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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

D ean had awakened for a little while Monday afternoon, but he’d still been confused. Aspen was certain that, when he’d looked at her, he hadn’t known who she was. Or maybe he’d thought she was Jane.

She’d stayed out of the way and kept her head down. She wanted to be there for Garrett, but she didn’t want to cause Dean distress.

Tuesday morning, Aspen wasn’t sure what she’d find when she knocked and then stepped into Dean’s room. She definitely hadn’t expected the beaming smiles sent her way from all three in the room.

Garrett rushed around Dean’s bed and met her in the doorway with a hug. “He’s awake and aware.”

“I’m so glad,” she said. “Is it okay that I’m here?”

“Of course.” Garrett took her hand and pulled her to the bed. She guessed that Dean hadn’t confessed to his nephew what he’d confessed to her. “Dean, Aspen’s been to visit every day.”

Dean’s gaze caught hers. He remembered.

His confession. His promise to tell Cote everything.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” Dean said.

“You’re the one in the hospital bed.” She walked to his side, happy to see he was recovering. Ever since they’d arrived at the hospital Friday night, she’d been remembering those last few days with her father. Sitting at his bedside, praying he’d wake up.

Watching as he’d slipped away.

She was so thankful Garrett would be spared that pain, anyway. “How you feeling?”

He glanced at Deborah, who stood on the other side, before answering the question. “Good. Strong. Ready to face the future.”

Which meant she had to do the same.

It was hours before Dean fell asleep again. When he finally did, she said, “I’m going to stretch my legs.”

Garrett stood. “I’ll join you.”

“Actually…” Aspen turned to Deborah. “I was hoping you and I could talk.”

Garrett’s gaze flicked from his aunt to Aspen. Neither of them looked at him.

Deborah pushed to her feet. “That would be lovely.” She squeezed Garrett’s hand. “You keep Dean company.” She led the way out of the room.

They walked in silence to the waiting room on the floor. It was empty at the moment, a small favor.

Deborah walked inside and sat against the wall.

Aspen took the chair at her side and angled to face her. “Dean told me he was the one who built the bomb.”

Deborah’s eyes widened in surprise. The look lent more credence to what Aspen had realized Friday night during Brent’s explanation of the events thirty years prior.

The older woman said nothing.

Aspen had options.

She could keep what Dean had told her to herself and let Dean and Deborah continue to live their lives as if nothing had happened.

She could tell Cote what Dean had told her and let Dean face the consequences of the damage the bomb had done.

Or she could tell the truth.

“But it wasn’t Dean, was it? It was you.”

Deborah swallowed and looked away.

“Brent didn’t tell me any names. But he overheard what Dean told me—and said he’d lied. And he told me that the bomb builder’s alibi was work. But Dean wasn’t at work the night of the bombing. He was in his dorm. You were the one at work.”

Deborah said nothing, just stared across the space.

“Dean was trying to get me out of town because he wanted to protect you.” Again, Deborah said nothing. “Friday night, he told me he was going to tell Cote everything. Earlier, he made that clear once again.”

“He said he’s ready to face the future.” Deborah’s words were flat. “I wondered what that meant.”

She waited for Deborah to say something else, maybe to beg her to keep quiet, but she didn’t speak.

“Why did you do it?” Aspen asked.

Deborah inhaled a breath and blew it out. “Your mother was such a force, Aspen. She changed my life. I’d gone from living this dull, drab existence to being pulled into something that mattered, something much bigger than myself. I just…I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to be a part.” A small smile graced her lips, and she shook her head and met Aspen’s eyes. “Truth is, I worshipped your mother. I’d have done anything for her.”

“Were you studying chemistry?”

“No. They asked Dean to build it, and he flat out refused. But he and I talked about it privately. He told me how it could be done. I think he wanted me to know he hadn’t refused because he was incapable. He was always trying to impress me.”

“So you took that information and…?” Aspen was confused. “Did he really give you a step-by-step?”

“He told me enough to know what kind of bomb would be best. There are all different kinds. He’d given me a hint about what materials he would have used. He had books in his dorm. And there were books in the library where I worked. I had access to them but didn’t have to check them out, so there was no record of my having read them. I made copies of what I needed.”

“You drove across state lines to get the materials?”

“It wasn’t hard. I went to Vermont once. I went to Massachusetts twice. I paid cash.”

“Did Dean know?”

“He had no idea. But when it was done…” She sighed and stared beyond Aspen for a long moment. “He never asked me directly if I’d done it. We pretended it didn’t happen. We got married and lived our lives.”

“And then I came back, and you were so kind to me.”

“None of what happened was your fault. I’ve been riddled with guilt for thirty years. Seeing you again… It brought it all back, no question. I figured if I treated you well, you’d never suspect me.”

“I didn’t, not until Friday.”

They were quiet a long moment. Aspen hated what she had to do. She took the older woman’s hand. “I can’t keep this secret for you.”

Deborah didn’t look her way. “Okay.”

“I’ve seen the damage secrets can do to a family, to a community. Bart Bradley deserves justice.” He was a horrible man, but maybe part of that was the result of what had happened, of how he’d lost his daughter-in-law, his son, and his grandchildren. “Rhonda Patterson deserves justice.”

Whether the news would give them peace wasn’t the point. Aspen had a responsibility to expose all of it.

And though she felt guilty, she knew those feelings were displaced. She hadn’t built that bomb. She hadn’t conspired to destroy a building. She hadn’t killed an innocent woman.

“More than that,” Aspen said, “I’m not willing to keep this secret from Garrett. I won’t let what happened thirty years ago come between us.”

Of course, telling Cote the truth might do just that. Would Garrett forgive her for what would happen next? Would he be angry at her for exposing his beloved aunt?

Aspen prayed her honesty wouldn’t change his feelings for her. She couldn’t be sure, though. Despite all the worries swirling in her middle, she would do the right thing, the rational thing. That was who she was.

She would do her best and trust God with the rest.

Deborah said. “I’ve spent the weekend fearing that Brent would tell. He hasn’t yet, but…”

If Brent thought it would get him a reduced sentence, he’d turn on Deborah.

“We should tell Garrett first,” Aspen said. “Then figure out where to go from there.”

Deborah looked into Aspen’s eyes. She ran a hand down Aspen’s hair, then rested her palm against her cheek. “I’m sure your father was very proud of you.”

Tears filled Aspen’s eyes. “I think so.”

“Your mother would have been, too, I think. I wish I’d known… There are so many things I wish I’d done differently. I shouldn’t have let your mother talk me into the scheme. I should have worked with your father to get her help instead of ignoring all the signs. I’m ashamed of my behavior.”

Aspen rested her palm on the woman’s hand on her cheek, then shifted them both to her lap. “I don’t understand most of what happened back then. What I do know is that you, my mother’s best friend, have been nothing but kind to me. As hard as this is going to be, I want you to know that you have my friendship. I know that doesn’t mean much?—”

“It means everything.”

When Deborah pulled Aspen into her arms, for the first time since she’d stood at her father’s bedside in Kona, she felt at peace.