Even though Anthony was looking forward to a trip to Pine Hill, Marty wasn’t sure she was ready. They wouldn’t be able to stay in their own house because the Hiltons were still there. Anthony’s brother had offered to host them, which was kind, considering how many people already lived under their roof. Even though Marty wanted to see Rex, Dawna, and their children, she wasn’t sure how she’d handle being with them day and night for that long. Baby Audrey would be six months old by Thanksgiving, old enough to coo and play with her toes and maybe even sit up in a high chair. Her heart gave a flutter of desire followed by a pinch of sorrow. Was she ready to hold and play with her littlest niece?
Mostly, though, she didn’t want to leave Brooke. When she’d said as much to Anthony, he’d suggested taking her along to Pine Hill. Marty didn’t argue at the time, but she knew it wasn’t a good idea. Brooke’s sixth chemo infusion was scheduled for the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, which meant Thanksgiving Day would be the worst as far as nausea and weakness. Brooke wouldn’t want to be among strangers while battling severe bouts of sickness. Maybe Anthony would be willing to go by himself. The idea made her lonely.
She reached the edge of the business area and came to a stop. She hadn’t made a trek to the townsite for weeks, and she stared open mouthed at the transformation. The row of once-dilapidated wood-sided stores wore a fresh coat of paint—creamy white with window casings, doors, and shutters sporting a variety of colors from muted to dark that brought the unique trims into prominence. The ceiling of the porch that stretched the full length of the single-story building was pale blue, the same as the porch of her childhood farmhouse. All the broken spindles had been replaced, and decorative spandrels accented the posts where they met the porch beam. The street front was so appealing she didn’t want to stop looking.
Eager to see the progress on the stately rock buildings, she angled her gaze to the opposite side of the street, and a smile pulled on her lips. Paint the same color as a piece of aged cedar highlighted the window trims. A perfect choice—dark enough to give definition without pulling attention away from the unique limestone blocks. The sturdy front doors were deepest evergreen, an eye-catching complement to the tan stone. She followed the line of the buildings to the upper windows and released a little gasp of pleasure. The crumbling plaster designs were intact again. Anthony’s online searches for repairing techniques must have paid off.
While she gazed at the rosettes and swirls, a shadow slinked up behind her, and she turned to find Anthony, an easy grin on his face. He gave one of her cap’s ribbons a light tug. “What’re you looking at?”
She examined the plaster decorations again. “The flowers above the windows. They’re all fixed. They look really nice.” A sudden thought slammed through her brain. She whirled to gawk at him. “How did you get up there?”
“Scaffolding. But I’m not the one who fixed them. Elliott did it.” He seemed to examine the plaster designs, too. “He’s a talented young man. Says he’s been reading up on stained-glass art and wants to try to make windows to replace the ones that were taken from the old chapel. The team is over there now, replacing the roof. I kind of forgot about the chapel when we were repairing roofs, and it needed to be done for the building to withstand the winter weather.” He reached for the wagon’s handle. “I’ll take the snack to them and then bring the wagon back to the house at noon.”
Marty didn’t release the handle. “Before you go, can we talk for a minute?”
Concern instantly creased his brow. “Something wrong?”
“No.” A lump filled her throat, and she blinked rapidly to stave off the threat of tears. “I think…something’s right.” She shared the odd feeling that had crept over her after watching the segment of the news with Brooke. “I’m not saying I’ve completely healed from not being able to have children. To be honest with you, I might never completely heal from the loss. But I don’t want to hold myself away from God anymore. I want Him to…use me somehow. If I can’t be a mother, then I’ll have to trust Him to fill the empty spot inside me somehow.”
He grabbed her in a hug so fierce it stole her breath. “He answered my prayers. Oh, thank You, dear Lord and Savior, for answering my prayers.”
His emotional outburst touched her more deeply than she knew how to describe. She’d been so caught up in her own loss that she hadn’t considered Anthony’s losses—his chance at fatherhood and, in a very real sense, his wife. But no longer. She was here now, and she intended to stay. She wrapped her arms around his torso and clung, burying her face in the curve of his neck. She held tight until his arms finally relaxed and allowed her to slip free. But his broad hands that smelled of sweat and dust and something else—maybe turpentine—cupped her cheeks and kept her from moving away from him.
He lifted her face and leaned down. She closed her eyes in anticipation, and his lips met hers in the sweetest kiss. Sweeter than the many kisses they’d shared in the past month. She curled her fingers around his wrists and leaned more fully into him, giving more of herself to the kiss. His lips tasted salty, and she realized tears were washing down her face. She opened her eyes. His cheeks were wet, too. She whispered, “Anthony?”
He touched his forehead to hers, eyes still closed. “Yes, honey?”
“I love you.”
He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “That’s good to hear.”
She kept hold of his wrists, enjoying the feel of his warm hands on her jaw. “And I’d like you to think about something.”
“What’s that?”
“Thanksgiving.” She swallowed. “I don’t think we should leave Brooke alone, but I also don’t think she’ll be able to travel. Not after just having a chemo treatment. I don’t want to keep you from your family, though, so would you consider going to Pine Hill without me?”
