by Mary Manners
“I only want to be an exception if it’s a good thing. I don’t want to cause any strife between you and Wyatt or Hattie.”
“You’re not. You haven’t.” He turned as they reached the corner and headed east down a quiet street canopied by majestic white oaks. “This is one of my favorite areas of town.”
“There’s Clover Cove Community Church. They’re the ones who ordered the arrangements. I haven’t seen the graveyard yet, or the inside of the sanctuary, and I’d like to get an idea of how everything might be placed. Do you mind if we take a little detour?”
“Not at all.” Reese veered toward the entrance gates. “What can be more romantic than an evening stroll through a graveyard?” He offered her a wink.
“Well, when you put it that way…” Peyton threaded her arm through his and picked up the pace, tugging him along. “Come on. There it is…See how the headstones kind of glow beneath the moonlight. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“That’s not exactly the word I would have used.” He took his fingers from his pocket and broke his own promise to keep his hands to himself by untangling her arm from his and reaching for her hand. It slipped easily into his, and she didn’t seem to mind at all, so he let go of his reservations and simply enjoyed. “But I suppose it is, in its own way.”
The gates stood open, and a quilt of matted grass, packed down from a century of foot treads, marked a winding path. Reese’s memory wandered for a moment to a snapshot of a day, just over two years ago, when he’d stood in the same spot while the skies opened up, crying tears of sorrow that matched his own, for the father he’d loved and lost.
“It’s…just a little bit spooky.” Peyton’s voice was a soft murmur as she paused and released Reese’s hand to turn a slow three-sixty. Suddenly her heart was pounding, and she was a bit leery of moving beyond the gates. Why the sudden reluctance? She couldn’t explain why the palms of her hands had turned clammy and her skin tingled with heat though the evening air was a bit on the cool side. “Maybe we shouldn’t go any farther. I don’t want to be disrespectful. I can get an idea of things from here.”
“It’s okay.” Reese angled his head to glance her way, his voice soft and coaxing. Beneath the shimmer of stars, the strong curve his jaw and gentle slope of his nose gave him the look of Greek statues she’d seen in museums. It was hard to deny him, dressed in pressed khakis and a crisp navy button-down. True to his word, he’d complemented the ensemble with a bold red tie. Of course, the tie was tugged loose now, swaying like the pendulum of a grandfather clock with each step he took. But he’d made the effort, and she was touched by his thoughtfulness. Now, his gaze urged her forward. “There’s nothing here that can harm you. This place is meant to be visited. That’s why the gates are always left open.”
“Have you been here before?”
“Yes. This is my church—my family’s church.”
“Oh, I see.” She felt a sudden, sharp flash of disappointment as realization dawned. “Did you have anything to do with the order of the memorial arrangements?” she asked, her voice flat.
“Not me, but perhaps Mom had a slight hand in that.”
“Oh, well…” She blew out a breath, disappointment morphing to defeat. And here she thought she’d snagged the sale on her own. She dug her heels into the pavement, reluctant to budge though he tugged at her. “I had no idea. I don’t want your family’s charity.”
“Peyton, don’t.” Reese loosened the tie all the way and folded it over several times before tucking it into the pocket of his khakis. “Before you get all bent out of shape, don’t confuse a bon-a-fide order with a feel-sorry-for-me-gimmee. If Mom didn’t think you have what it takes to get the job done, she would have never offered to lease you the brownstone—or encouraged the grounds-keeping crew to commission you to do the memorial arrangements. You have to believe—and trust—that.”
“I know…and I do, I guess.” Deep down, maybe, but on the surface doubt nibbled at her. “But—”
“Don’t even go there. Toss the worries from your mind.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is.” He brushed a knuckle along her jaw, smiling gently. “God already knows the plans He has for you, for me, for all of us. Let Him carry the burdens and lead you where He wants you to go.”
“If He already has it all planned out, then what does it matter what I do, or think, or say? I have no control over anything.”
