Tapestry of Trust (2 page)

No longer concerned with his hunger, he leaned against the counter and rolled the quandary around in his head. He could have said something more to Isabelle, reminded her of the good times. Reminded her they were young, but with her roommate there, that might have only made things worse.

Isabelle.
He worked his finger over the stubble on his chin. The woman he’d loved for the better part of his youth. He had to admit those feelings still gripped his core. It only took a few shallow relationships, especially his last, to remind him what he’d lost when he lost Isabelle.

As he stood alone in his kitchen, he couldn’t help but replay the
what if’s
and
if onlys,
wondering what life would be like if he and Isabelle hadn’t compromised and if fear hadn’t gotten the best of him.
No!
He slammed the brakes on that train of thought.

Despite lingering regrets, a grin tugged at his lips. He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger. Maybe it was time to put history behind them and get reacquainted.

He scratched his head. An intriguing thought, but from her cool reception he doubted she wanted the same.

2

Isabelle tossed a workbook onto her desk, the pile beneath it growing like a stack of pancakes. Her red correction pen clinked against the scarred, wooden top as she dropped it and rocked back in her chair. Flexing her fingers, she glanced at the classroom clock on the wall.
Four-fifty.
She sighed.
All week she’d tried to get to the barn to ride Admiral. Her first real splurge, leasing a horse, but life kept getting in the way. Rain for nearly a week. Now, third quarter report cards.

Maybe this weekend…

Probably not. The dress fitting for Kate’s wedding was scheduled for Saturday, and she’d promised to help address invitations. Then there was church on Sunday, more worksheets needed correcting and report card grades needed to be entered into the grading program. Already exhausted, she blew a wisp of hair from her brow and slumped in her chair. Riding Admiral would have to wait.

Straightening in her seat, Isabelle picked up the pen and started to scribble a note on a tablet. Maybe one of the classroom parents would volunteer as a teacher’s aide until the school hired another one for her class. That would at least give her a break to get her social life on track.

She laid down the pen and drew in a deep breath, feeling better. She should have thought of this idea weeks ago.

A hard rap on the doorframe and she startled, her desk chair squeaking against her jerky movement. She looked up as Kate strolled into the classroom, a package wrapped in multicolored paper in her arms.

“Look at what Mrs. Peterson brought me.” Pure joy veiled her face. A look Kate hung onto since getting engaged. “She said all Brianna talks about is my wedding.” Kate placed the parcel on the only clean corner of the desk and peeled back the wrapping.

Isabelle shook her head. “And who’s Mrs. Peterson?”

For a moment Kate said nothing and opened the box. She pulled out a richly colored tapestry and held it up for Isabelle to see. A bride and groom walking down the steps of an old English Church, delicately woven in muted hues of tan, red, and gold.

Mesmerized, Isabelle rose from her seat. “Gorgeous.” She ran her finger along the piped edging.

Sunlight spilled in through the window enhancing the gleam in Kate’s eyes. “Brianna Peterson is one of my students. Her mother and father just returned from Europe.” Her fingers traced the bride’s dainty bouquet. “They bought this in Belgium. It’s called,
Forever Love
and based on the artwork of—”

“Phillipe Blain Creighton.” The words slipped out, bringing with them a host of unwanted memories. Of torturous Sunday afternoons around the Hamilton’s dining table. Charlie’s standing invitation to the required family meal. From her assigned seat next to his, Isabelle often let her gaze drift, filling her mind with unimportant things to escape the idle chatter. On the wall beside the main window hung a woven tapestry depicting a fair maiden running to her knight as he returned from battle.
Returning home
, by Creighton. “Timelessly romantic and intrinsically artistic,” is how Charlie’s mother described the piece. Made exclusively in Brussels, with a price tag to match the beauty.

For three years the tapestry, which added elegance to the room amid Sharon Hamilton’s snide remarks, served as Isabelle’s focal point. Opinionated and class-conscious, Sharon had big dreams for her children. Isabelle lacked the right social connections and offered nothing to the Hamilton name. A point Sharon never let her forget.

Images of the luscious tapestry swirled in Isabelle’s mind. The rich coloring. The intricate detail. The look of expectancy in the fair maiden’s eyes and the look of love on her knight’s face.

