A Promise Kept Page 5

  “Don’t say such things, Alexander. Not to me. She’s my sister, and I only want her happiness. John makes her happy.”

  He cocked one eyebrow. “What has she ever done to deserve your unswerving loyalty?”

  “Stop it.”

  “Really, Emma. I mean it. What has she ever done? Does she ever think of you first? Does she ever think of anybody but her—”

  She frowned at him, then turned to walk away.

  He grabbed her upper arm to stop her, pulling her around to face him again.

  “I won’t stay if you keep talking like that,” she told him. “I won’t listen to another negative word about Liza. This is her wedding day.”

  “All right. I’ll be quiet.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  She was glad he promised because she didn’t want to leave this corner. And she didn’t want to leave Alexander’s side either.

  The small orchestra on the stage played a few notes to get the attention of the guests. When the room fell silent, Liza and her groom moved to the center of the floor. The bride held her train over her right forearm, and as John drew her into his embrace, Liza smiled up at him with adoration. What a handsome couple they made. They belonged together, John and Liza.

  A lump formed in Emma’s throat.

  “Come on, Emma,” Alexander said. “We might as well join them. You can waltz, can’t you?”

  “Yes, I can waltz.”

  It was the first time Alexander held her in his arms, and as they moved around the room with the other couples, she pretended not to know he’d rather be holding her sister.

  Allison

  Susan Lyle was a force of nature. She was sixty-two but she had the energy of a woman half her age. It took no time at all for Allison to consider Susan the best friend she’d ever had.

  The two women fell into a habit of meeting for coffee on Friday mornings at a little Kings Meadow bistro on Main Street. Allison felt so comfortable with Susan that she’d soon shared more details about her marriage with her new friend than she’d shared with her counselor or her codependency group after more than a year with them. In addition to learning each other’s life stories, they spent a fair amount of time talking about God. Allison looked forward to those conversations the most. Susan’s faith was deep and unwavering, and Allison drank in her words of wisdom as she felt her own faith strengthen and grow.

  When Susan invited her to join the book club that met at the library on the third Monday of every month, Allison agreed without hesitation. She hadn’t read books for fun in recent years. The book club, she hoped, would reintroduce her to reading a story for pure pleasure. It would also help her break the habit of vegging in front of cable television after a day at the computer. And besides, it was an opportunity to meet more of her neighbors—neighbors being a loose term in these mountains.

  By the end of her first summer as a full-time resident, Allison had stopped thinking of the log house as Aunt Emma’s place. It had become her home. Sure, there were times when she missed the life she’d had in Boise with Tony and Meredith. Times when she missed the ease of finding whatever she wanted at the grocery store or at the mall. And there were nights when she reached her hand across to the empty side of the bed, wishing it wasn’t her dog she found there. But for the most part, she was content. Happy, even. She felt healthier—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

  Perhaps she even felt fresh hope for the future.

  Returning from her walk with Gizmo one afternoon in mid-September, Allison told herself she must start taking her camera everywhere she went. The colors had started to turn, and autumn would become more beautiful with every passing day. She didn’t want to miss any of it. Maybe she should buy a book on nature photography—one of those manuals written for dummies—and see if she could become proficient, at least to a small degree. Aunt Emma had made her living with photography. Perhaps Allison had inherited a little of that talent.

  As she climbed the steps to the deck, she heard the phone ringing inside. She hurried to unlock the door and grab it before it went to voice mail. “Hello?”

  “Mom?”

  “Hi, honey. What a nice surprise to hear your voice.”

  “Mom, I got a call from St. Luke’s. Dad’s in the ER. They think it’s his pancreas again. It sounds like he’s in bad shape.”

  Bad shape. Did she mean drunk?

  “Can you drive down there? I’m worried and I don’t know when anyone at the hospital will let me know how he’s doing.”

  Chaos. Allison had grown used to its absence. “Oh, Meredith. I—”

  “I know, Mom. I don’t blame you for not wanting to go. But I’m so far away, and he is my dad.”

  She had no argument against such words. “All right. I’ll leave as soon as I change my clothes and put on some makeup.”

  “Call me when you know anything. I’ll have my cell phone with me all the time.”

  “I will. I’ll call as soon as I have something to share.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Allison hung up the phone. She was glad her daughter had been mending fences with her father over the summer. Once Meredith was old enough to understand, Allison had been honest with her about her dad’s problem. Allison had encouraged Meredith to love Tony unconditionally but never to enable him. She’d tried to set that example, although she’d often failed at it.

  The phone rang again before she could step away from it. This time she checked the caller ID before picking up the handset. “Hi, Susan,” she answered as she walked toward her bedroom.

  “Allison, I’m calling about book club. Could you—”

  “Sorry,” she interrupted her friend. “I don’t think I’ll be there tonight. I’ve got to go down to Boise. I’m getting ready to leave as we speak.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s Tony. He’s in the hospital.”

  “Oh, Allison. Would you like company? I’d be glad to join you if you need me. I’m not leading the discussion at book club, so I don’t have to be there.”

