Cadenza

By April Bradshaw

Where did Holly disappear to? Does she really believe God told her to leave him and their little girl? What do her disconcerting visions mean?
Will wants his wife back and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to reconcile with her. But where does the young widow fit into the picture? Can he keep his heart from getting involved when he offers his help?
And what is happening within his church? Is the new pastor truly a man of God, or does he have a hidden agenda?
Will's future is uncertain, but he proves his convictions are stronger than his desires, and that God's mercies never fail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: April Bradshaw
• Release date: Nov 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311952349

April Bradshaw

In addition to writing, April Bradshaw enjoys growing herbs, kayaking, playing piano, and painting. But being Grammie to little Margot tops the list.Her desire is to honor God with the gifts he has given her. To that end, she strives to provide wholesome, entertaining books for her readership.

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CADENZA

by April Bradshaw

Copyright 2013 April Bradshaw

cover art by Jessica Bradshaw

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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of this author.

Cadenza [kah-DEN-zah] A brilliant solo passage inserted near the end of a composition.

Certain men whose condemnation was written about long ago have secretly slipped in among you. They are godless men who change the grace of our God into a license for immorality and deny Jesus Christ our only Sovereign and Lord. (Jude v4)

Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them. (Matthew 7:15,16)

For Moo

Strong as an oak, feminine as lace.

A woman to be praised…her children will rise up and call her blessed.

~*~

Chapter 1

The caller ID read San Pueblo, Brazil.

Is that where she had run?

He snatched up the phone. Holly?

But it wasn’t his wife. The caller was male, and he spoke with a thick accent. Sorry for mistake. Wrong call I think. And the line went dead.

Will Hampton returned the phone to the wall mount in slow motion. It had been four years since he had heard her voice. Four long years. And it had been more than two months since Barb had given him an update.

It was time.

He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. A call to Barb would have to wait. He’d be late for work if he dallied.

His keys weren’t on the counter where he usually left them and a quick look around told him he hadn’t misplaced them anywhere obvious. A smile tugged the corners of his mouth, and he walked to the refrigerator. He slid open the fruit crisper and plucked his keys from among the apples and grapefruit—Dixie’s favorite hiding place. Thankfully, the five-year-old had only two. The other was inside his work boots.

Francis Coates—Miss Frannie to Dixie—had already come by to take her to Sunny Hill Kindergarten along with her own little Susan as she did every weekday morning. He regarded Francis as one more evidence of God’s provision for his motherless child.

Will retrieved his gray-blue hat, standard issue for Virginia mail carriers, locked the house, then drove to the Brownsville post office. Spring was making its first appearance, and the day promised to be glorious.

After he performed his preliminary duties, he retrieved his postal truck and drove to the Oak Grove housing community to begin his delivery route. The neighborhood had held a contest the previous year for the most unique mailbox design, and now the cul-de-sac was a potpourri of invention. His first stop was the Petersons, whose mailbox was a replica of a rainbow trout—not surprising, since Jon Peterson was an avid fisherman. The next mailbox was a cartoonish road runner, complete with legs attached to either side that rotated in the wind. Before Will could make up his mind whether to leave a shoebox-sized parcel beside the box or run it up to the door, two young girls emerged from the house and raced toward him, the brown-haired girl beating the younger blonde by several paces.

My turn! the younger one shouted. Will figured her age to be close to Dixie’s.

I beat, argued the older child, who might have been eight.

Will hadn’t met the family who had recently moved into the Armstrong’s old place, but he was glad to see it was no longer vacant. The yellow and white house with its dandelion-dotted yard and cheerful window boxes spilling black-eyed Susans, needed a happy family living in it.

He held out the mail to the older girl. I think Hildegard should have the letters, and you, Gertrude, he said indicating the younger one, should take the package.

The blonde girl stared at him. I’m not Gertrude. I’m Lisa and she’s Alissa.

The older girl took the letters from Will, but craned her neck to see the package the blonde girl held. Is it for me?

Lisa shifted her gaze to the parcel. It says it’s for Daddy.

Are you expecting something, Alissa? Will pulled ahead to the Baxters’ mailbox, designed like a John Deere tractor. The girls ran alongside him on the sidewalk to catch up.

Grandma and Grandpa always send me a birthday present, but maybe they don’t know we moved.

Grandparents never lose track of their grandkids, Will assured her with a smile. It will come another day. He raised his hand in the air as if taking an oath. The United States Postal Service will deliver your birthday package with punctuality and courtesy, come hurricane, snow, or a torrential rain of cats and dogs.

