Out of the Blue Bouquet (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  He heard the knock on his door and looked at his watch. Penny wasn’t due back from lunch for another fifteen minutes. “Come in,” he called, not moving from his perch at his drafting table.

  When a large bouquet of flowers in the colors of fall came through his door, his stomach fell, and he immediately got up to intercept them.

  “Let me,” he said, relieving them from the teenager’s arms.

  “Delivery for Ian Jones,” the boy said.

  “Thanks,” Ian replied, quickly setting the flowers on his desk and digging through the fall colored blooms to find the card.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” the boy said as he ducked out of the office.

  Ian retrieved the note from the plastic prongs, his heart racing.

  Dinner at 6:30 tonight. My place. Won’t take no. Calla

  He read her new address, recognizing a street close to the school. He hadn’t bothered to look up her new address upon his return from Haiti. Mary Ann had informed him that Calla had moved but Ian hadn’t asked to where and she hadn’t volunteered the information. He suspected Mary Ann just wanted him to know she had Calla’s new address in the event Ian ever wanted to look her up again. Fine and good, but in the nearly four months since Calla had returned to Atlanta, Ian had not wanted to see her, and she had not made any effort to reach out to him.

  Until today.

  Almost like one of those sappy climactic scenes in a romantic movie where the guy flashes back to the pivotal moments he and the heroine have shared, a private movie played out in his memory. He remembered the first time he really took notice of her that day they shared the elevator after her car died. He remembered the way she moved as she hummed and danced in the filing room. He remembered her cheeks blushing the first time they held hands which happened to also be the first time they prayed together, asking God to bless their first shared meal. He remembered the taste of that first meal and he could not erase the image of her chocolate eyes or her uncensored smile.

  He remembered how she loved on every single child at the orphanage. He watched as her heart nearly broke leaving Haiti behind when returning from that first mission trip. He imagined just how she would pour love and nurturing care into her own children one day.

  He remembered the way she smelled when they hugged. He remembered the first time he had kissed her, the feel of her soft lips beneath his, and the scent of homemade apple pie when the kiss ended.

  He also remembered her shocked pale face as she was introduced to handcuffs at the Atlanta airport. In that moment more than any other, he felt a giant fracture crack through any future plans that may have involved her. Up until that moment, his plans involved flirting with her and courting her in a way far superior to any other men who may have come into her life before. He never had any idea he might end up forking over bail money or writing out a sworn statement for the Superior Court. He never could have imagined courting Calla might involve actual courts of law.

  He remembered her angry, defensive words as she tried to justify her deception. Shamefully, he also remembered his own angry words, and wished for the hundredth time he had never spoken them into the world. He remembered asking for her forgiveness, trying to mend fences. He had hoped she would see the sincerity in his heart and lean on him and his strength. He had hoped they could continue to build on their relationship and rebuild the trust. Instead, she had left him cooling his heels. She fled to Haiti for five months, which may as well have been a lifetime on the moon.

  He had reached out to her so many times, only to get silence or some blow off response. He had decided that when he went to Haiti weeks early so they could have some one-on-one time to see what, if anything, could happen next between them, that would be the end of it. One way or another, he would know if they had a future before he came back home. If anything, the way Calla left things between them the last time he saw her should have decided it once and for all.

  So, what was the deal with this invitation? The flowers? The won’t take no for an answer when all she had given him for nearly a year now was no kind of answer at all? Did she think he was some kind of safety net? Come over and play boyfriend but only when it was convenient?

  Or did he dare hope she might have really changed? Had she come to some kind of realization after all this time? At this point, with so much water under the bridge, could they have a future? Was this her idea of a let’s settle this thing once-and-for-all like Haiti had been for him?

  If so, did she deserve one more chance? Or not. Won’t take no? What if he just went home and forgot all about Calla Vaughn? What then? Would his life finally resume without visions of chocolate brown eyes constantly distracting him?

  As he tossed the card on the desk, his door opened again, and Al came striding in. “You up for some lunch?” He stopped when he saw the flowers on the desk. “I’m feeling a bit of a déjà vu.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Ian ran a finger over the petal of a mum. “The only real question is, do I go or not?”

  “I think you know the answer to that, brother.” Al slapped him on the back of his shoulders. “I think all of us in your life right now pray that you go and that things get worked out one way or the other.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means our dinner plans are officially canceled, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ian took a deep breath. “I don’t think so, man.”

  Al crossed his arms. “What does that mean?”

  Ian shrugged. “I don’t think I’m willing to go, to open back up.”

  Al sat on the stool at Ian’s drafting table. “Let me tell you something, brother. I know her lack of trust hurt you. I get that from here to tomorrow. But, I also respect the fact that she very openly told you about her need to find out who she really is before she could be with you. She didn’t ask for five years, and she didn’t even wait six months. You ask me? I think this is a good thing.”

  Knowing that Al had suffered a broken heart made him narrow his eyes. “You say that knowing how it feels…” his voice trailed off, unable or unwilling to delve into the intricacies of Al’s tumultuous relationship with his sister.

