Page 20 of Dangerous December
Naive dreams of happiness not touched by war and death, and the harsh reality of life.
So much was the same here—yet there’d been changes, too.
Back then, many of the stores were failing, victims of a struggling agricultural economy and the exodus of people toward better jobs in the Twin Cities to the west, and Madison to the southeast.
Now, Main Street boasted art galleries, upscale gift shops, and high-end specialty stores through the center of town, while many of the fine old homes at either end of Main now housed bed-and-breakfasts, antique stores and restaurants.
Parallel to Main, Hawthorne ran for several blocks along sparkling Agate Creek, and in between the blooming array of touristy cafés, coffeehouses and artisans’ shops at the northern end, one could catch glimpses of the towering, rocky cliffs on the opposite bank of the creek.
In the block owned by the Sloane estate, only Beth’s bookshop was open for business, but that would be changing once he got the other buildings sold.
Though by that time, he would be back to active duty and long gone, if sheer perseverance counted for anything.
The physical therapists at Walter Reed had recommended a series of strengthening exercises to work on every day to maintain mobility in his shoulder joint and build his strength. Each day, he tripled the recommended number of reps, then added more variations of his own.
With that, and working on the building, he was going to be ready to rock by the day his medical leave ended. A day that couldn’t come too soon.
“Yoo-hoo,” a voice warbled from the open front door. “Can I come in?”
He turned toward the entryway to find a tall, slender woman with silver hair cut in a short, almost masculine style standing in the doorway. “Can I help you?”
She stepped inside. “Do you remember me?”
It was a question the locals liked to ask, though it had been so long since he’d lived here and so much had happened during the intervening years, that he struggled with names and faces. A decade of physical changes made it all the harder.
He knew this woman, though. He shifted uncomfortably as he tried to place her wry, friendly smile and that light silver hair.
“Olivia Lawson. I believe,” she added with a twinkle in her eye. “I was your third-grade Sunday school teacher.”
Fourth, he remembered, as his mind locked onto the precise memory, though he didn’t correct her.
Her hair had been a glossy brown back then, and she’d had the ability to quell the rowdiest behavior—often his—with a single, piercing glance.
She’d also been a great storyteller, able to hold her classes rapt with the way she could make a Bible lesson come alive using her dramatic voice.
Another dim memory surfaced. “Weren’t you an English teacher, too?”
She smiled. “Community college—and still teaching. I was also an acquaintance of your mother’s, through church.”
Less pleasant memories, there.
She cocked her head, studying him. “I hear you’ve led quite a life of adventure.”
He stiffened, waiting for the hint of censure that he’d always heard as a teenager from those in his mother’s social circle, where the adults engaged in subtle games of one-upmanship when it came to their children’s career choices.
Greetings directed at him invariably drifted into questions about his plans to follow in his father’s footsteps...or would it be law instead of medicine?
Exactly the expectations his family had held for him, until he’d rebelled at the recruiter’s office. His parents had never failed to let him know of their disappointment in him after that, whether through subtle comments or long-suffering sighs.
He spared Olivia a brief nod, and scooped up another shovelful of debris.
“We’re all proud of you, you know—and your service to our country. Our pastor names you and all of our local men and women in the military during our Sunday prayers.”
At the unexpected note of approval in her voice, he paused and looked back at her. If any of the hometown folks had ever noticed his absence, much less been proud of him, his family hadn’t chosen to relay the information. “That’s...that’s good to hear.”
She surveyed the area, tapping a finger against her lips. “You should get some help, or this cleanup will take forever.”
“I’ve got the time.”
