He was giving her the space she needed, and now she missed having him around. Saturday and Sunday had come and gone. A long, silent weekend that Vanessa had tried to fill with work and cleaning up. She’d planned to attend church Sunday, hoping she’d hear some words of wisdom from the man she’d come to admire as a minister and as a friend. She felt so alone here in this big, rambling house. Instead, she’d gone for an early-morning walk around the lake, and then she’d come home and talked to her lawyer on the phone and processed more shipping instructions for some of the items she would be keeping.
Exhausted, she’d curled up on the big sofa early in the evening, hoping to get some sleep. But that hadn’t worked. So she’d stayed up late last night working on the photos for her website. Now she was exhausted and cranky. Monday morning had never looked or felt so bad.
She glanced at her mother’s journal lying on the big plank dining table. What if what she needed to hear was inside that journal? Why couldn’t she open it?
Because the truth might be in there and Vanessa wasn’t sure she was ready for the complete truth. It seemed too intimate and invasive to read her mother’s journal and hear Cora’s innermost thoughts. Her mother’s accusations could be there, inked beside what they had for dinner and what she was wearing on her latest date. Vanessa couldn’t bear to view the horror of her time in this house with Gregory Pardue, all spelled out in black and white. And yet, she needed to sit down and read the whole thing.
Didn’t the Bible have a verse about the truth setting you free? Vanessa suddenly wanted to be free. She needed to be free if she wanted a chance with Rory, didn’t she?
Touching a hand to the thick, worn journal, she shook her head. “Not yet.”
She’d open it tomorrow after she got back from Kandi’s house. Wanda had called her and set a time for her visit with Kandi. “And dinner,” Wanda had added. “We’d love to have you stay and eat with us.”
The last thing Vanessa wanted right now was to sit down with a big, rowdy family and eat a meal. But saying no would be impolite. The Peppermons were a wonderful couple who truly sacrificed for the sake of helping children in need.
She reminded herself that if she’d had someone like that in her life growing up, she might be a different person today.
You do have someone like that now.
You have Marla and Alec and Aunt Hattie and Marla’s parents. You have the Peppermons and Miss Fanny and you have Rory.
But she wouldn’t have Rory or any of the other people who’d befriended her once she left here. She’d go back to New Orleans, and she’d be okay. She had friends there, and she had her work to keep her occupied.
But now that she’d experienced Millbrook Lake with different people, in a different time, she knew being okay—just okay—wouldn’t ever be good enough again. Nor would working day and night. Nice, but not amazing.
That about summed it up. This place had turned into something amazing. She could almost be happy here. But she couldn’t stay here, of course.
She’d miss the lake and kayaking, the ducks quacking and the seagulls cawing. She’d miss watching sailboats glide by or hearing speed boats charging along or children laughing in the park and dogs barking in return. Miss Fanny calling to her across the way, always with a smile and a kind word of encouragement and the beautiful music when the church choir was practicing. She’d miss the sweet smell of flowers and the earthy smell of the lake.
She’d miss that little white church across the street and the man who took care of everyone but himself.
I could be the one.
I could be the person who takes care of Rory.
No. Bad idea. Vanessa started digging through cabinets and dragging out old cookware and aged baking dishes. She’d never been one for settling down, married with children.
She wasn’t maternal enough. She didn’t want to turn out like her mother. She didn’t want to bring a child into the world because she knew firsthand that little children weren’t always protected in this world.
You’d never be like that. You’d be a good mother.
She could tell herself that all day long, but Vanessa would never believe it.
Gregory Pardue had told her something she’d never forgotten. “You’re just like your mother. A big tease. A big dreamer. You aren’t fit to be anyone’s girlfriend or wife. You should plan on being alone all your life because no decent man will want you and you certainly won’t be able to take care of any children.”
He’d spouted all of those ugly things to her after he’d tried to molest her, in her room, here at this house.
A man of God, trying to molest his wife’s only daughter.
Vanessa sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and stared at a scratch mark on the old cabinet door. And like all the pots and pans and old dish towels spilling out of the cabinets, her memories came tumbling out, cluttered and chaotic, cloying and stifling, much in the same way this house was beginning to stifle her with its secrets.
But she looked up and saw a brilliant ray of sunshine hitting on an old wall plaque that she’d never noticed before.
And her heart stopped and started beating in a fast-moving lift that echoed with each pulse inside her head.
“He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.”
Psalm 147, Verse 3.
The tiny little square plaque had been varnished to a bright luster, but the black words were written in calligraphy on a stark white piece of canvas. Vanessa had no doubt that her mother had made this little sign and hung it there.
Her mother, who had never darkened the doors of a church. Even when she’d been married to a man who claimed to be a minister.
Vanessa got up and grabbed the plaque off the wall and held it close. Then she turned it over and saw the initials on the back.
