Remember to Forget Page 23

  With a start, Trevor realized that whatever news Meg had received might be the thing that took her away from Clayburn. Away from him.

  He inhaled the scents of the office—ink, paper, dust. They usually invigorated him.

  He’d only known Meg for a few weeks, but somehow she’d come to feel like a lifelong friend. That, in spite of the fact she had yet to share her deepest thoughts with him. In truth, their relationship had been rather lopsided, with him doing most of the talking and her, well, keeping secrets from him. He knew that, yet was confident she would reveal the truth to him in due time.

  Oddly, spending time with Meg these last few weeks, he’d thought a lot about Amy. He didn’t dare tell Meg that, of course. Not exactly the way to a girl’s heart. And he could probably never make Meg understand that it had been a good thing—his thinking about Amy.

  He’d done some letting go over the past few days that he should have done a long time ago. Even though Amy had been gone for two years, he hadn’t said good-bye until now. Not really.

  Funny. As much as he anguished over losing his son, he’d finally allowed room in his heart for the possibility of another child—another little boy or girl—to love someday. He’d opened his heart to the kids at the day-care center.

  But until Meg, he hadn’t been able to clear a space in his heart for another woman. How Meg Anders had managed to do just that, he wasn’t sure. It scared him a little because he couldn’t say for certain that she would still be in his life a year from now—or even a week from now. It wasn’t easy to wait. To be patient while God worked in Meg’s life.

  But he had a certain feeling . . . a good one.

  He’d forgotten what this peace felt like. This overwhelming sense of well-being. He prayed that someday soon he could share it with the woman sitting in his office chair. He wanted her to know how wonderful it felt.

  Maggie prepared to pull away, ready to face the verdict she knew she deserved.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Meg?” Maggie heard Wren’s voice through the door of her room and hurried to open it. Wren stood there with a funny look on her face.

  “Wren? What’s the matter?”

  “There’s someone on the phone asking for a Maggie Anderson. You wouldn’t . . . know anything about that, would you?”

  Maggie’s breath caught and heat seared her cheeks. She avoided Wren’s eyes. “Who is it?”

  Wren shook her head. “She wouldn’t say.”

  Maggie followed Wren to the lobby and picked up the receiver from where Wren had laid it on the desk.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen,” Wren mouthed, pointing through the archway.

  Maggie put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Maggie!”

  “Jenn! Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. But why did that woman call you Meg? She almost hung up on me.”

  Maggie sighed. She’d never told Jenn that she was living under an assumed name. It was only the other night at Trevor’s office that she e-mailed Jenn the address of the inn so she could write to her and, hopefully, send her replacement identification. Jenn must have looked up the inn’s phone number.

  Oh, what must Wren be thinking right now? Maggie had some serious explaining to do when she got off the phone.

  Turning her back to the dining room, she lowered her voice. “Why are you calling, Jenn? You’re sure everything is okay? Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “You too. What’s going on, Maggie? What are you doing there? You said you were safe. But why are you—”

  “I am safe, Jenn.” Maggie could tell her sister was near tears, and she was afraid she might break down too. She twisted the phone cord around her wrist. “It’s too much to explain right now. But I’m fine. I really am. Bart and Wren are wonderful. But they don’t know . . .” Where did she begin to untangle her lies? “I haven’t told them everything yet. I’m sort of . . . going by a different name now.”

  “Why?” Jenn’s voice rose an octave, and Maggie held the phone away from her ear for a second.

  “I was scared. I just wanted to start over.” She moved as far away as the phone’s cord would allow. “I was afraid Kevin would find me and—”

  “I think he’s trying, Maggie.”

  Her blood went cold. “What? What makes you think that?”

  “Mark went to try and pick up your stuff.”

  Maggie gasped. “He did? Oh, Jenn, you should both stay away from him. It’s too dangerous. What happened?” She held her breath, waiting for Jenn’s response.

  “Mark said Kevin tried to trick him into telling him where you were.”

