Keeping Cole's Promise. Cheryl Harper
for Peru. Rebecca clicked it and smiled as her brother’s goofy grin took over the screen. He had his arms wrapped around a gaggle of boys who were clearly soccer fans. Every photo on the page showed volunteers working hands-on with kids who had limited access to medical care.
She read a short profile, so clearly written in Stephanie’s voice that it made Rebecca tear up, about a boy they’d met at three years old and the progress he’d made after he received the vaccinations he needed. Rebecca realized Daniel and Stephanie would be able to watch that boy grow. They’d be his neighbor, see his life and the changes they’d made.
Her money was funding that good work. That improved her outlook for half a second.
While she puttered in her fancy new kitchen, Cole was... She had no idea. A man recently released from prison. What were his circumstances? He walked to work from the trailer park. EW picked him up every day. His old button-down had been replaced with the three-in-a-package T-shirts from the local discount store.
Rebecca covered her hot cheeks with her hands as an unexpected wave of shame swept over her. She had everything. Cole was doing his best with the cards stacked against him.
But he’s a criminal. You work hard to have things you enjoy. The logical voice in her head wasn’t sympathetic.
“And I live in my parents’ house, work the job I love because I graduated from a college my parents paid for and spend obscene money on appliances. Then I drift through life, wallowing in my loneliness.” The guilt tightening her stomach made it hard to sit still. “While I avoid Cole because he makes me feel...”
As Rebecca shoved a cookie in her mouth, she picked up her phone to call Jen, the only single friend she had left. After she lured Jen over, she could convince her to do something crazy.
She could take cookies to Cole. That would brighten his life and it was an easy thing to do.
Almost as easy as writing a check. The cynical voice whispering through her mind was new and unwelcome. It sounded a bit like Jen, too.
When Jen answered, Rebecca said, “I have cookies. Come get them.” Once Jen was here, Rebecca would ask her to drive her over to the trailer park. The two of them together should be safe enough. She could make Cole’s night better, smooth things over and get back on Shelly’s good side, get rid of all the cookies that she’d eat all by herself otherwise and have a reason to bake more. So many wins with one simple plan.
“Can’t tonight. The decorator Sarah recommended is demanding to hear my vision before he’ll take the job and paycheck,” Jen snapped. “Save me some.”
“I need to get out of the house. Take a ride with me.” Rebecca dropped her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Or I’ll bring them to you. Are you unpacking?” Luring Jen out to the car would be easy enough, and she had to get out of the house. The rosy glow of the setting sun covered the ceiling in pink.
“No, I have so many magazines still to destroy while I create my design board. I hate decorating homework. I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll shop for my new house’s kitchen, okay?” Jen ended the call before Rebecca could argue. She almost called Jen back.
“Nope. If she wanted company, she’d tell you.” Rebecca paced in a circle around the beautiful new island she’d had installed. It had four outlets and a prep sink. The cost had nearly knocked her backward when her contractor showed her the bid.
And if she spent a minute longer staring at the outrageously expensive gifts she’d given herself, she’d melt down.
Was she brave enough to go to Cole’s trailer all by herself?
No, but she was desperate to uncoil the knot in her stomach.
Before she knew what she was doing, Rebecca had pulled down a tin covered in happy sunflowers and loaded it with cookies. She could deliver them to Jen, no matter how pathetic it might seem. If she got roped into unpacking or whatever do-it-yourself project Jen had tackled, so be it. At least she wouldn’t be running the movie of her regrets through her mind on a constant loop.
Delivering the next batch of cookies to Cole in the bright light of day made so much more sense anyway.
One turn through town meant she was nowhere near Jen’s new place on the highway headed out to the state park. Instead, she was going toward the shelter. And Cole’s trailer park.
“Just try,” Rebecca muttered as she turned in. If worse came to worst, she could say she was visiting EW. Her father had taken his Cadillac in to EW’s garage every three months like clockwork until EW sold the place. She could remember his old waiting room clearly. He’d favored wildlife scenes and gospel music instead of blaring country tunes and talking heads of twenty-four-hour news channel like the dealership she frequented in Austin.
Of course, EW wouldn’t remember that from fifteen years ago. And no one would believe her story.
The growing shadows didn’t help the trailer park. Everything seemed scary in the twilight, especially the three kids standing under the basketball goal. At this distance, making out their faces was difficult, but the one standing directly under the goal could be Eric.
“Such a terrible idea, Rebecca,” she muttered as she squinted at the nearest lopsided mailbox. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one attacks a woman carrying a tin of cookies.”
This is not your smartest plan. The kid had wrapped his hands around her neck.
Should she even get out of the car?
The door to Cole’s trailer opened, spilling a golden rectangle of light down the steps.
Busted. She had no choice now.
Rebecca stared at his expressionless face, willing him to come down the steps and cross the tiny yard. She’d roll down the window and hand him the cheerful tin with a conciliatory smile and a finely worded apology without leaving the safety of her comfortable, four-door sedan. Then she’d throw the car in Reverse and return to the safe side of Holly Heights.
But her telepathy failed. Cole pressed one shoulder on the doorframe and waited.
Rebecca shook out her clammy hands before turning off the ignition. Holding the tin of cookies like a peace offering and a shield, she slid out of the driver’s seat.
* * *
REBECCA WAS WEARING her petrified expression again. Whatever she’d been watching down at the end of the street had better be some kind of monster. Otherwise, he was doing it again without lifting a finger.
Scaring a woman with his breathing and standing upright.
If he ever wanted female company, this would be something he’d have to work on.
“I should have called.” Her breathless voice was hard to make out, but she repeated herself as she stopped in the light at the bottom of the steps. “I’m sorry. The polite thing to do is to call.”
“No phone.” Cole didn’t move from his perch at the top. If he did, she’d drop the tin and run for the safety of her car. He had a feeling whatever was inside would be compensation for whatever little digs her visit made to his confidence.
“Oh, you don’t have a phone.” She bobbled the tin and managed to catch it. “I would have had to yell really loud then.”
Her joke hit hard on the ground between them. He didn’t smile.
“These days, everyone has a phone. I didn’t...think.” She cleared her throat. “So far, this is going well, am I right?”
“No air-conditioning. No television. Nothing to drive.” Cole straightened. “Want me to go on? I do have running water. The lights work. And I’m not locked behind bars, so I’m making progress.”
“I brought cookies.” Rebecca shrugged. “A peace offering.”
Cookies. The only choice homier and more downright small-town America would have been apple pie. This woman with her golden curls and frilly