The Girl He Used To Love. Amy Vastine
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Dean could tell her he really didn’t want to go to church, especially not the church he hadn’t set foot in since Addison’s funeral, she hung up.
Marilee Presley did not mess around when it came to going to church on Sundays. Dean and Addison had been taught early on that no excuse other than illness got them out of their religious obligation. It wasn’t until after Addison died that attending Sunday services started to seem pointless to Dean.
What kind of God let people like his sister die? Not one he wanted to pray to.
Having nothing to wear would have been a decent excuse, except his freshly laundered clothes sat on the coffee table. Faith was some kind of laundry fairy who delivered clean clothes while people slept. There wasn’t a trace of mud on any of them. His socks were whiter than he remembered them ever being. Not even his dry cleaner in Nashville was this good.
Faith came tiptoeing down the stairs and grimaced when she noticed he was up. “Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet while I got ready.”
She had avoided him all day and evening yesterday, even after he’d tried to make amends for his moodiness. Here she was still walking on eggshells around him.
“You didn’t wake me up. My mom called. She heard I was in town.”
“I swear I didn’t say anything to anyone,” she argued unnecessarily. Dean knew she wasn’t to blame.
Faith had always been honest and trustworthy, even as a child. She had been the good one while Addison had been wild. Whenever those two had been up to something, Dean’s mom only had to give Faith a look and the poor girl would spill her guts. It had driven Addison crazy, which was probably why she hadn’t taken the news that Faith had been lying to her that summer very well.
“It’s not like I’ve been hiding. Anyone could have seen me at the Sundown on Friday. I talked to the towing company and Dwight from the auto shop. I caught up with Jason yesterday. She was bound to find out sooner or later.”
Faith seemed to relax a bit and smoothed out some invisible wrinkles on the skirt of her pale yellow sundress. Her dark hair was down, loose curls falling over her shoulders. Her pink lips were glossed and those brown eyes needed no help drawing attention.
“I guess that means there’s no reason to sleep on our uncomfortable couch anymore.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. At least the dreams of Addison last night had been of her alive and well. He could only imagine the nightmares he’d have sleeping under his parents’ roof.
“Would it be a huge inconvenience to stay here on this perfectly comfortable couch, if that’s the way things played out?”
Sawyer came bounding down the steps in a shirt and tie, followed by Scout. The dog always seemed to be right on Sawyer’s heels. “The couch is yours, but it’s time to go shopping so my sister doesn’t have to do your laundry every night and my clothes can stay in my closet where they belong.”
Faith looked like she wanted to say something but bit her bottom lip instead.
“You two headed to church?”
“Well, we don’t dress like this to shoe the horses,” Sawyer said, checking his hair in the mirror above the couch. He had just the right amount of ego to become a star.
“Can I catch a ride with you? My mother may disown me if I don’t show up for Sunday services.”
“We leave in ten minutes,” Sawyer replied. “Faith likes to get there early.”
Always the good girl. Until she had fallen for him. No mistake had been bigger than giving in to his feelings for Faith. It had cost them both more than they were willing to lose.
* * *
“LET’S HOPE HIS mother won’t take no for an answer.” Faith’s arms were folded across her chest as they waited in Sawyer’s pickup for their guest. It had been fifteen minutes since Sawyer had said they needed to leave in ten.
“I don’t get why he won’t go home. What’s he hiding from?” Sawyer asked, honking the horn for the third time.
“Addison.” Faith’s voice broke a little.
“I don’t get that, either.”
“People grieve in different ways.” Faith scooted to the middle of the bench seat as Dean approached. No one in Grass Lake went to church in jeans, but at least his were clean and dry. His blond hair was finger-combed and his beard needed a trim, but the sight of him still made Faith’s heart skip a beat.
“I need to make a quick stop before church,” Sawyer said, backing out of the driveway. Faith was thankful her brother was taking credit for their detour. She didn’t want to have to explain where they were going or why.
“The longer the better,” Dean mumbled. His arm felt warm against hers even though she was trying her best not to make contact. Such a different story from twelve years ago when she couldn’t get close enough.
That last summer they’d spent together Dean had insisted Addison finally learn how to drive, and Faith had always tagged along. While Addison had been focused on the road, Dean would brush his fingers against Faith’s thigh or throw his arm over the back of the seat and play with her hair. It had been a dream come true to have his attention and affection, even though they’d had to be sneaky about it.
Faith didn’t dare mention those days or Addison’s horrendous driving skills. Dean had buried his memories along with his sister, and it was clear that was where he wanted them to stay.
Sawyer pulled into the spot in front of Harriet’s Flower Shop and Faith waited for him to climb out so she didn’t have to ask Dean to move. Nothing downtown was open on Sundays this early except the Cup and Spoon Diner. Some people needed their morning coffee before their day could really begin.
Iris Hackney and her son stepped out of the diner and spotted Faith. Mrs. Hackney had been Faith’s fifth-grade teacher. Her red hair was now gray, but she still wore pink glasses on the end of her pointy nose.
“Good morning, Miss Stratton!” She waved a gloved hand and pulled her son in Faith’s direction. Dressed in her Sunday’s best, Mrs. Hackney looked more like the wife of a politician than a former grade-school teacher. Her navy blue dress was paired with white gloves and a belt that cinched her thin waist.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hackney. Charles,” Faith said, nodding in his direction.
“I was just telling Charles we should give you a call. Wasn’t I, dear?”
Charles smiled sheepishly. With a round face like his father’s and red hair like his mother’s, many people forgot he wasn’t the Hackneys’ biological son. Mr. and Mrs. Hackney had adopted Charles as a baby when they were in their forties. He was the same age as Faith even though his parents were much older than hers.
“I heard that you have some experience sewing drapery, and Charles is in desperate need of some new window treatments. Would you be willing to help him out? I’ve chosen some lovely fabric, but I’ve never been very good on a sewing machine.”
If by experience she meant the one time Josie roped Faith into helping sew drapes for the high school drama club, then, yes, Faith had experience.
“My last clients weren’t very discriminating. I’m not sure I’m the kind of seamstress you’re looking for.” Faith had a difficult time coming out and saying no to people, but that didn’t stop her from hoping they would change their minds if she gave them an out.
“You did a wonderful job! Everyone raved about how beautiful and realistic the sets were for the fall play.”
Mrs. Hackney would not be changing her mind. For years the woman had been playing matchmaker for her son. He was a nice guy, but not someone who made the butterflies in Faith’s stomach come to life. Shouldn’t the man she was going to marry at least make her heart beat a little faster? Charles and