Miracles and Dreams (7 page)

No spicy brown, so he settled for yellow mustard. He lifted the sandwich for a bite. Despite his hunger, he’d have to force it down. Misty’s tears turned his insides to a mass of tangled rubber bands.

“Wait!” Allie’s hand shot out. “We hafta pray first. Right, Mama?”

“That’s right.”

Allie took Misty’s hand in hers, and then reached for his. Jack gulped hard as her tiny fingers twined around his thumb and she closed her eyes, bowing her head. Dark hair spilled over her face as her little mouth puckered. “God, thank you for this food and for bringing Daddy home. Amen.”

The prayer was simple, and the small, heartfelt voice brought tears to Jack’s eyes. He lifted his head to find tears shimmering in Misty’s eyes, as well. Her expression asked, “What now?”

A huge gulp of milk helped the first bite of sandwich go down. No matter how hard Jack chewed, he felt as if his stomach was full of bricks. He noticed that Misty picked at her food, too. Could he really blame her?

Maybe he should go. Maybe this was all just too much, too fast for her.

Be patient. Don’t give up.

The voice startled him. Jack glanced around the kitchen. Had Misty heard it, too?

She chewed, he gulped, and Allie kicked the leg of the table methodically with her tennis shoe.

“Daddy, what’s ’fornia like?”

“California?”

“Uh huh. Mama said that’s where you live.”

“Well, California has mountains, just like here. But they’re bigger, more rugged, and it’s close to the Pacific Ocean.”

“I’ve never seen the ocean. Can I go some time with you?”

Misty’s chair legs scraped, and she lifted her glass to hide the downward tilt of lips that quivered.

“Maybe one day—but only with your mom, too.”

“Have you seen the ocean, Mama?”

“I have.”

“Why don’t we live in ’fornia with Daddy?”

Misty bobbled the glass, dribbling tea onto her plate. She merely shook her head.

“Is that a long story, too, Mama?” Allie quipped.

Misty pressed her palm to her lips, nodded again.

“What do you like best at school?” Jack asked Allie in an attempt to change the subject.

“Story Circle.” Allie bit off a hunk of apple slice. “Mrs. Barnett reads picture books and sometimes she brings puppets, too. We get to hold the puppets and make their voices. I like the dog puppet best. I want a dog, but Mama says one cat is enough, because Lucky is a handful. But now Ralph’s visiting, so Lucky has a friend. Maybe he’ll want another friend after Ralph leaves, and then we can get a puppy.”

“Puppies are a lot of work.”

“I guess. Do you have a puppy, Daddy?”

“No.”

“A cat?”

“Uh uh.”

“What about a hamster?”

“Nope. Not even a goldfish.”

“That’s sad.” Allie sipped her milk, and then suddenly brightened. “I’ll share Lucky.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Mama says it’s ’portant to be generous.”

“She’s right.”

Lucky scampered into the kitchen and skulked beneath the table, scrounging for scraps. “What else do you like about school?”

“Recess. I play freeze tag with Jacob and Susie and we swing on the monkey bars. But we didn’t have recess today, ’cause we left early and recess isn’t ’til the end of the day.” Allie finished off the apple and gulped a swig of her milk. White clung to her upper lip in a neat mustache. “So, Daddy, can we please,
please
go to the park for a little while?”

Jack glanced up. “Misty?”

She sighed, wadded her napkin, and tossed it onto the table. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, yeah!” Allie drained her milk glass and slipped from the chair. “Come on, Daddy.”

“Whoa there, princess.” He lassoed her. “Come back here. We help your mom clean up the kitchen first, and
then
we can go to the park while she finishes her project.”

9

“How’d you like to take a little detour with me?” Jack asked as they left the playground later, following a full hour of swinging and sliding and sand forts. If he lived to be a hundred and two, Jack would never tire of hearing Allie squeal, “Higher, Daddy, higher!”

Allie curled her fingers around his thumb as she scurried beside him. “What’s a detour, Daddy?”

“It’s a side trip on your way to somewhere else.”

“Sounds fun.” She nodded, brushing a lock of sweaty hair from her cheek. “Is it OK with Mama?”

“She doesn’t know. It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t think Mama likes surprises.”

