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Authors: Carla Cassidy

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BOOK: A Gift from the Past
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“She married some guy from Kansas City and
moved there. We still write occasionally to each other.”

“What about Melinda? You two were best friends, but you haven't mentioned her while I've been back.”

“Actually, last I heard she was waitressing at the Onion Patch,” Claire said, fighting against a wave of nostalgia as she thought of the woman who had been her best friend since they'd been in third grade. “I don't see much of her anymore. You know how it is. As people get older and busier, it gets more difficult to maintain the friendships of youth.”

She stared out the window, for a moment her thoughts consumed with Melinda. When Sammy had passed away, Melinda had been carrying her first child and the distance between Melinda and Claire had grown too great to breach. Just another loss, Claire thought sadly, just another loss in a list of many.

The Onion Patch was a long, flat wooden building with a gaudy neon sign that proclaimed the name of the establishment. It had been named for the field where it had been built, a large garden where the main crop had been onions.

Even though it was early, there were already several cars and trucks parked in the immense parking area in front of the building. Raucous country-and-western music spilled from the open
doorway, and the scent of grilled meat and onions filled the air.

As they walked across the parking lot, Joshua threw an arm around Claire's shoulders. She thought about walking out of the casual embrace, then chided herself. It wasn't as if he was pulling her into his arms or pressing intimately against her.

Once inside they were greeted by Freddy, who shook Joshua's hand vigorously and wrapped Claire in a bear hug. “I couldn't believe it when Wilma Iverson called and wanted to reserve a table for the two of you,” the big man exclaimed. “My favorite video game is one of yours,” he said to Joshua.

“Really? Which one?”

“Captain Cool's Castle,” Freddy said. “Except I haven't been able to get past that goofy-looking monster on the fourth level.”

Joshua laughed. “Look behind a flower vase on the third level and you'll find the weapon to destroy the goofy-looking monster.”

“Great, thanks,” Freddy exclaimed as he led them through the dark interior to a familiar table in the back.

It was the table where the two of them had spent many evenings when they were first married and Claire had been pregnant with Sammy and life was good.

Before Claire sat down and as Freddy was walking away, Melinda appeared at the table. She
squealed a greeting then pulled Claire into a hug. “Oh, gosh, girl. It's so good to see you!” Melinda exclaimed as she released Claire. “You look great!” She turned her attention to Joshua and hugged him, as well. “I heard you were back in town.”

“It's good to see you, too, Melinda,” Joshua said.

Melinda grabbed Claire by the hand. “You'll excuse us for a minute, won't you?” Without giving Joshua a chance to reply, Melinda pulled Claire across the dance floor and into the women's rest room.

“Claire, it's been too long.” Melinda grabbed Claire's hands and peered into her eyes.

“It has,” Claire agreed, surprised to feel a ball of emotion press thick inside her chest.

“We've let the years get away from us and we shouldn't have.”

Claire nodded. “How's John? And your daughter?” She was appalled to realize she didn't even know Melinda's little girl's name.

“Good. John is great, although we don't see much of each other these days. He works days and I stay home with Rebecca, then I work nights and he takes care of her. We're saving for a house. We're sick of apartment living. What about you? How's Sarge?”

“He's fine, as ornery as ever.”

“And Joshua…are the two of you…”

“No,” Claire said hurriedly. “He's just in town visiting.”

“He's still quite a hunk, isn't he?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Claire replied.

“How about we get together for lunch next week?” Melinda asked.

“I'd like that.” Claire smiled. “And now I guess I'd better get out there.” She turned to leave, but stopped as Melinda called her name once again.

“I know it's been a long time— I've always felt as if I somehow let you down.” Melinda's expression was troubled.

“Let me down?” Claire looked at her in surprise. “How?”

“I wasn't really there for you when Sammy died. I tried to be, but I felt like you preferred to be alone in your grief. Maybe I should have tried harder to be there for you.”

“It was a long time ago,” Claire said softly. “And you're here now and we'll have lunch and catch up on everything that has happened since we last talked.”

Melinda brightened. “I've missed you, Claire.”

“I've missed you, too. Call me.” With these final words, Claire left the rest room and hurried back to the table where Joshua awaited her.

“I was beginning to think you might have slipped out the back door,” he said as she sat next to him.

“I thought about it, but then realized you'd probably tattle to Wilma and she'd be cranky with me for the next month.”

He laughed. “The last thing I'd want is to have Wilma Iverson mad at me.”

Before she could say anything, their waitress appeared at the table to take their dinner orders. After she'd departed, Claire found herself thinking about Sarge and Wilma. In all the years that she'd been with Sarge, he'd never dated or shown any interest in any member of the opposite sex.

