Pulling open his desk drawer, Zeke stared at the tiny engagement ring he had bought for her so many years ago when he had finished his undergraduate studies at Texas A&M. After they’d gone together almost four years, Zeke had been certain she would accept his proposal.
But Belinda, who had chosen to attend the University of Texas, had had other ideas. He was too much of a wild card, she had said. Zeke exhaled, knowing he would never forget those words. Couldn’t be certain of his real background, Belinda had explained. And she couldn’t have children with someone who couldn’t be vetted. No telling how the children would turn out.
He had been stunned, Zeke remembered. Completely flattened. Why, he’d asked, had she dated him all this time? Her eyes hadn’t even changed with her admission. He had never noticed that before—her ability to hide her real feelings. Because he was different, Belinda had replied with a small shrug. She’d liked his edge, the way he flouted rules when he wanted to, defied authority. But really, did he think she would marry him? And had he really believed she hadn’t dated other guys the past four years? It shouldn’t have mattered. He should have forgotten all about her. But despite the changes he made, the encouragement from his by-then adoptive parents, the words stayed with him. Like a measuring stick.
His birth parents had been teenagers, his father jailed for a string of petty burglaries and vandalism. And Belinda, for all her cold disdain, had a point. Zeke had no idea what his genes would produce. Sure, he had straightened out, but that was his adoptive parents’ doing. They’d loved him when he was unlovable and had never given up.
“You’ve seen the appointments, then,” Angie said from the doorway.
He didn’t need to ask to know she was referring to Belinda.
“She has to be the most insensitive person on the planet,” Angie fumed, knowing Zeke’s history. “And why you let her bring her neurotic puffball here—”
“It’s not the dog’s fault,” Zeke replied mildly, even though Belinda’s gall was insulting.
“You could tell her to take him to a vet in another town.”
Yes, he could. But every time he saw Belinda, it reminded him of how blind he had been. How he never intended to be ambushed like that again.
* * *
Olivia navigated her car out of town, the school secretary’s note in one hand. Joey stared out the window as though she were chauffeuring him to prison. “You know, this community service will go a lot smoother if you approach it with a good attitude.”
“Does Grandpa know I’m missing the whole baseball season?”
“He will soon enough.” Olivia struggled to find a tone between scolding and understanding. It was difficult enough handling Ted’s death as an adult. Joey was just a boy.
“Grandpa won’t like it.”
“Unless you’ve forgotten, you could have missed basketball and football next season, too, if you’d been expelled.” She didn’t tell him that the administration had allowed him to stay on the team during his bad behavior only because they were sympathetic to Ted’s unexpected death.
Not having a ready retort, Joey turned back to stare at the familiar landscape. When Ted was still alive, they would all have been chatting about which of the wildflowers continued to bloom.
Inhaling an acrid scent, Olivia scanned the hillsides for smoke. The severe drought had wildfires popping up in the area, and although Rosewood had been lucky, the possibility added to Olivia’s stress.
Joey exhaled loudly.
“You know, you still haven’t acknowledged the seriousness of what you did. Stealing.”
He shrugged. “Just some dumb headset.”
“I don’t care if it was a marble. It’s not how much the item’s worth. It’s about what you’re worth. Stealing isn’t honorable. And without honor, where is your worth?” She slid her gaze toward him.
Joey’s chin drooped a fraction, but he didn’t reply, instead turning again to stare out the window.
The early-morning traffic on the highway consisted mostly of eighteen-wheelers and pickup trucks. She had always been glad that the road wasn’t connected to a freeway. It gave Rosewood a feeling of protection unlike what she had known most of her life, moving from fort to fort.
Her father, the Colonel, had decided to retire in the Hill Country soon after Ted had graduated from the University of Texas. Joey was just four then. Ted had been offered a good job in Austin right after graduation, so they’d decided to stay. But seven years later, the company had closed its doors.
The Colonel had still had influential contacts from his army days. One of them had suggested a business that Ted could operate from home. Without the anchor of his job, Austin hadn’t had a hold on them any longer. Ted’s parents had passed away during his college years and he sorely felt their absence. So when the Colonel suggested they relocate to Rosewood, Ted had been elated, wanting to be close to family.
Olivia had had mixed feelings about the move. She’d lived in Austin longer than anywhere else in her life. But she couldn’t deny that it would be good to be closer to her parents. Even though they’d visited back and forth, it wasn’t the same as being close enough for impromptu get-togethers, family dinners and special grandparent time.
Ted had liked his new work, but it had required some traveling. They had been in Rosewood only a couple of months when he’d made that fateful trip to Atlanta. When the police caught the suspect, he’d turned out to be a young man, barely more than a boy, who had panicked during the mugging and shot Ted unintentionally. Intentional or unintentional, the result had been the same. Ted had died alone on a strange street in a strange city.
Olivia blinked away the threat of tears, trying to push the memories away, as well. Although they had only lived in Rosewood about a year and a half, she had grown attached to the quiet, caring community. If Ted had lived, by now he would have met every neighbor, introduced himself to every clerk in every business in town. He’d been outgoing and open, and people didn’t remain strangers to him for long.
But after his death, Olivia hadn’t been able to continue his natural outreach. She had always been more reserved, accustomed to keeping a low profile in the many towns her father had been stationed in. She had learned early on as an army brat that making friends only made it that much harder when they moved.
Most of her acquaintances and friends were ones Ted had made, always trying to enlarge her circle to give her something she had never had before.
Now, having retreated from everything except her son, her parents and a part-time job as a drugstore inventory clerk, she struggled to maintain a normal life for Joey. Olivia questioned if she had failed Joey by being so reclusive. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten into so much trouble if she had involved herself more in the community, made friends, reached out to everyone.
Olivia glanced again at the directions Dorothy had given her. The place was only about five miles outside of town, so the turnoff should be close. She spotted it and turned onto the two-lane farm road.
Cattle grazed behind split-rail fences, unperturbed by her car passing by them. She hadn’t seen another vehicle on the road since she had turned onto it. Maybe these cattle were a laid-back breed since they didn’t seem at all bothered by her car. Then again, the only breed she could actually identify was the Texas longhorn. The closest she had ever gotten to wildlife was an occasional mouse.
Slowing, she saw an old-fashioned metal sign, engraved with HVC, hanging from a post. Just as the directions had described. Turning, she passed beneath a tall wrought-iron arch.
Looked like a peaceful place for her son to rethink his actions. She looked upward, her automatic response to ask the Lord for help. But He had allowed Ted to needlessly die. Clenching the steering wheel harder, Olivia felt she could no longer turn to Him.
She