Carolyn Greene - Unexpected Reunion

The couple had been there with her at church the night she’d learned Gray didn’t want her anymore. They had handed her the letter, in fact. And on hearing the message inside the Afghanistan-postmarked envelope, they’d grieved right along with her...grieved as much for his broken faith as for the broken engagement.

“Right,” Savannah said. “Tell that to the tiny dynamo who forgot she’s in her seventies and climbed a trellis to prune roses.”

If it weren’t for the broken hip that had resulted from the fall, Ruthie would have applauded Naoko’s youthful energy. Instead, the incident served as a reminder that time eventually catches up to even the most active of people.

“The doctor said her body also thinks it’s younger than it is, so her recovery time should be quick.”

“Thank God for that.” Savannah picked up the girl doll, stared at the red hair and freckles and gazed back at Ruthie. “You’re going to keep these, aren’t you?”

“And torture myself? I don’t think so.” Every time she saw them, she would no doubt remember Gray’s large, warm hands covering hers while he guided her fingers over the piano keyboard. Remember the way he had peeked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching...but she was always watching, and they’d both shyly look away. She’d remember the way her heart went rat-a-tat-tat at his nearness on the mahogany bench. Between sneaking glances at Gray, her gaze had often drifted to the tiny porcelain dolls he had jokingly—or not so jokingly—customized to look like them, and which had prompted the human counterparts to steal kisses when Pop and Sobo weren’t looking.

Outside, a sudden movement broke her reverie. A dark silver-gray sedan that looked like the civilian version of a police car spun into the lot and double-parked in front of Abundance. The car door swung open, and a black-haired man emerged from the driver’s side.

Savannah’s eyes widened in surprise. “Speaking of torture, it looks like you have a visitor. Gray Bristow, if I’m not mistaken.” She sidled closer to Ruthie as if to shield her. He would never hurt her physically, but Savannah had been with her at the Wednesday night Bible study when Ruthie received his letter and knew the heartbreak he had caused her. “Do you want me to stay?”

“No, I can handle it.” Maybe. Somehow. Dear God, please give me the strength to handle the obstacles that cross my path.

Her friend eased back to her own shop, casting wary glances over her shoulder while Ruthie struggled to gather her wits enough to face the man who still sneaked into her dreams at night.

Almost guiltily, Ruthie stuffed the kissing dolls back into one of the boxes she hadn’t finished unpacking. Pretending to busy herself with polishing an antique beveled-glass jewelry casket, she watched him yank open the door and blink off the effects of the bright sun as he stepped inside.

The first thing she’d always noticed about Gray, physically, was his erect military bearing. He moved like a man on a mission. Three and a half of the four years after she’d received his breakup letter, the army had either kept him overseas or sent him to a distant stateside assignment. The past six months since his return to Richmond and civilian life, she had carefully choreographed her visits to his grandparents to avoid encountering Gray. She suspected he had done the same.

He had changed a lot since she’d last seen him. The casual blue T-shirt strained at biceps strengthened during his time in the army, and he actually seemed a little taller, which could have been merely an illusion from his don’t-mess-with-me attitude. But the biggest change she noticed was in his face. Pain—and maybe fear?—lurked in his handsome features.

He took off his sunglasses and pushed a hand through his wind-ruffled hair. When his gaze landed on Ruthie, she caught a flash of an expression she couldn’t identify before his handsome features turned grim. He walked toward her, his movements effortless and silent.

Ruthie turned to face him. She wished that they could erase what had gone wrong between them and start over. She wanted him to believe again. In the God he’d begun to doubt while in Afghanistan. And in a future together with her.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Certainly not judging by the look on his face. If his expression showed her so bluntly “it’s not going to happen,” then what might hers be revealing to him? She’d always been told her emotions were like clear glass...anyone could read right through them, and she prayed a futile prayer that he would not see how much she’d missed him. How much she still hurt from his rejection.

What a fool she was to ever believe that she’d gotten over him. She lifted her chin. The smart thing to do would be to simply stand there and treat him like an ordinary customer, but everything in her being urged her to beg him to take her back...on any terms.

“It’s Sobo,” he said, ignoring the formality of a hello and getting straight to the point. His voice sounded strained, as if he had run the entire way here. “She’s been taken to the emergency room, and it’s serious.”

Ruthie caught fear rippling in his coffee-brown eyes, and her heart went out to him, while her mind flashed through a thousand possibilities. “Did she hurt herself again?” she asked. “How did she get out of bed?”

“I’m not sure of all the details,” he said. “I called Pop from work to check on him and Sobo, and the rescue squad was already loading her into the ambulance. I’ve already spread the word to the rest of the family.” He shifted where he stood, the nervous action revealing his unspoken desire to go to his grandparents and stand by them during this difficult time. “There’s a blood clot in her leg. A complication from the hip fracture. The danger is that it could break loose and travel to her lung.” He reached for her hand to urge her along. “Come on, I’ll drive you to the hospital. Pop shouldn’t be alone in the waiting room. He needs us.”

Ruthie started toward the door with him, then turned back to get her purse from behind the counter. She reached to move a room divider to close off the shop to customers, but a moment of panicked indecision swept over her. Her gaze landed on an eavesdropping Savannah.

“Go!” said Savannah with a sweeping motion of her hands. “Paisley and I will take care of your customers.”

Relieved, Ruthie thanked her and raced out the door with Gray.

* * *

He’d hoped—since he no longer prayed—that he wouldn’t feel a thing for Ruthie when they met again. Stupid of him to think it for even one short minute. Everything he’d ever felt for her came rushing back the instant he caught sight of those big greenish-brown eyes and those wild freckles. Twenty-nine. There were twenty-nine freckles, and he’d taken delight in counting each and every one, before he’d learned the greater delight of kissing them.

How she’d laughed. But then, that was Ruthie. She always laughed. How could he have forgotten? Fine. He hadn’t forgotten, any more than he’d forgotten her generosity, her business acumen, her... He scowled. The bottomless faith she possessed that kept him from ever taking her for his wife.

They had been good together—like a key in a lock. But then that fateful day in Afghanistan had happened, shaking and even breaking the faith he’d lived by all his life. As a result, he’d lost an important part that had made them fit together so perfectly. Ever the optimist, she had believed they could work through the problem, but he hadn’t wanted to lead her on when he knew that his foundering belief made them incompatible. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her—to hurt either of them—with the hope that their differences could be overcome.