Wildflower Road Read online

  A twinge stabbed Shane’s gut. Was he honestly jealous to see another man—scratch that—another kid’s arms around Ryann?

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” She jabbed him with her elbow.

  “You were pretty.”

  “Were?” A smile curled her lips.

  He liked making someone smile again, but he wasn’t about to dive into this one. He just held her gaze.

  “You aren’t so bad yourself, Iowa.”

  “Better than Emil, right?”

  “Better than Emil.”

  She returned her scrutiny to the picture. The flush in her cheeks drained away, and a frown appeared. “Tyler had severe clinical depression for years. He found this great medication that helped him get back to his real self by the time of our wedding. We moved up to Bozeman to attend Montana State University. Life was going well for us until one Sunday when our pastor shared a message about trusting God and not relying on the things of this world. Tyler got it into his head that by taking medication, he wasn’t trusting God. He thought that if only he prayed enough, he’d be healed. He quit his medication and nosedived. We left school during our sophomore year to move back here. I hoped that if he were back home, he would have enough support around him to help. It didn’t.” She pursed her lips, and her eyes darted about the floor.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “Some people blamed me. Said I ruined him. His parents, they never forgave me. But they don’t even know the half of it. No one does.” She dabbed at a tear in the corner of her eye. “And I tried really hard to get to him in time. That’s where my scars came from. I tried.”

  “Do they still hurt?” he asked. “The scars.”

  “Just the shoulder one. And only when I run. Or when I lift something too heavy. Or when it rains or gets cold.” Ryann’s small grin failed to cover the pain in her eyes.

  “Ryann, one thing I kept from my pastor gig? I’m a great listener. In case you ever want to talk about it.”

  She bit her lip and gave him a sideways glance. Then she retreated to the kitchen sink and washed her hands. “Breakfast time. I have peanut butter cereal or peanut butter cereal.”

  “I think I’ll have peanut butter cereal. Boy, I haven’t eaten that since I was a kid.”

  “It’s all I eat for breakfast.” She retrieved two bowls and spoons and placed them on the table. He watched her reach high for a box of cereal, before thinking better of it and shifting his focus to the ground. How many more women would eat this cereal if they knew it was the secret to a figure like Ryann’s? It would be the next diet craze.

  Using her good arm, she pulled a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and joined him at the table. In between bites, Ryann told him more about her friends: how they met, where they lived, and why she loved each one.

  Shane hung on every word that danced across her lips. One name was missing.

  “What about Thomas? How long have you known him?”

  “Did I forget to mention him?” She chuckled. “Poor Thomas.”

  Poor Thomas? “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that Thomas is always there, you know. I don’t even remember when we first met. He’s always the mature one, not saying much. We actually dated a few years back.”

  Shane suppressed this pang with another bite of cereal. No wonder the guy seemed to hate Shane.

  “Not for long. I could never see him as anything other than a friend. Not sure why. He’s cute. Just not for me.”

  “He certainly doesn’t like me.”

  Ryann shook her head. “Thomas wouldn’t hurt a mayfly. He’s loyal and fiercely protective of his friends . . . of me. His trust is hard to earn, but once you have it, it’s yours forever. Now what about you? Did you live in Ohio your whole life?”

  “No. I lived in Washington, D.C., until I was eighteen. My father was a congressman.”

  Her eyes grew wide.

  “But that’s a story for another time.”

  “I want to know all about it.” She pushed herself up from her chair. “But for now, I should grab a shower.”

  “I’ll wait outside.”

  “You’re welcome to stay. Pop a squat on the sofa and start that book I got you. I won’t be long.”

  After she disappeared into the bathroom, he carried their dishes to the sink. In between spurts of water and scrubbing, he heard a soft melody through the wall. Bowl and towel in hand, he leaned closer. Lyrics and hums alternated, riding the steam through the crack above the door.

