A Promise Kept (15 page)

At the end of each day, she fell into bed, too exhausted to read or even watch television. But it was a good kind of tired.

On Friday afternoon, she drove into town to the combination video, electronics, and hardware store. The proprietress, Connie Hansen, had set aside four DVDs for Allison. It had long been a Kavanagh tradition to stay at home and ring in the new year while watching old movies. Allison looked forward to building a fire in the fireplace, filling a couple of big bowls with hot buttered popcorn, and curling up on the sofa with Meredith in front of the flat-screen TV.

“I hear tell your daughter will be headed back to Texas soon,” Connie said as she placed the DVDs into a canvas sack.

Allison wished people would stop reminding her of that. “Yes. All too soon.”

“Wish she could’ve joined us at book club while she was in Idaho. I’d’ve liked to meet her. Susan Lyle says she’s real nice.”

“You won’t get any argument from me about that.”

Connie leaned forward and lowered her voice, even though they were the only two people in the store. “I suppose you heard about Marsha Leonard.”

“Heard what?”

“She up and left her husband and boys. Packed a bag and just took off. Don’t think anyone knows where she is.”

“Oh no.”

Connie nodded. “Happened last Sunday, though nobody outside the family knew of it until yesterday. I hear tell Chet’s beside himself with worry, not knowing where she’s gone. That’s the last family I’d’ve thought this would happen to.”

Deciding Connie Hansen had moved beyond information sharing and into the realm of gossip, Allison picked up the bag that held the DVDs. “I’ve got to run, Connie. I need to get home before Meredith arrives from Boise.”

“’Course you do. Well, you say hello to her from me, and tell her I hope to meet her next time.”

“I will. Thanks.” She glanced at the bag in her hands and back again. “I’ll return these on Monday.”

“That’ll be fine. You drive careful now.”

“I will.”

She hurried out of the store and got into her Subaru but paused for a moment before starting the car, still digesting the news about Marsha Leonard. That must’ve been why none of them were in church on Sunday. Her heart went out to Chet. She understood how it felt when a spouse walked out the door, shattering the lives left behind.

Help him through this, Lord. And the boys too
.

She started the engine and drove toward home, but her thoughts remained on the Leonard family. Especially on Chet. Allison wasn’t a close friend of the Leonards, like the Lyles were, but they were more than mere acquaintances.

Chet seemed a good and decent man. Faithful and godly,
according to Susan. Why would Marsha leave him and her two boys? Yes, she was grieving the loss of her eldest son, but why throw away the family she had left? Marsha must’ve been beyond grief to think leaving those who loved her was the answer to her heartache.

Why does life have to be so hard?

The question caused her thoughts to turn from the Leonards to her great-aunt. Aunt Emma, Allison had learned from the diaries she’d read thus far, had fallen in love with a young man when she was fifteen, but he’d had eyes for Allison’s grandmother, Elizabeth. The discovery surprised Allison, perhaps more than it should. Was it possible the young man in the diary was the same one who was in those photographs? He must be since he was the only—

She lost that train of thought when she saw her daughter’s rental car turning into the driveway ahead of her. She hadn’t expected Meredith for another hour. Must have gotten off work early.

By the time Allison pulled into the garage, Meredith was standing on the deck with her rolling suitcase.

“Hi, honey.” Allison pushed the code to close the garage door. “Didn’t expect you this soon.” She hurried up the steps and stuck her key into the lock.

Meredith shivered. “Man, it’s bitter today.”

“We’ll warm you up in a hurry.” She held the door open for her daughter to enter first. “Coffee or hot chocolate?”

“Whichever you’re fixing for yourself.”

“Hot chocolate it is.”

“What have you got in the bag? Our movies?”

“Uh-huh.”

Meredith followed Allison into the kitchen and looked into the bag. “Oooh. You’ve got some good ones. Grab a new box of Kleenex. We’re gonna need a bunch of tissues.”

Allison laughed softly. When it came to movies, she and her daughter definitely had similar tastes. They loved to laugh and cry. The best movies made them do both.

“Can’t you see Dad rolling his eyes? He never understood why we were crying through the credits and saying we loved the movie at the same time.”

Yes, she could picture Tony rolling his eyes. Meredith had learned it from him.

“I hope he isn’t too lonely tomorrow night,” her daughter added.

Doubt raised its ugly head. “Are you worried about him?” Translation:
Are you afraid he’ll fall off the wagon?

Meredith sat on one of the kitchen stools. “No. Not really.” She shrugged. “Maybe a little. But he’s doing so well, Mom. I really think he’ll stick with it this time.”

If he can do it now, why couldn’t he have stuck with it before we divorced?
Allison turned toward the counter and dragged in a quick breath, ashamed of herself for slipping so easily into her old thought processes.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re doing well too.”

Allison looked over her shoulder.

“When I go back to Texas, I won’t worry about you like I used to.”

She smiled at her daughter. “Thanks, honey. I’m glad of that.”

Emma

1928

Emma felt so light she almost believed her feet had wings.

It was the first day of autumn, and the world seemed overlaid with a buttery yellow hue. The afternoon air was warm and mellow. A few trees had begun to turn, but most of them still sported coats of green. Gardens were alive with color.

Emma walked as fast as possible, eager to get home, eager to start dinner, eager for her husband to return from work. She needed to prepare a special meal tonight. Something out of the ordinary. Something as delicious as the news she had to tell Alexander.

She was pregnant. Before next summer she would hold their baby in her arms. Alexander would like a son, of course, but Emma couldn’t care less whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Healthy, that was all she cared about.

