Epilogue
Olive Jardine parked her car in the church lot and sat with her hands on the steering wheel. It was Sunday afternoon and it seemed liked the entire town was still at the church. If that was how long the sermons were going to last, she wasn’t going to attend this church.
But she knew she needed to get back to the Lord. She’d strayed too far for too long.
She’d planned to come, to sit in the cool, quiet sanctuary and pray. Something she hadn’t done for more years than she cared to admit.
Other than the desperate pleas she’d made the last few weeks. Pleas for her survival and her recovery. For her child.
She looked in the rearview mirror at the child in the car seat behind her. Having a child had not been in her plan.
But she was tired of running around. Tired of running away. And after almost dying, she wanted nothing more to come somewhere she felt safe, if not loved. Which was why she found herself and her sleeping baby back here in Raspberry Ridge, sitting in front of the church.
She’d put off going “home,” to the house she still shared with her sisters and the one they were supposed to be cleaning out and getting ready to sell. Mostly because she hadn’t been completely truthful with her sisters, but also because the idea of selling the house seemed to rip the little bit of security she had completely away.
Not wanting to face an entire crowd of people, she figured that it might be best if she just ripped the bandage off with one quick pull, so to speak. So, she turned her borrowed car off, got the car seat out and walked toward the church, opening the door and standing in the back.
Her sister Mertie stood at the front, perfectly put together as always, a young girl on one side, and it looked like her childhood friend, Garnet Irving stood with her. Were they married? Was that their child?
She was ashamed to admit that she’d been so out of touch with her family that she really didn’t know what was going on, although as far as she knew, Mertie had a Christian ministry that did not include a husband or a child.
Her eyes swept the room, looking for her other sister, Amara, but not finding her right away. Mostly because her eyes were caught on a tall figure, head and shoulders above everyone else, broad shoulders and that bright red hair that was unmistakable.
Doyle.
Just the sight of him made her want to turn around and run away, although she still felt the same pull that she always had, too. But her days of running were over. She had to remind herself of that as she fought to keep her feet planted on the floor. She would face whatever needed to be faced and deal with it, even if it was hard. She didn’t want her daughter to see her cowardly example and emulate it.
As though pulled by her stare, Doyle tilted his head, then slowly turned, his gaze meeting hers almost immediately. It took two seconds before his eyes widened and the shock of recognition stole over his face. It took one more before he turned to the person beside him, leaned down and whispered something. They moved and he slipped out of the pew, as the man at the pulpit continued to speak.
The urge to run became almost uncontrollable as Olive watched the man she’d left eight years ago walk back the side aisle toward her.
She had a lot of explaining to do. That’s if he was coming back to talk and not to strangle her. And that’s if he was still talking to her after she told him about her child.
A lot of ifs.
But, if she wanted a life for her child in Raspberry Ridge, she was going to have to face them, answer them and deal with the consequences.
Lord, I need you.
She whispered those words as she turned to face the good man she’d hurt and betrayed.
***
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