Hometown Hope

Anna picked it up. Instead of passing it to him, she upended it and poked the button on the ceiling alarm. The shrieking stopped.

When she saw him looking at her, she shrugged. “I went through a stir-fry period right after my dad died. I think I learned more about the smoke alarm in our old kitchen than I did about Chinese cooking.”

That reminded him. Avoiding her eyes, Hoyt grabbed another pot holder and picked up the hot tinfoil pan of lasagna. “I’m sorry I missed Principal Delaney’s funeral. I don’t know how it slipped by me. I was planning to go, but then I never saw the announcement about it.”

“There wasn’t one.”

“You should have announced it. I imagine pretty much everybody in town would have been there. Your dad was principal at the high school forever.”

“No. I meant there wasn’t a funeral.”

Hoyt set the steaming pan down on the table and turned to look at her. “What?”

“I mean no public one.” Anna avoided his gaze. “I just had a private memorial service. Only the minister and I were there.”

“Why?”

“Well, Dad was sick for years and toward the end he didn’t even recognize people. He was...disconnected. Nobody would’ve come.” She glanced up at him and frowned. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Hoyt realized he was staring at her with his mouth open. “Are you crazy? Everybody would have come. This whole town loved your dad.”

She looked at him skeptically. “Then why didn’t people visit him after he got sick? I mean, a few people did at first but then...” A spasm of pain crossed her face. “He didn’t always know who people were, but he liked having visitors.”

Regret settled on Hoyt’s chest like a rock. That hurt in her eyes hit really close to home. “I wondered the same thing when Marylee got sick. People I expected to come by the hospital...didn’t. Jacob Stone said it didn’t mean they didn’t care. He said that people have a hard time seeing somebody they love suffering.”

She nodded. “He said the same thing to me.” From the look on her face, she hadn’t found it much more comforting than he had.

“I should have come by to see him. I’m sorry I didn’t. Your dad was always good to me. Even after what happened senior year—”

“You know what? Let’s not get into all that.” Anna cut him off. “I’m here because you wanted to talk to me about Jess.”

All right. If Anna wanted to leave the past in the past, that was fine by him. “Okay. How about I say grace, and we’ll talk while we eat?”

They settled at the two places he’d set, and Hoyt reached across the table and took her hands in his.

He always held Jess’s hands when he said the blessing. He hadn’t thought about how inappropriate that might be from Anna’s point of view until he felt her jump. She didn’t pull away, though. Hoyt said possibly the shortest grace in the history of table blessing and released her.

She immediately put both hands in her lap. Okay, point taken. No more touching. In fact, from the look on her face, he’d better skip the small talk and get straight to the point of this visit before she ran right out the door.

He pried up a cheesy square of lasagna, set it on her plate and nudged the salad bowl in her direction. Showtime. “You know about Jess, right? How she stopped talking after her mother died?”

“Pine Valley’s a small town.” Anna frowned as she focused on transferring lettuce from the big bowl to the one by her plate. She didn’t lose a single leaf. “So, yes. I’d heard about that, and of course when she came into the store, I noticed she never said anything. Until last night.” Anna picked up her glass of sweet tea and looked at him over the rim. “Was that really the first time she’d—”

“It was.” Hoyt couldn’t help smiling at the memory.

“So is she still talking and everything?”

“To me, yeah. Just a little bit at first, but more and more. Only me, though. Not anybody else so far.” Hoyt tried using the salad tongs and ended up dumping about half the lettuce on the table. How did Anna manage these things? “But talking at all is a big step forward, according to her doctor. Today she asked me for some syrup for her pancakes. That probably happens every day in other people’s houses, but it felt like Christmas morning over here, you know?”

Anna’s expression softened. “I can imagine. I’m so glad she’s all right, Hoyt. I felt awful about locking her in. I still can’t believe I did that.”

“Trust me. If there was ever a time when God took somebody’s goof-up and turned it into gold, this was it. I called her therapist after I left the bookstore last night and told her about the whole thing. Dr. Mills thinks that maybe it was the trauma of being locked in combined with the relief of me coming to find her that finally encouraged her to talk. So since your mistake might turn out to be an answer to some pretty desperate prayers, I don’t think I’d waste much time feeling bad about it, if I were you.”

Anna studied him, a forkful of lasagna halfway to her lips, her expression unreadable. “I’m so glad,” she repeated finally.

He probably wasn’t going to get a better opening than that, so he’d better get this moving along. “Me, too. I just hope it lasts.”

“What do you mean?”

