[Desert Roses 02] - Across the Years (27 page)

Ashley saw the apprehension and uncertainty in her daughter’s face. The moment reflected the questions in her own heart. “Grandpa said we would be just fine. He said God would take care of us. You believe that, don’t you?”

Natalie looked at the floor. “I want to believe, and sometimes I feel really strong. But sometimes, like now, I just don’t know. Will God be mad at me?”

Ashley had no idea what to say, but her heart was overwhelmed with love for her child. She reasoned the matter quickly. “Natalie, sometimes bad things happen, right?” Her daughter nodded. “And we don’t always understand and sometimes they scare us.”

“Like when you found out about Daddy dying?”

Ashley stiffened. “Well . . . yes. When bad things happen, it’s easy to forget that God is there. That’s what happened to me all those years. I didn’t think God cared about me anymore. But I know now that I was wrong. God does care.” She felt strength mixed with turmoil. There was no easy answer to give her child, but she wanted very much for Natalie to be at peace. “Some of this is just as hard for me as for you. I wish I’d listened to Grandpa a long time ago. I wish I’d read my Bible and gone to church, and I wish I knew better what to expect from God. The truth is, I don’t know what will happen in the future, but Grandpa told me that God has a plan for us.”

“He told me that too,” Natalie said. “And Grandpa never lied.”

Ashley smiled. “And God doesn’t lie either. That much I’m confident of.”

Natalie’s expression changed to one of relief. “That’s true—and Grandpa said that Jesus promised to be with us always. So we’ll be okay.”

Ashley could see that Natalie now had great satisfaction in this solution. Somehow her daughter’s confidence gave
Ashley strength. “Exactly. So you deliver the cookies, and then you can take the apple out to Penny.”

Natalie disappeared and in a few moments she was back collecting her own cookies and Penny’s apple. Ashley figured she’d dart right outside, but instead, Natalie posed another difficult question.

“Mama, is Grandma . . . I mean Grandmother . . . going back home now?”

“I suppose after Grandpa’s funeral she will. She has no reason to stay here.”

“She doesn’t love us, does she?”

Ashley stopped fussing with the coffeepot and looked at her daughter’s curious expression. What could she say? There was no way to lie to the child. She already knew the truth of it. Kneeling down, Ashley toyed with her daughter’s braid. “Some people don’t know how to love, Natalie. I think Grandmother is one of those people. I don’t think she does it because she wants to be mean or hurt people. I just think she’s got a lot of anger and bitterness inside and there’s no room for love.”

Natalie’s eyes widened. “Just like there’s no room for Jesus. Grandpa told me that God is love. He showed me a verse in the Bible that says that. If Grandmother doesn’t have any love inside, it’s probably because she doesn’t have God inside either.”

“I suppose that could very well be true,” Ashley said, amazed at how insightful her daughter could be.

“Mama, after I give Penny her apple, can I go let Mr. Carson know about Grandpa?”

“Sure. Just be careful.”

“Oh, I will. Today was the day we were supposed to go see him anyway. He didn’t want me to come by last week because they were doing dangerous things and he didn’t want me to get hurt. But when I told him I’d come today and bring you, he said that was okay.”

“I can’t go with you,” Ashley said, almost wishing she
could go along. “But you tell Mr. Carson we’ll have him to dinner once Grandmother goes back to Baltimore.”

“I know he’ll like that,” Natalie said, grinning. She gave Ashley a kiss, then burst out the back door as if the house were on fire.

Ashley laughed and went back to work on the coffee. That girl never slowed down for more than a second. She put her grandmother’s posy-patterned cups and saucers on a tray, then added the sugar bowl and creamer, some napkins and spoons, and finally a china coffee server. She filled the china pot with coffee, then hoisted the heavy tray and made her way to the living room.

Seeing that Simon Watson had the situation clearly under control, Ashley felt a sense of relief. She wondered if she should begin to pour the coffee and glanced at her aunt. Lavelle waved her off and reached for the pot instead.

Sensing that the trio had her mother fairly well managed, Ashley backed out of the room. There was no point in remaining, especially when there was so much work to be done.