CDT. Cora Donovan Tucker. Cora had created this after she’d married Richard Tucker.
Her mother had died alone and brokenhearted in a nursing home. But she’d been brokenhearted long before she became ill.
“Everyone left you,” Vanessa said. “We all abandoned you.”
Vanessa sat down and cried, the little plaque held tightly to her heart. Then she put the plaque back in its place and turned to find her mother’s journal.
“I think it’s time to clear away the real clutter, Mama.”
The clutter that had to have been documented in this journal. Vanessa knew she needed to read this journal, good and bad, in order to heal her own broken heart.
She called Rory. “Will you come over? I...I need your help.”
He immediately agreed. “Of course. Give me five minutes.”
Rory was a decent man. He would help her deal with this. She needed to remember that. It could never work between them, no matter how much her heart ached with each day that passed. But he could help her right now, in this moment, when she needed him the most. And when it was time for her to go, she could go with his kindness and his kisses embedded in her memories.
Good memories replacing bad ones. She’d have that at least.
“I’m out for the day,” Rory told Barbara as he hurried out of his office.
“Did someone die?”
He turned and shook his head. “No, but I think someone is having a crisis of faith. I have to go.”
“I hope everything works out for her,” Barbara said, guessing who that someone had to be. “Sending prayers to cover both of you.”
“Thanks.” He could use those prayers. He’d certainly been doing some serious soul searching himself. But right now, he hurried across the street to Vanessa’s house and knocked on the door. After his full disclosure on the boat the other night, his friends had encouraged him to tell Vanessa everything.
Now Rory prayed for the courage to do that.
She opened the door in a slow, cautious way, one hand hiding her face from the late morning sun. Rory took one look at her and pulled her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”
She burst into sobs and pulled back, trying to wipe at her tears in a frantic way. “Everything. I... I...need to get out of this house.”
“I know just the place,” he said. “Do you trust me?”
She bobbed her head and took on a gritty, determined expression.
“I’ll get my truck.”
She nodded again. “I’ll meet you out front.”
Rory ran back across the street to the garage apartment and quickly cranked his old truck. Soon he was parked in the driveway of Vanessa’s house. When Miss Fanny came out on her porch and waved to him, he waved back but didn’t go over to talk to her.
Instead, he ran up the steps to Vanessa’s house. She opened the door before he could knock again. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She had a big tote bag with her, and she held something else in her hand, too.
Her mother’s journal.
“Where are we going?” Vanessa asked Rory a few minutes later. She’d stopped crying, but her eyes were red rimmed and swollen.
“A special place,” he explained. “It’s private and secluded. No one will bother us there.”
She nodded and watched the signs. “I haven’t gone anywhere outside of the city limits since I got here. Sorry I fell apart, but I...I needed to get out of that house for a while.”
He took one of her hands in his. “Understandable since you’ve been sorting and cleaning for three weeks now. And you haven’t cried a lot in all of that time.”
“Has it been three weeks?” Her surprise turned to resolve. “I have to get this done.”
“Are you in such a hurry to leave?” he asked, wishing she wouldn’t go at all. Wishing he hadn’t left her sitting there the other night.
“Not so much now.” She gave him a watery stare. “I need a couple of hours away from that place, and then I’ll get back and finish up. I only have the kitchen and a couple of other rooms left.”
But she’d need more than a couple of hours, Rory thought. He’d stall her all afternoon. She also needed rest, and she needed to let go and mourn.
When he pulled the truck up to the rustic square beach house that sat high up on pilings near the waters of the big bay, Vanessa glanced around and then back to him.
“What place is this, Rory?”
“We call it AWOL,” he said. “This is the camp house I own with Alec, Blain and Hunter.”
“I thought no women were allowed here. That’s what Marla told me once.”
“Darlin’, we seem to be breaking that rule a lot lately. It’s okay. We’re only allowed to bring very special women out here. Alec brought Marla here and Blain brought Rikki here.”
He almost added that they’d gone on to become couples and...they were making lives together now. But Rory didn’t think Vanessa was ready for that. He wasn’t sure right now if he was ready for that either. But he did owe her the truth, at least.
He got out and came around to open her door. She turned to stare up at him. But her question was somber. “Do you think I’m special?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” he said. Then he kissed her on the forehead. “I think you’re amazing.”
She didn’t move. She sat there staring up at him, her eyes clear now. “I’m not all that amazing.”
Rory hugged her close. “Let’s get you inside so I can feed you and pamper you and...listen to you.”
Vanessa reached up a hand to touch his face. “You really are a true minister, Rory.”
He nodded. “Thanks, and I’m thinking that today I’ll certainly be earning that title, right?”
She dropped her hand away. “Yes. You’re exactly what I need today.” Then she took his hand and followed him up the path to the house.