Unexpected Reunion. Carolyn Greene

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СКАЧАТЬ with a grandson named Obed. She had imagined the baby she and Gray might have someday—a child with her then-fiancé’s dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, which hinted at his grandmother Naoko’s Japanese heritage. A child he would protect. A child she would teach to savor the memories of its growing-up years. A child they would raise in the church and who would love God.

      Unfortunately, her then-fiancé’s emails from Afghanistan had become short and to the point...which she had told herself was for reasons of military security. But that hadn’t explained their platonic tone. The messages she’d received during the three months prior to the breakup could have been written to his sister. Something had happened just before that Thanksgiving...something Gray had alluded to but couldn’t, or wouldn’t, tell her.

      Savannah had offered to make her wedding dress, one she claimed would be as beautiful as the bride. It would have been beautiful, no doubt. But it hadn’t come to pass.

      Her friend’s compliment had made her blush at the time. Not by a long stretch would she call herself beautiful. Not with her fine red hair, freckles and lanky figure. Back then, she had begun to wonder, however, if Gray had become disenchanted with the image in the photo she’d sent him. Now she just tried not to think about it.

      “The Bristows must have been busy with their spring cleaning,” Savannah said, and gestured toward the stack of boxes. “You’ll have plenty of nice things to sell at the sidewalk sale. Hopefully, the weather will be warmer than today.” The pretty blonde’s limp always seemed worse during cool weather.

      This portion of the historic Carytown district in Richmond, Virginia, was often referred to as the “Mile of Style.” Tucked away in the 1930s-era Cary Court Park & Shop, like a quiet cove in a bustling harbor, a cluster of tiny businesses gathered under the name Abundance. Inside, three stores—Ruthie’s Gleanings, Savannah’s Connecting Threads and Milk & Honey, a café run by Paisley, another former college roommate—shared the same roof and exterior walls and were separated only by decorative waist-high room dividers that encouraged browsers to wander from one shop to the next. Although business was slow this Tuesday afternoon in late April, the upcoming annual sidewalk sale would draw shoppers from all over Virginia with its upscale trendy and vintage offerings.

      Ruthie shook away the nostalgic cobwebs that clung to the corners of her heart and turned her attention back to the Bristows. “Ever since Pop brought Sobo home and put her in the hospital bed in their spare room, she’s been directing him on clearing out the clutter in there. I wish she would just rest and focus on healing.”

      After Ruthie’s mother had died suddenly in a work-related accident eleven years ago and she’d had no place to go, Naoko Bristow had taken her in and gained legal guardianship for her final two years of high school. But they hadn’t stopped there. Though she’d known them only from church, they had treated her as if she were their own flesh-and-blood granddaughter, insisting she call them by their grandparent names: Sobo, the Japanese word for grandmother, and Pop, a Southern endearment for grandfather. The elderly pair had even sent her off to college and set her up in their Fan District rental house with two roommates. An added bonus to gaining these adoring grandparents had been meeting and falling in love with their grandson.

      The couple had been there with her at church the night she’d learned Gray didn’t want her anymore. They had handed her the letter, in fact. And on hearing the message inside the Afghanistan-postmarked envelope, they’d grieved right along with her...grieved as much for his broken faith as for the broken engagement.

      “Right,” Savannah said. “Tell that to the tiny dynamo who forgot she’s in her seventies and climbed a trellis to prune roses.”

      If it weren’t for the broken hip that had resulted from the fall, Ruthie would have applauded Naoko’s youthful energy. Instead, the incident served as a reminder that time eventually catches up to even the most active of people.

      “The doctor said her body also thinks it’s younger than it is, so her recovery time should be quick.”

      “Thank God for that.” Savannah picked up the girl doll, stared at the red hair and freckles and gazed back at Ruthie. “You’re going to keep these, aren’t you?”

      “And torture myself? I don’t think so.” Every time she saw them, she would no doubt remember Gray’s large, warm hands covering hers while he guided her fingers over the piano keyboard. Remember the way he had peeked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching...but she was always watching, and they’d both shyly look away. She’d remember the way her heart went rat-a-tat-tat at his nearness on the mahogany bench. Between sneaking glances at Gray, her gaze had often drifted to the tiny porcelain dolls he had jokingly—or not so jokingly—customized to look like them, and which had prompted the human counterparts to steal kisses when Pop and Sobo weren’t looking.

      Outside, a sudden movement broke her reverie. A dark silver-gray sedan that looked like the civilian version of a police car spun into the lot and double-parked in front of Abundance. The car door swung open, and a black-haired man emerged from the driver’s side.

      Savannah’s eyes widened in surprise. “Speaking of torture, it looks like you have a visitor. Gray Bristow, if I’m not mistaken.” She sidled closer to Ruthie as if to shield her. He would never hurt her physically, but Savannah had been with her at the Wednesday night Bible study when Ruthie received his letter and knew the heartbreak he had caused her. “Do you want me to stay?”

      “No, I can handle it.” Maybe. Somehow. Dear God, please give me the strength to handle the obstacles that cross my path.

      Her friend eased back to her own shop, casting wary glances over her shoulder while Ruthie struggled to gather her wits enough to face the man who still sneaked into her dreams at night.

      Almost guiltily, Ruthie stuffed the kissing dolls back into one of the boxes she hadn’t finished unpacking. Pretending to busy herself with polishing an antique beveled-glass jewelry casket, she watched him yank open the door and blink off the effects of the bright sun as he stepped inside.

      The first thing she’d always noticed about Gray, physically, was his erect military bearing. He moved like a man on a mission. Three and a half of the four years after she’d received his breakup letter, the army had either kept him overseas or sent him to a distant stateside assignment. The past six months since his return to Richmond and civilian life, she had carefully choreographed her visits to his grandparents to avoid encountering Gray. She suspected he had done the same.

      He had changed a lot since she’d last seen him. The casual blue T-shirt strained at biceps strengthened during his time in the army, and he actually seemed a little taller, which could have been merely an illusion from his don’t-mess-with-me attitude. But the biggest change she noticed was in his face. Pain—and maybe fear?—lurked in his handsome features.

      He took off his sunglasses and pushed a hand through his wind-ruffled hair. When his gaze landed on Ruthie, she caught a flash of an expression she couldn’t identify before his handsome features turned grim. He walked toward her, his movements effortless and silent.

      Ruthie turned to face him. She wished that they could erase what had gone wrong between them and start over. She wanted him to believe again. In the God he’d begun to doubt while in Afghanistan. And in a future together with her.

      But that wasn’t going to happen. Certainly not judging by the look on his face. If his expression showed her so bluntly “it’s not going to happen,” then what might hers be revealing to him? She’d always been told her emotions were like clear glass...anyone could read right through them, and she prayed a futile prayer that he would not see how much she’d missed him. How much she still hurt СКАЧАТЬ