At Home in His Heart

But what about the hurdle that yet faced her with Bryce Harding back in town? She’d managed to avoid him until now, done her best to forget he even existed. But Thursday night’s inevitable encounter—and two subsequent ones—brought home that even though he hadn’t uttered a word about it, he still thought she’d been all wrong for Keith.

She hated his being right.

The two friends said their goodbyes, but when Sandi shut off the phone it immediately rang again. It was LeAnne Bradshaw. For a too-tempting moment she almost let it go to messaging.

“Sandi, I just found out the club is bringing in a San Francisco pianist for brunch tomorrow morning. I’ve heard he’s divine. You and Gina must join Devon and me.”

Must?

Golf, tennis, bridge and book-club chats filled her mother-in-law’s days behind the walls of the gated community where she resided three months out of the year. Nevertheless, Sandi long ago recognized Keith’s mom was lonely.

Like her.

If the pianist played early enough, maybe they could still get back in time for their morning’s commitments. “When will—”

“Ten o’clock. Nothing fancy. A sundress is fine.”

“Church starts at ten-thirty.” LeAnne must have forgotten.

“You go to church every week, don’t you?” Her mother-in-law sounded puzzled, as if not understanding her hesitation. “It’s not every day a concert pianist of Philemonn’s caliber comes to the high country. Gina needs to be exposed to some of the finer things that small towns don’t usually provide.”

“I know, but we—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer this time, Sandi. You need to treat yourself and Gina to something special every so often. I realize you didn’t have these opportunities growing up like Keith did. But he’d want that for you. For Gina.”

“Maybe we—” They could go to the early church service.

“Good. Then it’s settled. And while we’re lunching, let’s plan our Memorial Day visit to the cemetery.”

She took a steadying breath. “I went early this morning. To ok Gina.”

“You did?” The affront in LeAnne’s voice came through clearly—without me?

In the past they’d gone together. But for some reason Sandi couldn’t put into words, she’d needed to go alone this year. With her daughter.

“It just worked out better for me with my work schedule and museum obligations.”

“I see.” Unspoken words of hurt and reprimand hung in the air.

Although she couldn’t hear them over the phone, LeAnne’s well-manicured nails would certainly be clicking away, counting the seconds until Sandi came up with an alternative proposal. She didn’t want to go again. Summer hadn’t even started yet and time alone with Gina already seemed to be slipping away. But LeAnne was Keith’s mom, whom he’d loved dearly and worried about after his father’s death. Accompanying her to the cemetery was the least she could do, if for no other reason than the most glaring one—she owed it to Keith.

“Maybe we could go Sunday afternoon?” she offered, capitulating. “After the brunch?”

There was a long silence, as if LeAnne was deciding whether to accept the offer graciously or refuse and leave her daughter-in-law to repay her in some other way at a later time.

“I don’t want to disrupt your schedule. But you know it is a family time, a time to remember and honor Keith.”

Did she think Sandi didn’t remember Keith daily? Wasn’t doing her best to honor him?

When she didn’t respond, LeAnne continued. “So that’s what we’ll do. And tomorrow we’ll plan our Friday nights for the remainder of the summer, as well. Maybe a movie this week if we can find something suitable for Gina. Oops. Have to go. Another call coming through. See you tomorrow.”

Sandi shut off the phone and leaned back into the sofa. She sat in the fading twilight for a seemingly endless stretch of time, staring across the room to where she knew a framed photo of Keith rested on a built-in bookcase shelf. If only…

How many things she would change if only she could.

A few words. Spiteful, wounding words she couldn’t take back. Words that drew an immovable line in the sand. Words—born of fear for Keith’s safety and her own loneliness—that demanded that if he didn’t quit the military, didn’t come home immediately, she’d have no more children with him.

The flash of headlights from a vehicle traveling along the hard-packed gravel-and-dirt road momentarily illuminated the photograph. The proud smile and twinkling eyes of her husband seemed to focus on her as he cradled Gina on his lap.

Her first birthday.

Three months later he was gone.

And yesterday was her own birthday. Twelve months from now she’d hit the Big Three-Oh. If she lived the life expectancy of an average American woman, that left another fifty years.

Without Keith.

Alone.

Sandi sank deeper into the sofa as the car with the headlights passed by and the room returned to darkness.

“Move!”

Something shoved roughly against Bryce’s leg as the high school band down the street struck up the opening bars of the “Star-Spangled Banner.” Almost caught him off-balance as he’d leaned over to speak to his grandma, seated in the wheelchair next to him.

What the—? He shifted, glancing down to see the ball-capped head of a kid pulling back to give him another hearty shove. He grabbed one of the hands. “Hey. Cut that out, kid.”

The child jerked free, head tilting up to look at him. Chin jutting and eyes flashing.

Bryce chuckled. A girl. And except for the affronted expression, she was the spittin’ image of her daddy. He turned to scan the faces around him, expecting to see her mother nearby. No sign of her. But he couldn’t be mistaken about this kid’s identity. The resemblance to her father was striking, and he’d caught occasional glimpses of her at church, too.

He squatted to eye level. “What’s the problem here?”

“I can’t see.” She pushed back the oversize ball cap—desert camouflage with an army insignia—and put her hands on her hips in a gesture that reminded him of her mom. “You’re too big. You hafta move.”

If he hadn’t any other clue as to her maternal parentage, that sealed the deal. Only another Bradshaw female would tell him what to do. Without a second thought, he handed his Western hat to his grandma. Then he lifted the now-giggling child over his head to sit atop his shoulders, her jeans-clad legs horseshoeing around his neck.

He grasped her ankles to steady her. “How’s that, little lady? Can you see now?”

She giggled again, tiny hands pressing against his forehead as she tilted it back to look into his face. “Do I know you?”

“I’m a friend of your daddy.” Should have said mom, too, but that would be stretching it.

“You know my daddy?”

“I sure do.” Did. “We were like brothers.”

“Mommy!” She released him and he felt her twisting and turning, searching in vain for her parent. “Mommy! Guess what?”