  Allison felt torn. On one hand, she would love to have Susan’s company. On the other, she wasn’t sure she wanted her friend to see Tony. Though why it should matter, she didn’t know. He was her ex. She wasn’t responsible for him or for what he did or for how he looked or for what others thought about him.

  “Let me pray for you,” Susan said.

  Allison’s throat tightened. She wasn’t about to turn down prayer, but the kindness of the gesture made her want to cry. “Okay.” She closed her eyes.

  Her friend’s words were few, but they seemed to lift a weight Allison hadn’t realized was pressing upon her.

  “I could be at your place in less than fifteen minutes if you want me to go with you,” Susan added.

  “No. It’s sweet of you, but I think I’d rather go alone. I don’t know how long I’ll be down there. It could be really late before I get home.”

  “What about Gizmo?”

  “I’ll take him with me. I can leave him in the car.”

  “It’s hotter down in the valley than here.”

  True. She hadn’t thought of that. She couldn’t safely leave him in the car for any length of time. September in Boise could be as hot as July.

  “Listen,” Susan said, “you gave me the key to your house and the code for your alarm. You go on, and I’ll take care of the dog. He can stay with me for the night.”

  “Oh, Susan. That’s asking way too—”

  “You didn’t ask. I offered.”

  More kindness. Allison drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. And I’ll keep praying for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Allison had grown to hate hospitals. She hated the sounds. She hated the smells. She hated the anxiety that rose up inside her as she entered the lobby through the automatic glass doors.

  At the information desk she learned Tony had been admitted and w
as given his room number. She didn’t bother to ask about his condition. Even if the volunteer behind the desk knew the answer, she wouldn’t have told her. Privacy laws didn’t allow it.

  On the ride up in the elevator, she tried to remember the words of Susan’s prayer. She reminded herself she was there for Meredith’s sake. Not for her own sake and not for Tony’s. She was there for Meredith. Period.

  But the self-talk didn’t help much.

  She found Tony’s room at the end of a long hallway. The door was half open, and she had to step around a drawn curtain before she could see the bed and Tony in it.

  Memories from the past crashed over her. So many trips to the hospital during the years of their marriage. So many that they ran together in her head until she couldn’t distinguish one from another. She didn’t want to be in this hospital room. She didn’t want to ever look at Tony in a hospital bed again. She needed to leave. She couldn’t—

  He opened his eyes and saw her. “Allie,” he said softly, offering a wobbly smile.

  “Meredith called me.” She needed him to know that was the only reason she’d come.

  “She’s a good kid.”

  Reluctantly, Allison moved to the side of the bed. “Yes, she is.”

  He grimaced, as if in pain, but she could tell he was heavily sedated.

  “She said it might be your pancreas again.”

  “Yeah. Looks like it.”

  Allison didn’t have to ask if it was because he’d been drinking. She knew the signs. She’d seen him like this before. She wanted to remind him he could die from pancreatitis and ask him why he was so stupid. Didn’t he realize he was killing himself by inches?

  It isn’t my business. It isn’t my business. It isn’t my business.

  Tony said, “Tell Meredith I’ll probably be out by the weekend, if all goes well.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tell her I’ll call her in a couple of days when I’m feeling a little better.”

  Will you feel better, Tony? For how long? Why don’t you stop drinking? Why? Our lives could have been so different if not for your drinking. Why did you have to throw it all away?

  His eyes drifted closed again. “I’m glad you came, Allie,” he mumbled as he drifted back to sleep.

  She waited awhile, then went outside to call Meredith, as promised. Her daughter answered on the first ring.

  “How is he, Mom?”

  “He’s in pain but he says he should be out by the weekend.” She drew in a deep breath, tamping down an old anger. “He’s been through this before. It usually takes about a week in the hospital, and then he’ll have to be very careful with his diet.”

  “Do you think he will be? Careful, I mean.”

  “Oh, honey. I don’t know. You know how it is for your dad.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  It was at moments like these when Allison wanted to hate Tony Kavanagh, but she couldn’t. She didn’t like him much, but she couldn’t hate him. “He’s always pulled through before,” she said at last. It was the best she could do and still be telling the truth.

  Allison

  It was after midnight before Allison crawled beneath the covers of her bed. Exhausted by the events of the day, she fell into a troubled sleep. In her dreams, she stood beside an open grave. Tony’s grave. Meredith gripped her arm. Both of them wept.

  What could I have done?

  What could I have done?

  What could I have done?

  Allison bolted upright with a gasp, heart racing, fear strangling her. But as her pulse began to slow, anger surged. She shouldn’t have to visit Tony in the hospital. She shouldn’t have to dream about him. He’d made his choices. What he did shouldn’t matter to her any longer. Not even if it killed him. And if it wasn’t for their daughter—

  A groan rumbled in her chest as she tossed aside the covers and got out of bed. The clock said it was four in the morning, but she wouldn’t fall back to sleep again. She was too agitated for that. Might as well get some work done.

  But remnants of the dream stayed with her as she showered and dressed and made her first cup of coffee. They stayed with her as she opened Photoshop and set to work on another logo design. They were still clinging to her thoughts when a knock sounded at the door a little after nine o’clock.