“Yes, you do. That’s one I can answer.” When Reese smiled, his eyes seemed to gather the starlight, and reflected a soft shimmer of concern. “It’s called free will.”
“Free will…?” She drew a breath. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Puts a whole new spin on things, doesn’t it?”
“For sure. It’s a bit unsettling.”
“That’s why it’s important to pray, to reflect and to listen.”
“If it works for you, great. But my wires seem to be crossed in that department.” Peyton did a slow sweep of the grounds, making mental notes for final touches for the memorial. “Do you know what the difference is between a graveyard and a cemetery?”
“No. I’ve never given it much thought. Enlighten me.”
“A graveyard is on church grounds, while a cemetery is away from a church, often free standing.”
“I see.” Reese ran a palm along his jaw. “Any other offhanded information filed in that brain of yours?”
“Oops, sorry.” Peyton laughed, shaking her head slightly. “I’m not sure where that came from, or why you would even care to know such a thing.”
“If it matters to you, then I care.” Reese wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she shivered. His gentle words stilled the pounding of her heart and chased the flush of heat from her cheeks. “I’d just like to have you on my team if we ever get wrangled into a game of Jeopardy.”
“You’ve got it. And I won’t spoil the evening with my worries.” Peyton allowed him to gather her close, letting his warmth soothe her. “This is much too lovely.”
“Good.” Reese turned toward moonlight that glinted off a small reflecting pond beneath a willow tree that had to be at least a hundred years old. “Do you mind if we head that way?”
“Not at all, of course.”
Peyton slipped off her shoes and gathered them into one hand before the heels had a chance to sink into soft earth. She felt like an interloper as she walked alongside Reese, the grass tickling her toes. So many gravestones, all symbolic of lives lived and lost. She wondered who they were, who’d loved them, and who missed them still.
One answer came quickly as Reese knelt to gather a few weeds from around a headstone. Peyton read the inscription.
Richard Michael Cutler
Loving Husband and Father
January 14, 1950-April 30, 2012
Her heart caught. “Oh, Reese…I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He glanced up at her, his eyes full and round in the moonlight. “This isn’t a sad place for me, at least not anymore.”
“No?” She tried to make sense of his words, so strong and sure. “But, don’t you miss him?”
As soon as the words rushed out, she wished she could grab them back. Of course, Reese missed his father. She knew, because she missed hers, as well. Sometimes the memories were sweet and others, the loss so raw she could hardly breathe.
God didn’t care about her pain, her loss, she reminded herself. If He did, it wouldn’t still hurt. How had Reese let go of his own hurt? Did he ever feel angry?
“Yes, of course I miss him.” Reese’s words were heartfelt and rife with unbridled emotion. “But I have a lot of great memories, and I rest in the promise that one day I will see him again.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s not.” He paused in mid-pull as his gaze lifted to capture hers. “It’s simply truth.”
“But, how?”
“Faith…and trust. It’s one of the great mysteries of life—and death—that I c
hoose to embrace.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“Faith and trust.” He repeated as he pressed a single finger to her lips, stilling her doubts. “That’s all I need.”
Peyton felt the slightest brush of envy at the easy way he dealt with such a loss. He seemed so certain. Could he possibly be right? Was there any chance at all that what he said held a grain of truth?
“I wish that was all I needed, too.”
“It is.” He dropped his hand, but his gaze held steady for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Peyton stepped back, breaking contact.
She tossed her shoes in the grass beside the bench as Reese turned his attention to the gravesite and a cluster of weeds that flourished around his dad’s headstone. Her eyes burned with tears, blurring the engraved letters kissed by moonlight as she thought of the last time she spoke with her father.
She’d just turned eighteen and was on the eve of leaving for college when they sat together on the front porch sipping hot tea because it soothed his throat, though the temperature hovered in the nineties beneath a quilt of velvet sky. He could barely talk with vocal chords raw from surgery, but his whispered words were enough for her.
