Out of the Blue Bouquet (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  He took a deep breath through his nose and slowly closed his eyes. “Well, having you arrested at the airport was probably better than just telling me the truth. I can see that.”

  The sound of her breath hitching made him open his eyes again. “Obviously, I didn’t know…”

  “Right. Because if there was a chance you might be arrested upon your return to American soil, why you might have just considered staying in Haiti? Like you told me you wanted to do?” He surged to his feet and walked across the carpet, feeling like a caged animal in the small room. “I asked you, Calla, flat-out why you quit culinary school. That first week of our relationship, I gave you an opportunity to be honest with me.”

  “On our way to your family’s Thanksgiving dinner!” She ripped her glasses off her face and threw them on the coffee table, then dug her palms into her eyes. “How am I supposed to start that conversation, huh? ‘Sorry, Ian. You probably don’t want to continue to see me because my stepmother is a con artist – wanted in three states it turns out – and she has destroyed my name and credit to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars.’ Yeah, you would have helped me pack up those pies and taken me right on over to grandma’s house.”

  Rage burned behind his eyes and he spoke without thinking. “So, you just bring me in deeper, make me fall in love with you, and then what? I bail you out? Write a big fat check, and you’re in the clear? Taking your cues from your stepmom now?”

  As soon as he spoke the words, he knew he didn’t believe them. He opened his mouth to retract them, but Calla gasped and surged to her feet. “Get out!” She raced across the room and threw the deadbolt on her door. “Get out of my house. Get out of my life.”

  Immediately, the rage dissipated, like air from a balloon. His shoulders slumped forward. “I’m sorry, Calla. That was –”

  “That was exactly what you think of me. Get out. Leave. Just go. I’ll find another job, so you don’t have to worry about running into me anymore.”

  She opened the door and crossed her arms over her chest. For the first time since he walked into her apartment, no tears fell from her eyes. Resigned, he walked to the door but stopped in front of her. “Calla, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

  She stared at the ground and didn’t say a word, so he finally walked out the door. He went to his car and slipped into the driver’s seat, but didn’t start it. Instead, he lay his head back against the headrest of the seat and closed his eyes. That was a mistake, because every time he closed his eyes for the last two weeks, he saw Calla in handcuffs getting escorted out of the airport by two police officers.

  Just as he started to reach for the ignition, his phone vibrated. Seeing Mary Anne’s number, he answered. “Hey, there, Mary Ann.”

  “Hello, Samuel.” No member of his family ever called him Ian. “I just got off the phone with Calla. I wanted to let you know that the D.A. isn’t going to indict her. Now, she and I can go to work clearing her credit and getting her life back.”

  He clenched his teeth. “Thank you. Thank you for all you’ve done. That’s great news, Mary Ann. Definitely an answer to prayer.”

  “Amen.” She paused before continuing, “This wasn’t her fault, you know.”

  He heaved a heavy sigh. “I know.” A flood of emotion had him closing his eyes. “I don’t think it’s her fault. I just think she should have told me about it before she got arrested.”

  “It’s not easy for a woman to admit to being a victim. We females don’t want to appear weak or needy.”

  He cleared his throat. “I get that, but I think it becomes a matter of trust at some point. And, I don’t think that I can have feelings for someone who doesn’t trust me. I have to go. I love you.” He hung up the phone before she could reply, and started his car.

  Sami scooted closer to Calla in the pew. They looked at the front of the church and not at each other.

  “It’s finally over,” Calla whispered.

  “This is good, right?” Sami reached over and took Calla’s hand. “We’ve been praying that it would be over. Why are we sad?” Calla bowed her head. Her body shook with emotion, and Sami squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry that it had to be an arrest, honey, but honestly, you needed a catalyst to make her stop, to make it go away. I think this was honestly the answer to your prayers. You’re free now.”

  She was free. Mary Ann worked on clearing her credit, writing letters and sending documentation. She planned to go back to school in the fall. And yet, instead of relief and joy, she kept hearing Ian’s words from last week. “Ian thinks I was with him so he could clear my debt.”

  Sami let go of her hand and turned to face her fully. “No, he doesn’t.” She spoke firmly, with conviction in the simple three words.

  Calla shrugged with one shoulder. “He said it himself.” Sami didn’t speak, so Calla raised her head and looked at her. She had a shocked look on her face. “I could have taken him breaking up with me because I wasn’t honest and I was hiding what happened. But to have him say that I made him fall in love with me so that he would write me one big check was horrible. I just –” her breath hitched as she stopped talking. She was so tired of the negative feelings, the tears, the despair.

  She surged to her feet and reached behind her to pick her Bible and purse up off the pew. Services had ended more than forty minutes ago. As she left the sanctuary and entered the annex, Sami ran up behind her. “Wait!”

  She paused and looked at her best friend. “I just need to work everything out in my head, Sami. I’ll be okay. I promise.” She hugged her friend. “Thank you.”

  Sami looped her arm through Calla’s as they walked through the church doors. Calla paused and made sure the door locked behind them and slipped a crocheted cap onto her head. Cold January wind blew straight at them, and Calla pulled her wool coat closer around her. Sami gestured at her lone car in the parking lot. “Want a ride?”