  “How it feels to have my heart cut out of my chest?” Al barked a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, bro. I am. You and Calla, man, you two fit. I think you just need to let last year go and start fresh, you know. Begin again, with all the hurt and pain and angst that has driven you into the ground since the New Year just gone, not to return.”

  Ian unconsciously mimicked Al by crossing his arms. “A fresh start, huh?”

  Al walked across the office and pulled the chair out from Ian’s drafting table. He rotated it around and straddled it, resting his arms across the back of the chair. “Sometimes you have to forgive and forget. Start over. Think about this, man. What if…?”

  Ian waited but Al didn’t finish the sentence. After a few seconds he looked up to meet his friend’s gaze. The look in Al’s eye made it clear that he was about to ask something he felt was important. Al nodded. “What if God made her for you and made you for her? You still up for standing her up then?”

  Ian’s gaze fell and he studied the toes of his shoes. “I thought that before, you know. That first time we went to Haiti? How she was with the kids? I thought to myself, this is the one for me. I praised God that he could make someone so beautiful and kind and all I had to do was make her mine.” He smiled at the memory. “Then we came back from Haiti and everything changed.”

  “Well,” Al chuckled. “Every relationship has its ups and downs.”

  “Funny.” Ian didn’t laugh.

  “Oh, so you think you’re some prize? Brother, let me just drop a few truth bombs on you. You have momma and daddy issues a mile high from losing your folks so young. You’re moody. You can get way too focused on things. And you’re just a little bit judgmental of the blue-collar types in that oh-so-special old money kind of way. Did you know that?”

  “That’s raw, man.”

  “Hey, I love you.
But you have to know you have your own baggage, too. This girl was terrorized by her stepmother. She didn’t have a rich grandmother to take her in.” Al held up a halting hand when he saw Ian tense up, realizing he was dancing on a line he didn’t want to cross. “The point is that she’s reaching out to you, now. Something made her do that. Maybe she just feels sorry for you, I don’t know. Or maybe God has been working on her, too. A lot of people have been praying for her.”

  Ian thought about that. Could he possibly forgive and forget like nothing had happened? Did he want to? “That’s what I need to do.”

  “What? Go to dinner?”

  Ian grinned a toothless grin. “Maybe. But right now, I need to pray. I need to ask God to speak to my heart.” He looked up and met Al’s eyes. “Pray with me?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Sami asked. She stood in the middle of Calla’s apartment wearing a maroon jumper miniskirt over a blouse covered in gold and maroon cartoon turkeys. She had a beanie cap perched on the back of her head and ankle-high black boots. “He’s not the same person he was a year ago.”

  “Neither am I.” Calla spread the tablecloth over her little round table and brushed her hand across the top, smoothing out a wrinkle here and a fold there. She’d hoped that the tablecloth she’d used on the card table almost precisely a year ago would fit on her table. It almost did, well enough to use it.

  “No. You’ve really gained some confidence I’ve never seen before. I like it.”

  They set out chargers, plates, and napkins secured with sunflower rings. When the table looked perfect, Sami picked up the box she’d brought over. “I’m just going to set this in your room. Load everything back up, and I’ll pick it up after church Sunday.”

  Calla met her at the bedroom door. “I really appreciate your help. I wish I had a way to repay you for all the times you’ve been right there, helping me.”

  Sami laughed and hugged Calla. “You say that like you’ve never cooked for me in your life. Girl, you’ve got it backward.” She pulled away and looked at Calla with serious eyes. “I’m worried tonight won’t go well.”

  Calla’s stomach turned and twisted. She walked into the kitchen and Sami followed. Here, she had confidence. Here, she could excel and not fail. Outside of the kitchen, she’d made a shamble of her life. In here, though…

  She pulled the towel off of the loaf of bread and pressed her finger into it, checking to see if it had risen long enough. The indentation remained, so she set the oven to heat up. As she worked, she considered her words.

  “I know that I hurt Ian. But I also know that I needed this time. It’s up to him to accept that.” She looked at her friend. “Or not. But I have to give him a chance to definitively end it.”

  “And if he doesn’t show?”

  “That would be rather definitive, would it not?” The idea hurt her heart, but in all fairness, she half expected that to happen. “I prayed for an end to my problems. God provided it. Now I’m praying for God’s guidance here, and he gave me this verse, But new wine must be put into new wineskins, and both are preserved. I can only rest in the hope that God is telling me that Ian and I should start fresh, start over, not go back.” She smiled. “Whatever happens, reaching out was the right thing to do.”

  “Seeing how God worked out the thing with your stepmother makes me believe that if you asked for a word from Him, He’d totally give it to you. Some people would just take any sign that pointed in the direction they wanted to go as the word from God. You? I think you’re something special.” Sami picked her purse up off of the kitchen counter. “I can’t wait to see you at church Sunday. Do me a favor and shoot me a text tonight before bed. Give me a little glimpse of what happened?”

  “Deal.”