Thinking that she should probably get their Sunday clothes ready for the following day, Ashley went upstairs to Natalie’s bedroom. She chose her plum-colored dress, knowing that it had been Grandpa’s favorite. She wasn’t going to wear black to church. She might very well don it for the funeral but not for church.

The thought of a black dress made her smile.
I could always wear my Harvey uniform,
she thought.
Minus the apron, of course.
And then it came to mind that she was now free to go back to work. Free to work for the Harvey Company while she tried to figure out what was to be done about Ethan. She made a mental note to contact her supervisor on Monday.

She rummaged through Natalie’s dresses and found a dark green one that seemed serviceable. Ashley hoped to avoid any last-minute ironing and quickly inspected the dress for wrinkles. It appeared quite passable.

She put the dresses aside and went to make sure Natalie had
clean socks to wear. Sliding open the top drawer of Natalie’s dresser, Ashley noted at least three pairs. She also noted a rolled-up piece of paper. She smiled. No doubt Natalie had been drawing again.

Unrolling the paper, Ashley couldn’t help but gasp aloud. There in charcoal, just as it had first been sketched, was the house she had dreamed of building with her husband. Surely Natalie hadn’t drawn it. The lines were too perfect—too certain. From the columns to the French doors to the . . .

A strange feeling washed over her as her gaze caught sight of the initials in the right-hand corner. EJC.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat, then released as a low moan. Hurrying from her daughter’s room, Ashley threw open the door to her own bedroom. Under the bed was the suitcase her aunt Lavelle had given her so long ago. Ashley knelt down and pulled the case out. Opening it, she searched for what she knew she’d find.

Along with Natalie’s baby clothes and other cherished memorabilia was the drawing Ethan had sketched for her so very long ago. She tenderly unfolded the paper and placed it atop the bed. She pushed the suitcase back and got to her feet.

Picking up the drawing, she walked back to Natalie’s room and placed the drawings side by side. She already knew they’d be nearly identical. The way the house sat amidst the imagined landscape. The same light fixtures in the portico. Only here and there did Ashley find any real differences, and even then they only served as more conclusive evidence. They were changes she and Ethan had discussed.

Closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath, Ashley prayed, “Oh, God, I’m not very good at this, but please hear me. I . . . what’s happening? What does this mean?”

But even as she asked the question, she knew what it meant. She opened her eyes and looked at the initials in the corner of Natalie’s drawing. Then she looked at the corner of her own drawing. EJR. Same style of writing with the “R” being the only change.

Without thinking another single thought, Ashley took up both pictures and darted from the room. She raced out of the house so fast she gave no one any indication of where she was going. The sun was setting in the southwest, the blue sky mottled with orange, pink, and yellow. It was a cold sky nevertheless. Or maybe it was just that the world seemed suddenly cold.

Ashley went to the new Harvey resort and marched into the building without slowing. She looked from side to side, seeking E. J. Carson. She found him in the dining room. Holding the drawings behind her back, she fought to steady her voice.

“I need to speak to you . . . in private.”

E. J. nodded. “Is something wrong?”

Apparently Natalie hadn’t caught up with him yet. Ashley nodded. “Yes. I need to talk to you.”

He appeared to catch on to the urgency, for he moved across the room quickly and didn’t even stop to talk to a worker who was signaling him. “Come this way. Is Natalie all right?”

“She’s fine,” Ashley said, the words sticking in her throat. “For now.”

He looked at her oddly, but Ashley dropped her gaze. How could this be? How could this man have eaten at her table—walked beside her—and she still not know who he really was?

E. J. led her to a private office. “This is where I usually work. Now tell me what’s wrong.” He stood directly in front of her.

Ashley raised her head, praying for strength. She held up Natalie’s picture. “I found this.”

E. J. looked away. “I drew it for her from a drawing she’d given me.”

Ashley held up the original. “She sketched hers from this. The drawing my husband did for me eleven years ago.” She saw it then. Saw the familiarity behind the glass and wire of his spectacles. She remembered his whistling the same ragtime tune Ethan had loved.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t
know how it can be that you’re my husband and I didn’t even recognize you.”

“He’s not my daddy!” Natalie cried from behind her. “He’s Mr. Carson. My daddy died.”