  “He didn’t say anything, did he?” She held her breath.

  “No. Of course not. He doesn’t have a clue. But he practically threw Mark out of the apartment. Said he got rid of your stuff. Mark didn’t believe him, but he didn’t want to push it.”

  Maggie let herself exhale. “Stay away from him, Jenn. I mean it. There’s nothing there I can’t live without.”

  “What about your ID? Aren’t you going to need your license and birth certificate and all that for your job?”

  “I’ll worry about it when I have to. The only thing Kevin has that I even care about is Buttons. And it’s not worth—”

  Jenn squealed. “I have Buttons, Maggie! He’s here!”

  “You do? But how?” She didn’t dare to believe it was true.

  Jenn gave a little laugh. “Kevin followed Mark to the car and tossed Buttons in the backseat.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. And you know how much Mark loves cats. You’re lucky he didn’t dump him on the freeway on the way home.”

  Maggie smiled at the sarcasm in her sister’s voice, then beamed as the realization came over her. Buttons is safe. She wanted to hug someone. “Oh, Jenn, thank you! And tell Mark I owe him big time.”

  “Oh, believe me, he knows. To tell you the truth, I think the little guy is kind of growing on him.” Jenn’s giggle was contagious.

  They talked for a few minutes until Maggie heard Wren in the kitchen. “I really have to go now, Jenn. But I’m glad you called. It’s good to hear your voice.”

  “You too. Stay safe.” Silence stretched across the miles of wire connecting them. “I love you, Mag.”

  Maggie touched a hand to her heart. “I love you, too, Jenn.”

  She placed the receiver in its cradle and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears. She and Jenn had never spoken those words to each other before—not as adults anyway. She’d written it in letters and had always known Jenn loved her . . . and assumed her sister knew she returned her love. But it felt good to say it.

  Maggie took a deep breath. Now. To deal with Wren.

  She went to the dining room and stood under the archway, wondering if Wren would even want to talk to her. “Wren?”

  Wren turned from the sink where she was up to her elbows in suds. Was that disappointment in her eyes?

  Maggie hung her head. “Can I talk to you?”

  “I wish you would, honey.” Wren dried her hands and came around the counter to the dining area. She slid out a chair at one of the tables and patted the chair beside her.

  “Oh, Wren.” Maggie melted into tears and slumped against Wren’s softness. “I’m so sorry.”

  Wren put her arms around her, the way she had the day she’d come back from the bus station, and let her cry. “There, there.” She cooed as if Maggie were a little girl again. “There’s nothing so bad you can’t tell me about it.”

  “I’m a big fake! A big fat fake.”

  Wren chuckled in a way that made Maggie feel loved rather than chastised. “Fat is one thing you’re not. Now what is it, Meg? What are you running from?”

  She collected herself and sniffed, not even knowing where to begin. “My whole life here in Clayburn has been a lie, Wren.” The words trickled out at first, one confession at a time, as she told Wren about the carjacking and her escape from Kevin Bryson. “Thi
s sweet old woman gave me money . . . a lot of money. And I took it. It’s how I paid for my first night here. I don’t even know how to find her to pay her back.”

  “Maybe we can find her,” Wren said softly.

  “You don’t understand. It’s not just her. I lied my way across the country. I told people whatever I thought would get me a ride, or a meal. I didn’t mean to lie, Wren. It sort of happened, then I couldn’t stop. I’ve lied to you! And Bart . . . Trevor . . . everybody! About so many things. Everything, really.” She dissolved in tears again.

  She told Wren about fleeing the convenience store, running out on the Blakelys, and spending the night on the playground in Kansas City, terrified the police were after her, but more terrified that Kevin might find her.

  The trickle of her confession became a torrent and, one by one, her lies were exposed and washed away. When all Maggie’s tears had dried, Wren knew everything. Everything. Taking in a deep breath, Maggie prepared to pull away, ready to face a verdict she knew she deserved.