Prickly heat rose up Isabelle’s neck. A reminder her knight had never returned.

“Isabelle.” Kate’s soft tone drew her back.

Huh?
Isabelle looked up, letting her fingers slip from the tapestry. And the eyes that met hers flashed with suspicion. “I’m sorry. Your gift reminded me of something.” Her words faded along with Kate’s smile.

Her friend refolded the masterpiece, tucked it back into the box, and closed the top. “You know, you’ve been acting odd all week. In fact, ever since that guy Charlie showed up.”

At the mention of his name, Isabelle looked away.
Stay cool.
As if that was easy when Charlie was involved. She fingered the gold locket dangling about her neck, sliding it back and forth on the chain, as she thought how to answer. Or better yet, how not to. Working up a smile, she swung her gaze back to Kate. “Define odd.”

The corner of Kate’s lips tipped into a smirk. “All right.” Yanking a chair beside the desk, she plopped down and crossed her arms. “Let’s see. How about, quiet, sulky, distracted.”

“Gee, thanks for sparing my feelings.” Isabelle forced a chuckle.

Kate’s eyebrows lifted. “No problem. Now, tell me about this mystery man.”

Isabelle shrugged. “Like I already told you, I knew him in high school.” How would Kate take the truth? Not that she cared to find out.

“Oh, there’s more to this story.” Kate shook her head.

More than Isabelle cared to tell. “OK. We dated.”

“So, a boyfriend?” Kate’s eyes widened. She scooted the chair closer and perched an elbow on the desk.

“Yes. A boyfriend.” Even now, the words tasted bitter. So long ago, yet so painfully fresh. Emotion wedged in Isabelle’s throat. She swiveled
in her chair and faced the window. She took in the t
attered clouds floating in the distance. Pure white against a blue sky. A perfect contradiction to the turmoil inside her.
History and forgiven,
she reminded herself
.
A perspective she needed to remember, the only defense against her burden of guilt. She said a quick prayer, thanking God for His grace, and for leading her forward, out of the past. A past she didn’t want to remember, let alone discuss.

“Isabelle, talk to me.” From behind her, Kate’s voice urged her toward a place she didn’t want to revisit.

No words came. Isabelle lowered her gaze taking in the empty swings, the lonely playground where, just an hour earlier, sing-song chatter had filled the air as her twenty-two second graders spent the last of their school day clambering in and around the jungle gym. Happy-go-lucky, carefree.

That’s what she needed. A moment’s reprieve from the chaos. Isabelle whirled the chair back to find Kate staring. “I haven’t been to the barn to ride in over a week. If I don’t figure out some way to get the help I need, I’ll go crazy.”

Kate slapped her hand against her leg, her face flushing as strawberry red as her hair. “Isabelle, every time I ask you about Charlie, you change the subject. What’s going on with you?”

If only Kate would stop talking about him, Isabelle could purge him from her thoughts. “I’m serious, Kate, Emma quit eight weeks ago. If the school isn’t going to provide a replacement soon I’ll have to solve this problem myself.”

A squeal of protest fumed from Kate’s lips. “You changed the subject again.”

Isabelle ground her teeth.

“Isabelle.”

“OK, OK.” She lifted her chin, determined to nip Kate’s curiosity in the bud. “Prepare to be bored, because there’s not much to tell. We dated a while. High school sweethearts. No big deal.” Enough said. She hoped.

“How long?”Kate pushed.

Best friend and confidante through college, Kate had been told much of Isabelle’s past. Including being abandoned by her mother at eight years old and never knowing her father. But how could she bring herself to expose her most painful secret? The one she kept burrowed deep in her heart. One too sad to remember, yet too valuable to forget.

Her son.

“How long?” Kate repeated.

“Three years.” Isabelle released the answer reluctantly.

“Three years?” Surprise hung in Kate’s whisper. “And you’ve never mentioned him.” A frown creased her forehead.

Isabelle swallowed past the lump in her throat. She’d hurt her friend’s feelings. Part of Isabelle wanted to burst out with the tale, let Kate know why Charlie’s reappearance had her stomach doing back-flips. She couldn’t. “I don’t enjoy rehashing past failures.”