  It was Susan, returning Gizmo.

  “Was he a good dog?” Allison asked as she held him in her arms and ruffled his ears.

  “Yes. Although I think all the attention he got put my dogs’ noses out of joint. The big lugs aren’t allowed on the furniture the way Gizmo is.”

  “Want some coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  The two women walked to the kitchen.

  Allison pulled open the tray beneath her coffeemaker. “Full strength, half caf, or decaf?”

  “Full strength, please.”

  “Full it is.” She grabbed a K-Cup.

  After the coffee started flowing into a mug, Allison turned toward her friend. “I sure appreciated your help. It was good not to have to worry about Gizmo.”

  “How was seeing Tony?”

  “Harder than I expected.” She shrugged. “It brought up so many raw feelings. I thought I was finished with them, but I guess not.”

  “You and Tony were married a long time. You loved him. Maybe those feelings won’t ever go away completely.”

  “I hope you’re wrong. I want to move on.”

  Allison set the mug of coffee on the counter, then got the flavored creamer out of the refrigerator. While Susan doctored her coffee, Allison went to retrieve her own mug from her desk in the bedroom. By the time Allison returned to the kitchen and got her own coffee, Susan had taken a seat at the table. They were silent for a short while as they sipped.

  “I dreamed again that he died,” Allison said at long last, her gaze fastened on the mug in her hands.

  “Is he that ill?”

  Allison shrugged, then shook her head. “Not that anyone told me. But pancreatitis is a serious condition. It could kill him.” Tears stung her eyes and her throat tightened. She fought both reactions.

  “It’s okay to care about him, Allison.”

  “I’m not sure I do care. I was crying in my dream, but I don’t think I was crying for him. Not really.” She drew in a deep breath. “Do you think God told me to let go of Tony because he is going to die?”

  “Oh, Allison.”

  “What if I didn’t hear God right about that either?” she whispered.

  Susan shook her head. “No one can answer that question except you. And maybe you won’t be able to answer it for a long time. But I can tell you this: Feelings aren’t right or wrong. They’re just feelings. They just are. What matters is what you do in response to those feelings. Let God do His work in your heart, Allison. He will turn things to good in your life when you follow Him. Even divorce.”

  Was that true? Allison swallowed the lump a second time. Please, Father. Do Your work in my heart. Forgive me for my own wrong choices. Turn this mess . . . turn all of these crazy, confusing emotions into good in my life . . . And please don’t let Tony die. Not yet. Not until he surrenders completely to You.

  Allison

  Ned Lyle’s sixty-fifth birthday party was held the following Saturday. Allison arrived at the Lyle home half an hour before the other guests, sheet cake in hand. While Susan put the last-minute touches on the meal she’d made, Allison stuck candles into the cake. One for every year of the birthday boy’s life, plus a couple dozen more for good measure. Several of them were the kind of candles that couldn’t be blown out.

  “Mean, aren’t we?” Susan said softly from the opposite side of the counter.

  “Deliciously wicked,” Allison confirmed with a laugh.

  “What are you two up to?” Ned stepped through the doorway to the dining room.

  Allison turned around and stationed her body between him and the cake. “You were told not to come into the kitchen.”

  “Like I was going to obey th
at command.”

  Chet Leonard appeared in the doorway behind Ned. “Need help?”

  Ned nodded. “Probably.”

  “I meant the ladies.”

  “Traitor,” Ned said with a grin. Then he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right. I’m going. I’m going.”

  After Ned left the kitchen, Chet said, “I meant it. Need any help from me?”

  “Nothing I can think of,” Susan answered. “Allison?”

  “Nope. The candles are all in place. But maybe we should put the volunteer fire department on alert. We’re going to have quite the blaze when these are all lit.” Allison closed the lid on the empty box that the sheet cake had come in from the grocery store, then looked at Chet again. “Try to keep Ned from peeking until it’s time for dessert.”

  Chet winked. “You got it.”

  Chet hadn’t been gone more than a minute when his wife, Marsha, came through the same doorway.

  “Chet says you don’t need help, but I thought I should check.”

  Washing her hands in the sink, Susan looked over her shoulder. “It’s all ready. As soon as everyone’s here, we can eat.”

  “There’s quite the crowd outside,” Marsha responded.

  Susan dried her hands on a towel. “I’ll do a quick headcount.” She left the kitchen.

  Marsha pretended to count the candles on the cake. “Oh my.”

  Allison laughed.

  “Susan’s always been the mischievous one.”

  “That’s what I’ve discovered.” Allison sat on a nearby barstool.

  Marsha leaned her hip against the counter. “You seem to have settled in well.”

  “I think so. I like living here more than I thought I would.”

  “I hope you don’t get cabin fever in the winter. I do. There’s times every winter when I’d give just about anything to move to a warmer climate where there aren’t icy roads and too much snow to shovel. But it would take a cannon to blast Chet out of Kings Meadow.”

  Did Allison hear a tinge of irritation in the other woman’s words? She couldn’t be sure.

  Marsha waved a hand, as if chasing away a pesky fly. “Don’t mind me. I just know that it’s warm today but we could get our first snowfall any day.”