  After walking Sami to the door, she slipped the bread into the oven then went into her bedroom and opened the closet door. Since she wore a uniform to school, she had so few items to wear. She settled on a cotton, long-sleeved dress the color of sage that fell to just above the knee, camel-colored knee-high boots, and a lilac and sage scarf. Before she could put her makeup on, the timer for the bread went off. She looked at her watch. 6:25. Rushing through the apartment, she pulled the bread out of the oven and set it on the stove to cool, then went to her bathroom to put on makeup.

  Just as she applied the coat of pink lipgloss, the doorbell rang promptly at 6:30. Calla looked around the apartment one last time, seeing everything still in order. Would he notice how much everything resembled their dinner a year ago, down to the cushions on the couch?

  She put a hand on her fluttering stomach, breathed out through her nose, then opened the door. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a dark green button-down shirt that made his eyes shine with a green light. A smile broke across her face at the sight of him, but his expression remained stoic in response.

  “Hi there,” she said, opening the door so that he could come in. “I wondered if you’d come.”

  “That right? Well, I reckon I did too.” He kept his hands in his pockets as he entered the apartment. She watched him look around, with his eyes resting several spare moments on the table decorated with sunflowers. She wondered if he could recognize the smell of chicken Florentine cooking in the oven. “Still not sure I wanted to, but I’m here.”

  She gestured at the couch and said, “We have about ten minutes before dinner’s ready.”

  “I can come back,” Ian turned back toward the door.

  “I’d like to talk if that’s okay,” Calla said quickly.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he stiffly stalked across the room and sat at the end of the couch. She sat at the other end, turning toward him. She had worked out what she wanted to say all day, but she didn’t know how to begin. Did she just start by apologizing, maybe begging, maybe pleading? Would throwing herself at his feet fix the ache in his heart that had to mirror the pain in her soul?

  Not knowing where to start, she began with, “I spent the few weeks we were together knowing that it would eventually end. I wouldn’t burden you with my debt, and I didn’t see a way out of it. I feel like my desperate prayer to God about it is what led to my arrest. I say that in hindsight because, in the midst of it, I was overcome with despair. But the arrest was the catalyst to free me from it all, which was exactly my prayer.”

  He kept his eyes forward, staring at a spot on the wall, not even looking at her, so she kept speaking. “Keeping that to myself the entire time wasn’t fair to you. I’ve spent the last several months remembering every word, every touch, every expression. And, again, separated from it, in hindsight, I can believe that you would have seen me through anything. Not giving you that opportunity to lead me through it wasn’t fair to you, and I would like to ask you for your forgiveness.”

  At her words, his head whipped around, and he stared at her in stony silence for a long time, his lips thin, his eyes hard. She held her breath, desperately wishing he would relax and smile and open his arms. Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”

  “That’s fair.” She gestured at the table. “I would very much like a reset. I want you to be able to get to know me without a sixty-thousand-dollar secret affecting my every thought and word. I want you to let the real Calla Vaughn into your life, and maybe you’ll fall in love with the real me the same way I fell in love with the real you.” She paused, and her breath hitched. She clasped her hands tightly together.

  He closed his eyes as if looking at her fatigued him. She held her breath, worried that he’d just flat out reject her and then where would she be? Lost. Without direction. Hopeless.

  When he opened his eyes again, his expression had softened. He slowly lifted his arm and held out his hand, palm up. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her close. She breathed in the familiar smell of him as his arms came around her. “I think I would like that very much,” he said, his voice vibrating against her ear. She lifted her face to look at him and caught a glimpse of a pr
omise of a beautiful future in his eyes as his lips covered hers.

  THE END

  Suggested luncheon menu to enjoy when hosting a group discussion for Courting Calla.

  Those who followed my Hallee the Homemaker website know that one thing I am passionate about in life is selecting, cooking, and savoring good whole real food. A special luncheon just goes hand in hand with hospitality and ministry.

  For those planning a discussion group about this book, I offer some humble suggestions to help your special luncheon conversation come off as a success.

  Chicken Florentine

  Calla is a trained chef, but working with an extremely limited budget. She makes chicken florentine for Ian for their first date. This recipe will impress anyone without breaking the bank. It’s delicious, hearty, and beautiful on the plate.

  2 chicken breasts, skinned, boned, cut into halves

  1/2 tsp salt (Kosher or sea salt is best)

  1/4 tsp ground white pepper

  1 TBS Extra virgin olive oil

  1/2 cup chopped onion

  1/2 cup chopped baby bella mushrooms

  1/2 of 10 oz. pkg. frozen chopped spinach, thawed, well drained

  1/3 cup ricotta cheese

  A few grates of nutmeg (no more than 1/4 tsp)

  1 egg, lightly beaten

  1/2 cup bread crumbs

  Slice the chicken breasts in half - like opening a book (so that you’ve reduced the thickness by half and not the length or width by half). Using a rolling pin or mallet, pound each half thin until about 1/3 to 1/2 inch thick. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

  Chop the onions.

  Chop the mushrooms.

  Place the thawed spinach in a towel and squeeze it dry.

  Preheat oven to 350° degrees F (180° degrees C)

  Beat egg.

  Heat the olive oil in a skillet. Add the onions and mushrooms. Saute until onions are translucent, about 5-6 minutes.