“She’ll like this one.” Jack paused to kneel before Allie, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “You can trust me, princess. I know I haven’t seen you…spent time with you. But, we’re going to fix that. I’ve made mistakes, lots of them, and I’m sorry for that. Real sorry. But those mistakes just make me want to work harder to fix things.”

“You were gone a
long
time.”

“I know.”

“Mama says everyone makes mistakes and that’s OK, so long as you learn from them.”

“She’s absolutely right.” Jack worked to keep the tremor from his voice. “So, what do you think of our detour. Are you up for an adventure?”

“OK. Let’s go, Daddy.” Allie clung to his hand as he stood and skipped to keep pace with his long strides. They crossed through the park and wandered a length of the walking trail before veering off and crossing to the other side of the street.

Lawson’s Hardware was right where Jack remembered. The old-fashioned structure, tucked among a bookstore, a coffee shop, and a row of quaint boutiques, brought back waves of memories. Jack’s dad had bought him his first tape measure from Old Man Lawson, his first hammer and a level, and later on—for his fifteen birthday—a skill saw. He still used all of them—kept them tucked carefully in his tool chest.

A bell rang over the door as they entered, and Old Man Lawson glanced up from the counter. Though his hair was now a shock of white and the stoop along his shoulders much more pronounced, a smile still lit his face, and his rich chocolate eyes danced with mischief.

“It smells funny,” Allie said as she took a few tentative steps toward the counter.

“That’s the scent of sawdust.” Jack squeezed her hand. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” She sniffed, wrinkling her nose, and sneezed. “But it tickles.”

“You get used to it.” Jack breathed deeply and, for the first time, felt a little homesick for the job he’d left in Mike’s hands. “I love the smell.”

“Then I’ll love it, too, Daddy.”

Old Man Lawson came around the counter. “Hello there, Jack.”

“Hello, Mr. Lawson.” All at once Jack was sixteen again, and buying lumber for his first professional building project—a doghouse for Mrs. Jellico’s Golden Retriever down on Eighteen Street. “How are you?”

“Just dandy. And who is this pretty doll-baby?”

“Allie…my daughter.” The word rolled off his tongue now as if he’d been using it his entire life.

“I see.” Old Man Lawson offered Allie a bin of lollipops, and she chose one that was orange-flavored.

Jack had always chosen the same type as a child. Coincidence or a product of shared genes?

“I reckon you saw the sign down on Sixth?”

“What sign?” Jack chose a second lollipop, unwrapped it, and slipped it into his mouth. The sweet flavor helped dislodge the lump that had formed in his throat. All of this was nothing short of overwhelming. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’d have to be blind to miss it.” Lawson cackled in the rugged, low-pitched way that Jack remembered. “Property for sale…development property—commercial. Luke’s handling the sale.”

Old Man Lawson’s son—Jack’s childhood friend. They hadn’t seen each other in years.

“Is that so?”

“That’s what you’re into now, isn’t it—commercial land development?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, your Mom and Dad would be proud of what you’ve accomplished. It’s too bad, what happened to them. You know…no one should lose their folks so early on. It’s a mighty sad thing.”

“I know.” The words smarted, but Jack knew Old Man Lawson meant well. After all, the curmudgeon was never known for his tact. “As for the property, I just got in this morning. Haven’t had much time for sightseeing.”

“Well, you’ll want to take a look. It’s a prime piece of land and sure to be snatched up quick, even in this anemic economy. Mill’s Landing is ripe for growth, and I’d be pleased as punch to see some of that growth carry your name—and your expert touch. I’ll let Luke know you’re in town. You plan to be around for a while?”

“Um…” Jack hesitated, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he glanced at Allie. The jet lag was catching up to him. “I’m not sure.”

“You’ll need a place to stay then, won’t you?”

The question startled Jack. He hadn’t thought ahead that far. He hadn’t really considered anything, truth be told.

“I suppose I will, at least for a few days.”

“It’s settled, then. You’ll stay at the wife’s bed and breakfast. Just so happens we’re slow this time of year. I’ll text her, let her know you’ll be by later.”

Text her? So Old Man Lawson had come into the techno-age…a sure sign that anything was possible.

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Least I can do. Your folks would do the same for my Luke.” He cleared his throat, wiped a splash of mist from the corner of his eye. “In the meantime, what can I get for you?”

