The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel (16 page)

“And how can you know that? I mean really know that?”

“He speaks to us through our thoughts and feelings. Most often it’s just a matter of feeling peace or the lack of it. Sometimes impressions come more strongly. It’s not something you can really explain. Some people call it instinct or conscience. It’s probably happened to you, and you don’t even realize it.”

“How so?”

“Don’t your thoughts and feelings guide you in your work? Don’t you ever get ideas that seem to come out of nowhere that lead you to the solution?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, as if she didn’t want to put him on the spot. She went on to say, “You’re a good man trying to protect good people from bad ones. It’s not a stretch to think that your efforts would be guided by a Supreme Being who cares about His children.”

Jackson thought about that for a minute and couldn’t comment. It all just felt too strange and new. He went back to the point of origin. “Could you please clarify in simple terms the answer to my original question?”

“If you ask me to marry you, I will make the decision a matter of serious prayer and do what I believe in my heart my Father in Heaven wants me to do. I would not simply base the decision on the technicality of whether or not you are a member of the Church. I would, however, greatly appreciate—if we end up together—your going to church with me and supporting me in religious activities at home.”

“Fair enough,” he said, more relieved than he could admit.

“Will you go to church with me this Sunday?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitating, but Chas felt certain that if he felt at all that doing so was due to pressure or would prove to be an issue in their relationship that he would not have agreed to go. In her heart she believed that a man like Jackson Leeds would not make life-altering decisions quickly or easily. But she believed that when he did make them, he stood by them with conviction. She doubted that such a man could participate in certain aspects of the gospel and not have it gradually warm him to it. But that was between him and God.

“I have one more question,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Did you pray about this?”

“This?”

“About . . . encouraging a relationship between us, as opposed to avoiding it?”

“I did.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised. I pray about everything.” She chuckled. “Well, not
everything.
Obviously I have a brain, and God expects me to use it. But I pray about things that make a difference to my life, or someone else’s. Yes, I prayed about it.”

“And what was the answer?”

She smiled. “That should be obvious.”

“I guess it is. So . . . you believe that . . . God approves of us . . . being together?”

“Under the present circumstances, yes. I’m sure He expects me to be appropriate and smart, and take it one step at a time.”

“Of course,” he said, feeling more steadily drawn to these foreign concepts. But it was impossible to listen to Chas talk about such things and not respect her more deeply. Whether he could ever share her beliefs or not, he admired her for them. He thought of what Granny had said earlier. He certainly could learn a lot from Chas. He just needed to keep paying attention. “Thank you,” he added.

“For what?”

“For answering my questions without getting defensive or pushy.” He kissed her. “And for everything else.”

“I’ll do anything I can to help you through this, Jackson. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Just . . . keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I can feed you,” she said brightly. “In fact, I bet you’re hungry. You only had one meal today.”

“Now that you mention it, I could probably stand to eat, but I am capable of making myself a sandwich or something, you know.”

“I know. But I’ve got some great leftovers in the fridge, and it will only take a few minutes to heat some up. You go say hi to Granny while I do it.”

“Deal,” he said, and they both stood up.

Chas kept Jackson company while he ate; then he felt suddenly exhausted and insisted that he needed some sleep. He kissed Chas goodnight at the foot of the stairs and went up to his room. Once he had been alone for more than a few minutes, the reality of what he’d learned today descended on him, and he was assaulted with a gamut of emotions before he was finally able to sleep.

He woke up and remembered the events that were torturing him. He groaned and pressed his face deeper into the pillow. Then he remembered where he was—and who was here—and a glimmer of peace and hope soothed his torment. He wondered if that was what Granny had been talking about yesterday. Whether it was or not, being here with Chas in his life gave him great incentive to get out of bed. If he’d been home in Virginia, he’d probably be shut in with the blinds closed, drinking too much and ordering pizzas and Chinese food. He got dressed and went running, looking forward to just seeing Chas.