Claire's grandmother had died the year before Claire's parents had passed away and once Claire had arrived at Sarge's house, he'd devoted his all to raising her.

“You're awfully quiet,” Joshua said.

“I was just thinking about Sarge and Wilma.”

“What about them?”

She picked up her water glass and took a sip, grateful that the jukebox was momentarily silent. “I was just thinking about the fact that it's far past time for Sarge to enjoy the company of a woman his age. He's been alone for a very long time, too long.”

“Sarge will require some extra attention because of his blindness, but Wilma doesn't seem daunted by it. I think she's a woman who needs to take care of somebody.”

“I think you're right,” Claire replied. At that
moment the jukebox began to play a foot-stompin', heart-stoppin' tune and the two of them fell silent.

While Claire was thrilled with the prospect that Sarge might enjoy a romance with Wilma, she was also aware that if Wilma moved into his life, Claire would need to move out of it a bit.

Without the job of caretaking for Sarge, she recognized that her life would be empty, lonely. She shoved this thought away as the waitress appeared once again with their drink order.

As the minutes ticked by and she and Joshua sipped their beer, the place began to fill with more and more people from town. Before long, they were visiting with neighbors who stopped by their table to say hello and Claire found herself relaxing despite the fact that she'd initially not wanted to come.

Their meals came and they ate while talking about everything from old movies to world politics. They seemed to have a mutual agreement to steer clear of any topic that was too close, any subject that might create tension.

By the time they'd finished their meals and ordered a second beer, the band had begun to warm up and the place was packed. “Come on, let's dance,” Joshua said as the band began its first tune.

Claire hesitated only a minute. She'd always loved to dance and she'd always loved to dance
with Joshua, who was a strong lead and made her feel as if she were floating on air.

Besides, even though she hadn't wanted to come here with Joshua, she was here now and she decided just to enjoy herself.

Their first dance was a fast one. The dance floor was crowded, but the band was good and she threw herself into allowing the music to take possession of her.

When the fast dance was over the band segued into a slow tune and before she could protest, Joshua took her into his arms.

Initially, she held herself stiff, unyielding, but it didn't take long for her to give in to the sweet sensation of being held in his arms.

Their dancing together was as familiar to her as their lovemaking. There were no awkward movements, no stumbling on toes. They moved as one, and in the beauty of their dancing, an edge of bitterness once again rose up inside her.

They might have danced through life together, moving in perfect sync through joys and sorrows, if he hadn't walked away from her.

Chapter Nine

J
oshua had intended to finish up the evening by telling Claire that he was still in love with her, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But as the evening wore on he realized that perhaps tonight wasn't the time to do such a thing.

Things had been going so well. She'd been relaxed and smiling and had seemed happy until they'd danced a slow dance. He'd felt the change in her body before he'd seen it on her face. She'd stiffened with tension.

When the dance had ended and they returned to their table, she was quiet, her expression cool and aloof. He tried to get back the comradery and warmth they had shared over their meal, but she
remained distant and unwilling to engage emotionally with him.

It was just before ten when she indicated she wanted to go home, and he did nothing to attempt to change her mind. They rode back to the house in an uncomfortable silence. Several times he attempted to make conversation, but she had withdrawn deep into a place where he couldn't seem to reach her.

A small wave of despair swept through him, then he told himself that perhaps he was expecting too much too soon. He'd been gone for five years and back in her life for less than two weeks. But his love for her made him impatient, eager to get on with the rest of their lives.

“I hope we don't catch Sarge and Wilma smooching on the sofa,” he said as he pulled into the driveway.

Claire flashed him a horrified look. “You don't think that's what they're doing, do you?”

He grinned at her. “Why wouldn't they be doing that? They're legal age and if they feel affection for each other, why wouldn't they express that affection?” He shut off the engine and turned to look at her.

As always, the sight of her hit him square in the stomach like a hard punch. It had been that way the very first time he'd seen her when they had been so young. He'd taken one look at her thick-
lashed gray eyes, the stubborn thrust of her chin and her lush, full lips, and he'd been a goner.

Even now, with that wrinkle of annoyance along the side of her nose, and a line of distraction across her forehead, he felt that force of love hit hard in the pit of his stomach.

“What's wrong, Cookie?” he asked softly. “Something happened at the Onion Patch that upset you.” He reached out a hand and placed it over hers.

She turned her gaze from the house to him and pulled her hand away. “Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired, that's all. It's been a long day.”

He knew it was more than that, but he didn't know how to breach the walls she'd erected around herself…the same walls she'd erected when Sammy had died.

The distancing he felt from her now was the same that had eventually driven him out of their house, out of her life. An edge of frustration pulled forth a tiny stir of anger that he quickly tamped down.

