At Home in His Heart (19 page)

“Closed? You can’t do that.”

“Watch me. I already changed the locks.”

She bent to tug at the sign, but it didn’t budge. “Pull that thing out. You at least owe me a little time. Time to see if the historical society can pull together some backers. Purchase it outright.”

“Sandi, the society can barely pay the rent. You told me that yourself. Where would they dig up enough money to buy it? I can’t carry a loan. I need payment in full.”

“I’ll get it. Maybe that Utah donor will loan us the money, with interest, of course. And maybe we can qualify for a grant. You know, for an historic home. So we can fix it up.”

“How long will it take you to find all that out?”

“I don’t know about the grant. But I’ll call the law firm today. Maybe I can get an answer within a week. Maybe two.”

He folded his arms, a frown forming. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, Bryce. It’s the least you can do. You owe me.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because if it wasn’t for you, your grandma would have moved to a ground-floor apartment after her first fall. Would have kept renting this place to us. We’d have had enough money set aside so I could push through a veterans exhibit. An exhibit that would honor my husband, among others.”

He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “You’re not going to like this, but it seems to me you’ve put this place before everything else in your life. Before God.”

She gasped.
How dare he?

“When are you going to get it through that thick head of yours, Sandi, that getting some exhibit named after Keith isn’t going to bring him back.”

That’s what he thought she was doing? Trying to resurrect Keith?

She stepped up to him, lifted her chin. “I’m appalled to hear that come out of your mouth, Sergeant Harding. You may not have wanted your best friend to marry me, but I never expected you to have any objections to my wanting to
honor
him.”

How could she ever have let herself fall for a man like Bryce? Obstinate. Hard-hearted. Just like LeAnne warned.

Glaring at her, he reached down and jerked the sign out of the ground with ease. Tossed it at her feet.

“Okay. There you go. I’m giving you two weeks. That’s it.”

H
e should have known it would be only a matter of time before she showed her true colors. Revealed the same bossy, controlling nature he’d suspected when she first latched on to Keith. Standing right on his own family’s property a few days ago, she’d lined him out. Said he
owed
her.

He’d said a quick prayer. Gotten his temper under control. Agreed to give her two weeks before putting the place on the market. But no way would the historical society come up with the amount of money he was asking. He needed every dime and then some to swing a new place. He’d temporarily rented a one-bedroom, ground-floor apartment for himself and Grandma. Borrowed a cot so he could sleep in the living room. While smoke hadn’t done significant damage downstairs, a filthy coating bonded to everything upstairs. And the whole house reeked.

Two weeks. He’d given Sandi two weeks, though little good it would do.

Yeah, he’d been harsh with her. Accusing her of venerating the museum. But it was the truth, wasn’t it? Besides, he’d had it with her telling him what to do and how to do it. So what was he doing at two o’clock in the morning, glaring down at yellowed papers scattered across the apartment’s kitchen
table? Peering at the glowing computer screen teeming with his notes?

The past two nights he’d immersed himself in a crash course on Canyon Springs’s history. Gathering names. Dates. Making connections between the earliest settlers from the 1920s—almost a hundred years ago—to their descendents still living in the community. Tracking down mailing addresses, emails and phone numbers on the web for those more far-flung.

Whether or not the effort would be a wasted one was anybody’s guess. But now he had what he needed to get started.

Not surprising, he hadn’t seen Sandi since the day he’d tossed the For Sale sign at her dainty little feet. Didn’t expect to see her anytime soon, either. She hadn’t been happy with him. She’d no doubt filled the intervening days scribbling away in that little red notebook of hers and rallying the historical society troops to find a way to buy Grandma’s house.

Even though the effort was pointless, she’d kill herself trying. Which is why he’d sacrificed sleep to paw through old papers dug out of the museum storage room and study archived copies of the local newspaper that some faithful soul had scanned for online use.

He hated to admit it, but it was interesting stuff. In his estimation, local history and family memoirs had never held a candle to national and world chronicles. But he was rethinking that. Seeing his own grandpa’s name and Grandma Mae’s crop up in his reading put a more personal spin on it. Made him wonder about where they’d come from, who their people were. His people.

He’d have to ask Gran.