Lisa giggled, then she and Alissa raced back to the house with their bundles.

Will waved to a jogger as he drove on. Today the man wore an Oakland A’s baseball cap that sported a bright fuchsia flower on its bill. Each season brought another quirky design, but fall yielded Will’s favorite—a bright orange stocking cap with sparkly pom poms stuck on seemingly at random. Will pictured the jogger donning the whimsical headwear to amuse young children in his household. He had never learned his name, but they had exchanged waves for more than a year.

Will paused at the last mailbox in the cul-de-sac to call to the oldest of the Gomez children who was climbing the magnolia tree in the yard with two of his siblings. Remember what your mom told you about staying out of that tree, he cautioned. It’s too much weight for the branches. All three children scrambled down in a hurry. Will chuckled as he drove on. He’d seen Mrs. Gomez in action and had the impression her children knew better than to cross her.

He pondered what kind of mother Holly would have been had she stayed. She’d had a soft spot for children when he married her. How was it that two years later she left their precious daughter seemingly without a backward glance? It made no sense.

Nothing did.

When the workday ended, Will retrieved his car and drove to Sunny Hill, whistling all the way in anticipation of his favorite part of the day. Dixie saw his approach from the playground and the dark-haired kindergartner jumped from her swing while it was still in motion. Will opened his arms and she dashed into his embrace.

Daddy!

Hey, sweet thing. How was school today? He swept her up and planted a kiss on her flushed cheek.

Are we going for a bike ride?

You bet. Let me say hello to your teacher first, and we’ll be on our way.

Mrs. Cobb was walking his direction, a clipboard in hand. Mr. Hampton, she greeted, parent-teacher conferences next week. May I put you down for Monday at— she looked at her clipboard —three-thirty?

I’ll be here, Will promised. And I hope to hear about Dixie’s excellent marks, and her helpfulness in the classroom.

Dixie looked at her teacher with a worried expression.

Mrs. Cobb put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. You’ll hear about that, and more. Dixie is a joy to have in class.

The little girl’s face relaxed.

Will buckled Dixie into her seat and started for home. His eye caught hers in the rearview mirror, and she broke from her stream of chatter to smile back at him. She had Holly’s dark hair and eyes and petite stature, but physical features seemed to be all she shared with her mother, he observed. The just-turned five-year-old made friends easily, whereas Holly was guarded and introverted, if anything. But introverted wasn’t the right word to describe her, he reflected. His wife knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it—or take it, he thought with a twinge of sorrow.

When they arrived home, Dixie made a beeline to the piano as Will knew she would. He smiled at the happy tune that resounded through the house. Thank you for music, Lord. It's balm for the heart. He’d considered getting a teacher for her, but hesitated to put his daughter's gift into the hands of a professional. What she had flowed beautifully and naturally.

He changed out of his uniform and emerged from the bedroom with an overflowing clothes hamper which he deposited in the utility room on his way to the kitchen. Let’s go! he called to Dixie. Her tune stopped abruptly.

He pulled two boxed dinners from the freezer and set them on the counter to thaw. When he walked outside, Dixie was in the driveway by the open garage, struggling to hold his bike erect. I’m almost big enough to ride your bike, Daddy! See?

He tweaked her nose playfully and lifted her into the carrier seat on back. He secured her safety helmet in place. Don’t grow up too fast, princess.

Her eyes were bright with excitement. Can it be a long ride, Daddy?

Over the river and through the woods?

—to grandmother’s house we go! Dixie sang, finishing the phrase of the familiar song.

Will peddled through the cul-de-sac and out to the boulevard where he turned onto the bike path. Dixie fell silent, and he pictured her wide dark eyes taking in the flowering cherry trees and spring blooms on either side of the path. Thank you, Lord, for beauty that eases the ugliness of sorrow. He didn’t allow his thoughts to dwell on the thorn that pricked his life. Not now. He would call Barb later and find out what he could about his wife. In the meantime, he intended to enjoy the sunny afternoon he had with his daughter to its fullest.

After Dixie was tucked into bed for the night, Will sat in the living room with his Bible open in his lap. He read one psalm after another until he was sure the little girl was asleep. Then he reached for the phone. Barb’s husband answered on the second ring. The background noise told him Hal was in the car.

I was hoping your wife might have heard from Holly, Will said. How crazy was this anyway, calling Barb to find out about his wife?

