Faith gave a dismissive wave.
“But, seeing Mark this morning was such a shock to my system. I never dreamed... Until this morning, we hadn’t spoken since the day of the funeral.” She took a deep breath, but the air seemed weighted with sorrow and it filtered through her system. “How could people think I would do that? Have they completely forgotten about my sister? About what happened?”
Faith pulled a chair up next to her and took her hand. “Nobody’s forgotten Callie. Her death shook our town to its core.” She leaned down slightly and caught Audrey’s eyes, held them with her own. “But it was an accident. Accidents happen. Nobody’s going to think any less of you if you and Mark make your peace now. Fact is, everybody’s been kind of relieved, thinking you might be...” She paused. “Friends again.”
Audrey blew out a frustrated breath. “Welcome back to Taylor’s Grove, where everybody knows your business—sometimes before you even know it yourself.”
Faith winked and gave her a small smile. “Only sometimes.”
“But they don’t know what’s in here, Faith.” She pointed to her head and shook it, trying to rid it of the images that had been popping up ever since Marta had said Mark’s name. “I keep hearing him dare her to go up those steps. Me begging her not to.”
Faith squeezed her hand. “I know it was horrible. But no matter how many times you relive it, you’re never going to change the outcome. So every time you relive it, you’ve wasted precious time in your life. Time you could’ve spent remembering the good times, like she would want you to.”
“At some level, I know you’re right.” Audrey pressed a thumb and middle finger into the area over her eyebrows and pushed to release the tension. It didn’t help. “But I have a child now. She’s my whole life. And I’m expected to entrust her care to the person whose thoughtless words sent my sister up those steps?”
“Callie took the dare, Audrey. She made the choice.”
Audrey’s teeth clenched so hard, a pain shot through her jaw. “But if Mark hadn’t dared her, there wouldn’t have been a choice to make.”
Faith looked at her a long time before she spoke. “From the day we’re born, our lives are filled with the choices we make. We act on those choices, and all of our actions have consequences, either good or bad.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “If one solitary mistake is going to be the criteria we’re judged on for our entire life, most of us would be afraid to do anything. And not doing anything can do just as much harm.”
Was Faith saying she should’ve done more to stop Win that night? That weight of guilt had lain in the pit of her stomach for so long it probably had moss covering it.
“You’re back at home now with a child and a mother to watch over,” Faith went on. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. Don’t make the pressure worse by dragging around the worries of the past. Like the book of Matthew says, ‘Today’s trouble is enough for today,’ sweetheart.” She gave Audrey’s hand a motherly squeeze before letting go.
Audrey couldn’t deny she was feeling pretty overwhelmed, and sitting here talking was not taking care of any of the multitude of things she had on today’s list. She stood and picked up her mom’s cup, which still sat empty on the table. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. Thanks.”
Faith looked at her watch. “I need to be going, but I can come back this afternoon if you need me.”
Audrey shook her head. “I appreciate it, but Miss Gertie told me I could use the adult day-care program at the nursing home when I need to—until Mom gets to be too much for them to handle.”
The shadow in Faith’s eyes said she didn’t expect that wait to be too long, but she covered it quickly with a smile. “You know my number. Call me anytime. Day or night.”
“Thanks, I will.”
“I’ll go out this way and tell Helen ’bye.” Faith let herself out the back door while Audrey filled her mom’s cup with tea from the pot sitting on the counter and stirred in two sugar cubes and a spoonful of milk.
As she came down the back steps, she saw the vacant look in her mom’s eyes change to a questioning one.
“Hey, Mom. It’s Audrey. I’m back from taking Tess to school.”
Recognition dawned slowly as her mom took the cup and sipped from it. The doctor had given specific instructions not to rush her with too much information too quickly—give her mind time to process one thing at a time.
“The little girl’s at school.” It was a statement instead of a question, which Audrey took as a good sign.
“Yes. Tess is at school.” She really needed to unpack Tess’s things and get the child’s bedroom set up. Making this place home to her daughter as quickly as possible was a top priority. But she could spare a few minutes to sit and enjoy the quiet time with her mom.
“Does she like her class?” A bright red cardinal landed in the birdbath, capturing her mom’s attention, and Audrey thought it might be a good time to ease into the subject of Tess’s unfortunate nonchoice of teachers.
“Yes. I think she does. She’s in Mark Dublin’s class.”
Her mom’s face broke into a smile, though her eyes remained on the bird. “I’m glad they’re in the same class.”
Audrey’s heart sank. Her mom had a hard time remembering who Tess was. She even called her Audrey most of the time. “Mark is the teacher,” Audrey said gently.
Her mom nodded. “He taught her to ride a bike. They’re such good friends.”
Audrey wished she’d fixed herself some tea. Maybe the warmth would loosen the lump that appeared in her throat. “Yes, they...were,” she whispered.
But everything’s changed now.
* * *
THROUGH HIS CLASSROOM WINDOW, Mark watched the parents gather on the sidewalk in front of the school to pick up their children. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t watching for Audrey in particular, but his heart betrayed him by doing a quick double beat when she appeared, and he had to think back to what had been on his tongue before his thoughts had been spirited away.
What was it? Oh, yeah. “Next week, we’ll begin our unit on animals, and we’re going to cover this wall with pictures of all kinds of them.” He walked over to the azure-blue wall next to the door and patted it. “If you’d like to, you can bring a picture of your own pet or a pet you’d like to have.” He had quite a collection of animal pictures he’d taken in Africa, and he couldn’t wait to see the children’s faces when they got their first look at some of the wild beasts he’d encountered.
An excited titter went through the group as they all started talking at once. All except Tess. She’d been talkative all day—not the least bit shy—but suddenly it appeared the cat had her tongue.
Before he could make his way to her, the bell rang and the kids converged on him like a swarm of bees, each wanting to give the first hug goodbye. As he opened the door into the hallway, Tess got up slowly from her seat and stood at the end of the hug line. He exchanged squeezes with them, telling each child, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” But when he got to Tess, she latched on to his neck and started sobbing.
“Hey.” His heart wobbled at her emotion. Had he done something to upset her? “What’s the matter?”
The child’s sobs became wails, and she clutched him tighter.
“Can you tell me why you’re crying?” She shook her head, and he stooped down, positioning himself at her eye level. When she let go, he’d be right there. “I’ll bet you can if you try.”