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Authors: Jillian Hart
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gotten up to refill the coffee cups, it would have been a good time to have left. But for some reason Heath hadnât made a break for the door. Heâd sat there, torn between wanting out and wanting to stay and hear more.
The deputy was more than happy to keep talking. âAmy found out I was the new deputy and offered methe apartment upstairs, it was vacant at the time, to stay in while I looked for a place in town. That was real nice, donât you think?â
âSure.â Built-in business, Heath had thought. Those McKaslin sisters were smart. It went to figure that Frank would buy most if not all of his meals at the diner if he was living above it.
âEmpty real estate is pretty scarce around here, even apartments, and so I jumped on her offer. But Amy and her sisters wouldnât take a penny of rent, no sir. They kept me fed and happy, even fed my brothers when they came to help me move in. I tell you, Iâve never met a nicer family. Generous. Kind. Theyâre the kind of folks who donât think about getting more than they give. With the things Iâve seen in my life, itâs reassuring to know there are still honest-to-God good people in this world.â
Yeah, the deputyâs words kept replaying in his head like a CD stuck on repeat. Words that grated against his conscience with every mile that passed.
Good people. Generous and kind. Those words hurt him in a way nothing had in a very long time. Longer than he wanted to count or to think about. For about as long as heâd turned his back on his old life. Nothing could hurt like the pain he left behind, but the prick of his conscience just kept going on and on.
Maybe it was the soft green of the rolling countryside, where new crops grew in endless fields on either side of the narrow country road. It was idyllic, it truly was. Like something on television with a filter over the camera lens to make the greens brighter and the blues deeper, to make life more vivid and beautiful than it could ever be in reality.
Tidy driveways veered off the main road, about a quarter of a mile or more apart, where mailboxes stood bearing the family name, some in the shapes of barns or decorated to look like a duck. The graveled driveways wound through the green fields and the country homes seemed to smile, although it was only the reflection of the sunlight on the front windows.
He saw everything from trailer homes to lavish houses. It was all so neat and quaint, with horses grazing in white-fenced pastures and now and then a farmer riding a tractor along the fence line. Irrigation tossed water into the wind, and thousands of tiny rainbows glittered midair in the spray.
The beauty surrounding him made him feel keenly what heâd become insideâugly and bitter.
Had he become so hard and callous that he could no longer recognize good when he saw it? He remembered the look on the waitressâs face. The stunned shock and the sudden hurt as if heâd reached out and slapped herânot that he would ever hit a woman.
But thatâs how much harm his panicked words had done.
Câmon, lady, you canât be real. Whatever it is youâre thinking you can get from me, forget it.
Yeah, he could hear how it would have sounded to her. Heâd become so bitter, it felt as if it was all he was. Nothing but disillusionment and pain, and he was ashamed of himself. Ashamed. He wasnât a bad man. He didnât go around hurting people.
So why had he said that to her?
Because heâd stopped believing in good, in kindness, long ago. It was easier than the truth he could not bear to face. It was easier than trying to understand why God had taken so much from him. And whyâ
Black pain clamped so tight on his heart, he gasped. Air caught in his throat. Heâd swear he was having a heart attack, but he knew better. It was a different kind of pain in his heart. A different kind of damage.
The road stretched ahead of
The deputy was more than happy to keep talking. âAmy found out I was the new deputy and offered methe apartment upstairs, it was vacant at the time, to stay in while I looked for a place in town. That was real nice, donât you think?â
âSure.â Built-in business, Heath had thought. Those McKaslin sisters were smart. It went to figure that Frank would buy most if not all of his meals at the diner if he was living above it.
âEmpty real estate is pretty scarce around here, even apartments, and so I jumped on her offer. But Amy and her sisters wouldnât take a penny of rent, no sir. They kept me fed and happy, even fed my brothers when they came to help me move in. I tell you, Iâve never met a nicer family. Generous. Kind. Theyâre the kind of folks who donât think about getting more than they give. With the things Iâve seen in my life, itâs reassuring to know there are still honest-to-God good people in this world.â
Yeah, the deputyâs words kept replaying in his head like a CD stuck on repeat. Words that grated against his conscience with every mile that passed.
Good people. Generous and kind. Those words hurt him in a way nothing had in a very long time. Longer than he wanted to count or to think about. For about as long as heâd turned his back on his old life. Nothing could hurt like the pain he left behind, but the prick of his conscience just kept going on and on.
Maybe it was the soft green of the rolling countryside, where new crops grew in endless fields on either side of the narrow country road. It was idyllic, it truly was. Like something on television with a filter over the camera lens to make the greens brighter and the blues deeper, to make life more vivid and beautiful than it could ever be in reality.
Tidy driveways veered off the main road, about a quarter of a mile or more apart, where mailboxes stood bearing the family name, some in the shapes of barns or decorated to look like a duck. The graveled driveways wound through the green fields and the country homes seemed to smile, although it was only the reflection of the sunlight on the front windows.
He saw everything from trailer homes to lavish houses. It was all so neat and quaint, with horses grazing in white-fenced pastures and now and then a farmer riding a tractor along the fence line. Irrigation tossed water into the wind, and thousands of tiny rainbows glittered midair in the spray.
The beauty surrounding him made him feel keenly what heâd become insideâugly and bitter.
Had he become so hard and callous that he could no longer recognize good when he saw it? He remembered the look on the waitressâs face. The stunned shock and the sudden hurt as if heâd reached out and slapped herânot that he would ever hit a woman.
But thatâs how much harm his panicked words had done.
Câmon, lady, you canât be real. Whatever it is youâre thinking you can get from me, forget it.
Yeah, he could hear how it would have sounded to her. Heâd become so bitter, it felt as if it was all he was. Nothing but disillusionment and pain, and he was ashamed of himself. Ashamed. He wasnât a bad man. He didnât go around hurting people.
So why had he said that to her?
Because heâd stopped believing in good, in kindness, long ago. It was easier than the truth he could not bear to face. It was easier than trying to understand why God had taken so much from him. And whyâ
Black pain clamped so tight on his heart, he gasped. Air caught in his throat. Heâd swear he was having a heart attack, but he knew better. It was a different kind of pain in his heart. A different kind of damage.
The road stretched ahead of
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