His brow furrowed, and he stared into her eyes for several seconds. Finally he sighed, his warm breath caressing her cheek. “I don’t much like the idea of leaving you two women out here by yourselves, but I’ll pray about it.” He gave her another quick kiss and stepped aside. “I better get this snack to the men before they think you forgot about them. The three of us’ll talk after Bible study, all right?”
Marty grimaced. “The way Brooke’s feeling, she might not be up to joining us tonight.”
The oddest expression crossed his face, but it quickly disappeared and he nodded. “We’ll get it figured out. Head on back now. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Anthony
Anthony stopped the wagon at the edge of the flattened brown patch of grass in front of the little rock chapel. Before he could call the men to come have their snacks, Lucas glanced over and let out a whoop.
“Break time! It’s break time, everybody!” The youngest crew member trotted to the wagon, his grin wide, while the other men climbed down the ladders or ambled from behind the chapel. “Whadda we got?”
Anthony hadn’t examined the contents of the wagon bed. He’d been too busy kissing his wife. His face heated. “Dunno. Whatever it is, though, it’ll be good.” Marty had never disappointed them yet.
The men gathered around, and Anthony lifted the cloth cover from a plate of oatmeal-raisin cookies. Nate poured tea into plastic cups and handed them out while Lucas, with a cookie clamped between his teeth, held the plate out to everyone. Anthony bit into a moist cookie, and the flavor of cinnamon tingled on his tongue. Elliott murmured, “Mmm,” and Anthony nodded in agreement.
The men joked and teased while they ate, the way they always did during breaks. Anthony had worked on a crew before he started his own company, and his old boss hadn’t allowed any kind of cutting up even during break times. But he’d discovered if the men let loose a bit and laughed while on break, it seemed to recharge them. So he didn’t mind a little good-natured ribbing. He didn’t take part, though. As the men’s boss, he needed to stay more professional. To keep their respect. He couldn’t
resist chortling or flashing a grin now and then, though.
Elliott sidled up beside Anthony. “You done any more thinking about the windows for the chapel?”
Anthony swallowed his last bite of cookie and nodded. “I have. I mentioned your idea to Brooke, too, and she said she’d like to see what you can do with a smaller project before she turns you loose on the big windows. Does that sound fair?”
Elliott’s somber expression didn’t change. During their months together, the young man had relaxed enough to join most conversations, but he rarely smiled. “Figured so. I scouted out the buildings, and the big back room of the old hardware store, where the kitchen for the restaurant will be, would make a good work space for me. A couple sawhorses and a sheet of plywood’ll be a good enough platform to lay out the design, and I can use the old counters for a cutting table. Won’t matter if I carve ’em up some since they’ll end up in a dumpster later.”
A grin twitched at Anthony’s lips, but he reined it in. No sense in making Elliott think he found the plans amusing. But it tickled him how the young man had reasoned everything out. “You’re wanting to get started.”
Elliott shrugged and shifted his gaze past Anthony’s shoulder like he was too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. “Wantin’ to find out if I can do it. I…like making things.” He ducked his head and scuffed his toe against the brittle grass. “Not too manly, is it?”
“To want to make things?”
“Yeah.”
“Elliott.” Anthony waited until the younger man tilted his head and met Anthony’s gaze out of the corners of his eyes. “There’s never any shame in honest work. God gives us talents and abilities. He expects us to use them for good and not evil. Being honest with yourself and putting your hand to the work you feel called to do is what it means to be a real man.”
Elliott’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes seemed to light up. He nodded and looked to the side. “Thanks.”
Anthony put his hand on Elliott’s shoulder. “Let’s talk to Brooke after Bible study tonight. This Saturday, if she’s up to it, maybe the two of you can drive to Kansas City and pick up what you need to do a small project. That oughta help you find out if this is something you want to tackle.”
“Okay.” Elliott eased toward the wagon. “Gonna grab another cookie before Lucas eats ’em all.”
Had the man made a joke? Anthony gaped at Elliott for a few startled seconds, then let his laughter roll. His happiness increased when a genuine grin appeared on Elliott’s face. Maybe he was finally getting through to the outsider. He could hardly wait to tell Marty.
35
Kansas City
Brooke
What a taciturn young man. Elliott hadn’t even smiled when Brooke handed him the keys to her Lexus and asked him to drive. Neither had he argued, so maybe that was as much excitement as he could display. The entire distance to the studio in Kansas City, he sat quiet and focused behind the wheel, and when her few attempts to engage him in conversation fell flat, she turned up the radio and stayed quiet, too.
The GPS on her phone led them directly to Fleming’s Stained Glass Art Studio on the edge of downtown Kansas City. There weren’t any parking places in front of the store, but Elliott found a paid parking lot a block away. He dug coins out of his pocket for the privilege of leaving her Lexus in spot A3, then gave her a worried look. “You gonna be okay walking to the store? Maybe I should’ve dropped you off before I parked.”