“I’m planning a special project, and I hope you have everything I’ll need.”

“Sure, son. Give me a list, and I’ll see what I can do.”

****

Misty procrastinated as long as she could. Washing the dishes by hand, scrubbing the counters and mopping the floor until the entire kitchen gleamed like it hadn’t in months, soothed the ache in her heart and coaxed her pulse down to a manageable rate. The house seemed so still and quiet without Allie. Sure, it was quiet while the child was at school, but that was a
normal
quiet. There was certainly nothing normal about this kind of solitude. It was almost unbearable.

Allie will be back soon,
Misty reminded herself. And there was work to occupy the time—a lot of work.

She gathered files and fanned them along the table. Opening her laptop, she downloaded the pictures she’d snapped at the park yesterday and clicked through each one. She kept the photos she liked, peppering them here and there throughout the Web display. The rest she deleted.

She wished life was that easy…just hit
delete
and make the unwanted memories—the snapshots in her mind—go away. If that was the case, she’d never again think of the time she’d watched her first sunset over Mill’s Landing with Jack, or the bouquet of wildflowers he’d brought her on her twenty-first birthday. She’d delete all the times he’d told her he loved her and just forget it ever happened. But it
had
happened—all of it. Allie was certainly proof of that. So the snapshots-in-time of what she and Jack had once shared set up residence in her memory like an elephant lodged in a birdhouse.

What would happen now? What was she—were they—going to do? Had Jack returned simply to claim Allie, or did he still want Misty, as well.

She forced the thought aside. Even if Jack did want to rekindle their relationship, she didn’t share the feeling. Too much time had passed and too much water rushed under the bridge. Sure, he still made her tingle at the sight of him. But he’d made her tingle before, and look where it had gotten them.

Opposite ends of the country—that’s where. Not a good place to be for either of them. Jack would realize soon enough just how much work a child could be. Days were filled with much more than trips to the playground and lunchtime banter around the kitchen table. Once he got a clue, he’d bolt for California once again. Perhaps he’d come around once a year, maybe more. It wasn’t enough. Allie deserved much better. There was no time for Misty to indulge in irresponsibility—or for her to cling to dreams that could never be. Allie needed at least one of her parents to be strong.

Misty turned her attention to the computer. Though her lips trembled, she refused to give in to tears. She’d finish the project and have it delivered to Spence Tucker in the morning, as promised.

Because once one was made, she never, ever broke a promise.

10

Jack retired to his room early. Mrs. Lawson was just as chatty as he remembered, playing Twenty Questions while she pierced him with her signature narrowed gaze. Guilt stabbed him, yet he just didn’t feel up to defending himself while explaining the how’s and why’s of his return—and the fact that he was with Allie in the hardware store. He imagined the newsflash would continue to wind its way through the grapevine with blistering speed. There was no sense in him adding fuel to the fire.

Besides, exhaustion seeped through every pore of his body, though the sweet release of sleep refused to come. It was beyond frustrating, and he tossed and turned in the bed as the last twenty-four hours ran through his head like a bad re-run of a movie.

The dinner Mrs. Lawson had warmed for him—pot roast in rich, creamy gravy with a generous side of baby reds and a hunk of warm bread slathered in garlic butter—stabbed like nails in his stomach. It had gone down easy enough, but the aftereffects didn’t sit so well.

Wasn’t that so much like the willful mistakes he’d made in his life? For way too long, he thought he’d held all the answers and knew best the path he should take. His stubborn pride had left him distanced from everyone—including the only woman he’d ever loved and the Savior who longed to counsel him. Time—and a pallet of heartache—had softened the pride and taught him to bury it and leave it behind.

Jack switched off the bedside lamp, and moonlight streamed through the window he’d left open in the hopes that a cool breeze and the song of crickets would lull him to sleep.

Conscience tugged. Misty had all but shut him out, and he really couldn’t blame her. Now, she was most likely seated at the kitchen table, enjoying a cup of decaf coffee and finishing up the final details of her project after tucking Allie into bed. What was it like to read a bedtime story, to watch your child drift off to sleep? He’d never even considered it before, but now that he’d returned, he wanted more, needed more. It drove him to imagine all kinds of crazy things.