Ashley whirled around and saw the look of disbelief on her daughter’s face. “Natalie, I . . .”

“No!” Natalie screamed, then ran from the room.

Ashley started to go after her but stopped. If she left now, she’d still have no answers for the child. Her heart pounded as she turned to face the truth. Leaning heavily against the open door, Ashley braced herself.

“Ethan,” she breathed his name. “Please tell me how this can possibly be.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

E. J. wanted nothing more than to go to his wife and embrace her. He wanted to tenderly hold her, to kiss her and breathe the scent of her hair. Instead, he calmly went to the door and gently took hold of her hand and led her to a chair. He returned to the door and closed it before pulling up a chair in front of her.

“I’ve only known a short time myself,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Your mother told me you were dead.”

“I know.”

She spoke the words so softly he wasn’t sure if he’d heard them or imagined them. E. J. drew a deep breath. “I was nearly killed in France. An explosion left my face hopelessly mangled, and I suffered several other injuries. They took me to the nearest hospital, where I lost consciousness. When I awoke, my face was completely bandaged, even my eyes. I was terrified. I thought I’d died and this was some sort of eternal holding place. I thought maybe all that stuff I’d been told about God was wrong. See, I’d learned to pray and to trust God during the war, but now I wasn’t so sure.”

Ashley said nothing. She stared at him as though he were a ghost. Her pale face only served to remind him that while he’d known for some time that she was his wife, Ashley was just now coming to understand that her husband was alive. After eleven years, it had to be more than she’d ever imagined having to deal with.

E. J. leaned forward. “I had to endure several surgeries; that’s why I don’t look very much like the man you knew me to be. The ordeal left me badly scarred, but at least I could grow a beard to hide most of it.

“After the surgeries, I fought infections. They thought for sure I’d die, but I kept thinking of how I would come home and find you waiting and everything would be all right. I
learned the war had ended, but I was still so sick. They nursed me back to reasonable health, then shipped me back to Baltimore. I hadn’t been back in the country long before I came down with influenza. Men throughout my ward died, but I kept fighting it—thinking of you—knowing I had to recover. I tried to get in touch with you. I had a couple of different people offer to take you a message, but they were unable to locate you. I figured you’d moved. I thought maybe you’d even gone back to your mother and father’s house, but I couldn’t really believe that you would.”

“I’d moved to Los Angeles and then to Winslow, with Grandpa,” Ashley explained. “I’d received word that you were dead.” Her eyes filled with tears. “They told me you were dead. The army said you died in battle—that you were a hero.”

She sounded desperate, almost as if she needed him to believe her. He did.

E. J. nodded. “I know. I figured that part out.”

“I was going to have a baby and my mother was trying to force me to remarry. She didn’t know about Natalie—just as you didn’t know.”

“No, I didn’t,” he admitted. “When I finally recovered and was released from the hospital, I went to your parents’ house.”

“Yes, I know.” She seemed to regain a bit of strength. “Mother blurted out a confession the other night. See, I hadn’t seen or talked to her since leaving Baltimore. She’d disowned me—told me to never try to communicate with her or Father. She came here for Grandpa—he wanted to see her again. Then in the middle of one of her tirades, she just spilled out the truth. She told me she had seen you after the war, that you were alive.” Tears flooded Ashley’s eyes. “I wanted to die and shout for joy all at the same time.”

E. J. knew exactly how she felt. “When I first met you on the street, that day Natalie introduced us, I was sure there had to be some mistake. But there you were, looking so much like you did all those years ago.”

“Why didn’t you say something then?”

“I couldn’t. I . . . well . . . you have to understand, Ashley, I’m not the same man you married.”

“What do you mean? You’re Ethan Reynolds, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I changed my name to avoid dealing with the hero status they were awarding me. People were hounding me. Veterans’ groups wanted to hear me speak of defeating the Germans. Ladies’ clubs wanted to have me as the guest of honor at their teas. I couldn’t handle it. I felt so ashamed of who I’d become in the war. You have no idea of the things I did.” He fell silent and looked at the floor as if for answers. “I killed men—boys, really. I killed them even when I didn’t have to.”