After All These Years Read online

  Something shifted between them,

  as if a veil were yanked away…

  “I don’t understand it,” Lia whispered. “I think I’ve been robbed.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was just putting away the drugs that were delivered today. See this?” She reached up and tapped empty spots, and then she turned to face him. “Morphine and everything containing codeine.”

  Cal’s eyebrows shot up.

  “I had a full supply.”

  “You’re sure—Of course you’re sure.” He studied the shelves up behind her shoulder, his peppermint gum-scented breath filling the tiny space between them. “Maybe they were accidentally moved out of place. Let’s search through all the drugs.”

  “I already did that!”

  “Well, we’ll do it again. And then probably again. Hey, don’t worry.” He lightly touched her forehead and pressed away the frown.

  It was when he brushed strands of hair back from her face that something shifted between them, as if a veil were yanked away, abruptly bringing into focus a nameless emotion. He stopped smoothing her hair. Surprise registered in his eyes, and she sensed hers reflected the same. Slowly he tilted his head downward until only a hair’s breadth separated them…

  About The Author

  Sally John is the author of several novels, including the popular The Other Way Home and In a Heartbeat series. She has recently coauthored a book with Gary Smalley, A Time to Mend, in Nelson’s Safe Harbor series. A two-time finalist for The Christy Award and a former teacher, Sally lives in Southern California with her husband, Tim.

  AFTER ALL

  THESE YEARS

  SALLY

  JOHN

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from The New English Bible, copyright © Oxford University Press and Cambridge University Press 1961, 1970. All rights reserved.

  Cover by Garborg Design Works, Minneapolis, Minnesota

  Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  “Just Come In,” words and music by Margaret Becker, © 1989 His Eye Music (SESAC). International Copyright Secured. All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

  Copyright © 2002 by Sally John

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7369-2092-6

  ISBN-10: 0-7369-2092-7

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  John, Sally D., 1951-

  After all these years / Sally John.

  p. cm.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7369-0881-8

  ISBN-10: 0-7369-0881-1

  1. Female friendship—Fiction. 2. Vandalism—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3560.0323 A68 2002

  813’.54—dc21

  2002003319

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 / LB-MS / 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To

  Kaiya Grace John,

  at the beginning of your journey

  Contents

  About The Author

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Other Books by Sally Jhon

  Acknowledgments

  My fictional characters always draw breath from the real world. I’d like to thank those people in my world who so graciously give of themselves. This story would not have been written without them.

  Thank you:

  Leila McGrath, for inspiring the essence of Lia; and Lynn and Janet Fyfe of the Orion Pharmacy, Orion, Illinois, for creating Lia’s store and expertise.

  Martha Nieto, for giving Isabel an incomparable heritage; and Myrna Strasser of WDLM radio station, for animating Isabel’s career.

  Sue Laue, for your passion for journalism I caught years ago and passed on to Tony; and Juanita Arellanos and Pastor John Jairo Cano of Colombia, for rescuing Tony.

  Michael Skelton, for the Valley Oaks map, without which I would have become lost; and Tracy Charlesworth, for your excellent critiquing and the hours of brainstorming.

  Chip MacGregor, agent, and Kim Moore, editor, for your unfailing enthusiasm and direction.

  And, as ever, Elizabeth, Christopher, and Tim, for being there.

  Prologue

  Man plans his journey by his own wit,

  But it is the LORD who guides his steps.

  —Proverbs 16:9

  Leon, Mexico

  The bus rolled along a cobblestone road toward the outskirts of the city, its motion stirring the summer dust and heat through the open windows. Distant dry hills shimmered under intense sunshine.

  Two women sat side by side. Though not of the same generation, they mirrored one another. Their eyes were wide set and the color of deep caramel that foretold of brilliant flecks on a different day. But not today. Today an identical vertical crease separated the brows of each.

  Both women were small, though the older one was rounder. She wore her silver-streaked black hair in a single thick braid down her back. Her blouse and skirt were bright floral prints, a rainbow of colors. The lines in her face spoke of hard work, her hunched shoulders of strength. The relaxed pose of her mouth exuded a contrary peace. A large mesh shopping bag engulfed her lap.

  The younger woman was also of Mexican heritage, but there was an air of otherworldliness about her. Perhaps it was in the angle of the jeans-covered leg and the sandaled foot that stretched across the aisle, blocking it. Or in the jaunty hang of the backpack slung over a slouched shoulder. Or in the cut of her layered shoulder-length hair with its c
opper highlights.

