My Hope Next Door (5 page)

CHAPTER 8

F
rom her seat on top of the picnic table, Katie spooned another mound of flavored ice into her mouth. The sno-cones at Fairfield Park had been the go-to solution in many of her crises, and today was no different.

She’d fled from church thirty minutes ago, and only now had her hands stopped trembling. She’d never been one to cry. In her family tears meant weakness and were regarded as manipulation. Instead, when she got too emotional, her stomach would curl in on itself and her body would shake like a petrified puppy. For some reason, sugar was the quickest remedy.

The park was mostly vacant. Just a few children laughed nearby as they navigated the massive jungle gym. By two o’clock, the place would be swarming with after-church crowds, barbecue groups, and clusters of families who didn’t spend their life trapped by dysfunction.

In the distance, Katie could see the cars emptying Fellowship’s parking lot. She shoved in another bite of cherry goodness and tried to forget that she’d left right in the middle of Pastor Powell’s sermon. Word had probably already spread through half the town, and given her reputation, people would think she’d intended to make a scene. They’d never guess that Katie Stone had gone to church because she actually wanted to be there.

An SUV pulled into the parking lot near her, and darn if the shaking didn’t start back up. Asher emerged a second later, tall and blond and much too determined. She’d been dying to talk to him for days, and now she couldn’t even think of a single word.

He looked different all dressed up. His hair was combed instead of spiked in a wet tangle of sweat. His jeans had been replaced by black slacks and a belt. She knew it was at least eighty degrees already, yet he wore a long-sleeved shirt and a red-striped tie. She couldn’t decide which style suited him best, or if he was just one of those men who looked good in anything.

He passed by the green sno-cone hut and walked right up to her isolated table. “I see I’m not the only one addicted to sugar.”

She raised her cup an inch, hoping she didn’t look as completely uncomfortable as she felt. “It’s one of the few things I missed in this town. That and the train parking on the tracks during rush hour.”

His chuckle seemed forced, and she couldn’t blame him. Nothing about the two of them being friendly made sense. He was the golden boy who did no wrong. She was the wild child who left havoc in her wake. He’d grown up in church. She grew up thinking Sundays were meant for beer drinking and football.

The sun blazed overhead, yet Asher hadn’t moved.

“Aren’t you going to get one?” She pointed to the sno-cone hut and raised an eyebrow. The line was starting to grow.

He shifted his weight and tucked both hands into his pockets. “The truth? I saw you sitting here and wanted to say hi. You left church before I could talk to you.”

Katie hung her head, embarrassed. “Yeah, about that. Please tell your dad I’m sorry if I distracted him. I wasn’t feeling well.”

“It’s fine. He can’t even see past the first few rows when the lights are on him.” Asher motioned to the space next to her, a silent request for permission.

She sighed and patted the tabletop—partially glad and equally terrified that he hadn’t just scolded her and walked away.

He sat and leaned his elbows on his knees. She took another bite, but even the ice dissolving in her mouth couldn’t take away her resurged nervousness.

“I was surprised to see you there.” He stared aimlessly at the church across the street.

“I bet.”

“I was also glad.”

They turned to face each other at the same time. She was sure she’d heard him wrong, but his pressed lips and weighty stare told her she hadn’t. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was antsy and irritable, and then I saw you.” His laugh was tight, but genuine this time. “Pale as a ghost and completely mortified. And I thought,
finally
, there’s someone in this building who’s being real.”

Katie’s next bite missed her mouth, and she quickly put her cup under her chin to catch the runoff. Asher handed her a napkin.

“Thanks.” After she’d wiped off the red goo, she set down the nearly empty Styrofoam cup.

He eyed her jerky movements. “I take it you weren’t expecting that response.”

“Um . . . no. You’re the heir to the pulpit. You’re supposed to sing ‘Amazing Grace’ and tell me how wonderful everyone is.”

Asher’s shoulders dropped. “If you’re expecting me to spew rainbows and sunshine every time I speak, then you picked the wrong person. That’s not who I am.” He stood abruptly.

She knew unspoken disappointment. She’d seen it in people’s eyes her whole life. But somehow, seeing it in Asher’s made her want to erase every word she’d just said.