He hated to say this out loud. He didn’t even like thinking it. “Dr. Mills says that usually once kids like Jess—kids with selective mutism, the docs call them—start speaking, that’s it. They keep on talking. But Jess’s case has never been typical.” As he repeated the therapist’s words, he felt that familiar lump forming in his stomach. “So Dr. Mills can’t say for sure what’s going to happen. But the longer we keep her talking and the more people she starts to talk to, the more likely it is that this will be permanent.” Hoyt paused, fumbling for the best way to say what he needed to say next.

He should’ve known he wouldn’t have to spell things out for Anna Delaney.

“I’m assuming I’m here because there’s some way you think I can help.” Anna set down her fork and looked him in the eye. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’ll help Jess in any way I possibly can.” Just as Hoyt relaxed with relief, Anna went on. “I just hope this doesn’t have anything to do with my plans to close the bookstore.”

His heart sank. “As a matter of fact, it does. Jess talked because of your dad’s store, Anna. The therapist thinks it’s all wrapped up with Marylee taking her there so much when she was little.”

“But Jess was so young when Marylee died, Hoyt. How could she even remember that?”

“I asked the same thing, but the therapist said that on some level, she can. Dr. Mills said this goes down deep for Jess. That’s why it’s been such a challenge. But Jess is finally talking again, and that’s all tied up with your store. If Pages closes right now, especially after I promised her it wouldn’t, it could throw everything sideways.”

Anna looked unhappy, but she shook her head. “I’m really sorry, Hoyt, but there’s nothing I can do. Trust me, I’ve already tried everything to keep the store going. A blue-collar town like Pine Valley just isn’t capable of supporting an independent bookstore.”

“Your father seemed to do all right.”

Anna’s eyes flashed. He must have touched a nerve there. “My father devoted most of a good retirement pension and all his savings to keeping Pages afloat. What assets he left had to be sold off to pay his medical bills. There’s no money to subsidize the bookstore now.”

“Look, I get it. When I inherited Bradley Builders from my own dad, it was circling the drain. But I built it back up, and it more than pays its way now.” He leaned forward, holding her eyes with his own, willing her to believe him. “Maybe I could help you do the same thing with your place.”

“You run a construction business, though. It’s totally different, don’t you think?”

Now it was Hoyt’s turn to feel irritated. “I think business is business, Anna.”

She studied him, her dark brows pulled together thoughtfully. “Where did you learn what to do to save your father’s company? You never took any business classes back in high school. Did you go to night classes over at Fairmont Technical?”

Hoyt could see where this was going...the same direction things always went with Anna Delaney. Schooling. Books. Classrooms. Those were the only things she’d ever put much stock in.

“I learned on the job, by making mistakes and then having to figure out how to fix them.” He could see her drawing back. His desperation made him reckless, and he pushed harder. “It’s the best way to learn anything, if you ask me. Way better than reading some book.”

He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth. You never insulted books in front of a Delaney. Anna’s frown darkened, and he hurried on. “Look, things may not even be that bad. I talked to Trisha, and from what she said, your main issue seems to be that you’ve got no reach. You’re basically selling to the same few people over and over again. You need to work on reconnecting with your customer base.”

“You talked to Trisha Saunders about me?”

From the tone in Anna’s voice, he was guessing he’d made another wrong step somewhere. This conversation was like walking through a minefield blindfolded. “Well, yeah. She owns the business right next door, so I knew she’d have a handle on how well the location works for foot traffic. And last night Jess said something about Trish wanting to close the bookstore. So, sure. I went and talked to her to get a feel for why you’re having problems.”

“I see.” Anna set down her fork with a clink. She took her paper napkin out of her lap and refolded it beside her plate. “And did Trish offer you some valuable critiques about my business practices?”

Mainly what Trisha had offered were more of those flirty smiles she’d been aiming in his direction since Marylee died and a few snarky digs about the run-down condition of Anna’s building. Hoyt had pieced together the rest of it on his own.

Probably not the best idea to go into any of that with Anna right now.

“My point is there’s plenty you can do to bring in some more business, even without a lot of money to invest. Maybe you’ll have to get a little more creative, but if you do some cross-promotions with other local business owners—”

Anna shook her head. “Look, Hoyt, I appreciate the offer, and I understand that you want to do whatever it takes to keep Jess talking. I do. But making the decision to close my father’s bookstore wasn’t something I did lightly. There’s nothing that can be done at this point.”

His frustration level bobbed upward. She wasn’t listening to him, and he thought he knew why. “Nothing that can be done? Or nothing I can do?”

Anna sighed. “It’s the same thing, Hoyt. Although, believe me, I do appreciate the fact that you, of all people, are trying to save a bookstore.”

You. Of all people.

Something about that wry remark hit him a little too hard, and before he thought better of it, he hit back.