They got out of the car and walked to the house. He stopped her on the porch by touching her arm, attempting one last time to connect with her. She turned to look at him, her eyes dark and mysterious.

“You want to sit for a minute on the porch swing?” he asked. “It's a beautiful night.”

“No. I just want to get settled in.”

He wanted to pull her down into the porch swing, where they had spent so many nights talking and sharing and kissing in the past. He wanted somehow to force her to talk to him, to open up. But he didn't.

He followed her into the house where Wilma and Sarge were seated on the sofa, a recording of “The Shadow” playing on the stereo.

“You're back,” Wilma announced the obvious and jumped up to turn off the tape of the old radio show.

“You two have a good time?” Sarge asked.

“Fine,” Claire replied curtly.

“What about the two of you?” Joshua asked.

“We managed,” Sarge replied.

“We did more than manage,” Wilma protested. “It was a lovely evening and you know it, Samuel Cook.”

Sarge grinned. “If you say so, Wilma.”

“Well, I do say so. And now I'll just gather my things and head on home,” Wilma said.

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with her purse and a plastic bag in her hands. “There's some leftover spaghetti and meatballs in the refrigerator if you all get hungry. Sarge, don't forget that as soon as you can get out of that wheelchair you and I have a date down at the Onion Patch.”

“You got it,” he said. “We'll show those young folks how to cut a rug on the dance floor.”

Murmuring goodbye, Wilma left. “Are you ready for bed?” Claire asked Sarge.

“Not really. I need a bit of time to unwind.” He directed his sightless gaze in the direction of Claire's voice. “But if you're tired, go on to bed. Joshua can help me when I'm ready.”

“Sure, no problem,” Joshua replied. He wasn't ready for bed yet either. He wanted to think, to assess the evening and see if he could figure out what had happened to transform Claire.

“Then I'll just say good-night,” Claire said and disappeared down the hallway to her room.

“I see you managed to get out of your chair,” Joshua said as he sat next to Sarge on the sofa.

“Yeah. Took nearly all my energy, but Wilma helped me and we managed to get me here on the sofa. It's a little cozier to sit with a woman on a sofa than to sit in a wheelchair next to the sofa.”

“So, you really had a good time?”

“That woman talks faster than a used-car salesman,” Sarge said gruffly, but there was a touch of affection in his voice. “But yeah, I had a good time. What about you? I could tell by Cookie's voice that things didn't go so well for the two of you.”

Joshua leaned back and raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don't know what happened, Sarge. Things seemed to go pretty well at first. We ate dinner and talked…she seemed re
laxed and happy. Everything appeared to be going fine. Then we danced and everything changed.”

“What did you do? Step on her toes?”

“I didn't step on her toes, but she sure closed up and turned off. She hardly looked at me for the rest of the night.”

Sarge frowned. “I can't help you with this one, son. For most of my life I've found women difficult to comprehend. They think different than we do, feel different, too.”

“There's just one woman in this world I want to understand, and that's Claire,” Joshua said softly.

“Maybe a little patience is in order,” Sarge suggested. “You were gone a long time, Joshua.”

“Too long,” Joshua exclaimed.

For an endless moment the two men were silent. Again Joshua found himself trying to figure out why Claire had withdrawn from him, but no answers came to mind.

“The games I create are so easy,” Joshua finally said. “In my games I can program my characters to do whatever I want them to do.”

“Claire isn't a character in one of your games and you can't make her do what you want by clicking a mouse.”

“I know,” Joshua replied with a sigh of renewed frustration.

There was a long moment of silence between
them. “Maybe I raised her too tough,” Sarge finally said.

Joshua looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“She probably needed a woman's touch in her life, a female influence of sorts. I was tough on her, didn't like to see her cry. I don't know,” he finally finished tiredly. “I think I'm ready for bed now.”

Joshua got up and helped Sarge into his wheelchair, then pushed him down the hallway into his bedroom. It took only moments to get him into his pajamas and into bed.

“Goodnight, Sarge.”

“Don't give up too easily, Joshua,” Sarge said softly. “There are some couples who are just destined to be together, and I always believed you and Claire were like that. If she's your soul mate, Joshua, then don't give up on her too damned easily.”

A half an hour later, Joshua sat on the porch swing, listening to the symphony of night that surrounded him. Sarge's words played and replayed in his head.

On the first day he'd seen Claire, he'd known that she was his soul mate, the woman with whom he was supposed to spend his life…eternity and beyond.

Had he been wrong? Was Sarge wrong? Was it
possible that he and Claire were not soul mates at all, but had been destined to share only a brief moment in their lives?