“Wait.” She grabbed his hand before he could walk away. “I went there today because you were kind enough not to treat me like a stereotype. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the same courtesy. You can be as gloomy as you want to be. I promise.”

A stream of laughter echoed from the nearby swings while Katie waited for absolution.

It came with a squeeze to her fingers. “Don’t mind me. I’m extra sensitive today.”

Katie let go of his hand, feeling strangely flushed by the simple touch, and scooted over so he could sit back down.

“So what’s with the truckloads of stuff I see you hauling away every afternoon?”

Her groan could probably be heard a mile away. “My mom became a hoarder while I was gone. Three days”—she put up a corresponding number of fingers—“
three days
, and I only made it through half the dining room. And I need to figure out how to move a couch that weighs more than an elephant. My dad said he’d do it, but he practically threw out his back just helping me with my luggage.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I can help you get rid of it. Just text me when you’re ready.” He pulled out a cell phone, and she wondered again if there was an end to his kindness.

“That’s okay. I don’t want to put you out.”

“We’re neighbors.” He set the phone in her hand. “That means we take care of each other.”

She doubted her dad shared his opinion, but she punched her number into Asher’s phone all the same. Only three people in town had it: her parents, and now him. “Thanks. I know my folks haven’t exactly been the friendliest, so if you change your mind, I get it.”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I won’t change my mind.”

She could feel his conviction, the finality of each word, and wondered what it must be like to know yourself so well. She had yet to finish anything she’d started, and here Asher was the same age but a college graduate who owned his home and built an outdoor area that could be featured in a magazine. And she knew if he said he’d move the couch, he would move the couch.

“So why were you at church today?” Curiosity laced his voice, but she also sensed a deeper motive. Like he truly wanted to understand her.

Katie kept her hands in her lap and stared at them. Nothing had gone right that morning, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to spill her guts to her next-door neighbor. But at the same time, she wanted him to know that she was no longer that girl he’d known in high school. “I started going to church in Florida. There was a minister there who helped me understand it all, or at least understand enough to know I wanted a new beginning. He taught me to pray and then held my hand when I did for the first time.” She snuck a peek at him. “I know it’s impossible to believe, but I really have changed.”

Asher’s eyes locked on to hers. His were light brown, only a shade darker than gold, and while they didn’t betray a thing about what he was thinking, a world of experience radiated through them. How had she never noticed the depth of this man?

“It’s not impossible to believe,” he finally said. “In fact, now everything makes sense.”

Maybe to him. She still felt as if she were swimming through molasses.

A caravan of cars flew through the parking lot, and seconds later the noise at the park had doubled. Katie combed her fingers through her hair and pretended to be interested in the strands. He was still staring at her in that unnerving way of his. Unlike other men, Asher’s gaze went much deeper than her bare skin. It penetrated places she wasn’t even willing to examine herself.

He slapped his hand on the table and stood. “I think this calls for a celebration.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “Why would we celebrate?”

“Because we both went to church today, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” Victory rang through his tone, leaving Katie even more confused.

“I didn’t even make it through half the service,” she reminded him.

Asher leaned in, and she caught the slight scent of his cologne. Spicy and dark. A complete contradiction to the man in front of her. She swallowed when he inched closer.

“Katie. You walked in the door. That makes you braver than most of the people in this town.”

“I’m not brave,” she whispered, her throat constricting to the point of hurting. She pushed down the sadness and let practiced mischief seep back into her voice. “I’m a risk taker, remember?” She slid away from him. “Reckless.”

“Reckless or courageous? There is a difference.” The wind ruffled his hair, and a strand freed itself from its styling. It drew her gaze to his face. A mistake, because she could now see his smile, playful and challenging, and for some insane reason it made her smile back.

“Definitely reckless.”

“We’ll see. You never know what God will do with that firecracker spirit of yours.”

Her throat flushed hot.
You only have to pretend for a few months, Firecracker. Do this and we’re set for years.

She squeezed her eyes shut, pushed Cooper’s voice from her head, and practically fell as she attempted to get off the table. “I should go.”

Asher steadied her. “You okay?”

No, she wasn’t okay at all. But her demons weren’t something he could help her with. “I’m fine. Just hot. Besides, don’t you churchgoing types always have some kind of potluck thing you do on Sundays?”

