by Dora Hiers
“Because you have somebody that loves you.”
Had she mentioned Remi to Maria? “I have some close friends. Just like you do, and always will.”
“I’ll never get married. Who’s going to want to marry a freak like me?”
Jillian’s breath caught in her throat. Who, indeed? She hadn’t discovered the answer to that question herself.
What was she doing here, thinking she could help this girl? How had she let Carson convince her that she could make a difference in these girls’ lives? That they would listen to her when she really had nothing to offer?
“A man who can see beyond the scars. Someone who loves you for the sweet, caring person you are inside. The same person you’ve always been, and the beautiful, strong person you’ll become because of them.” The deep male voice from behind startled her, the sweet words fluttering into her heart, soothing wounds that had been open and festering entirely too long.
She whipped her head around toward the open door.
Carson?
Was it possible for her heart to sigh?
His wide shoulders, straining against the cotton of his long-sleeved shirt, filled the corridor leading into Maria’s room. His lips kicked up in that lopsided smile of his, showing off twin dimples hiding behind his beard.
Her gaze skittered away, landing on the equipment beeping next to Maria’s bed.
Good thing she wasn’t hooked up to a heart monitor. It would have totally given away her feelings, how her pulse accelerated just by setting eyes on the man.
She stared at the jagged line on the machine, willing her heart rate to slow back to normal, for her lungs to expand and contract properly.
“Fancy seeing you here.” That smooth voice spiked her pulse again. A man didn’t have a right to sound, look or smell so good. He’d brought the outdoors in with him. The scent of pine and fresh air collided with disinfectant and the sickly odors of a hospital room.
“Maria gets to go home tomorrow.” If she ignored her feelings, maybe they’d go away. Not a chance, but she was running with it.
“Really?” Dark eyebrows arched in surprise. His gaze swiveled to the teenager. “Are you excited to blow this joint?”
Maria frowned and remained silent.
Carson angled toward Jillian, questions in his eyes. He lowered himself into the chair next to her, his fingertips brushing Jillian’s arm. Much too close for her peace of mind.
“She’s not too happy about it.” She scooted her chair over a bit, masking the scraping noise against the tile with her voice. Far enough so that his masculine scent wouldn’t invade her space, couldn’t tickle her nose. Who was she kidding? If she was clear across the room, blindfolded, she’d still know he was there.
“Why not?” His gaze strayed to the chair legs and lingered. His way of letting her know that he knew what she was up to.
Jillian stilled the scooting.
Brown flecks twinkled at her, his dimples flashing, before his gaze slid back to Maria. “So what’s not to be excited about going home? Your mama and daddy will be glad to get you home.”
“Yeah. I know.” Maria’s tone sounded resigned. “It’s just that here, everybody expects something to be wrong with you.”
“Ahhh.” Carson drawled that one word until it could have been two syllables. “And you’re afraid people will stare.”
“Yeah.”
“So what.” A shoulder lifted. Challenge glinted from his eyes.
“But…”
“Maria, people will find reasons to stare, with or without the scars.”
Jillian breathed a relieved sigh that Carson seemed content to take over the conversation.
Maria tilted her head, studying him. “What do you mean?”
“When I was younger, people used to stare at me and talk about me as if I was invisible. Like I couldn’t see them pointing their fingers at me as they whispered hurtful things to a friend behind a closed hand. It made no difference to them that I didn’t bear any physical scars. My scars were—are—emotional.” He thumped his chest.
“Why?” Maria’s voice came out on the breath of a whisper. Her dark-eyed gaze never wavered from Carson’s face, her attention riveted.
Just like Jillian’s. Carson thought she should be the one to help these girls?
“Because my father committed suicide when I was twelve. He was a famous golfer, and because my mother had just filed for divorce, the whole world blamed her.”
Maria’s mouth formed a silent “oh.”
“She took the brunt of the media’s criticism and public shunning. But I couldn’t tell you how many fights I got into at school because someone said something ugly to my sister. I really didn’t care what they said about me.”
“I’m sorry.” Maria’s shoulders drooped.
He flicked his head in acknowledgement. “Thanks, Maria. But I didn’t tell you this story to get your pity.”
His serious, gentle gaze speared Jillian until she squirmed in her chair. “It took me a few years to figure things out. That people will always find something to talk about. Doesn’t matter if your scars are on the inside or out.”
His expression softened. He angled to face the patient again. “God saved you from that fire for a reason, Maria. Maybe it’s so you can share your story with someone who needs to hear it.”
Jillian dipped her chin to her chest and stared at her toes peeking from her sandals. Her lungs felt on fire. The Lord had saved her from the fire and not her sister. Was that the reason why? So she could share her story? But what about her sister’s story?
And who was this tender, sensitive man beside her?
Lord, You’re amazing. Thank You for the miracle You’ve worked in Carson’s life. He’s not angry anymore. Thank You for that and for what You’re doing in his life. Please allow him to—
“Jillian?” Carson’s voice shook her from the prayer.
“Yes?”
His eyes warmed, flashing cinnamon flecks. His lips widened into his alluring lopsided smile. “You still with us?”