“I’m proud of you, Peyton.” His blue eyes, rheumy from Chemo treatments, still danced beneath the milky glow of the moon as he spoke to her. “You’re something special, always have been. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Maybe to you, I’m special, Dad. But that’s as far as it goes.”
“You’re special to Him, too.”
As he’d pointed toward the heavens, Peyton tamped down a wave of resentment. Of course she wasn’t special to God, and neither was her father or he wouldn’t be forced to endure such pain. Maybe it was her fault. If she prayed harder…
“Are you cold, Daddy?”
“I could use that throw blanket, if you don’t mind.” He motioned to an afghan tossed over the porch swing. “And my Bible. I’d like to read a bit.”
“Maybe I should stay…put off college for a semester—or even a year—until you get better.”
“No!” The force of his voice gave her pause. “You leave here tomorrow. You have to go. Your future is waiting. Now, please bring me my Bible. Sit with me for a while.”
She done just that, listening as the words washed over her, feeling a sense of hope. She’d be home again soon, and Daddy would be well by then, wouldn’t he?
She’d left for Knoxville the next morning, his words echoing in her ears, and knew with every fiber of her being that he’d be just fine in time. Bolstered by the reading, she’d stepped up prayers for his recovery. Surely God wouldn’t turn His back on her heartfelt pleas. She’d already lost her mom to a car accident, so He’d certainly spare her dad.
She was only weeks into her first semester of college when the phone call came from Uncle Stu—Dad had died peacefully in his sleep. All Peyton could think was that he’d been alone—he’d died all alone. She shouldn’t have left him, should have never gone away.
Now, with the memory swirling, she struggled to keep her words steady as she murmured to Reese.
“Do you ever feel like something isn’t quite right, like pieces of the puzzle are missing?”
“Yes. I suppose everyone does, sometimes. Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the move here, focusing so hard on the shop, has me out of sorts.” She shrugged it off and shifted gears. “I think the church is planning a beautification day tomorrow. That’s why they ordered all the arrangements.”
“I know.” His gaze fixed on her. Did he see her tears? She tilted her head slightly away to hide them as he continued. “I’m slated to help.”
Her throat pumped painfully as she struggled to speak. “What time?”
“We meet here at seven, start with a prayer breakfast, and then go at it until we’re done. Figured we’d get an early start, beat the heat.”
She swiped at her eyes, thought again of her dad. “Do you mind if I tag along?”
“I’d love it.” His gaze wandered to her pumps tossed in the grass. “But you’ll have to leave the stilts at home.”
Chapter 6
REESE SETTLESD INTO A CHUNKY Adirondack chair at Mom’s house. He liked to come here when he felt unsettled, spend a little time reminiscing. Wyatt must have felt the same tonight, because Reese had found him here, as well. The evening air was full and musky with the scent of impending summer as cicadas sang in harmony with an angry bullfrog near the decorative eco-pond he and Wyatt had installed for Mom’s last birthday. Reese reclined and propped his feet on the deck rail as he turned toward Wyatt. “So, what did you learn from your trip to Chattanooga?”
“Two of our suppliers are merging, which will prove extremely beneficial to us. I talked them down in price by a solid six percent across the board.”
“That’s awesome. Beginning when?”
“July first. It marks the start of new fiscal year, and I’ll just be returning from Cancun with Kami, as well.”
“A married man, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Getting married is way too much work, from where I’m sitting.” Reese drew a long sip of his tea, swallowed. “Why don’t you just elope?”
“Kami would never go for that. Anthony would be heartbroken, as well.” Wyatt shuddered. “And Mom…”
“Right. I think I’ll just stay single…at least for the foreseeable future.”
“It’s nothing to stress over…at least not the ceremony and all of that.”
“Said the guy who’s gnawed his nails to the quick, wading his way through plans.”
“The wedding is the easy part. It’s the half-a-century after, hopefully more, that concerns me.”