Barb’s here, I’ll hand the phone off. But first, can you carve out some time for hoops later this week? Ed and John are free any day but Friday. Will heard Barb say something in the background, then Hal added, Barb says she can watch Dixie either Tuesday or Wednesday evening.

Wednesday’s good. Tell her thanks.

Barb’s voice came over the line. Hi, Will. Nothing new to tell you about Holly. The last time she called I was on my way out, so we didn't talk long. She seemed to be doing all right though, and I let her know you and Dixie are fine.

We aren’t fine. Will was bone weary of the scenario that had played itself over and over for four years. Tell me where she is, Barb.

A sigh came over the phone. She’d never speak to me again, Will. She hung up on me the last time I even broached the subject, remember? Barb paused. As much as I hate to say it, I think you should get on with your life.

Not an option, Barb. I vowed before God that our marriage was for life. For better or for worse.

Well this is certainly worse.

Will pushed forward though he knew it could backfire. Tell me where she is. I’ll bring her back and we’ll straighten out this mess.

Barb didn’t answer immediately. Finally she said, I wish I could, Will, truly. But I’m as lousy at giving up hope as you are. As long as she keeps in touch, there’s a chance she might listen to reason and we could get the old Holly back again.

Will hung up the phone slowly. If only that were true.

Chapter 2

Alissa and Lisa waited at the mailbox when Will delivered their mail on Tuesday. No school today? he asked. He handed the mail to Lisa, remembering her sister had taken it the last time.

Lisa twirled in a circle, sending her flower print dress swirling around her legs. We do school at home. Our mom teaches us.

Is that right? Well, a mother is the very best kind of teacher. What’s two plus two?

Four! Lisa announced promptly. And twelve times twelve is 144.

Will whistled. I know where to come when I need help with my math. Keep up the good work!

He drove forward to the birdhouse box and waved to Fred Godfrey who sat on a plastic chair in his flowerbed, leaning over to weed. How’s that foot of yours today, Fred?

The elderly man raised his foot for Will to inspect. Almost as good as new, he called back hoarsely. Just might keep me going till I walk through the pearly gates.

Will nodded. I’ve got a few battle scars I’m looking forward to turning in too.

The cheery afternoon sun, the twittering of birds and the greetings of friends gave Will’s smile a boost. My list of blessings is far longer than my list of difficulties, Lord.

He was an hour from quitting time when the Sunny Hill school nurse called to tell him Dixie was running a fever. Will immediately called Francis and asked if she was able pick up his daughter and keep an eye on her until he got off work.

No problem, Francis assured him. I have a few errands to run but Spence will be here.

Will notified the school nurse of the plan, then put away his phone and finished his route. Dixie was asleep on the couch when he came for her. He lifted her gently from the blanket so as not to awaken her, whispered his thanks to Francis, then drove home and tucked her into bed with her doll. He stacked a pile of picture books on the table beside her and put a full water bottle next to it. When he turned to tiptoe out of the room, she awoke.

Hi Daddy.

He returned to the bed. He knelt beside her and touched her flushed cheek. How are you feeling, princess?

The nurse said I’m sick.

He kissed her forehead. Before you know it, you’ll be hopping around like a bunny rabbit again. He pulled up a chair by the bed and read two of her favorite books before she fell asleep again.

Will left her door ajar so he could hear if she stirred, then set about catching up on the housework. He considered that when he finished, he might whip up a batch of butterscotch brownies—her favorite treat, and one he could make from memory. He recalled when he’d made a batch for Holly and impressed her with his culinary skills. They were dating at the time and she had no idea it was the only recipe he could turn out with any degree of success. She teased him later that he’d tricked her into marrying him—she'd thought she was getting a cook out of the deal.

Will swiped the duster over the piano keys absently. Could he and his wife truly have been as close once as he remembered? Or had fantasy crept in and diluted reality in the years since she left? How could they be in love one day and estranged the next? It never occurred to him when they said their vows that she would change her mind.

Will sank down onto the sofa and let his mind travel back to a time that seemed a lifetime ago.

He was twenty-five and a foreman for the construction company his father and uncle established. Business was steady and his reputation, growing. Holly, with her snappy brown eyes and strong convictions had his attention the moment she walked through the church doors as a visitor. He didn’t back down until she accepted his marriage proposal.

His new wife quickly established herself as a leader at church. She taught the first grade Bible class and held 5-day evangelism clubs for neighborhood children during the summer. She also led a women’s weekly Bible study in their home. Although not particularly close to any women but Barb, many seemed