He let go and laughed. “You know, I’d love to say that stereotype isn’t true, but I can’t. And honestly, I kind of like it.” He patted his stomach and his eyes sparkled.

She could picture it: Asher mingling with a crowd of people, making each one feel special and important. He was like that in high school too. Outgoing and friendly. Back then, she’d thought it was an act. After all, that was what she had done all through high school: put on a show.

They fell in step together, passing a large family eagerly rolling two coolers toward the picnic table they had abandoned.

“You could come with me today. My mom loves extra people around the table.”

Katie practically choked. “You may think I’m fearless. But there’s no way I’m eating lunch at the pastor’s house. I’d have to bathe in holy water for, like, three weeks first.”

He quit walking. “That is by far the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.” Shaking his head, he resumed his long strides. “My dad is seriously the most down-to-earth person I know. He’s no different than you or me.”

When they got to her car, Katie crossed her arms. “Really? Prove it. What books sit on his coffee table?”

“His coffee table?”

“Yes. You find out a lot about a person by the books they display. So what are they?”

Asher’s brows pinched as he tried to recall, and she knew the minute he remembered because his lips pursed.

“Ha!” she said and pointed at him. “I’m totally right. What are they?”

He shook his head, but he was also grinning now. “Doesn’t mean a thing.” He backed away toward his car. “You’re just looking for excuses.”

“Ten bucks says you’ll switch them out today,” she shouted across the lot.

“Hope you like that couch. Don’t see it moving by itself anytime soon,” he yelled back.

Katie fumbled with her keys, feeling an unfamiliar joy bubble in her gut.

For a few minutes, she almost forgot who she used to be.

CHAPTER 9

E
ven the familiar car parked in front of his parents’ house wasn’t enough to ruin Asher’s mood or wipe away the ridiculous grin he’d been wearing since he left the park.

He’d laughed. For the first time in months, he’d laughed and actually meant it.

“Asher? Is that you?” his mom called when he shut the front door. She quickly appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “What took so long? Your father actually beat you home.”

“I swung by the park on my way.”

She lifted a brow and tossed the towel onto her shoulder. “Should I ask how you went from brooding to cheerful, or should I just enjoy it?”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Just enjoy it.” Because they both knew an hour spent with Darrell Wheeler would drive off whatever joy he’d managed to find.

Voices echoed from the kitchen, the bellow of Mr. Wheeler’s carrying farther than the others.

She exhaled, a long whoosh of air. “I should have warned you he was the deacon this week.”

“It’s fine.” Not really, but he could fake niceties with the best of them. Besides, if Katie could muster the courage to walk into Fellowship, he could certainly sit through lunch with the man who’d sided with Jillian’s father.

The kitchen was in full chaos by the time Asher and his mom entered. Little voices begged for drinks, chairs scraped against the floor, and a long line of people wove around the island in the center. At a quick glance, he counted fourteen, not including him or his parents.

His mom gave him a slight shove. “Go get in line before it’s all gone.”

Not possible. There was enough pot roast, potatoes, green beans, and coleslaw to feed an army, but he was more than ready to help polish it off. He fell in line behind Ms. Ferris, a widow of five years and his mom’s focus for April. Every month, she’d pick an elderly person in their church and would help them with household chores or rides to the doctor.

“Afternoon, Asher.” Ms. Ferris’s words weren’t accompanied with a smile, but he wasn’t surprised. Frown lines were etched deep in her face and had been as long as he could remember. “Great service today.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t confess he’d been far too distracted to pay attention, or that once he’d caught sight of Katie leaving, he’d abandoned the pretense of trying to listen.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you there.” She took a few pieces of meat and continued down the line.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is that new job making you work Sundays now? ’Cause I hear they are doing that type of stuff, and it’s just shameful. When I was a girl, every store in town shut down on the Lord’s Day. Now, you can shop at all hours of the night, every day of the week. Ridiculous. Kids these days have too much stuff as it is. Can’t hardly pull their eyes from those minicomputers either.”

Asher piled meat on his plate and threw a
help me
glare at his mom. She immediately came to his rescue.

“Barbara, let me take your plate.” His mom lifted the paper ware from the old woman’s hands and ushered her to an empty seat.

He trailed along behind. Most people knew why he’d stopped going to church and had the courtesy not to rub salt in the wound. He’d bet his lunch Ms. Ferris knew too.

