Seven years later
Valley Oaks, Illinois
“She’s a gift.” Gina Philips nuzzled the two-month-old bundle of tawny fur. “From me and Brady.”
Isabel Mendoza laughed as the kitten batted a paw at Gina’s white lab coat. “She’s adorable! But why would you give me a gift?”
“Because,” the vet’s voice softened and her deep green eyes glistened, “you have a new emptiness in your heart right now. She’ll help soften the pain. Here, take her. Snuggle a bit.”
Isabel accepted the little animal, who promptly curled against her neck, just above her heart. She blinked away her own unshed tears and waited for the tightening of her throat to ease. “Aww. But I can’t afford—”
“I said gift. Entire kit and caboodle sort of gift.” She knelt behind the receptionist’s counter, straightened, and set down a yellow plastic pan overflowing with bags of litter and kitten food. “This is for you. We’ll make an appointment later for spaying and shots.”
“Gina, thank you, but I can’t let you pay for—”
“Sure you can. Do you know how many books Brady sold this year? And the corn and bean market forecast is excellent.”
Isabel smiled at her new friend. The California native had lived in Illinois for less than three months and already knew all about crops and Brady Olafsson’s personal business. Isabel teased, “Not to mention, Dr. Philips, that you’re a millionaire.” Gina had recently won a lawsuit against a wildlife preserve. The preserve’s negligence in animal care contributed to Gina being attacked by an elephant, a situation which caused permanent injury to one of her legs. Though the lawsuit was not something Gina had wanted to pursue, her legal actions guaranteed that the elephants would receive better care.
Gina laughed. “I think all of Valley Oaks is waiting with bated breath. When and if a settlement check arrives, I’m going to post a message on that big board outside the Community Center so everyone will know immediately.”
“Don’t you think news can spread faster by word of mouth?”
“A few months ago I would have said no way. Now I know better! Seriously, Isabel, this kitty won’t cost much. I’ll do the work myself, and Dr. Swanson doesn’t mind if I use his facilities here.”
Isabel stroked the cat’s silky fur with her thumb. A mild purring sputtered like the kick start of some minuscule motorcycle. She sighed. What was it that people said about being single and owning a cat? Something disparaging. But…this warmth against her skin felt comforting in the air-conditioned vet’s office. A distinct sense of coziness enveloped her, planting images of family gatherings, sounds of laughter, scents of frying tortillas and spicy— “Cumin. No, that won’t work. Nutmeg! She looks like nutmeg, don’t you think?”
Gina smiled. “Her coloring reminded me of your eyes. Nutmeg is a perfect name.”
“All right, Nutmeg it is. Thank you, Gina. And thank Brady for me, too.”
“You’re welcome, from both of us.”
Isabel took hold of Gina’s left hand and made a show of inspecting her third finger. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”
Gina yanked her hand back. “You know you would have heard, even in Mexico.”
Isabel laughed. “So, what have you been up to besides falling more and more in love?”
Gina rolled her eyes as a rosy blush spread across her face to the roots of her dark brown hair. “Well, I’ve been digging my heels in here at work and at Aunt Lottie’s. I convinced her to have air-conditioning installed. And Brady just got back from a two-week signing tour.”
“Ouch. How did the first separation go?”
She grinned. “Big phone bills. Really big. We decided the heart does not grow fonder, it just aches a whole lot. Oh, there’s a Chicago reporter coming today to interview him for some special article. Brady says it’s no big deal, but I think it’s rather exciting.”
“That’s Brady, downplaying the attention. What’s the article about?”
“Something about well-known Christian personalities for one of those Sunday supplement magazines. The guy’s meeting me here so I can show him the way out to Brady’s place.”
“Your more-than-likely fiancé is going to put Valley Oaks on the map yet.”
The blush returned. “Isabel! We hardly know each other.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, how are your parents doing?” Isabel had met Maggie and Reece Philips two months ago when they were in town for a family wedding.
“Making progress. Mother keeps saying Dad’s a new man. Neither of us can believe he’s taking an entire month off work, but they’re scheduled to leave for Venice next Tuesday. He even promised to leave his cell phone at home. To tell you the truth, I think Mother’s still skeptical.”
“It’s difficult to accept that someone can change so dramatically.”
“You’re right. But he keeps sending her flowers, and he’s home for dinner five nights a week rather than five times a month. They’ve hit art galleries every weekend. Still, she hasn’t begun to pack yet. Brady thinks it will just take time for her trust to build, but anything’s possible with Jesus.”
“Amen to that. Well, Nutmeg.” The kitten lifted its tiny head. “Let’s go home.”
The bell above the front door jangled, and a man walked inside. He eyed Gina behind the counter. “I’m looking for Gina Philips.”
“Hi. I’m…”
Their voices drowned in a rushing noise that suddenly filled Isabel. The room slipped out of focus. It was as if the air itself evaporated, leaving a vacuum where there should have been oxygen to breathe. Tony?
The magnetism still radiated from him, the energy palpable even before he spoke a word. Even before he turned those piercing deep-set eyes toward her.
“Izzy? Izzy Mendez!”
Mendoza, she corrected silently. “Tony.”
He flung his arms around her, giving her and the kitten a friendly hug.
Gina asked, “Izzy? I haven’t heard you called that.”
He kept an arm around her shoulders. “She only lets extremely close friends call her that.” He peered down at her and winked. “And we were extremely close friends, weren’t we?”
He wasn’t teasing. Though she could tell she was familiar to him, he didn’t remember her. She saw it in the tilt of his head, in the cocky grin that scrunched his left cheek alongside the narrow aristocratic nose. Isabel turned toward Gina. “College nickname. Seven years ago.”
He dropped his arm. “Right. English lit.”