“Is Charlie the reason you never dated much in college?”

More than Isabelle wanted to admit. “I left Charlie behind years ago.” Along with her ability to trust.

“Really?” Kate twisted her lip. “Because I get the impression this Charlie fellow still tugs at your—”

Isabelle raised a hand, stopping Kate midsentence. “You’re wrong.” She snatched a stack of papers and stuffed them in a folder. Memories tugged at her heartstrings, not Charlie.

“Isabelle.” Kate obviously wasn’t buying it.

Isabelle side-glanced at Kate, her lips still twisted. “Aren’t you supposed to meet Mark and his mother at the caterer’s today?"

At that Kate’s eyes bugged. She launched from her seat and grabbed her gift. “You’re right. I don’t know how I forgot.”

Too busy meddling.
Isabelle kept her opinion to herself and rocked back in her chair. “If Mark’s mother asks me once more why you’re habitually not on time, I’m going to tell her the truth. You were born late and never got over it. With that tidbit of news,
Mrs. Punctual
might just cancel the wedding.” Isabelle winked.

“Don’t even kid about that.”

“Being late?”

“No. Cancelling the wedding.” Kate hurried out the door and the knot in Isabelle’s stomach dissipated into relief. Picking up her pen, she focused her attention on a more pressing issue. Grading workbooks and finding a way to replace her teacher’s aide.

****

Later that afternoon, Isabelle muffled a yawn and drove into the parking lot at her apartment. Friday and the start of spring break had finally arrived. Although she should have been whooping for joy, she struggled to keep her eyes open. The week had taken a toll. Long nights correcting papers, not to mention she hadn’t slept well since Charlie appeared on her doorstep.

S
top that
. Not going there. Kate’s curiosity roused enough emotions to keep her up all night as it was.

The good news, though: she was closer to finding a teacher’s aide. One of her student’s parents had to be willing to help. Funny how one little move in the right direction made her feel better.

Isabelle slowed her car through the crowded lot. She scanned from one side to the other, surprised to find every spot full. One truck was parked on the grass. Chewing her lip, she circled the lot again.

As she finished the loop, she glanced in her rearview mirror and caught a muscled body in swim trunks. She hit the brakes and gawked at the guy as he chased a rolling volleyball across the tarmac. Then it hit her
.
Spring Fest
. She remembered the flyer in her mailbox.

Energy restored, she glanced at the clock on her dash. If she hurried grading papers, she could make the party, grab a lounge chair, and mingle with grownups for a change.

She rolled down the window, and the scent of a tangy Texas barbecue wafted in through the opening. She inhaled, setting her stomach to rumbling. Yep, she definitely needed to get to this party. She waved her hand out the window. “Excuse me, sir. Do you know how long the Fest will last?”

The man slowed, looked, then bustled her way, landing on a snippet of grass along the sidewalk. He paused to catch his breath. “Yes. ma’am. Nine o’clock. Everything’s…just getting…started.”

Before she could thank him, he hiked up his loose swim trunks then took off in a half run, half hop, back toward the party while lobbing the volleyball over the fence.

Hmm.
She searched again for a place to park. Nothing. As she debated whether to park across the street or behind the complex, taillights on a red truck a few spots down winked on and her day suddenly got better.

Thank you, Lord.
She smiled and pulled into the parking space. With her car tucked between two SUV’s, Isabelle got out and scurried around to the trunk just as it popped open. Ducking under the hood, she reached for her canvas bag.

“Isabelle.”

Her pulse ricocheted. She turned her eyes toward the deep male voice and met Charlie’s dark gaze.

Bending, he peered into the open trunk. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. I planned to stop by today and see how you and Humphrey were doing.”

Stop by?
Friends stopped by. Charlie hardly fit that category. That’s what her brain wanted to tell him, and she might have, had it not been for the traitorous organ skipping wildly in her chest. Her tote got stuck between two boxes. She yanked the bag by the straps, jerked upright, and smacked her head on the edge of the trunk. Shooting pain sparked from one temple to the other, bursting like firecrackers in her head.

Biting back a squeal, Isabelle clung to the back of car to ensure her balance.

“Isabelle, are you OK?” Charlie moved toward her.