“Maybe I’m not much on books, Anna, but I’m turning down construction jobs right now. Trish Saunders didn’t go to college, either, but that flower shop she started on a shoestring seems to be doing all right, too. Believe it or not, out here in the real world people learn some pretty useful things outside of a classroom. If you’d ever pulled your nose out of a book long enough, you might have figured that out already.”

Anna’s cheeks had turned fire-engine red. She stood. “I think we’re done here.”

Reading faces was another survival skill Hoyt had learned from dealing with his dad, so he knew there wasn’t much point in trying to smooth things over. But he was desperate, so he took a shot anyway, as she turned and headed for the door.

“Anna, I’m sorry. Please wait.”

For a second she hesitated, just long enough to get his hopes up. But then she squared her shoulders and went out the door.

* * *

Later, after putting Jess to bed, Hoyt sat on his back deck, listening to the chirring of the frogs down by the pond. He’d had more than his share of sleepless nights during the last few years, and he could tell he was gearing up for another one.

After all his careful planning, he’d blown things with Anna because he hadn’t been able to keep a lid on his temper.

Delaney hadn’t meant anything by that little jab. She’d just been cracking wise with him, the way they always did. It wasn’t her fault she’d hit him on a sore spot. He shouldn’t have overreacted.

His restless mind dredged up an uncomfortable memory. One afternoon in the heat of a pickup basketball game, a classmate had elbowed him in the ribs. Nothing new about that, but this time the blow just happened to land right where his father had slammed him the night before, when Hoyt had wedged himself in front of his cowering mother. Agony had exploded, and without even thinking about it, Hoyt had rammed the backside of his forearm into the other player’s nose.

It had been nothing but a reflex on Hoyt’s part, but the guy’s nose bled all over the gym floor just the same as if Hoyt had set out to break it.

The incident had taught him a lesson. You couldn’t allow your pain to splash over onto other people. It wasn’t right.

He should have let Anna’s little dig pass.

His cell phone buzzed, vibrating itself across the wooden table beside his rocking chair. He snatched it up and read the name on the screen. Dr. Amanda Mills. It was the call he’d been waiting for.

“Dr. Mills, thanks for getting back to me. I’m really sorry to bug you. I know you’re busy taking care of your mom. How’s she doing?”

“The doctors are still running tests. We don’t know much yet, except that she’s had a massive stroke. And you can call me about Jess anytime, Hoyt. You know that.” He did. The gray-haired pediatric therapist had been an answer to prayer.

He didn’t want to waste her time, so he jumped right to the purpose of his call. “Jess is still talking only to me.” He’d quizzed Bailey when she and Jess had returned from their pizza date, but no dice. According to Bailey, Jess had seemed content, and she’d eaten her weight in pizza, but she hadn’t said a word. “What do you think that means?”

“Maybe nothing. Jess has always been on her own timetable. Most children with selective mutism start talking again in a matter of months, but Jess held out on us for years. This may run the same way. When she’s good and ready, she’ll talk to somebody else, and her social interactions will expand from there.”

“Or?”

Dr. Mills sighed. “Or only talking to you could be her new normal. That’s unlikely, but like I said, Jess is an unusual case.”

Hoyt braced himself. “Any possibility she’ll go back to not talking at all?”

“Hoyt—”

“Bottom line, Doc.”

Dr. Mills hesitated for a second, but she’d always been honest with him. “Yes. There’s always a possibility—a small possibility—of regression in cases like this.”

“And if something happened that reminded her of how she felt back when her mom died, then that could up the chances of her going radio silent again? Couldn’t it?”

Another heavy sigh. “Hoyt, I realize I’ve told you this before, but please try to hear me this time. Jess’s problems are not your fault.”

Yeah, right. “I broke a promise to her, and she stopped talking.”

“It was a promise you couldn’t possibly keep, involving a situation you couldn’t control. You’ve said yourself nobody knew how serious your wife’s illness was at first. Of course you promised Jess she’d get better. Any father would have promised a worried two-year-old the same thing. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

Easier said than done. “Thanks, Dr. Mills. I appreciate your time.”

“You’re always welcome. For now, just keep doing what you’ve been doing, and we’ll see what happens. I’m working Jess into my schedule the minute I get back home to Georgia. I’m confident we’ll see even more amazing progress by that point.”

“Me, too.” Hoyt wasn’t blowing smoke. He was confident.

He was going to do whatever it took to make sure Jess kept talking. First off, he needed to figure out how to get back on Anna’s good side because he needed her on Jess’s team. He’d probably better make a fresh pot of coffee and get started on that.

After tonight, winning Anna over wasn’t going to be easy.

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