But first he had a mountain of work ahead of him. Even if Sandi couldn’t let go of Keith, put pleasing her mother-in-law above her feelings for him and wanted no part in his life…well, God help him, he loved her.

“Are you sure she won’t reconsider?” Sandi tightened her grip on the cell phone. The donor’s legal representative had called back several days later to inform her that not only would his client not be interested in providing a loan to the historical society, but there would be no further donations forthcoming. The museum, it had been determined after more careful investigation, was a poor investment.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bradshaw,” the attorney concluded, “but I wish you and your historical society the best.”

She shut off the phone and dropped down on the trailer’s sofa, the last of her energy consumed. That was it. Her last hope. The museum as they knew it was no more.

“Not good news, I take it?” LeAnne asked from where she sat at the kitchen table. She’d dropped by to bring Gina a new book.

“No.”

“So that Harding man is actually selling the museum right out from under you?” She tapped on the rim of her iced tea glass with a fingernail. “Like a man who claims to care for you—as you seemed to think he did a few weeks ago—would do something like that?”

“He’s looking out for his grandma.”

LeAnne sighed. “I think you’re seeing him in a much too forgiving light.”

“It’s not his fault he has to sell the property or that I’m incapable of raising sufficient funds to buy it.”

She’d tried. Really tried.

“You’re still seeing him?” LeAnne’s voice remained carefully neutral, no doubt not wanting to get into another on-edge conversation such as the one they’d found themselves in after she’d witnessed the lakeside kiss.

Sandi toyed with the trim on a throw pillow. “No. I’m not.”

“Then let’s put that episode behind us, shall we? Consider our selves fortunate you didn’t let yourself be taken in by him.”

What could she say to that? She
had
been “taken in,” her heart lured in by the handsome fisherman hook, line and sinker.

“We still have several weeks,” LeAnne hurried on, her tone bright, “before you return to the classroom. Let’s make the most of them. Make plans. You, me and Gina.”

Sandi clutched the pillow to her chest, measuring her words carefully. “You know, LeAnne, you’ve been amazingly generous with your personal time, spending so much of it on Gina and me. I imagine you might enjoy a little more for yourself now.”

“Nonsense.” She smiled warmly. “I know you both need guidance, support, a little company in Keith’s absence. That’s what I’m here for.”

“And we love you for it.” Tracing her finger along the pillow’s patterned fabric, Sandi returned her mother-in-law’s smile. “But we’re actually doing pretty well now.”

“Takes time, doesn’t it?”

“It has. But I imagine your friends have missed you at Friday-night gatherings. That you’ve missed them.”

Please, Lord, let her not take this wrong.

LeAnne stilled, her gaze faltering. “I may be misunderstanding, but that almost sounds as if you’d rather not spend Friday nights with me.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that it’s been five years since we lost Keith. I know he’d want you—me—to move on with our lives.”

LeAnne straightened, her spine rigid. “That’s what you think I’m doing? Clinging to the past?”

Sandi’s voice gentled. “It’s what we both may be doing.”

Hadn’t Bryce made that clear?
The museum won’t bring your husband back.
Harsh, unkind words. But she’d unwillingly
been thinking about them. Praying about them. Was he right?

“I see.” LeAnne stood. Carried her tea glass to the kitchen counter, where she remained gripping it in both hands. “I don’t remember you feeling that way before Bryce Harding entered the picture.”

“This isn’t about Bryce. It’s just that my eyes are opening to a lot of things this summer. About me.”

“Then I imagine that newspaper photo was a wake-up call.” The older woman’s tone sharpened. “You can’t hide secrets in a small town, can you?”

Sandi set the throw pillow aside. “We weren’t having an affair, LeAnne. We care for each other, that’s all.”

At least she still cared for
him.

“You still harbor an interest in him, don’t you?” Her mother-in-law’s gaze darkened. Voice escalated. Thank goodness Gina was outside playing. “Nothing good can come of pursuing a relationship with that man, and you know it.”

Click. Click. Click.

Sandi gritted her teeth, but her words came quietly. Her tone teasing. “Will you please stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“That thing with your nails. Tapping.”

