by Leah Atwood
“Do you always have to be so sarcastic?” he groused.
I laughed. “Yep. I’ve assumed that’s why you’ve called me Sass all these years. Only living up to the reputation, my friend.” I smacked his cast with my hand but didn’t know it was so solid. Ouch. “Okay, I’ve had enough out of you, Ryan Joseph. Time to get over your little pity party.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I needed to keep going. “Things could be a whole lot worse, you know. You could be dead or in a coma or something.” My eyes welled with sudden, unexpected tears. “And you need to be careful and not do reckless things. There are people who care a lot about you, and we—they—don’t want to be worrying about you all the time.”
Ryan’s soulful eyes grew rounder. “Are you one of those people, Ellie?” His words were quiet. “You care about me?”
“Don’t be silly. I hate you. That’s why I’m over here every day.” A few tears spilled over onto my cheeks, and I impatiently brushed them away. “Come on. Let’s get moving. Pastor Jon’s outside in the van and you’re going to make us all late.”
I stomped over to the corner of the family room and grabbed his crutches. “Now, haul yourself off that sofa and get these things positioned. It’s time to go to the youth center and bless someone.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once we boarded the church van, Ryan settled across the aisle with his crutches propped against the adjacent seat.
“Ryan?”
He glanced over at me and raised a brow. “Yeah, Sass?”
“Don’t ever call me ma’am again. Even when I’m old and gray. Promise me.”
Ryan’s grin made my stomach turn over in a good way. Then I heard him mumble, “Yes, ma’am.”
I turned toward the window to hide my smile.
~~♥~~
Startled, I sat up straighter in the kitchen chair. Was that my cell phone ringing? Goodness, I’d left it in the bedroom! I dashed out of the kitchen and down the hall, sliding in my stocking feet on the hardwood floor as I rounded the corner into the bedroom. In my haste, I’d narrowly missed banging my hip on the door jamb. That was close. I’d prefer not to have a nasty looking bruise on my honeymoon.
“You are ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath. Still, it was a valid thought even though Ryan wouldn’t care. I grabbed my cell phone from the night table and read the text message.
Good morning, beautiful. Dreaming of me?☺
I laughed. I’ve been up for hours. My soldier is coming home soon, and I have very important, life-changing things to do.
“Take that, funny man.” Still smiling, I sent the text. While I waited, I inspected the bedroom ceiling. Then I sat up on the bed, cross-legged, impatient as ever. It’s amazing I’ve been able to accomplish much of anything these past few days.
Within seconds, I heard Ryan’s incoming text and then focused on the screen.
I’m excited to see what you’ve done with our house.
You should be. It’s a place you’ll be proud to call home.
I know that. all I need is YOU to call it home. ♥
You’re being incredibly sweet and romantic, Ryan. Did you do something wrong?
Haha. No. If loving you is wrong, Ellie, I don’t wanna be right.
Hold on a second while I groan. Okay, I need to scoot now. Someone keeps texting me, and I’m getting behind.
Tell him to leave you alone. You’re MY woman.
I’ll be sure and do that. Be careful Ryan. ♥
I Love you, Sass. Guess I’ll go pack some more. And I’ll be careful. Promise.
Chapter 8
~~♥~~
Mid-December through the end of January was the slowest time of the year at the ad agency. Which meant Beckett more or less ordered me to leave before lunch. He handed me a plain white envelope with my name handwritten on the front and told me not to come back to the office until after my honeymoon. Subtlety isn’t an attribute of an ad man, I’ve learned.
Beckett watched as I gathered my coat and prepared to leave, making me feel rather self-conscious, as if I’d done something wrong. Then he advised me not to open the envelope until I left the office. His tone of voice made it sound like I was Nancy Drew in The Case of the Mysterious Envelope. Or it could be that my overactive imagination was taking over again. Wouldn’t be the first time.
So, although it was difficult, I stuffed the envelope deep into my tote bag and tried to forget about it. For now. Surely my boss wouldn’t hand me a pink slip inside that envelope. Feeling somewhat befuddled, I paused by the front door. “Will I see you at the wedding?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” A rare smile creased the older man’s face. That smile alleviated my concerns a bit.
“Thank you for whatever is in the envelope. I appreciate your thinking of me.”
The corners of Beckett’s eyes crinkled. “You’re very welcome, Ellie.”
I began to walk the few short blocks from The Beckett Agency to the nursing facility. The wind was especially biting, and I burrowed my chin into my thick scarf. As I hastened my steps, I heard townspeople calling out holiday greetings to one another. Merilee Jenkins rang the red Salvation Army bell in front of Keeley’s Market while Cody Tucker—the local 14-year-old trumpet phenomenon who some claimed could be the next Miles Davis—played his heart out in an impassioned version of “Silver Bells” in front of the Cade’s Corner courthouse.
Squinting in the bright sunlight, wishing it provided more warmth, I caught sight of the huge Christmas wreath—flanked by candy canes—swaying on wires strung across the middle of Main Street. An enormous inflatable snowman with a somewhat demonic smile waved and bobbed up and down in the town square.
Nat King Cole crooned “The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire)” when the door to Cade’s Corner Hardware opened and Luther Nelson stepped outside.
“Hey, Ellie.” He stopped and drew in a deep breath as though it were a beautiful spring day instead of one with below-freezing temperatures. In his wool overcoat, Luther wore a hat but no gloves. I couldn’t imagine.
“Hi, Luther. Don’t stay out too long. Mighty cold today.”
“Yeah, but I love it. Grew up with this kind of cold in Minnesota.” He tapped his fist on his chest a few times. “Keeps a man well-preserved.”