The volume of the conversation rose as seats were grabbed and glasses were filled. Asher eyed the available spots and squeezed into the one farthest away from the Wheelers, who’d avoided eye contact since he walked in. A much-too-familiar burn ignited in his stomach, but he wouldn’t allow them to destroy the warm relief talking with Katie had brought, even if he could hear bits and pieces of Darrell’s conversation across the table.

“. . . and I told him those chairs were not be moved . . .”

“. . . it’s just not right. Our class purchased them, and I don’t care if the choir is short . . .”

“. . . that’s what Henry said too. Anyway, it’s all been settled . . .”

Asher clutched his napkin, set it carefully on his lap, and began to silently count to a hundred, throwing the
one thousand
in between, to make it last longer. When he’d reached twenty-eight, his father strolled into the room.

At six foot two, Brian Powell owned every step he took. His dark suit had been replaced by jeans and a polo shirt, and the atmosphere immediately lifted when he smiled at his guests. He pulled Asher’s mom close and kissed her head. “Laura, thank you for this lovely meal. Let me say the blessing and we can all dig in.”

Asher bowed his head, wondering if he’d ever be as gracious as his father. Through the entire mess with Bob Murray, his dad had never once questioned his word. Their strong relationship was the one positive thing that came from Jillian’s lies. He and his dad were closer now than ever before in his life.

His dad said “amen,” and chatter erupted around his mom’s eighteen-person farm table. It had been a gift from Tim Morris, a master craftsman and longtime church member. Asher had watched every step of the process, asking a million questions that Tim had been patient enough to answer. One day he would make a replica, right down to the two benches that ran the length of the table. Though he’d probably scale it down to seat twelve.

He passed the salt to a little girl with ringlet curls and an obvious distaste for red meat. Her family had visited the church, and his mom always asked new guests to lunch, though they rarely accepted the invitation.

“Push the meat around your plate a little. Your mom will think you ate some of it,” Asher whispered.

The girl giggled and he winked. He remembered these meals as a kid. They seemed forever long and torturous back then. He swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. Not much had changed. At least not today.

“You will never guess who came to church this morning.” A pause for effect, and then a lengthened “Katie Stone.”

Asher lifted his head, interested for the first time in the surrounding conversation. Miranda Wheeler mirrored an eager salesperson as she expectantly waited for his dad’s reaction. Being the first to drop that nugget of gossip would likely give her a ten-day buzz.

His mom answered instead. “Really? Well, that’s wonderful. I didn’t realize she was back in town.”

The woman scowled, obviously not satisfied with this reaction. “I’m not so sure it
is
wonderful. She left during the sermon. Was quite a distraction for the rest of us.”

His dad wiped his mouth. “Well, I guess I’d better make sure my sermon is more interesting next week.”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.” Miranda’s cheeks flushed red, and Asher had to duck his head to hide his snickering. “It’s just that Katie Stone likes to make waves everywhere she goes, and I think we need to be careful. This could all be part of some elaborate scheme.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s been plenty vocal about her disdain for the church,” Darrell added, his double chin bobbing as he finished chewing.

“People can change,” Asher’s mom reminded him.

“Not often.”

Asher watched his dad, who had yet to weigh in. While he knew his father was genuine in his love for people, no matter their background, his stomach still knotted. Katie
was
different. She
had
changed. And she deserved more than to be some punch line. But he wasn’t about to get into an argument with the Wheelers. They’d only use it against his dad later, or worse, run back to the Murrays and give Jillian more firepower to use against him.

“If Katie was there, I’m thrilled.” His dad’s gaze bounced around the full table. “No matter what her motivation is, our response should be the same. We welcome her, and we treat her like we would any other guest. What an opportunity for our congregation to show the love of Christ to someone who has maybe never felt it before.” He directed his attention to his deacon. “I hope every one of you makes her feel wanted and cared for.”

“Her parents too,” his mom added. “The whole family needs our prayers right now.”

Miranda lowered her head, her brown curls hiding a portion of her face.
Good.
Asher hoped she was embarrassed. Hoped they both were.

He sat back in his chair as he witnessed the remarkable shift in conversation. There was no more talk of Katie coming to church or biting commentary about her sins. Yes, one day he’d be like his father. One day he’d be that kind of leader.