She nodded, quite sure that she’d missed something.
“Can I come to your meetings?” Maria asked.
Jillian tilted her head. “What meetings?”
“Beauty in the Scars.”
Jillian whipped around to glare at Carson.
He ignored her. “Absolutely.”
Maria’s blistered face puckered with her wide smile. “Thank you.”
In all her visits, this was the first time Maria had shown any emotion other than discouragement and anger, loneliness or fear.
Still. She ought to warn the girl. “We’ve only just started talking about it. I’m not…we’re not—”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Maria leaned an elbow over the bed’s rail, excitement shining from her almost black eyes.
“You do?” Jillian wasn’t so sure.
“Yes!”
No hesitation there. “What do you think we should talk about during the meetings?”
Maria settled back against the pillow, shooting a rather pointed glance at the only man in the room.
Carson cleared his throat, flicked a wrist to glance at his watch. He hoisted himself up from the chair. “Oops. I almost forgot about an appointment.”
“For a job?” Hope made her voice sound breathless. She couldn’t help it. Just the thought of him staying in town left her that way.
“Nah. I need to see Mrs. Peterson before I leave.”
“Oh.” She stood to walk out with him, disappointment dashing the hope.
He stilled her with a light touch on her arm and a smile that ignited a fire in her pulse. “Don’t get up. Stay here and chat. We’ll catch up later.”
She must not have hidden her disappointment because he leaned close and grazed his knuckles along her cheek. His voice came out husky. “I promise.”
I promise. Her heart hammered against her chest.
His promise hadn’t meant anything back then. But he’d changed.<
br />
Lord, can I count on his promise now?
16
Two more bagels popped up from the toaster, breaking the silence in the kitchen.
He slathered peanut butter, thick the way he liked it, on all four, then a thin layer of blackberry preserves on top.
Because Cam worked long hours and didn’t really like to cook, Carson had taken on that duty. Not that he considered it a chore. He enjoyed prepping meals, especially since he tended to eat a bit healthier than his twin. And Cam was happy not to scarf down take out every night. Besides, his brother didn’t charge rent, and this was one way to compensate.
He slid the two plates on the table, then turned back to grab the two giant mugs. Steam wafted up from the cups.
“Thanks.” Carson glanced up from reading the news on his tablet. He closed the leather cover and set it aside.
Carson sat down. Bit into his bagel. Chewed, swallowed. “Got two calls yesterday for odd jobs.”
“Really? Where?”
“From our brother-in-law for starters.”
Cam smiled. “Do you think Remi put him up to that?”
“Yeah. Maybe. He wants me to do the second-floor addition. It would be a big job.”
Cam chuckled. “She wants to keep you around for a while. Who was the other call from?”
“The vet.” Carson shook his head, still not sure he believed in the validity of the second caller.
His twin’s face mirrored his own disbelief. “Corbin Randolph?”
“Yep. Said his practice had outgrown his current building. I’m not sure if he’s just bragging or if he’s actually interested in expanding.”
Cam cocked his head, a thoughtful expression on his face as he tapped the table with his fingertips. “Well, he is the only vet in Harrison. It wouldn’t surprise me if he needed to add on, but I haven’t heard or seen any addition plans come through the City, yet.”
Carson took another bite of his bagel, swallowed, and followed it with a gulp of the hot liquid as he considered this information. “Maybe he’s just getting bids right now. Seeing how much it’ll cost.”
“Could be.”
Carson’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He maneuvered his hand into his pocket and tugged it out, glancing at the caller ID on the screen.
Silver Properties. For a minute the name didn’t register, then he recognized the name from the ad for the real estate firm in Charlotte.
Were they calling for an interview? They wouldn’t be calling otherwise, right? If they weren’t interested, wouldn’t they just send a perfunctory rejection email?
Hope blossomed into anticipation. He pushed the chair back, almost tipping it over, and fumbled with it, keeping it upright before pacing to the kitchen counter. Planting a palm against the smooth granite, he took a deep breath. Thank You for this call, Lord. Now would You calm my nerves and help me shine Your light. “Carson Lambright.”
“Mr. Lambright. Justine Silver with Silver Properties.”
“Good morning, ma’am.”
“I was just looking over your application. I like what I see.”
She liked his application? “Thank you.” Thank You, Lord!
“Are you still in the market for a job?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Did he sound too anxious?
“I’m leaving to go out of town next week, and I’m trying to squeeze all the interviews into this Thursday.” At her brief pause, he mentally checked the dates for the other two appointments already on his calendar. Thursday was clear.
“Will you be available to come into Charlotte for an interview then? Or is that too soon to fit into your schedule?”
“Thursday will work.” He confirmed the time then disconnected, gripping the phone as if it was a life jacket on a sinking ship.
“Another job opportunity?” Tiny lines crinkled around his twin’s dark eyes. He chuckled. “You’re a hot commodity.”
“Yeah. This one’s golden, though.”
“Why’s that?” His brother took a sip of coffee.
“It’s something I think I’d really enjoy. Heading up the construction aspect of a remodel and then following all the way through with the design and staging.”