The cottage they rented was small. They would have to squeeze a crib into the single bedroom. It would be tight but manageable. Or maybe Alexander would want to move. Their finances had improved some. The doctor and hospital bills from her husband’s accident last February had been paid in full. Maybe . . . just maybe . . .

But it didn’t matter. If Alexander didn’t want to move, then she would be happy where they were. How could she be otherwise with a baby on the way?

She turned a corner and their house came into view. Alexander’s truck was in the driveway. Another automobile was parked at the curb. Her joy slipped a little, knowing her husband was home and had company. She quickened her footsteps. When she reached the house, the kitchen side door was pulled open before she could reach for the knob.

“Where’ve you been?” Alexander demanded, then turned his back toward her and strode into the parlor.

She followed, nerves churning.

A man—a stranger—rose from the chair in the corner. He wore a nice suit and polished shoes, but this was no gentleman. She saw that in his eyes as he looked at her. “Mrs. Monroe. We meet at last.”

She glanced at her husband, waiting for an introduction. None came.

“Get our guest something to drink, Emma.”

“No,” the man said. “Don’t bother. Time I was leaving.” He set his hat on his head as he moved toward the front door. “Remember what I told you, Monroe. We don’t like it when you make mistakes that cost us money.”

“It won’t happen again,” Alexander answered.

The stranger stopped and turned to look at Emma. His slow smile caused her heart to twist in her chest. “We always collect, Monroe. One way or another. Remember that as well.”

This had something to do with the bootlegging. Emma knew it as surely as if the man had announced it aloud. He was here to threaten Alexander, and to threaten her too. Her hands went to her abdomen, pressing tightly, the gesture instinctive and protective.

The door closed as the stranger left.

“What did he want?” she whispered, as if afraid he might overhear and return.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Alexander dropped onto the small sofa. “Where were you? What’s for supper?”

Emma didn’t want to tell him about her visit to the doctor. She didn’t want to share the good news about the baby. Not now. Perhaps tomorrow, but not now.

Allison

At the stroke of midnight, Allison paused the third movie of the evening—
Steel Magnolias
was playing—and she and Meredith clinked champagne glasses filled with their favorite sodas.

“Happy New Year, Mom.”

“Happy New Year, Meredith.”

“I’ve got the feeling it’s going to be a good one. Maybe the best ever, especially for you.”

“I hope you’re right, honey. I’d like a best-ever year.”

Meredith leaned toward Allison and kissed her on the cheek. “That’s what I’m going to pray for you, then. Best ever, starting in January and all the way through to December.”

They both settled back into their ends of the sofa, Gizmo curled into a ball between them, and Allison pressed Play on the remote.

A best-ever year. What would that look like? Allison found it hard to imagine. Even after being alone for more than a year—two years come April—she still felt as if something or someone was missing much of the time. It helped a little, living in her new home in the mountains, and she was glad she hadn’t fought Tony over their Boise house.

The funeral scene in the movie began, and Meredith immediately pressed a tissue to her eyes. Allison felt a surge of affection for her daughter and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for the wonderful woman Meredith had become. Then she, too, reached for a tissue.

A slew of new design work came Allison’s way in January, most of it the direct result of a previous client singing Allison’s praises to her friends and colleagues. She was thankful for the full schedule. It helped ease the pain of Meredith’s return to Texas.

With snow piled high and growing higher, poor Gizmo didn’t get to go on any long walks. Mostly mistress and pooch went from the garage to the end of the plowed driveway and back again. For the sake of her own health, Allison made sure she put in forty minutes to an hour on the treadmill daily.

Despite the snowpack on the roads, Allison managed to make it into Kings Meadow for church almost every Sunday. She noticed Chet Leonard and his sons in their usual pew each week, but she didn’t know what else to say to him beyond, “I’m praying for all of you.”

February turned gray and grim. Not as much snow fell, but the clouds never seemed to blow away. The gloom began to press in on Allison, so she ordered a light for her desk that was supposed to treat seasonal affective disorder. It seemed to help.

When she wasn’t working or exercising, Allison was trying to decide what novel to recommend to the book club in March. It was her month to choose. She read book blurbs on the Internet until her eyes crossed, and still she couldn’t decide.

Days came and went, whether she paid attention to their passing or not, and while she couldn’t say the start of the year felt special or best ever, she could say she was learning to be content. It was a good place to be.

Allison

Wearing a bulky cardigan, Allison stood on the front deck, smiling at the bright blue sky overhead. The thermometer on the corner of the house said it was sixty degrees and climbing. Amazing for mid-March. She didn’t expect the warm weather to continue for long, and the weatherman promised it wouldn’t. Cooler temps, wind, and rain—perhaps even a little more snow—would likely be the norm until May.

She didn’t care. Today it felt like spring and new life and fresh hope. She felt like dancing. In fact, she thought she would.

Face toward heaven, arms outstretched, and eyes closed, she spun and hopped and dipped around the deck. Then, imagining what she must look like, she laughed.

Oh, that felt good.

Dizzy at last, she stopped and grabbed hold of the railing. Then she noticed Gizmo had moved off the deck and was sitting on the steps, watching her with eyes that said,
You’ve gone nuts
.

“Yes, maybe I have,” she answered him—and laughed again.

She went inside, the dog zipping through the doorway ahead of her, and walked to her bedroom to change her clothes. She had a bit of shopping to do before meeting Susan for dinner, followed by the book club meeting at the library at seven.

Allison donned a pair of Levi’s and a red sweatshirt with a white collar. She didn’t fuss much with her hair. A ponytail would do.

With a little time to spare before she should leave, she sat at her desk and checked e-mail. She was surprised to see Tony’s name pop up in the list of unread mail. She clicked on it.