  Her face, however, was different. The Americanism was fading from her face.

  “Abuela,” the younger woman said, addressing the mature one as grandmother and continuing in Spanish, “I’m not going back. May I live with you?”

  The older woman silently studied her granddaughter for several moments. The only indication that she heard the question was a slight tilting of her head. “Of course. But what about your studies?”

  The young woman didn’t reply.

  “How long will you stay?”

  “Until…” She pulled in her foot and shrugged the backpack onto her lap. “Until I want to breathe again.”

  Evanston, Illinois

  “What about college?” The tall man slouched over the table in the updated suburban kitchen. A weariness was etched in his eyes.

  At the counter a young woman spooned tea into a silver infuser, set it in a pot, and then poured steaming water over the leaves. Each motion was efficiently executed, wasting no energy. “I’ve changed majors.”

  “Past tense?”

  Her black ponytail swished at her waist as she carried the teapot over to the table and set it beside two porcelain cups. “Past tense. It’s done.” She kissed the top of the man’s head and sat down across from him, tucking her long skirt beneath her. “Dad, don’t worry.”

  He opened his mouth as if to offer a customary retort and then closed it. Retorts were for another day. But not today. Today his navy blue cardigan hung haphazardly, his blond hair hung unbrushed down the nape of his neck, a book lay beside him unopened. Everything about him represented all that was not customary on this day.

  His daughter reached over and squeezed his hand. Like him, she had a determined chin, a small nose, and high cheekbones. Also like him, she was taller than average, though not lanky. Unlike him, her eyes were black and slightly almond in shape with long black lashes, a reflection of her mother’s heritage. “Dad, the path is clear, and it’s full of good works already prepared for me to do.”

  “You’re too young to know any better. How will you live? How will you make ends meet? For goodness’ sake, how will you survive the emotional work of two?”

  She chuckled and pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. The distinctively unconstrained response diminished the hints of Asian femininity. “You of all people know that I’m not in this alone.”

  “But how—how can you give up your dreams?”

  She squinted momentarily, as if a bandage were being ripped from a wound. Then her features fell again into their tranquil lines, though now there was a hint of resolve in the set of her jaw. “I didn’t. They were just replaced, changed by Someone who knows better. It will work, Dad. It will work.”

  One

  Seven years later

  Valley Oaks, Illinois

  “She’s a gift.” Gina Philips nuzzled the two-month-old bundle of tawny fur. “From me and Brady.”

  Isabel Mendoza laughed as the kitten batted a paw at Gina’s white lab coat. “She’s adorable! But why would you give me a gift?”

  “Because,” the vet’s voice softened and her deep green eyes glistened, “you have a new emptiness in your heart right now. She’ll help soften the pain. Here, take her. Snuggle a bit.”

  Isabel accepted the little animal, who promptly curled against her neck, just above her heart. She blinked away her own unshed tears and waited for the tightening of her throat to ease. “Aww. But I can’t afford—”

  “I said gift. Entire kit and caboodle sort of gift.” She knelt behind the receptionist’s counter, straightened, and set down a yellow plastic pan overflowing with bags of litter and kitten food. “This is for you. We’ll make an appointment later for spaying and shots.”

  “Gina, thank you, but I can’t let you pay for—”

  “Sure you can. Do you know how many books Brady sold this year? And the corn and bean market forecast is excellent.”

  Isabel smiled at her new friend. The California native had lived in Illinois for less than three months and already knew all about crops and Brady Olafsson’s personal business. Isabel teased, “Not to mention, Dr. Philips, that you’re a millionaire.” Gina had recently won a lawsuit against a wildlife preserve. The preserve’s negligence in animal care contributed to Gina being attacked by an elephant, a situation which caused permanent injury to one of her legs. Though the lawsuit was not something Gina had wanted to pursue, her legal actions guaranteed that the elephants would receive better care.

  Gina laughed. “I think all of Valley Oaks is waiting with bated breath. When and if a settlement check arrives, I’m going to post a message on that big board outside the Community Center so everyone will know immediately.”

  “Don’t you think news can spread faster by word of mouth?”

  “A few months ago I would have said no way. Now I know better! Seriously, Isabel, this kitty won’t cost much. I’ll do the work myself, and Dr. Swanson doesn’t mind if I use his facilities here.”