His solicitude took her by surprise, given his unemotional bearing. She tucked the tail of her scarf-turned-turban into place and offered a glib shrug. “Thanks, but I’ll be all right. It’s not that far.” She questioned her confidence by the time they rounded the block where the studio was located. Leapin’ lizards, would she ever have energy again? She slowed her steps on the pretense of examining the various projects hanging in the windows, but within seconds legitimate desire to thoroughly scrutinize each piece replaced any kind of subterfuge.
A large placard in the center of the display announced that enrollment was open for an all-day workshop on the art of stained glass next Saturday. She pointed at the sign. “Looks like we came at the right time. It’d probably be wise to get you enrolled, huh?”
He pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and hunched his shoulders. “We’ll have to see how much it costs. I, um…”
“I’ll pay for it.”
His eyes widened. “No, ma’am.”
She put her hand on her hip. “Listen, Elliott, if you’re going to produce windows for the chapel on my property, then that means you’re working for me. As your employer, it only stands to reason that I should pay for your training.”
He shook his head, his jaw jutting at an obstinate angle. “We don’t even know if I’ll be able to make them yet. I ought to pay for the class to find out if I can do it or not.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not in the mood to argue.” She also needed to find a place to sit for a little while. Her legs were starting to feel rubbery. “Let’s go in and get more information about the class. Then we can decide who foots the bill, all right?”
He seemed to study her through his narrowed gaze, but after a few seconds he nodded. “All right.” He stuck out his elbow.
She stared at his extended arm. Such a kind gesture—a gentlemanly action sorely absent in this day and age. Yet it let her know without a doubt he saw her weakness. Weak was the one thing she’d never wanted to be. Humiliation and stubborn pride warred with appreciation and need, and eventually need won. She blinked several times and took hold. He escorted her into the building and to a long counter where a row of tall, battered industrial stools seemed to beckon to her.
The moment she slid onto a stool, a bubbly young woman wearing a bold orange cobbler’s apron over jeans and a plain white T-shirt hurried across the floor and introduced herself as Melanie. The girl held out her hands in invitation. “Whatever I can do to help, name it.”
While Elliott browsed the shop, Brooke peppered Melanie with questions, and the girl answered each one without hesitation. By the end of their twenty-minute exchange, Brooke was convinced they’d found the right place for Elliott to learn the art of stained-glass window making, as well as a place to purchase materials if he decided to tackle the chapel windows. She surreptitiously handed Melanie her debit card to pay for Elliott to attend the upcoming classes. If things went awry and he changed his mind about the craft, she’d let him reimburse her.
Elliott offered his arm again when they left the shop, and she slipped her hand into the bend of his elbow, even though her time resting had revived her enough for the walk to the car. He seemed introspective rather than withdrawn, so she kept quiet and let him think. They reached the car, and she used the keypad to unlock it. Then he walked her around to the passenger’s side and opened the door for her.
She couldn’t resist grinning at him. “Where’d you learn to be so mannerly?”
His cheeks flushed, and he shrugged. “Used to watch old movies at the youth center when I couldn’t sleep.”
She gave his arm a light squeeze before releasing it. “Well, keep it up, and some young lady will be very fortunate to capture you.”
The pink flush deepened to red, and he closed the door without a word, but he seemed to hold his head a little higher as he rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat. He reached to turn the ignition, but before he started the engine, someone tapped on Brooke’s window.
A scruffy-looking girl with tangled hair cascading from a droopy stocking cap peered in. She held up a cardboard sign scrawled with “Homeless. Hungry. Help?”
Brooke looked past the sign to the girl’s face. She frowned. Where had she seen this girl before?
“Ronnie?” Elliott’s simple question solved the mystery and created a new question. Hadn’t the police taken her to a facility?
Brooke opened her door. “Ronnie, what are you doing here?”
Recognition bloomed on the girl’s dirt-smeared face, followed by panic. She scuttled in reverse several feet. “I…I…”
Brooke swung her legs out of the car and stood. “Come here. Let’s talk.”
Ronnie spun on the worn heels of her army boots and took off at a sprint. Her cardboard sign flew from her hand, slid across the parking lot’s asphalt surface, and hooked on a parked car’s back tire. Brooke called Ronnie’s name several times, but the girl rounded a corner between buildings. Elliott had left the car, too, and Brooke waved at him. “Quick! Go after her!”
He took off at a full run, and Brooke retrieved the sign. She stared at it, a sick feeling flooding her stomach. Why wasn’t Ronnie at the youth center or in a foster home? She hadn’t been dressed like a streetwalker, so hopefully she wasn’t turning tricks, but obviously she was still without any real care.
Elliott trudged across the parking lot toward Brooke. He was alone. Brooke’s heart sank. “Couldn’t you catch her?”
“I don’t know where she went.” He leaned against the hood and shook his head. “Must have a hiding spot somewhere.”
Brooke sighed. “Let’s hope it’s a safe spot.”
He took the sign from her and scowled at it. “This is no way to survive. Trust me, I know.”
Brooke shivered. “Should we call the police? Have them try to pick her up?”
Ours for a Season Page 27
