank you, but Drew deserves the credit. He’s a hard worker.”

“Yes, he is, because of you. One day you’ll be a wonderful mother, Miss Crafton.”

Isabelle nearly dissolved into tears. She’d come close to being a single mom and wondered how well she would have handled it; regardless, she’d have liked to have had the chance to try. She cleared her throat. “No problem.” Still her voice broke. She gave Mrs. Clark a hug.

“OK, OK.” Drew’s voice emanated from the sidelines. “What about the Copperhead Arcade?”

Isabelle glanced at Drew as he capered around her. “You’re close, only one more day.” How could she not admire his effort these last six weeks? Even if it did take some grace on her part for him to finish the year a winner.

“Oh, rats. I have-ta be good one more day?” Drew punched the air then cut his gaze to her. “It’s gonna be hard.”

Isabelle reached down and patted his head. “Just one more day. You can do it.”

Drew pursed his lips, giving his mother a skeptical glance before looking at Isabelle. “OK, I will do it.” He bobbed his head. “Because then I’ll be heading for Copperhead Arcade. Whoa! I’m a winner today and tomorrow.” He waved his ribbon in the air, and when he angled her a lopsided grin, Isabelle chuckled.

“You are a winner every day, Drew. And remember God has great plans for you.”
Great advice
. Something she needed to remember.

****

Shoving sentiment aside, Isabelle gathered her tote bag and purse from the classroom and hurried to the car. After a few deep breaths and a little self pep-talk—reminding herself Admiral was at the barn waiting—she felt better.

After all, she’d had a great morning. Watching Drew win, seeing his excitement. Even if witnessing the interaction between him and his mother roused feelings that lately lingered too close to the surface.

Her throat clogged and for the umpteenth time she willed herself to keep it together.
Admiral.
She repeated. Even with the heat, a long trail ride sounded nice. The sun on her back, wind rippling through her hair. Cutting a trail across the parking lot, she scuffed her feet along the gravel to clean mud from her shoes. She didn’t want to waste a moment.

“Isabelle.” Kate’s voice came from behind her.

She froze mid step, pausing long enough to glance over her shoulder. “Hey, Kate, I can’t stop to talk, I’m heading to the barn. See you tonight.”

Still, by the time she reached the car, Kate had caught up to her, out of breath and lugging one last super-soaker under her arm. “I thought we were having lunch.”

“Lunch?” Isabelle hiked the tote onto her shoulder. “Did we have plans? Because I—”

Kate held up a hand. “Let me guess. A date with Admiral.”

“Yeah. Perfect day to ride. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, that’s fine. We’ll talk later.” Kate paused. A look of anguish crossed her face. Or maybe concern. Isabelle couldn’t place it, but whatever, she didn’t like it.

“What’s going on, Kate?” She hated to ask.

“Well.” Kate lifted her hand, coughed in her fist. “I just spoke to Mark and…” She coughed again.

“And?”

She shrugged and Isabelle got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I know you don’t want to talk about Charlie, but I thought you should know a marketing firm in the Dallas area offered him a job. Mark said it’s a great opportunity, and now that Charlie’s out of school, he was considering it.”

For a moment, Isabelle thought,
thank goodness
. That was before her irrational heart constricted tightly. She wondered if it would ever pump normal again. Splaying her hand against her chest, she sucked in a breath.

She shouldn’t care. Didn’t want to care. Friendship―at a distance would be the only relationship she’d ever want from Charlie.

So why then did her stomach twist into a knot at the thought of him moving back to the Dallas area?
Their old stomping ground.

And
, Isabelle swallowed,
back under his mother’s protective wing
?

Isabelle forcefully expelled a breath. Sharon’s matchmaking plans to reunite Charlie and Erica just got easier.

Her mind took off in a sprint, replaying snippets of the conversation she’d overheard from the night before. Erica’s threat to Charlie, trying to tie him to an embezzlement scheme. The woman still loved him. Why would she do such a thing?

Unless, it wasn’t a threat, but rather revenge. Isabelle bit inside her cheeks to keep her jaw from dropping.

Now she had Charlie to worry about.

“Isabelle, are you OK?”