LeAnne’s face contorted and she slammed her glass into the sink, the sound of its shattering jerking Sandi to her feet.

“LeAnne—”

The woman held up a warning hand.

“You are such an ungrateful woman. So undeserving of my son. So quick to forget him and run after the same low-life man who dragged my Keith to his death. Do you have any idea what that photo did to me? You wrapped in each other’s arms like there had never even been a Keith?” She slammed her fist on the counter. “I have not one single regret that I pulled those funds.”

What was she talking about?

Bursting into tears, LeAnne covered her face with her hands. Sandi rushed to her, pulling the sobbing woman into her arms. She didn’t resist, but collapsed into Sandi’s embrace, clinging to her.

And Sandi cried, too.

Even half a decade after her husband’s death, her heart bore testimony that there could never be another Keith. She hadn’t deserved him then. Wasn’t worthy now of another chance at a happily ever after.
He’d
never be given a second chance to pick out a more mature, supportive, understanding wife, now would he?

When at long last their sobs subsided and Sandi had guided her mother-in-law to the sofa, they sat together, dabbing at their eyes. All but emptying the tissue box on the coffee table.

“I’m so sorry, LeAnne.”

“Me, too.” She gripped Sandi’s hand. “I broke your glass. A wedding present, wasn’t it?”

Sandi nodded. They both laughed. Just a little, at the absurdity of her apology.

“Oh, Sandi, we loved him, didn’t we?”

“We did. We do.”

“I’m so sorry. About everything.” The older woman sniffled, wiped her nose with a tissue. “But when I saw that photograph in the paper, I couldn’t condone your behavior.”

Sandi stiffened as realization dawned. “
You’re
the anonymous donor. With the Utah attorney.”

She nodded. “But I can be persuaded to reinstate my pledge. In fact, if you keep this unfortunate episode with Bryce in your past, I’ll fund a new museum in its entirety.”

Sandi stared at her, speechless.

“You can pick out a piece of property and build it from the ground up for all I care, sweetie. Just stop mooning over that
man. I know this museum means so much to you. Let me do this. Please?”

A museum.
A new one. Natural stone, set back in the pines. Climate controls and well-lit display cases. No more creaky floors and leaky windows. A veterans exhibit. Surely if LeAnne donated the building, the society would have to name it in memory of Keith, wouldn’t they? Maybe the whole building.

The Keith Bradshaw Historical Museum.

LeAnne was right. There could be no future with Bryce. He’d already withdrawn emotionally even before their falling-out about the property’s sale, about her commitment to the museum. Sadly, he was a man incapable of making a lasting commitment—a man who’d tried to keep Keith from making one.

No, she and Bryce would never share a future.

But she
could
have the museum.

“It’s so easily done, Sandi. We can contact an architect, begin the design. Start looking for property.”

“I’m overwhelmed, LeAnne. It’s been my dream.” She could honor her daughter’s father. Make her mother-in-law proud. Make a lasting impact on the community. All she had to do was say yes and the dream was hers.

But in the stretching silence, gazing at Keith’s mom, a still, small voice spoke to her heart.

Doubt flitted through her mother-in-law’s eyes. “You won’t let me do this for you? You won’t give up that man? For the museum? For me?”

Understanding at last, Sandi placed a gentle hand on LeAnne’s. “This isn’t about Bryce, is it?”

“He’s the only thing holding you back from your dream.”

“Or,” Sandi whispered, “is he holding
you
back from yours?”

Startled eyes met hers. “What do you mean?”

“You had dreams for Keith. And when Keith was gone, dreams for me. Gina.”

“Of course. You’re Keith’s wife. Gina’s my granddaughter. I love you both.”

“But you blame Bryce for influencing him to join the army. To give up Harvard. The law firm. And now you’re afraid Bryce will take Gina and me from you, as well.”

A pained gasp slipped from her mother-in-laws’s lips.

“We’ve become a family, haven’t we, LeAnne? The three of us. You. Me. Gina.” Sandi tightened her grip on Keith’s mom’s hand. “Even if things had worked out with Bryce, that would never have changed. I wouldn’t let it. And while I can’t accept your offer for a new museum, I love you, LeAnne. And you will
always
be a part of my life.”