  She sang “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” in its purest form, without the mangled arrangement, guitar riffs, and light shows that his old church, Threshold of Grace, and almost every other Midwestern megachurch relied on. Once he put the dishes away, he perused her bookshelves, noting their similar taste. What had Chloe done with his book collection after the divorce?

  A Bible rested on the arm of the love seat, open to a page in John.

  Shane looked away. He mashed his palms together. How long had it been since he’d read from the Bible? He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling then back down to the book. He sighed and lifted it. The worn leather folded around his hand in a way that was eerily familiar. He sprawled his fingers beneath it, and the Word of God splayed wide open. The palm of his right hand hovered just above the page. He lengthened his spine and lifted his chin to the audience of books in front of him. The worship song from the bathroom faded out. His cue. His eyes dropped back to the page, and his middle finger traced just below the first line of John, chapter eight. He knew the story well. But through Ryann’s highlights, pen marks, and notes, she preached to him.

  A woman stands in a crowd, yet she is completely alone. Likely undressed. Likely abused. Certainly shamed for sharing her bed with a man who was not her husband. The law says to stone such women. Grace says to redeem. Her life would be sacrificed, and she can only blame herself. She is guilty, after all. Her judgment day has arrived. Someone spits at her, and she can only bow her head low. Then, at the ground beneath her feet, Jesus kneels and draws in the sand.

  The mob pulses, inching closer with every second. A man she had known since her childhood tosses the stone in his hand, a sick grin on his face. Soon, his stone would break her skin. Her leg. Her cheek. Her skull.

  Jesus stands, taller than she imagined. While he holds up a hand to silence the men, she pinches her eyes closed. Let it be swift, she prays.

  “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

  The men grumble. Feet shuffle across the dirt. Then silence.

  She opens her eyes.

  “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

  She looks around the temple courts. She’s alone with the Son of God, and he’s speaking to her. It takes all her strength to say a few words.

  Jesus’s eyes lock on hers, his strength and compassion pooling beneath dark lashes. “Then neither do I condemn you.”

  Shane’s finger dropped to the feminine script in blue ink beneath the type.

  But what if the stones that pierce my skin are my own?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The morning was warmer than the day before, and for that, Shane thanked God for the first time in nine months. He didn’t own a coat and couldn’t afford one until his first paycheck came on Friday. How was he to know that snow was always a possibility up here? The higher temperature also made Ryann roll her window down, so that her hair whipped wildly around her face. Without all the makeup from yesterday, her eyes were a softer green beneath the reddish-blond lashes and her lips a more untamed pink. Shane couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  As Ryann turned her Jeep into the parking lot of Ollie’s, a mischievous grin curled her lips.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She parked, then turned off the ignition.
r />   Suspicion narrowed his eyes. He scanned past the two dozen cars in the parking lot and the restaurant.

  “What in the world . . . ?” He fumbled with the door handle, ignoring Ryann’s snickering from the driver’s seat. After his feet hit the pavement, he jogged a circle around his car. With a chalk marker that had likely written last night’s dinner menu inside the restaurant, every window of his sedan was sullied with taunts: Best Car Ever, We Love Iowa, Not Your Momma’s Car, and Tattoos are Hot!

  “What happened to my poor car?” Using his sleeve, Shane wiped at the N in Not Ashamed. “You were behind this, weren’t you?”

  Ryann doubled over in laughter. “I may or may not have put my friends up to it.”

  “You know, I’m starting to think I was brought to Montana just to amuse you.”

  “Then praise the Lord for that! You know I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like you.”

  His chest swelled, ousting any remaining irritation. “You’re helping me wash that off later.”

  For a Sunday morning, the restaurant was more active than Shane expected. Voices and the plucks of a guitar getting tuned wafted through the propped front door. A sandwich shop sign sat to the left of the entrance. It read Recovenant Church.

  Shane froze.

  “What’s wrong?” Ryann’s innocent eyes grew wide. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? This is where I go to church.”

