I struggled for self-control. Wasn’t that my story? I’d done wrong and was afraid to tell God. The court had been my parent and given me time-out. But God had never stopped loving me through any of it. Sadly, I’d only punished myself more by pushing Him away in shame. But He’d always loved me. He still loved me, no matter what.
Through watering eyes, I could barely make out little-kid bodies going back to their seats. I put a hand to my temple, pretending to rub at a headache, and coughed to disguise my sniffles.
After the service, Sam’s band buddies joined Brad and me for a Coney Deluxe. I laughed more than I had in years. But behind the smile was an ache. Rawlings would never be more than a pit stop as I ambled through life.
From what Dorothy told me, Rick’s ex had moved back to her hometown in Ohio. She was happily living in her maintenance-free condo on the golf course, and glad to be back from her yearlong trip to Uganda. She’d apologized for not writing sooner, but she couldn’t find the time with all the demands placed on the medical team she’d headed up in Africa.
I put the Explorer in reverse and backed out of the garage. Over my shoulder, I took my last look at the rear of the Victorian. The siding had never gotten that paint job I’d envisioned. The house still looked as haunted as it had the day I’d arrived in Rawlings.
But I knew the inside had been cleaned and painted. I’d left a blank slate, the perfect canvas for all the great ideas the new owners could come up with.
A fist pounded on the hood. I turned to look ahead. Brad stood in front of the Explorer, hands on hips, as if daring me to run him over.
I rolled down the window. “What are you doing?”
He came around my side of the car. “Tish. Don’t leave. Give it another day.”
I stared at him. Tears threatened to roll. I blinked them back.
“Hey.” I touched his cheek with my finger. “I want to get there tonight.”
“C’mon. You know what the forecast says. Wait until tomorrow.” Maybe his eyes gleamed brighter than usual, but not from tears. Couldn’t be from tears.
“Brad.” His name came out a whisper. “I’m going. Don’t try to talk me out of it.”
He held my eyes captive for a moment. Then he leaned in the window and touched his lips to mine. I closed my eyes. I treasured the warmth of his breath, the softness of his skin. Maybe I could stay in Rawlings. Brad and I could work things out. I didn’t have to go digging up the past anymore. I could let it lie, embrace the future, never look back . . .
Brad pulled away, his eyes searching mine.
“I have to go,” I said. Off in the distance came the sound of a whistle. I put the car in drive, hoping to beat the train.
I steered past a classic teal Buick, parked at the museum next door. The old curator waved to me from the front porch. I stopped and rolled down the passenger window.
“Take good care of Deucey or Grandmother will haunt you,” I said with a smile.
“I’ve been looking for a new girlfriend. Your grandmother still available?”
I laughed and waved.
I turned left onto Main Street.
I crossed the railroad ties with barely a tremor.
“Goodbye, Rawlings,” I whispered as I accelerated and headed north, toward the Upper Peninsula, my childhood home. There I’d rest and relax and recover from the months and years of tragedy that had bombarded my life. No more bodies in the basement. No more power-hungry, murderous ex-wives. Just peace and quiet and fresh air.
And maybe, after a while, I’d even forget the brown-eyed man who loved me.
Acknowledgments
Thank you:
To the women of ACFW Critique Group 15 for your honesty and encouragement.
To Janet Kobobel Grant for choosing my entry for “Kill Me If You Can” as Best of Show at the 2004 ACFW Conference. What a blessing that has become!
To family and friends who encouraged my writing habit and stood by me through tough years.
and
To God who makes all things possible.