* * * * *

Chas was busy in the kitchen when she heard someone enter the room; she turned to see Jackson. Just seeing him quickened her heart, and she had to pause momentarily and try to accept how he had changed her life so quickly. She completely pushed away any thoughts of what life might be like again after he left. As long as she didn’t do anything stupid, she could surely enjoy the moment. As usual, he was dressed in jeans and a dark, long-sleeved polo shirt. When she realized he was gazing at her the way she was gazing at him, she smiled, and he did the same. Considering what he’d been facing yesterday, a smile was a good sign.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” he replied and smiled more fully.

“Is something funny?”

“Not funny,” he said. “Just . . . happy.” He shrugged. “Well, certainly happier than I expected to feel. I woke up this morning and realized where I am . . . and that you’re here . . . and I actually felt glad to be alive. Under the circumstances, I think that’s pretty amazing. I just want you to know that, because I haven’t felt truly glad to be alive for a very, very long time.” With this declaration he closed the gap between them, took her face into his hands, and kissed her in a way that reiterated what he had just said. She took hold of his shoulders to compensate for her weakening knees, then he wrapped her in his arms and kept kissing her.

“Good morning,” he said again without letting her go.

“Good morning,” she repeated, her voice dreamy.

“I
do
believe in miracles, Chas. At least I do now. I can’t think of any other reason why a man like me would end up here . . . like this . . . now. And I can’t think of any other reason why I could be dealing with what I’m dealing with and still feel this way.”

Chas wanted to say that it would be more of a miracle if he actually
stayed
in her life, but she didn’t want to shatter the mood. She wanted to make him promise that he would never leave her, but she knew he could make no such promise under the circumstances. She settled for simply saying, “Amen,” then she lifted her lips again to his.

“Oh, I could get used to this,” she muttered and saw him smile. She found some comfort, if not hope, in the evidence that he too at least
wanted
it to last. “However,” she added, easing away, “I have guests that will be wanting breakfast any minute.”

“Maybe they slept in.”

“Maybe,” she said and immediately heard people entering the dining room.

Jackson smiled. It was good to see him smile. “Can I help?”

“No, thank you. I’m accustomed to keeping it all under control. It’s not a tough job, you know. And it’s not even dangerous . . . like all that FBI stuff.” She felt alarmed to hear what she’d said and hurried to add, “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like you reminded me of anything that’s not already on my mind. I want us to be able to say anything to each other. It’s really okay.”

“And how are you, really?”

“I already told you.”

“Maybe you’re in denial,” she said with more humor than concern.

“Maybe,” he said. “But when I come out of it, I know you’ll still be willing to help keep me together.”

“Yes, I will,” she said proudly and got back to work.

“What can I do to help you?” he asked. “I mean it.”

“You can take Granny her coffee and tell her I’ll bring her breakfast soon. And then you can come back and eat
your
breakfast.”

“I’ll eat when you have enough time to eat with me.”

“Fair enough. Give me half an hour, and I think I can sneak it in between guests.”

He kissed her again, then cleared his throat, chuckled, and said, “Granny’s coffee.”

“A little cream and lots of—

“Sugar, yes I know—to keep life sweet.”

Throughout the day, Jackson felt more inclined than usual to not let Chas out of his sight. He didn’t feel like he was in denial, because the reasons for his grief were continually in the forefront of his thoughts. But if Chas was close by, he felt connected to some kind of buoy that might keep him from drowning. They didn’t talk much, but she suggested that it was probably good for him to just let his mind adjust and sort through all that had happened.

Chas was working at the desk in the office while Jackson leaned back in a comfortable chair with his eyes closed, wondering if his friends in the hospital would be able to speak to him on the phone yet. He was glad for the excuse of being in another state in order to avoid going to see them. He didn’t want to see the evidence; not yet, anyway. But he did want to talk to them.