“Concern…that’s putting it lightly. Half-a-century.” The very thought sent a wave of shivers up Reese’s spine. “Oh, man. Doesn’t it rattle you— downright scare all that’s sensible right out of you—to be tethered to the same woman for the rest of your life?”
“Yes, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.” The telltale wrinkle along Wyatt’s forehead deepened as he ran a hand across his jaw. “I just want to do it right. I’m afraid of messing things up.”
“You’re a planner, analytically minded to a fault, and the next best thing to perfect. If you mess it up, bro, there’s no hope at all for the rest of us.” Reese drained his cup, set it on the planked floor that he and Wyatt had spent the better part of last weekend pressure washing and resealing. “You’ll do fine— better than fine. Knowing how you operate, you and Kami will have half-a-dozen little Wyatt’s scampering around the house faster than I can count to twenty.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Wyatt shook his head, grimacing. “Good grief, that’s a vision. If I have boys with even a tenth of the mischief we possessed growing up, I’m doomed. I don’t know how Mom and Dad managed.”
“Yet, they did. And you will, too.” Reese shifted in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest as clouds drifted, unveiling the moon. The scent of lilacs carried on a light breeze and he heard Mom singing in the kitchen. All of it gelled, got him to thinking. “In all seriousness…how did you know Kami was the one?”
“Oh, wow…” Wyatt slipped from his chair to lean against the porch rail. He stood with his back to Reese as he gazed out over the tree-lined river. “I remember that day so clearly. Mom and I had gone over to the pizzeria to grab something to eat—I’d just gotten back into town and I was, I don’t know, out of sorts from the move…”
Out of sorts…the words, a mirror of Peyton’s only an hour ago, had his mind wandering. She’d said she was out of sorts from more that the move, the shop. What were the missing pieces she spoke of?
“…as soon as we walked into the warmth from the rain,” —Wyatt’s voice drew Reese back— “Kami strode over to greet us and it was like this flash of lightning struck. Everything tilted and the weirdest feeling came over me. For a moment I couldn’t breathe.”
“Wow, yeah.” Reese knew the f
eeling. His first glance at Peyton had drawn the same effect. “That’s crazy.”
“Crazy or not, it happened. And it irritated me, the effect Kami had. Looking back, I guess I acted like a jerk in the beginning, trying to make sense of how I felt.”
“A jerk. That sounds about right, too.” Reese grimaced. “How long did it take you to figure it out?”
“Long enough. I don’t know why, really, except back then the last thing I wanted—or thought I needed—was to fall in love.”
“But you did anyway.”
“Yes. Hard.” Wyatt turned, propped his elbows on the rail. “And if I’d let my fears, my doubts about the future stand in the way, I’d have missed out on the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“That’s…powerful.”
Hattie stepped through French doors that opened onto the deck. “What’s powerful, son?”
Wyatt snatched a pair of chocolate chip cookies from the plate she offered. “Reese is asking me about falling in love.”
“How wonderful!’ She winked, smiling as she turned to offer the platter to Reese. “Does this have anything to do with a golden-brown-haired, blue-eyed florist named Peyton?”
/
Peyton padded across the bedroom floor as she finger-fluffed her hair, still a bit damp from the shower. Moonlight slivered through slats in the window shades, bathing the room in a soft, milky glow. She reached for a bedside lamp, switched on the light and then crossed to the dresser. Tugging open the middle drawer, she delved beneath the pile of socks inside until her fingers connected with the smooth leather cover of a book.
Her dad’s Bible.
It hadn’t been opened since his death; she’d simply packed it away in a cardboard box following the funeral. That box had been lugged from a dorm room to a rash of campus apartments over the years, and then, finally, unpacked and tucked away in her drawer.
She slid a hand over the cover, smoothing a crease along one corner. The leather was worn almost smooth from years of use; the book had been a wedding gift to Dad from his father, her Grandfather Joe, who’d left her with nothing but vague memories since he’d passed on before she entered kindergarten.
