Fifteen Years

"Harper! There you are. Come say hello to Mrs. Hash," her mother implored, reaching for Harper's arm to pull her into her orbit next to the long mahogany dining room table, a pleasant expression frozen on her face like a mask.

"Nice to see you, Mrs. Hash," Harper responded as expected. She tried for the same expression as the dark-haired woman dragged Harper's taller frame down to her for a hug.

"So good to see you, honey," Mrs. Hash murmured. "So sorry about your daddy. I know you'll miss him."

Harper returned the hug then stepped back, thanking the woman. This dance repeated over and over again as Harper stood next to her mother. The voices started sounding like nothing more than bees buzzing around her head. Harper's mind wandered back to the meeting in the kitchen. Her eyes had refused to believe what they were seeing at first. It had taken several moments to recognize the tall man in the expensive suit and perfect hair but then she had zeroed in on the eyes. Those grey, storm-cloud eyes could only belong to one person. Wyck Crockett.

He'd gotten taller than he'd been the last time she'd seen him, and even more broad-shouldered. She wondered if he still had all the muscles he used to have under that expensive dark suit. She'd never seen Wyck in a suit before. Even at church, he'd only ever worn a button down and jeans. She decided she liked the look on him. Why was he here now? He must have seen the obituary, but there was no love lost between her daddy and him. She couldn't imagine that he had come to pay his respects. And he'd made it plain he was done with her when he left town without a word all those years ago.

Her heart still spasmed in pain when she thought about it. She'd thought he'd been just as devastated as her to lose their baby. He'd said as much. Tears had run down his cheeks as he'd held her and said they'd try again someday when they were older and married. And then, he was gone. Disappeared without a word. She'd even tried to file a missing person's report with their little police department but then one of his friends said Wyck had called and said he was on his way south to find work. That was the last anyone had heard from him. She'd been so alone without him. Grieving their baby and grieving the loss of him at the same time. She hadn't thought she'd survive.

She had, though, and thrived by all accounts. Apparently, he had as well. Fifteen years. Fifteen years later and Wyck Crockett was standing in her kitchen out of the blue. She glanced surreptitiously at her watch. Thirty minutes. She'd been stuck out here much longer than she'd anticipated.

"Mama, I'm going to go get some water. Do you want anything?" Harper asked as she extricated herself from the most recent well-wisher.

Mitzi wrapped her arm affectionately around her daughter's. "I think I'll go with you," she said. "I need a break, too."

Harper stiffened at the words. Mitzi couldn't go with her. What would she say to find Wyck in her kitchen? She might actually do him bodily harm. Her mother was a sweet, loving woman but if someone messed with one of her babies, watch out. She would go mama bear on that person in the blink of an eye.

She'd been furious at Wyck when he'd disappeared and demanded her husband hire someone to find him. Jonah refused, of course. He'd said it was divine providence. Her daddy's religion only popped up when it suited his needs. He'd always disliked Wyck and when Harper had gotten pregnant, the dislike had turned to a white-hot hatred. Harper had actually been scared of what her father might do to Wyck at the time. Eventually though, he'd seemed to accept that Harper was not going to give him up and he'd gone silent. At the time, she thought the silence might have been worse than the raging.

"Why don't you go to your sitting room for a while, Mama? I'll bring you some tea and you can rest there," Harper suggested. "If anyone finds out you're in the kitchen, everyone will just start migrating there."

Mitzi sighed heavily and gave her a tired smile. "You're probably right, Sugar. It's so lovely that so many people want to pay their respects, but I surely need a break for a few minutes." She squeezed Harper's arm affectionately. "I think there's still some of that Christmas blend in the cupboard. That would be nice."

Harper turned into her mother feeling like a small girl again and hugged her tightly. "I don't know how you do it, Mama. Thirty minutes and I'm ready to scream. You are the most patient person I know."

"We do what we have to, Honey," Mitzi replied. "That's the way of a small town. It can be exhausting, but you have to try to remember it's all in love. Friends and family are the most important things in life, after God."

Harper gave a wry smile. No matter what obstacles fell in her path, Mitzi never wavered in her faith. Harper had quit believing in a great and benevolent deity fifteen years ago when He had abandoned her.

"You're right, of course," Harper agreed anyway. "You go put your feet up and I'll bring your tea and some of those little pecan cookies you like in a few minutes."

Mitzi patted her cheek with a perfectly manicured hand. "Thank you, Honey. I appreciate it."

Harper managed a bittersweet smile as they parted and Mitzi slowly climb the stairs. Her faith had fractured long ago, but she envied the comfort her mother seemed to draw from it even now.

As Mitzi made her way to the sitting room, Harper sighed and turned toward the kitchen. She made a silent promise to be there for her mother during this difficult time, as her mom had always been there for her. Swiping at a stray tear, she rushed back to the kitchen. Her stomach fell when she arrived to find it deserted.

Gone without a word. Again. Déjà vu flooded over her. She felt tears prick her eyes and anger surged in her. Anger at Wyck for showing up after all this time and disappearing again, and anger at herself for letting his mere presence make her feel this way again. All these years she'd worked diligently to shield her heart. She'd thought she'd put Wyck and his betrayal behind her long ago, but apparently the lock on the box she'd hid those feelings in wasn't nearly as sturdy as she'd fooled herself into believing.

She wiped furiously at the traitorous tears that escaped down her cheeks as she filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove to boil. She dropped into a chair at the kitchen table and stared blankly at the inky blackness beyond the kitchen windows. She gazed at her blurry reflection outlined in the glass, like a ghost of herself staring back. Not able to bear seeing her own tear-stained face any longer, Harper dropped her head to her arms on the kitchen table. She took two deep breaths, trying to fight back the tears that wanted to escape. Finally, she could hold back any longer. With a choked cry, she gave up and wept silently.