The phone rang and Chas answered it with her usual business greeting. Then she said, “Yes, I do have rooms available tonight.”

Chas opened the reservation book and heard the woman on the other end of the phone say, “They have rooms, Mama.” Her accent was southern, and not subtle. She said to Chas, “I’d like to reserve two rooms. It’s for me and my mother, but we’d like separate rooms if you have them.”

“I do,” she said. “I can give you two rooms right next to each other.”

“My mother has trouble with stairs. Do you—”

“We don’t have rooms for rent on the main floor, but we do have an elevator.”

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

Chas repeated the price for the rooms, as she always did whether the guests asked or not. She got the personal information she needed and put the reservation in the name of Melinda Lafferty. Melinda and her mother had just arrived at the airport in Butte and would be arriving in an hour or so, as soon as they were able to rent a car and make the drive. Chas gave her driving directions, then Melinda asked, “Do you have a restaurant there? I know you serve breakfast, but it’s hard for my mother to get around much, and—”

“We can provide lunch and supper for a standard rate, but we don’t have menu options. If you can live with whatever I’m fixing, then we can make certain you and your mother are fed.”

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Melinda said again, and Chas heard her say to her mother, “We can eat there, Mama. It’s all going to work out. You’ll see.”

Chas then heard in the background an elderly woman saying, “He won’t still be there. You should have called before and asked if he was there.”

“He’ll be there, Mama. Stop worrying.”

Chas felt a little prickle at the back of her neck but didn’t make any conscious connection. She simply asked, “Is there something else I could help you with?”

“It’s kind of personal,” Melinda said, “but maybe you
could
help me. You probably can’t tell me whether or not a certain person is staying there; privacy laws, or something. But we’re looking for my brother. He sent a Christmas card with your inn as the return address. We haven’t seen him for twenty-six years, and we’ve just been praying that he’s still there.”

Chas completely lost her breath, then had to cough when she got it back. The cough barely disguised the terrified gasp she was trying to swallow. She glanced at Jackson at the same moment as he opened his eyes to investigate the strange noise that had come out of her mouth. There was no hope of attempting to be nonchalant. He picked up on her concern immediately and sat up straighter.

Melinda continued her explanation. “My mother thought it was ridiculous for us to just up and run to Montana without calling, but my soul just told me we needed to, and if he’d known we were coming, he might not be there. On the other hand, he hasn’t put a return address on anything all these years. So, if he put it there, it seemed to me like he wanted us to find him.” She chuckled tensely. “I know I’m rambling, ma’am. I apologize. It’s just . . .” she got emotional, “we’ve been praying for years that we could find him.”

Chas wondered what to say, but she had no doubt that this was exactly what it seemed to be. She knew Jackson would be furious. She knew this could end up being as difficult a day as yesterday had been. The only thing she didn’t know for certain was how a return address label had ended up on the card Jackson had sent home. She finally cleared her throat and came up with a reasonable response. “I can’t give you any specific information, but if you’ve been praying, Ms. Lafferty, then I’m certain everything will work out.”

She’d said the name aloud to see how Jackson would react. He bolted out of his chair as if he’d been shot out of a gun. She hurried to end the call by saying, “We’ll see you in an hour or so, then. Drive carefully.”

She hung up the phone, and Jackson leaned both hands onto the desk, looking at her with stern eyes. “Who was that and why do you look so guilty?”

“I am not guilty of anything, Agent Leeds. But obviously the name Lafferty means something to you.”

“It’s my sister’s married name.”

“Well, then . . . that must have been your sister.”

Jackson was so stunned that it took him a minute to even know what to say that was short of yelling. He was full of questions but they were too intermixed with anger to know which one to ask first. Chas took advantage of his silence to say, “Apparently you sent your usual Christmas card.”

“Yes,” he drawled.

“And you didn’t put a return address on it?”

“I
never
put a return address on it.”

Chas swallowed carefully. “Did you give it to Polly to mail?”