Try journalism. She changed the subject. “So you’re a big-time reporter now?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Chicago Tribune. What are you doing?”
“I’m a small-time radio announcer for a local station.”
“That’s fitting. You always were quite the talker.”
She gave him a tight smile. He had remembered one fact correctly. One out of three was par for Tony. He still looked good, even in crumpled khakis and a pale yellow short-sleeved knit shirt. In shape. His coffee brown hair cut in a professional style.
“How’d you end up here?” he asked.
I’m from Rockville! Just down the road! Remember? This conversation was becoming an inane guessing game on his part. “Hey, I’ve got to get this kitty home. And Gina’s been ready to close up shop here for a while.”
“Isabel,” Gina said, “why don’t you have dinner with us since you two know each other? Brady’s cooking.”
“Thanks, but I haven’t unpacked yet from my trip, and I’m scheduled for the early shift tomorrow.”
“All right. Here, put Nutmeg in this box. You don’t want her underfoot on the drive home.”
“Thanks.” She grasped the box under one arm, the pan of litter and food in the other. “Nice seeing you, Tony.”
“You too, Izzy. Take care.” He held the door open for her.
She bumped into the jamb trying to fit through.
“Need some help?” He grinned.
“No. Thanks!” She made her clumsy way outside and across the parking lot. Even after the door finally clicked shut she felt his eyes on her, studying. They were blue, the bright blue of the Mexican sky. Hidden behind them was a razor-sharp mind that too often sidetracked itself with rabbit trails.
But he would remember. Eventually he would remember, and that would be worse than him not remembering.
Tony sat in Brady Olafsson’s large country kitchen, digesting the best home-cooked meal he had eaten in years. Maybe in his entire life. His mother was an artist who never had been much of a cook. His dad’s place was in his law office. No time for role reversal and domestic chores in that relationship.
The couple here was intriguing. It was Brady who had cooked dinner while Gina changed her clothes after her day with the animals. He watched them now as the author loaded the dishwasher and the girlfriend scooped warm cobbler onto plates. The aroma of cinnamon and apples filled the room.
“Tony.” She glanced at him now. “You’ll have ice cream, won’t you?”
“You bet.”
They made an attractive pair, both tall and slender. Brady resembled a lanky, brooding model for western wear. Gina was the quintessence of a California chick. Not the blonde, brainless brand, but the one glowing with health and natural beauty sans makeup, lit up by a 1,000-watt smile. He hadn’t quite figured out their relationship yet, but long before he saw Brady greet her with a kiss that almost embarrassed even him, Tony sensed she wasn’t available. An air about her had kept him from crossing an invisible line into flirting with intent.
Maybe he’d look up what’s-her-name. Man, he had pulled “Izzy” out of some deep subconscious pocket. Now there was a looker. That thick, chin-length layered hair with its subtle copper highlights…that petite figure…heart-shaped face…the wispy suggestion of a Hispanic accent… She assaulted his senses like a Marine beach landing.
Brady slid into the chair across the oak table from him. “You’re welcome to spend the night here, Tony. I’ve got plenty of room.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that, but I’ve already checked into the Rockville Holiday. I want to transcribe the tape, and then I’ll probably write half the night away.”
“I know that syndrome.” He grinned.
Gina served them the cobbler, vanilla ice cream melting around the edges. “Odds are that neither one of you will stay awake after this.”
“Mmm, probably not.” Tony scooped up a large spoonful. “Mind if we keep talking, though?” They had primarily chatted up until now, covering life’s basics.
“Not at all. What’s your premise exactly? Maybe I can gear my answers toward that.”
Tony fiddled with the tape recorder. If he told them the real reason behind his article, they’d kick him out in two seconds flat. He pressed the play button. “Christian artists are making a significant impact on society today. I’m localizing it, just talking with Midwestern artists.”
“What sort of impact? Negative or positive?”
His rehearsed evasion came easily. “Well, for example, you’re big business. What would you say is the impact of your books?”
Gina laid a hand on Brady’s. “Mind if I jump in, Tony? I know lives are being changed for the better. Readers enter into a world of fiction and come face-to-face with the reality of Jesus Christ.”
“You sound like Brady’s number one fan.”
“No, just speaking from experience. I wasn’t a Christian before I read his books.”
“Really? Perfect. Mind if I interview you, too?”
“Not at all, but not tonight.” She stood. “I’m bushed and I’m going home.”
That answered one question. They didn’t live together.
“Tony.” Brady looked at him. “Are you a Christian?”
“Agnostic.”
Gina sat back down. “Have you read Brady’s books?”
“Not yet. They’re all stacked and waiting on the nightstand even as we speak. This is my ‘delve into Brady Olafsson’ week.”
The author spread his arms. “My life is an open book.”
Gina groaned and stood again. “Now I’m going.”
“I’ll walk you out, sweetheart.” Brady slipped his hand around hers.
“Nice meeting you, Tony,” she said. “Hey, you could interview Isabel. She’s sort of in the Christian entertainment business.”
“How so?”
“She works at the Christian radio station. She knows a lot about the music world.”
“Could make a good sidebar. Thanks.”
Brady said, “You might give her a few days, though. She just returned from Mexico where her grandmother died. They were pretty close. Excuse me, I’ll be right back. Gotta kiss my girl goodnight.”
“Don’t blame you. Nice meeting you too, Gina.”
“Goodnight.” They left.
Mexico! That was it! Isabel Mend…Izzy…Izzy Mendoza. Grandmother… That last spring break of college… Leon, Mexico.
Images burst from an old memory. Desert. Relentless hot sun. Poverty. Children racing about, laughing. Cool dark bars. Tequila.
He whistled a note of disbelief. Izzy. How could he have forgotten?