  Calla considered it, then shook her head. “No. But thanks. I’m going to go get something to eat. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

  “Okay. I want to say something.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her fuchsia trench coat and looked up at the sky. “I feel like what you and Ian had was real. I feel like he was really hurt by you not being honest with him and he must have lashed out to say such a fool thing as that. I think you need to consider forgiving him and letting him know that you have.” She spoke quickly, saying it all in one breath.

  Calla felt a stirring of annoyance at her friend. “I appreciate your honesty. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hugged her and turned to walk away without saying anything else.

  The cold wind blew into her back, making her rush forward down the sidewalk. A couple blocks away, she pushed into a restaurant and paused for a moment in the warm air while she waited for her glasses to defog. She pulled the hat off her head, and the smells immediately made her realize she’d come to the restaurant where she and Ian had met every Sunday after church throughout their short courtship.

  She contemplated leaving, but thinking of the cold wind and the warm interior, she decided to stay. With a smile, she walked toward the hostess stand.

  “Hi! Haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks,” the hostess greeted.

  Suddenly missing Ian, she nodded. “I went out of the country for Christmas.”

  “Well, hon, I hope you had a great time. Your young man is here. Been here about fifteen minutes, I think.”

  Her stomach fell but, despite the apprehension, she put one foot in front of the other and walked into the restaurant. She spotted Ian at the window table where they always sat. He had a cup of coffee in front of him and stared out of the window.

  She slipped into the chair across from him before speaking. “Hi.”

  Immediately, he whipped his head around, and his eyes widened when he saw her. “Calla!” His head turned to look out the window before looking at her again. “I was watching for you.”

  Surprised, she said, “What?”

  “I knew y
ou’d walk past here on your way home.” He straightened the coffee cup so the handle was perfectly perpendicular to the line of the table. “I, uh, planned to persuade you to come eat with me.”

  She looked at her watch. “If you’ve been here long enough for that coffee to be cold, you must have skipped church.”

  He looked down then back at her. “I was at your church this morning. I wanted to approach you there, but…”

  Calla waited then raised an eyebrow. “But?”

  He cleared his throat. “But I noticed that you were praying and saw Sami with you. Didn’t seem right to intrude.”

  She felt the broken halves of her heart start to come back together. Ian cared enough about her to not interrupt a time of prayer and meditation. The consideration he’d shown her, that he’d almost always shown her, humbled her. “I see.”

  “I was about to leave and go to your apartment. When I didn’t see you walk by, I thought maybe she’d given you a ride home.”

  “No. I just stayed for a while.” The waitress approached, and Calla ordered food even though she didn’t feel hungry. “Do you have something like a beef soup?”

  “We have a vegetable beef. It’s terrific.”

  “I’ll take a cup. With a roll and some water. Thanks.”

  The waitress looked at Ian. “You, hon?”

  “I’m good with just the coffee. Thanks.”

  Calla sat back as the waitress left and intentionally kept herself from crossing her arms defensively. “So,” she began, toying with the bundle of silverware wrapped in a blue cloth napkin, “you were at my church, and then you were going to come to my apartment? What for, Ian?”

  He looked at the coffee in his cup for a long time before looking at her. His eyes looked dull gray-green and red-rimmed with dark circles underneath. Finally, he said, “I sincerely apologize for speaking to you that way. I’ve spent the last week trying to figure out how to word it so that you would believe me, but all I can say is that I’m sorry.”

  The waitress brought the water, and Calla asked her, “Can I get some hot tea, too?”

  “Sure thing, hon.” She looked at Ian. “Want a warm up?”

  He didn’t speak, but he shook his head and kept his eyes on Calla. When she left, he said, “I don’t know why I said what I did, but I didn’t mean it, and I don’t believe it. I was just really mad at you, I think.”

  Calla slowly ripped the paper covering off of her straw then tore it into tiny pieces. Using the tip of her finger, she brushed all the pieces into a pile on her placemat. “I knew I should treasure every moment I spent with you because once you found out what had happened to me, you’d not want to be with me anymore.”

  Ian let out a long sigh. “Calla, you’ve said that before. But, the truth is, I want to be with you. What hurt me more than anything was that you didn’t trust me with the truth.”

  “Not trust you? It wasn’t a lack of trust, Ian. It was a lack of confidence. Confidence in who I am, confidence in who I could be to you. I was embarrassed. No. Not embarrassed.” She thought about it. “I was ashamed.”

  “Ashamed?” He reached forward and took her hand. “Why?”

  She stared at their joined hands. “I had spent the last three years paying twenty thousand dollars off of debt that wasn’t mine, and prayed daily that she would just die so I didn’t have to do it anymore. That day you came and found me crying, she’d just called me to brag about getting a new credit card in my name. I should have recorded the phone call and called the police right then. But I didn’t do anything. Except feel sorry for myself and cry.”

  “Calla –”

  She held up a hand to cut off what whatever he planned to say and raised her head to look at him. “I know. Intellectually, I know a lot of things that I’m not able to emotionally face.” She took a sip of the water and said without thinking, “Sami said I need to forgive you for saying that to me.”