  But Wren wouldn’t let her go. Her arms only tightened around Maggie. And in that moment, Maggie understood the old adage about the truth setting a person free.

  She doubted he would ever want to see her again after she told him what a lie she’d been living.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  On the Saturday after the Fourth of July, four weeks after Maggie had arrived in Kansas, a hot wind whipped through Clayburn’s Main Street. Maggie watched through the lobby windows as the digital thermometer atop the Clayburn State Bank ticked off degrees like minutes. 92 . . . 93 . . . 94 . . . By noon the mercury was supposed to hit a sizzling 101 degrees. The air conditioner had run almost constantly all morning, and she was still swabbing the perspiration from her face every five minutes.

  She’d forgotten to set her alarm, and it was almost eight o’clock before she crawled out of bed. Trevor had promised to come by this morning and help her distribute a new set of posters for Operation Wren’s Nest. After she and Trevor had printed that first sample poster, she’d come up with a clever idea for an all-out ad campaign.

  “A real blitz, huh?” Trevor teased when she told him her idea.

  But it seemed to be working. The first week’s posters had gotten people talking, wondering about this event coming to Wren’s Nest. The second week, she’d switched out the posters for one that revealed a few more details. Today’s posters were a carefully guarded secret that would spell out the whole Operation Wren’s Nest event.

  Wren had already gotten reservations for five rooms the weekend of the open house and many inquiries. The little town had been buzzing with questions about the mysterious event. Wren was ecstatic, and even Bart was pleased.

  Now, at nine o’clock, Maggie was rushing around the inn like a cyclone. They’d had guests last night—the tail end of the wheat-harvest crews—and Bart was checking out the last group at the front desk. Wren’s Nest had taken reservations for another two rooms tonight—a vacationing family of six. That meant lots of laundry and beds to be made.

  Maggie went looking for Wren to see what she could help with before she left to hang the posters. Please, please, Trevor, don’t get here early.

  She gathered dirty coffee cups as she went through the lobby and carried them to the kitchen. Wren was on her knees in front of the sink, working to replace the old knobs on all the drawers and cupboards. “Hey, those look nice, Wren. Can I finish up for you? I’m sorry I overslept.”

  Wren looked up, screwdriver in hand, her face beet red with her efforts. “I think I’m just about to wrap it up. Some of these old handles are practically rusted through.” She gave the cupboard she was working on a good thump with the flat of her hand.

  “Well, please don’t make yourself sick working too hard. You look tired.”

  Wren laughed and waved Maggie off. “I am tired. But I’ve been tired before and survived to tell the tale.”

  “Trevor and I should be done by noon or so. I’ll make up the beds when I get back. How about if I run by the café and bring home some salads for lunch? My treat.”

  Wren had handed her a fifty-dollar bill yesterday morning—payment for her work on Operation Wren’s Nest—and Maggie was feeling a little guilty. She had protested that room and board was more than enough for what she’d done, but she hadn’t pushed the argument too far. It felt good to have a little money in her pocket again—money she’d earned by the sweat of her brow.

  It continued to amaze her how she’d managed to live for almost a month with barely any cash. With her cozy room here at Wren’s, her meals paid for, and small-town life providing all the entertainment she could have hoped for, she had everything she needed.

  She’d picked up another outfit and a pair of sandals at a secondhand store in Salina last week and had even splurged on a set of cheap watercolors the last time she and Wren were in Salina for groceries. She felt wealthy. “What do you think . . . salads? And will Bart be here for lunch?”

  “No, he’s eating with his buddies at the senior center today. And you save your money, Meg. There’s leftovers in the fridge from last night. If you don’t mind, we can just eat that chicken cold. Won’t even have to turn on the oven. There’s plenty, so tell Trevor to stay if he wants.”

  Maggie smiled. “We’ll see. Now why don’t you take a break and let me finish that?”