His dad winked from across the table, and Asher suddenly couldn’t wait for his new neighbor to meet his parents. He eyed the coffee table in the living room. A hardback photo book of Israel and his dad’s leather-bound Greek Bible lay next to a bowl of potpourri. She’d nailed it, without ever setting foot into their home.

He shook his head, hid a smile, and wondered what books were displayed in her living room.

Asher finished loading the last dish while his parents said good-bye to their final guest. Since leaving the church, he’d only come to lunch sporadically and was usually gone before dessert. Today felt like a turning point. It was the first time in months he wasn’t the first to leave.

His father shut the front door and went to stretch out in his favorite leather recliner. The hinges protested and the armrests were faded, but he insisted the chair would outlive him. Doubtful.

Asher pressed Start on the dishwasher and joined his dad in the living room.

“Well, son, how was it today? Honestly.”

Propping his feet on the coffee table, he pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes. “Hard, but I knew it would be. I didn’t see them, so that helped.” Only the ghost of them. The ghost of sitting next to her, hand in hand. The ghost of Bob Murray calling him “son” and her mom secretly picking out china. The ghost of a future that would never be.

“You were wiggling around like your seat was full of fire ants. I swore I’d gone back in time and you were my squirmy five-year-old all over again.” His grin was teasing, but it was still true. Church used to be a resting place, a relief after a week out in the world. But no more.

“So was this a one-time deal you made with your mother, or will I see you squirming next week too?”

“I don’t know. Do you ever feel like everybody in the room is watching you?”

His dad nodded. “Yep. Every Sunday.”

“Not the same.” He didn’t need his dad’s humor. He needed someone to understand. “I can feel their judgment. People watch me and I know all they see are the lies the Murrays told about the breakup.” And some embarrassing truths too. He sighed. That was the hardest part. His sins were practically plastered on the sanctuary walls. He had probably even been the topic of someone’s lunch conversation, as Katie had been.

“Maybe they’re staring because they’re happy to see you. I know I was. Seems to me the only one still passing judgment is you.” The subsequent pause was an uncomfortable one. “The church isn’t your enemy.”

Asher didn’t want to talk about it anymore. They’d gone around this circle of logic more times than he could count and rarely made any headway. He leaned over and picked up the three-inch-thick Bible. “Why don’t you put out that architecture book I gave you for Christmas?” His dad loved building design. Studied the historical context, the innovators, the scale and space down to the finest detail. Family vacations were planned around landmarks, and the little free time he had was spent drafting for fun on his computer.

“I don’t know. Ask your mother. She slaps my hand every time I move something.” His dad shut his eyes, recognizing Asher had tabled the “coming back to church” talk once again. “So how’s that deck coming along?”

“Really good.” Asher eyed his father’s lethargic position and smiled. He was the only man Asher knew who could nap and engage in conversation at the same time. “I only have about ten more planks to lay down and sand. Then I’ll stain it all.”

“What about the fence? I’m free on Tuesday. I can come dig those last postholes with you.”

Never. Never again. His dad’s “help” had been a disaster. Besides, when Asher thought of his spunky neighbor, the fence suddenly felt like a bad idea. “You know, I may wait on those. Get started on my bathroom next.”

His father popped open an eye. “I thought that fence was your number one priority.”

It had been . . . before. “I just think maybe it’s a good thing for me to run into the Stones right now. Especially now that their daughter’s back.” He set down the Bible. “She’s changed. I’m pretty sure something big happened in Florida.”

His dad sat up, and the back of the recliner followed suit. “Really? So you don’t think today was a stunt.”

“No. In fact, she asked me to apologize to you for walking out. I think she was nervous about being there. And honestly, after hearing the Wheelers, can you blame her?”

“Who was nervous about being there?” His mom tapped Asher’s legs, and he dropped them to let her by.

“Katie Stone,” his dad answered.

“That poor girl. She’s been the gossip in this town for years now. The rumors after she disappeared.” His mom shook her head. “They were just terrible.”

A new rush of anger hit him. No wonder she’d been trembling on that picnic table. He’d spent most of the last eight years away from Fairfield and its incessant chatter. First at college, then in a small cubicle at Synco Intelligence. He’d met Jillian three months after returning home, and they’d been too wrapped in each other to bother with the rumor mill.