people. No one seems to know anything about him.”
Collin stared at her, surprise and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on in his expression. “Well, wouldn’t the simplest way be to ask him?”
She stepped away again. “I’m not sure he’ll talk to me.”
“Well, he’ll talk to me. Leave it to me. I’ll take care of it.”
* * *
EARL RAY TAPPED at the right hand carriage-house door but didn’t wait for an answer. He could hear Jon inside the shop sanding one of his latest projects.
“Jon,” he said as he entered and closed the door behind him. Jon turned off the sander as Earl Ray sat down on the stool where he always sat when he came to visit. He liked sitting and watching the younger man work. The warmth of the old carriage house, the smell of the sawdust, the crackle of the fire all filled him with a peacefulness that relaxed him.
They didn’t talk much, didn’t need to. Earl Ray had seen the dark shadows in the man’s eyes the day Jon had arrived in Buckhorn. He knew pain when he saw it. What he hadn’t known was what had put it there. Something more than whatever physical pain Jon had endured, of that he was sure.
“I heard the most remarkable story earlier,” Earl Ray said conversationally. Jon glanced at him before picking up a piece of fine sandpaper and beginning to hand-sand the piece of wood he was holding. “It’s about this young woman. Twenty years ago or so, her husband left her and their two young daughters and never came home.” After Kate had left his house, he’d gone online. It hadn’t taken but a minute to find the story about the explosion all those years ago near Houston. He’d been horrified for all those who had lost their lives—and for the ones they’d left behind.
“Anyway,” he was saying. “There was an explosion at one of those plants down in Houston. So many people died, some never identified. The wife never believed her husband had died that day. She thought he’d been injured and didn’t know who he was and had walked away. She’s been looking for him ever since.”
No reaction from Jon, not that he’d really expected one. Still he sighed and continued. “She never quit loving the man all these years. Raised both daughters, seems she did okay for herself. Nor did she ever stop looking for him.”
Jon had stopped sanding. He was staring down at the board now covered with a fine layer of dust.
“Any of this sound familiar to you, Jon?” No answer. “The thing is, this woman has one hell of a lot of love left in the past that she just doesn’t know how to deal with. What makes it an even more tragic love story is that a new man’s come into her life after all these years of waiting for the other one to return. He’s offering her a second chance at happiness, but she won’t take it unless her first husband is really gone.”
Still no response.
Earl Ray rose, picked up his hat and gloves and headed for the door. He stopped, his back to the woodworker. “I suspect she won’t leave town until she has her answer. Nor will she be able to move on emotionally.” With that, he pushed open the door and headed toward the café. He’d done what he’d come to do, right or wrong.
He’d made decisions in the war that affected the lives of other men. But none were as heavy on his heart as this one. He’d interfered, something he tried very hard not to do anymore in other people’s lives. He just hoped he’d made the right decision and now Jon would do the same.
By the time he reached the café, he was craving one of Bessie’s blueberry muffins, and he had a feeling that she’d saved him one. Mostly he needed to see Bessie, to hear her laughter, to see her smile. She was the balm that soothed his regrets and gave him a reason to get out of bed in the morning.
Even the thought brought with it the guilt. Some days he couldn’t remember his wife’s face or hear the sound of her voice in his head. He felt himself slowly losing her all over again. It broke his heart, a heart that Bessie kept stitching back together, and he kept letting her, bringing with it another kind of guilt.
Yet the past still had a death grip on