  Isabel stroked the cat’s silky fur with her thumb. A mild purring sputtered like the kick start of some minuscule motorcycle. She sighed. What was it that people said about being single and owning a cat? Something disparaging. But…this warmth against her skin felt comforting in the air-conditioned vet’s office. A distinct sense of coziness enveloped her, planting images of family gatherings, sounds of laughter, scents of frying tortillas and spicy— “Cumin. No, that won’t work. Nutmeg! She looks like nutmeg, don’t you think?”

  Gina smiled. “Her coloring reminded me of your eyes. Nutmeg is a perfect name.”

  “All right, Nutmeg it is. Thank you, Gina. And thank Brady for me, too.”

  “You’re welcome, from both of us.”

  Isabel took hold of Gina’s left hand and made a show of inspecting her third finger. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

  Gina yanked her hand back. “You know you would have heard, even in Mexico.”

  Isabel laughed. “So, what have you been up to besides falling more and more in love?”

  Gina rolled her eyes as a rosy blush spread across her face to the roots of her dark brown hair. “Well, I’ve been digging my heels in here at work and at Aunt Lottie’s. I convinced her to have air-conditioning installed. And Brady just got back from a two-week signing tour.”

  “Ouch. How did the first separation go?”

  She grinned. “Big phone bills. Really big. We decided the heart does not grow fonder, it just aches a whole lot. Oh, there’s a Chicago reporter coming today to interview him for some special article. Brady says it’s no big deal, but I think it’s rather exciting.”

  “That’s Brady, downplaying the attention. What’s the article about?”

  “Something about well-known Christian personalities for one of those Sunday supplement magazines. The guy’s meeting me here so I can show him the way out to Brady’s place.”

  “Your more-than-likely fiancé is going to put Valley Oaks on the map yet.”

  The blush returned. “Isabel! We hardly know each other.”

  “Uh-huh. Hey, how are your parents doing?” Isabel had met Maggie and Reece Philips two months ago when they were in town for a family wedding.

  “Making progress. Mother keeps saying Dad’s a new man. Neither of us can believe he’s taking an entire month off work, but they’re scheduled to leave for Venice next Tuesday. He even promised to leave his cell phone at home. To tell you the truth, I think Mother’s still skeptical.”

  “It’s difficult to accept that someone can change so dramatically.”

  “You’re right. But he keeps sending her flowers, and he’s home for dinner five nights a week rather than five times a month. They’ve hit art galleries every weekend. Still, she hasn’t begun to pack yet. Brady thinks it will just take time for her trust to build, but anything’s possible with Jesus.”

  “Amen to that. Well, Nutmeg.” The kitten lifted its tiny head. “Let’s go home.”

  The bell above the front door jangled, and a man
walked inside. He eyed Gina behind the counter. “I’m looking for Gina Philips.”

  “Hi. I’m…”

  Their voices drowned in a rushing noise that suddenly filled Isabel. The room slipped out of focus. It was as if the air itself evaporated, leaving a vacuum where there should have been oxygen to breathe. Tony?

  The magnetism still radiated from him, the energy palpable even before he spoke a word. Even before he turned those piercing deep-set eyes toward her.

  “Izzy? Izzy Mendez!”

  Mendoza, she corrected silently. “Tony.”

  He flung his arms around her, giving her and the kitten a friendly hug.

  Gina asked, “Izzy? I haven’t heard you called that.”

  He kept an arm around her shoulders. “She only lets extremely close friends call her that.” He peered down at her and winked. “And we were extremely close friends, weren’t we?”

  He wasn’t teasing. Though she could tell she was familiar to him, he didn’t remember her. She saw it in the tilt of his head, in the cocky grin that scrunched his left cheek alongside the narrow aristocratic nose. Isabel turned toward Gina. “College nickname. Seven years ago.”

  He dropped his arm. “Right. English lit.”

  Try journalism. She changed the subject. “So you’re a big-time reporter now?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Chicago Tribune. What are you doing?”

  “I’m a small-time radio announcer for a local station.”

  “That’s fitting. You always were quite the talker.”

  She gave him a tight smile. He had remembered one fact correctly. One out of three was par for Tony. He still looked good, even in crumpled khakis and a pale yellow short-sleeved knit shirt. In shape. His coffee brown hair cut in a professional style.

  “How’d you end up here?” he asked.

  I’m from Rockville! Just down the road! Remember? This conversation was becoming an inane guessing game on his part. “Hey, I’ve got to get this kitty home. And Gina’s been ready to close up shop here for a while.”