  Wren clutched the edge of the counter and hauled herself up. “Why don’t we both take a break? When’s Trevor coming by?”

  Maggie glanced at the clock. “Any time now.”

  “Then sit.” Wren pointed to the table.

  They plopped into chairs at the small breakfast table and sat in silence for a few minutes, truly resting. Maggie let her gaze wander around the room, enjoying its charm, remembering how she and Trevor had gotten to know each other as they painted these walls. She was amazed at the transformation the space had undergone in the weeks she’d been living at the inn. It somehow made her feel at home here, to have been a part of the process.

  Her gaze came to rest on Wren, and she smiled across the table, remembering the other night when she’d spilled all her secrets. “I love this room.” Somehow she couldn’t quite say the words yet, but what she really meant was that she loved Wren. And Bart. And her new life here in Clayburn. What a burden had been lifted from her that night she’d confessed everything to Wren.

  Now if only she could get up the courage to come clean with Trevor. Wren had assured her that he would understand. That he would forgive her.

  Maggie thought he probably would forgive her. But she also doubted he would ever want to see her again after she told him what a lie she’d been living. That was a possibility she simply couldn’t face right now. She’d used the open house as an excuse, promising herself she’d tell him afterward. Things were too hectic now. Especially with guests in the inn.

  As she did every week, Wren invited Maggie to church the next day. Wren never pressured her or made her feel guilty when she declined the invitation, but now that she’d confessed to Wren, she felt even guiltier—or maybe convicted was a better word. She really should go, out of respect for Bart and Wren. But she couldn’t seem to muster the courage. She didn’t think God struck people with lightning for sins like she’d committed, but she didn’t exactly want to put Him to the test either.

  She frowned and rubbed her temples as another twinge of fear nipped at her subconscious. Jenn. She and Jenn had exchanged several e-mails since the day her sister had called Wren’s. Jenn seemed genuinely happy for her, and the two of them had even started dreaming about Jenn and Mark making the trip to see her in Clayburn. She dared to dream that she might be able to get Buttons to Kansas after all.

  But it had been five days now since she’d heard from Jenn. She checked her e-mail every day—either at the library or at Trevor’s office, and there hadn’t been anything but junk in her in-box. But Jenn had mentioned in her last e-mail that they were having some problems with the computers in the office where she worked and
were having to revamp their security systems. That was probably why she hadn’t heard anything.

  Movement outside the dining-room window shook her from her reverie. Trevor’s pickup pulled into a parking space on Main Street. His athletic form climbed down from the cab.

  Wren flashed a smile. “I’d say by the look in your eyes that Trevor Ashlock just drove up.”

  Maggie returned her smile.

  Wren patted Maggie’s hand. “Have fun, sweetie.”

  “Thanks, Wren. Be back in a couple of hours.”

  Hand me that tape, will you?” Trevor pinned a poster to the window with his forearm and reached behind him, hand outstretched.

  Instead of handing him the tape, Maggie gave him five, then laughed at the goofy look he threw her over his shoulder. She ripped off a piece of the clear tape and handed it to him.

  He secured the upper corners of the poster to the glass. “Does that look straight to you?”

  She took a few steps back and squinted. It was hard to tell with half a dozen other posters hung all helter-skelter and vying for space in the café’s front window, but she gave Trevor a thumbs-up.

  He smoothed the paper and taped the last corner in place before turning toward her with a weary sigh. “Okay . . . where to next?”

  “What’s the matter?” She put her hands on her hips and winked, doing her best “hayseed” imitation. “Are you plumb tuckered out again?”

  He flashed a grin and rubbed his fist over the top of her head as if he were polishing it.

  “Hey, you! Cut it out.” She ducked out from under his hand and fished her list out of her pocket, laughing. This was turning out to be a fun job.

  They’d driven out to the businesses on the highway that had allowed them to post the ads, and now this side of the street was finished. She checked off the names on her list and pointed up the street, feeling like a guide on an African safari.