  He squeezed her hand and let it go, sitting back so the waitress could bring her soup and tea. She set the heavy soup mug in front of her, made sure she didn’t need anything else, then walked away. Calla didn’t pick up her spoon. “That wasn’t really what I thought. I was just angry and hurt,” he admitted, “I’d really appreciate your forgiveness, but I’m not expecting it.”

  She used the round soup spoon to stir the soup, leaning in to smell the richness of the broth. “I don’t think I need to forgive you.” At his raised eyebrow, she explained, “I don’t think you’re the problem. She is. I need to forgive her. I need to forgive her, and I need to learn just what’s broken inside of me that allowed me to roll over and let her do what she did since I was a teenager, to just take it and keep taking it the whole time.” She dropped the spoon and sat back. “I worked eighty hours a week for two years so I could pay for her thievery, and it was done with such passiveness that the police actually thought I was her partner.”

  She pushed the soup away, unwilling to risk trying to eat right now. “Why did you use the word broken?” Ian asked.

  “What?”

  “You said something was broken inside of you. Why did you use that word?”

  In her mind, she pictured herself, fractured, colorless, in a gray room without windows. “Isn’t that what it is? Whole people don’t let someone do that to them without fighting back or at least standing up for themselves, right?”

  He sat back, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and lacing his fingers together. “Hard to say. She catapulted off of your grief. You were an orphan, and she was supposed to have been someone who loved your father.”

  “Maybe.” She considered her father. “But I should have been strong enough to defend him and his memory. Instead, I just –” She cleared her throat. “I need to go.”

  As she pushed away from the table, he stood with her. “Please stay and talk to me.”

  She knew if she stepped forward, he would put his arms around her. Instead, she stepped backward, retrieving her coat from the back of her chair. “I don’t think I can, right now.” She slipped her coat on and pulled her hat out of her pocket. “I appreciate you wanting to defend me and champion me in my circumstances. But, I’m realistically looking at it and don’t agree with you. I need to work on me. I need to let God work on me. And I really think I need to do that without the distraction of you trying to work on me.” She slipped her purse strap over her head, letting the strap fall across her body. “Goodbye, Ian.”

  Halfway across the room, she heard him call her name, but she did not stop. “Calla!”

  Calla laughed as she chased a soccer ball down the dirt hill. She grabbed it just before it rolled into a thorny brush and held it on her hip as she climbed back up the hill. A group of teenagers waited for her, jabbering to each other in Creole. Calla tossed them the ball and pantomimed to let them know she needed to get a drink of water.

  For five months, she’d worked at the little island orphanage in Haiti. She arrived in late February, free from any legal issues and ready to pay Mary Ann back in the most expedient way she could, with her talents and skills. She worked hard cooking for the orphanage, taking local produce and meats and learning from the Haitian cook how to turn them into nutritious meals for the twenty-two children and six adults they fed daily. She’d learned how to operate in a kitchen that had only generator powered electricity, using only products she could obtain regionally. She learned how to prepare foods the kids knew instead of the gourmet fare she’d studied years ago in school. And every day, she’d healed and grown until she could think back to the last four years of her life without feeling persistent pain in her stomach or sharp shame in her heart.

  She’d prayed, studied her Bible, prayed, worshiped, prayed, and cooked. The hurricane season had come, and she’d survived a strong category four storm that knocked the school flat and destroyed the generator, leaving them without power for three weeks and a day.

  When she had good Internet, she downloaded work projects then transcribed videos and movies and uploaded t
he finished captions. She made more than enough income to support herself here. Now she faced the end of her time in this beautiful place. She’d received her acceptance back into culinary school. She would start classes in August. It took her a full week to decide that she needed to go back to the United States. Leaving this place behind would hurt. She lessened the pain by promising herself she’d come back again.

  She stepped onto the porch and grabbed a bag of water, ripping the corner off with her teeth and drinking all five ounces of the water with three long swallows.

  “You’re getting better at that game,” Hettie Jones remarked from her plastic chair. “One day they might not smear you all over the field.”

  Calla laughed. “I doubt it, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” She looked at her watch. “I should finish getting packed. The truck will be here soon.”

  Hettie frowned. “I wish you could stay through July. School doesn’t start for you until mid-August.”

  “I need to get settled in Atlanta,” Calla said. “It’s going to take me some time to reintegrate. I don’t want to start school right after coming back. It’s going to be hard enough.”

  “I know. I’m just being selfish. I get to do that sometimes.” She stood and hugged her. “I have enjoyed getting to know you better. I hope you come back.”

  “You would have to try hard to keep me away.” She went into the building and walked through the common area to the room she shared with another staff member. She had packed almost everything. Now she added her toothbrush and her laptop. As she zipped the bag closed, she heard the truck pull into the yard.

  Taking one last look around the room, at the two cots shrouded with mosquito netting, the small mirror hanging by a rusty nail above a wash basin, and the narrow closet the two women shared, she felt a sense of sorrow at leaving. She had known though, that God brought her here for a short time, not forever. Whatever He had planned for her next waited in Atlanta, not here. Still, she looked forward to returning as soon as possible.