Hazel pulled him onto her lap and soothed the boy, making his world right again. Seeing her with her son made him think her true calling was being a mother, having a dozen of these little things. Maybe they would all look like her, just like John Henry.
When she got him calm, she stood up. “I have to go.”
“Are you going to the reception?” he asked, standing also.
“No, I should get him home.” She headed down the stairs away from him.
“Maybe just for a little bit?” he pressed, following her.
“No, I should be getting home,” she insisted as she opened the door to the wet landscape. It had stopped raining, but the air and ground were still wet.
“How about the date?” he asked again, seeing if she would answer this time.
“No, Ruston, we are not compatible. I can tell you that without wasting your time,” she said without looking at him. Just looking at the wet outdoors.
“We seem pretty compatible, Hazel. We get along and have fun together, I think.”
“Yes, we do, but there’s still a big difference that would always hang over us until it crushes us.” She looked up at the sky as she said it.
“What is that? I can’t think of what could be so hard to overcome.” He touched her shoulder.
Turning, she looked him right in the eyes, something she rarely did. Her hazel eyes bore into his. “I don’t believe in your God, Ruston. He abandoned me a long time ago, and I cannot forgive him for that.”
Turning, she walked out the door into the rain with her son in her arms. Ruston was stunned that she would say it out loud. He had suspected as much, but to actually hear her say the words? He didn’t follow as he watched her go. Her reasoning was correct; it was the only thing that would crush any relationship they would ever have.
CHAPTER8
In the twomonths since Natalie’s failed wedding, Ruston had seen Hazel nine times: each Sunday when she sat in the pew with her grandparents. Each Sunday, she had sat with them, stood with them, but had not participated in any ritual that involved more than being in attendance. Ruston had watched her every Sunday for a sign that maybe she was ready for something. Every Sunday, he greeted her after the service, but she still did not shake his hand. Sometimes she couldn’t even meet his eyes.
Each Sunday, he watched the family as he led the service. He noticed that the older couple were looking more tired than others in his congregation, or maybe it was just him projecting onto the couple, who were pulling back from helping Hazel when she needed them. He had noticed that even though John Henry was now sitting in the pew next to his mother, he sat on the other side of her, away from the older couple.
He hadn’t seen the family in town at all. No run-ins with Hazel. Had she gone to sing at a party in the last two months? He had almost tried to find out who the band was that was playing that night, but he had no idea where to start. And he knew he wouldn’t be going to a party again.
Natalie hadn’t come back to talk to him about Hazel after her honeymoon. Well, not a honeymoon, the couple didn’t go anywhere, but she had left for a week and had come back in high spirits and had almost immediately started to date a teacher friend of her father’s. They seemed happier than she had been with her fiancé. He hoped the two young women had been able to work things out together without his help. Either way, Natalie hadn’t spoken to him about Hazel once since coming back.
He was sitting in his office writing his sermon for Sunday. It was Friday, so he didn’t have a lot of time to get it done. It was almost five when he heard someone come into the church. When it was quiet, he could hear when the outside door opened.
Hazel? His heart flipped at the thought that she would come.
Jumping out of his chair, he looked up at the shelf that still held her boots. He still had not given them back to her. Seeing them still on the shelf was weird and comforting at the same time.
Walking out of his office, he almost ran into Natalie Beckett. Her face was stricken. Grabbing the young woman, he asked, “What’s wrong, Natalie?”
“Hazel,” was all she said, a little out of breath.
“What about Hazel?” he demanded a little too harshly, but he was starting to panic.
“Her grandpa had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital. But she’s home with just John Henry.” She pulled out of his arms but grabbed his hand and started to pull him along with her. “She won’t go to the hospital. She needs all of us there.”
Whoever “all of us” are, Ruston didn’t care. Without a word, he followed the tall young woman out of the church. Stopping, he locked the door and ran to the curb, where her SUV was sitting, still running. They didn’t speak as she drove them out of town.
As they sped toward where Hazel was, he realized he had no idea where she even lived. No idea at all. On a farm was all he knew. Driving past farm after farm, he forced himself to try and calm the woman driving the car. “What happened?”
“He and Hazel were out working in the field, harvesting. He just fell over. She called 911, and an ambulance took him away. That was a few hours ago. Her grandma called Mia at the café not that long ago, and we’re all heading out there. She’s been alone all this time.” Natalie was trying not to panic.
Ruston was doing the same thing.
What she didn’t say was that she might only be one panic attack away from not being able to breathe on her own. That she gets suicidal sometimes before she has a panic attack and after. But he noticed Natalie was going close to ninety on the loose gravel road.