 

She awoke with tears on her cheeks. Shocked, Claire sat up in bed and swiped them away. It had been years and years since she'd last cried actual tears. The last time she could remember was when she'd been eight and a policewoman had gently told her that her parents had died in a car accident and had gone to heaven.

When Sammy had died, her grief had been too huge for tears. As much as she'd wanted to weep, had felt the need to weep, her eyes had remained painfully dry.

She frowned, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't remember exactly what dream images had invoked these tears. Lying back down, she glanced at the clock and noted it was just after six, far too early to get out of bed. She didn't want to get up and have to spend time alone in Joshua's company.

It was obvious to her that he was doing everything in his power to romance her, seduce her back into a relationship with him. But she had to remain strong. She had to guard her heart against him.

It didn't matter that his touch still made her heart sing, that his nearness made her pulse beat faster. It didn't matter that he could make her laugh as nobody had before or since him. All of that was
negated by the fact that he'd deserted her and she couldn't risk her heart to him again.

She remained in bed until seven, knowing Sarge would be awake at any moment. Then she got up, showered, dressed and steeled herself to face another day with Joshua in the house.

At least she could leave for her new job at City Hall by eight-thirty and spend a couple of hours there while Sarge was at his physical therapy session.

When she went into the kitchen she was surprised to see Sarge already seated at the table eating breakfast. Joshua stood at the stove and he turned to flash her a quick smile.

“Good morning. I was just making myself a couple of eggs. Want me to fry you up a couple?”

“No, thanks. Coffee is fine for me.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat next to Sarge at the table. “You sleep okay, Sarge?” she asked.

“Like a log. What about you?”

“I slept all right. Don't forget that while you're at therapy today, I'll be working down at City Hall for a couple of hours.”

“And while you're working there, I'm going to do a little searching for that treasure you're after,” Joshua said as he moved from the stove to the table. He set his plate on the table and sat.

She looked at him in surprise. “Have you thought of where it might be buried?”

“No place specific,” he replied. “I just thought
I'd walk around and look for places where the clues might fit.” His gaze held hers for a long moment. “I know how important finding it is to you.”

She nodded, but was surprised to realize that in the last week she'd hardly thought of the treasure. She'd been so consumed with thoughts of Sarah and Daniel Walker and so caught up in her emotions where Joshua was concerned, she'd scarcely remembered that somewhere in the town of Mayfield was a buried treasure that was supposed to change her life.

The three of them small-talked for a bit, then Claire excused herself to get ready for work. As she left the house, she suddenly remembered that she'd dreamed something about Daniel and Sarah. She couldn't remember what the dream had been, but whatever it was, it had made her cry.

She walked briskly toward City Hall, her thoughts filled with Joshua. His presence in her home, in her life, was becoming more and more difficult for her. He was making her remember all the reasons she'd fallen in love with him. And she didn't want to remember them. She wanted, needed to remember how she'd felt when he'd left her.

It was easy to lose herself in the basement of City Hall amid the records of the past. Clark Windsloe had prepared a large work table with a computer and scanner down there for her.

She picked up a box she hadn't been through yet and began work. She scanned and catalogued
and read, studying each piece of the past. Particularly interesting to her were the personal letters and diaries the box contained.

She worked until just after noon and was about to call it a day when she ran across a diary entry that horrified her. She had no idea who had written it, as the name on the front of the diary was no longer legible. The entry was dated June 2, 1859.

“Overcast day. Appropriate for a funeral, I suppose,” the author had penned.

Too many funerals lately. The influenza has taken both the very old and the young. Today we buried little Caleb Walker. It broke my heart to see Daniel and Sarah grieve so, but at least they have each other to cling to.

Claire slammed the diary shut, chills racing up her spine as she suddenly remembered the dream she'd had the night before. She'd dreamed of the funeral. Daniel and Sarah had stood at the side of a tiny grave, their arms wrapped around each other as grief ripped through them.

Caleb had died.

Thick emotion pressed tightly against her chest, half suffocating her as she shut down the power on the computer, then raced from the basement.

She needed to get home. She felt sick to her stomach, frightened by the emotions that raced through her. She told herself what she was feeling
was the strange connection with Daniel and Sarah, that it was their grief that created the metallic taste of despair in the back of her throat.

She was grateful she met no one on her way home, grateful that she didn't need to appear pleasant or engage in small talk. She just wanted the privacy of her bedroom, needed to lie down and let the crazy feelings roiling around inside her quiet down.

To her dismay, Joshua was in the front yard weeding a flower bed. He straightened as she approached and she saw the alarm that swept over his features. “Claire, what's wrong?”

BOOK: A Gift from the Past
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