  Perhaps it was the mountain air, but Shane’s mouth was as dry as gluten-free Communion bread.

  “I won’t ask you to come inside with me, but you’d be welcome. You have your car, and now, it’s up to you.”

  He wiped his palms on his jeans, then glanced at the sedan. He could leave now, be settled somewhere even more remote by nightfall. He wouldn’t even have to grab his meager belongings from the cabin. Still, his feet remained cemented to the ground.

  Shane took a shaky breath, remembering the last time he’d walked into a church. His church. Although he hadn’t walked, but rather ran. Past his ministry team, past his friends, past his admirers. Then he’d done the unthinkable. And although he thought he’d paid the price for his sin already, the fear pooling in his gut said otherwise. “I’ve really gotta find that grocery store.”

  * * *

  * * *

  After the last of the tables and chairs had been reset and the spare Bibles put away, Ryann waved goodbye to Joe and stepped outside. Ollie’s parking lot was nearly empty now. The spot next to her Jeep seemed especially vacant. Perhaps Shane was put off by a church meeting in a bar. She doubted that. It seemed more likely that he was put off by church entirely.

  Who exactly was Shane Olson with the lumberjack beard, serious eyes, and secret past?

  Ryann pulled her phone out of her purse to check the time. She still had a while to spare before she needed to be dressed for a Sunday afternoon on the river. With a flick of her thumb, she opened the flip phone that Robbie and Keira constantly teased her about. But it met her needs without adding the complications of the outside world. They could keep their social media, apps, and smartphones. She scrolled until she found Robbie’s number.

  The phone rang several times before Robbie answered.

  “Hey, sis. You know you and Mom are the only ones who still call people, right?”

  “Texting is lame.” Ryann unlocked her driver door with her free hand. “Where are you guys?”

  “Just leaving Twin Falls. We should be back for dinner. Why?”

  Ryann opened the door of her Jeep and climbed inside. “Can I use your computer?”

  “Let me guess. You’re finally signing up for a dating website? We could always find you a guy out here in Idaho. There was a hitchhiker about a mile back, right, Kat?”

  “Stop teasing her, Robbie,” Keira said over speakerphone. Robbie had nicknamed her Kat back in high school when they first started dating. It was that nickname and her social media popularity that sent them traveling almost every weekend. It kept them busy, but Ryann was happy that Keira had realized her dream of adventure and Robbie had realized his dream of marrying the love of his life.

  “Thanks, Keira. And hey, Robbie? I’m going to eat all the food in your kitchen.”

  “Don’t you—”

  Ryann flipped the phone closed, relishing the snap of a good hang-up. Let’s see a smartphone do that.

  A few minutes later, she parked the Jeep in front of Robbie and Keira’s cabin. After looking up and down Wildflower Road for any sign of Shane, she let herself in using the spare key on her key ring. While she waited for the laptop to boot up, she scoured the fridge. Boo. Keira ate way too healthy for Ryann’s taste. Ah, the deli drawer. She opened it and found a veritable gold mine. She grabbed a stick of string cheese and a half pound of deli ham, then returned to the desk.

  The screen requested a password that Robbie thankfully trusted her with. She typed Redford—the actor Keira thought Robbie looked like—and twelve thirty-one—their wedding date. She double-checked that all the curtains were closed before opening the Internet browser. Where was this sick feeling coming from? She had the right to know who was living next door to her. She probably wouldn’t find anything, anyway. There were likely a hundred Shane Olsons across the world.

  She folded a thin slice of ham into her mouth. Before she even finished typing his name, several common search topics appeared.