“After seeing the magic you worked at Remi’s place, I’d say this sounds right up your alley.”
“Yeah.” It was. A job he could get excited about, not just the actual work, but also because it meant staying in the area.
But would Jillian be excited about it?
****
Jillian swiveled her head in both directions before she mashed the accelerator, turning out of her driveway onto the two-lane road.
Dark grey clouds hung low in the sky, a dense misty fog swirling and blanketing the truck. The headlights barely illuminated fifty feet in front of her. This fog would wreak havoc with rush hour traffic. They’d probably be running calls non-stop until it lifted.
She glanced at the digital numbers on the dashboard. Seven o’clock.
Good thing she’d gotten up a few minutes earlier today. Groaning, she eased her boot off the accelerator to accommodate for the lack of visibility and slapped the radio button.
The usual half hour drive to the station would likely stretch to at least forty-five minutes. She might as well settle in for the long haul and listen to some worship music. Might lighten the stressful drive and prepare her for a hopping duty day.
She rolled her shoulders, forcing them to relax, and loosened the tight grip around the steering wheel until the whiteness faded from her knuckles.
A singer she didn’t recognize crooned but the voice barely broke through the sound of the wipers whipping back and forth on high speed and the rain pelting like bullets against the windshield. She flicked off the radio.
Raleigh was only a couple hours away. Was it foggy and damp like this there? Had Carson accepted the job offer, yet? What would happen to them if he took the job? Would he disappear from the face of the earth again?
Who was she kidding? There was no ‘them.’
She rubbed a hand across her face, already bone tired, and the workday hadn’t even started. She’d gotten little sleep last night, and if the weather forecast proved true, she wouldn’t catch a wink tonight, either. They’d be running calls all day and night, for sure.
A red light broke through the mist, blinking in the distance. But how far away? It was so hard to tell with this heavy fog blanketing the truck.
She tapped the brake, already crawling along. She hated to go even slower, but safety came first.
Hunching over the wheel, she squinted, peering through the glass, trying to make out anything through the deluge of raindrops pelting the windshield, reducing visibility to zero.
Tires screeched. Close. Too close. Off to her left.
Her head whipped to look out the driver’s side window, but she couldn’t see anything. She didn’t know whether to stomp on the accelerator and gun it or mash the brake.
The tires kept squealing, coming closer. She sucked in a breath. Waited for visibility to open so she’d know what to do. Oh, God, please.
A flash of something black. Impact.
The sound of metal crunching melded with pain, intense and mind numbing, burning iron hot against her side.
Oh, Carson, now I’ll never know.
Jillian closed her eyes and allowed the darkness to take over.
17
“This plan looks great, Mason. You were smart to have an architect draw up the blueprint.” Carson hunched over the kitchen counter, his palms propped against the cool granite.
His brother-in-law hadn’t been joking about being ready for the addition.
“I can’t take the credit. Remi had it done a long time ago.”
“Did she?” For some reason, that surprised Carson. Not that it should. He really didn’t know the grown up version of his sister too well. Something he planned to remedy. Please, God?
“Yeah. She tackled most of the downstairs remodel herself. Camdon and Ryan helped when they could,
but you know how busy they are. I figure she plumb tuckered out thinking about this big job.” Mason chuckled. Pride puffed up his shoulders. “But she had a master plan for the stable all along. I’d work on it myself, but I recognize my limitations. I can handle a racecar. This not so much.” He swept an arm over the blueprint.
Carson laughed.
The front door swung open. Rain pelted the ground outside. Remi breezed in and shut the door. She tugged off her boots and dropped them on a rug by the entry. She shook her head, and water flicked in all directions. “Wow. It’s nasty outside.”
She stepped into the kitchen in stockinged feet and wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist from behind. His arm snaked around to circle her neck, and he tugged her against his side to plant a kiss on the top of her head.
Something akin to jealousy reared up and nearly knocked Carson backwards in its intensity.
Love gleamed from his sister’s face and Mason’s doe-eyed gaze. The two were made for each other. Good thing they’d overcome the obstacles to join their lives together.
“So, are you interested in taking it on?” Mason asked, his eyebrows arched, his arm still cradling Remi’s neck. She pinned him with a wide-eyed stare, too.
“I have an interview lined up for Thursday. If I get the job, I’ll do this in my spare time, if that works for you. If I don’t…” He sighed. There was no point in even bringing up the job offer in Raleigh. “I’ll have to let you know after that.”
“Sounds like a plan. Good luck with the job interview. I’m sure you’d rather have something permanent and full time over part time gigs.” Mason smiled down at his bride. “Remi’s waited this long. We can wait a bit longer, especially if you can do it.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“Excuse me.” Remi fumbled around in her pocket and pulled out her phone, stepping away from Mason’s hold as she connected the call. With her back facing them, Carson could only make out some murmuring on her end.
“What?” Her head whipped around, her eyes and mouth round and wide. She covered her mouth with her hand, paling with every second. Her gaze flitted between him and Mason. When it landed on him, a lump appeared to crawl down her throat.