  Shane Olson Threshold of Grace

  Shane Olson celebrity pastor

  Shane Olson wife divorce

  Shane Olson release from jail

  Ryann’s chewing came to a halt. Maybe she should’ve checked the date on the ham, because she felt queasy suddenly. She moved the cursor over the last option and paused. Just click it. After all, isn’t that what people do now? Go to the Internet to find dirt on their neighbors, their employees, their crushes? That seemed to be what it was made for. It couldn’t be that bad, otherwise her cousin would not have sent him out to work for them. After all, she’d lived with Ryann for nearly a year. She knew the struggles they’d had as a family, and she believed Shane could help save the resort. Jail wasn’t exactly church camp, but it didn’t mean someone was a complete heathen, either. After all, Robbie narrowly missed going to jail when he was eighteen for protecting Keira. And he was a good man, through and through.

  So if it wasn’t a big deal, why did she feel so sleazy? No, she couldn’t—she wouldn’t click the search results. Wherever Shane had come from and whatever he’d come through, she didn’t want to learn about it from anyone but him. Wouldn’t it be great to be shown that same respect? Her past wasn’t exactly snow-white.

  She forced the mouthful of food down her throat, then followed the path of the cursor back up to the search box. She highlighted Shane’s name, hit delete, then typed her own name.

  Ryann Ashcroft Stuart Ashcroft

  Ryann Ashcroft Tyler Ashcroft suicide

  Ryann Ashcroft Tyler Ashcroft death investigation

  Just as quickly, she erased all the type. Those bottom options were no surprise. The town had been horrified by Tyler’s death. Everyone loved him. And while one look at him would show his mental health struggles, they all said the same thing. “Not Tyler. He was a good boy. He never would’ve taken his own life.” Which was what led to the investigation as she lay in the hospital bed the following week, her arms bandaged, her eyes swollen. Even though the investigation determined the true cause of death to be suicide, it didn’t stop the chatter about why Tyler did what he did.

  But seeing her name paired with Stuart’s puckered her chin. Maybe someone had seen Ryann and Stuart that night outside Ollie’s. No. She would have heard about it if they had. That secret was for her, Stuart, and Tyler to take to their graves.

  She peered through the windowpane to the river, willing the One who set the Madison’s course to soothe her aching soul. Oh, Lord.

  Her gaze fell to a p
icnic table identical to the ones she and Shane had moved his first day. What would Shane think if he saw these search results? Luckily, he was also in the no-smartphone club, and she hadn’t seen a computer in his cabin that first day. But there was also the town library. Man, all it would take to hear her life story would be a conversation with the town seamstress or mailman. She’d just have to tell him herself, before he heard it elsewhere. Then maybe he’d trust her with his secrets in return. That way, she’d get the truth, straight from the horsefly’s mouth. Which reminded her. She had some fishing to do.

  Outside the cabin, she heard talking. She closed the browser and the laptop as the front door opened. Shane crossed the threshold, carrying two armfuls of groceries.

  “What are you—” she began, stopping when she saw her mother trail him in.

  “Ryann. No wonder the door was unlocked,” her mother said. “I was picking up some groceries for Keira and Robbie and look who I ran into. Shane, if you could drop those on the counter, I can put them away.”

  “Are there any more bags?” Ryann asked. She gathered the deli items from the desk and met Shane and her mother in the kitchen.

  “Oh, as if I’d let you’d carry them with your shoulder.” Her mother placed a hand on Ryann’s cheek.

  “Mom, I can carry groceries. I do it all the time.”

  “Not on my watch. Oh no, you didn’t eat that ham, did you? That’s probably spoiled, dear.”

  “It was fine. I won’t get sick.”

  “Well, at least rinse your mouth out with some Coca-Cola or something. You know what? I bought Anabelle some gummy multivitamins. Take two of those, just in case.”

  Behind her mother, Shane was trying not to laugh. Those search results had to be about someone else.

  “Ry,” her mother said as she placed a gallon of milk in the fridge. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your date?”

  Ryann couldn’t help but notice the slight way Shane turned his ear to the question. She also couldn’t help but notice the way her heartbeat seemed to stutter at his interest. “It’s about that time, isn’t it? I need to go.”