“Only because you’re frozen,” I mumbled under my breath. Or maybe those chest thumps jump-started his heart. I needed to keep moving. “I’ll talk to you soon!”
“Yep. At the big wedding if not before.”
The warmth of the nursing facility welcomed me as I stepped inside. Still shivering, I hurried down the hallway into the center of the building.
“You sure have been faithful in coming to see Cora in the last few weeks,” Trudy said as I approached the station closest to Room 365. “Not that you weren’t before.”
“I’m antsy these days and need to stay occupied.” I shrugged. “All the wedding plans are in place, the house is all set up, and now Beckett doesn’t want me back at the agency until after the honeymoon.” I raised my hands. “So, what’s a girl to do? I’m playing the waiting game.”
“Well, have a cookie. That should kill a few seconds. And don’t tell me you can’t afford the calories.” Trudy pushed the familiar white box, decorated with holiday motifs, across the counter. “Saundra from The Bakery Shelf brought these to us this morning.”
“How sweet.” I caught my pun and grinned before selecting a bell-shaped sugar cookie with red frosting and those hard little silver beads that were supposedly edible. Not wanting to risk anything this close to the wedding, I picked the beads off the cookie and deposited them in the trash can at the end of the counter.
“The Bakery Shelf’s cookies are good, but they’re too doughy for my taste. And the frosting’s not as rich and decadent as yours.” That comment came from Krista as she walked toward the counter with a clipboard and a smile. “How are you today, Ellie?” She pulled me into a quick hug.
“Peachy, thanks. Trying to
stay off the streets and out of trouble.”
The ladies all laughed.
Patsy spoke up next. “We’re wondering if you could tell us how you and Ryan came up with the idea for Perchance to Dream. That’s a story we haven’t heard.”
“Sure, why not? I take requests.” I was surprised they hadn’t heard the story since our project had been written up in the local paper in the past and again a few weeks ago. Of course, not everyone takes the time to read the weekly paper in Cade’s Corner. I grabbed another cookie sans silver beads. “Follow me.”
Five minutes later, I sat beside Cora, holding her hand. The group of ladies gathered in the room was larger than usual. I smiled. “Is today a slow day?”
Trudy nodded. “Yes, thank the Lord. You won’t hear us complain. Before you start your story, the staff collected a little something for you.” She handed me another envelope.
Wow. Must be the day for envelope-giving. I am so blessed.
“Thank you so much. You shouldn’t have—”
“Use it for whatever you want,” one of the aides—Trish, I think—told me. “There’s a couple of gift cards in there for you and Ryan, too.”
“You ladies are the best. The unsung heroes.”
“Thanks, but you’re our hero,” Patsy said.
“How do you figure that?” I tucked the envelope in my tote bag. “Ryan’s the hero, not me.”
“Of course he is, but so are you, Ellie. People forget about the ones left behind on the home front,” Trudy said. “Ryan might be fighting a physical war, but you’ve had your own battle to fight right here at home.”
Not much more I could say to that. Trudy was right although I didn’t consider it a fight, as such. “If you would, I’d appreciate your prayers,” I said. “That’s the most important thing. Pray that Ryan will return home safely. And that, until he does, the Lord will keep my nerves calm. Not to mention his mom, dad, and brother. Keep them calm, I mean.” I rolled my eyes at my stammering.
“You’ve got them.” That sentiment came from Krista and several of the ladies nodded in agreement.
“Thank you.” I took a quick breath. “Now, since I know you probably need to work at some point today, I’d better begin my story.”
Chapter 9
~~♥~~
Ryan and I first discussed the idea for Perchance to Dream over a hot fudge sundae at The Soda Shoppe almost four years ago. The Soda Shoppe has always been one of our favorite places with its tile floor, gleaming chrome fixtures, vintage straw dispensers and a jukebox that plays classic 50s and 60s music. We’d both had birthday parties there. Stopped here for burgers and cheese fries after ballgames on weekend nights. Then we’d shared early dates as moony-eyed kids trying to navigate a relationship—that awkward yet sweet period when we weren’t sure what to say or do as we transitioned from “just friends” to friends who could freely kiss one another on the lips.
The servers are outfitted in retro uniforms, and many of them have worked at The Soda Shoppe since they were teenagers when the place opened 35 years ago. Tradition and family are what Cade’s Corner has always been about, and it’s one of the best aspects of small-town living.
“I think we should do something lasting together,” I said to Ryan.
He stopped his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Okay. You don’t think we will?”
I grinned. Best not to dwell on the ramifications of his question. “I’m talking about in the grand scheme of things. Something bigger than you and me as a couple.”
That hadn’t come out right based on Ryan’s quick frown.
He took a bite. “Before I say anything else, maybe you’d better explain.”
“I want to make a difference. I know that sounds cliché, but I’m talking about here in town, not globally. As much as I want to save the world, I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s simply not possible.” I scooped the cherry from the top of the ice cream with my long-handled spoon before Ryan could claim it. Plopping it in my mouth, I made a big show of savoring it.
Ryan waved his spoon at me. “Let me guess. You want to name a charity after Amelia Earhart. I remember you said something about wanting to make a difference the day you were reading the book about her.”
“Good memory. I did, as a matter of fact. You’re thinking along the right lines, though.”
“Okay. I think it’s becoming clearer now. You’re talking about a nonprofit to help people. And we”—he motioned between us—“would be co-founders. How am I doing?”
I nodded with enthusiasm. “Now you’re catching on.”
Ryan took another bite and appeared to consider the idea. “Actually, you never know how far-reaching your efforts could be. Whether saving souls or doing good deeds, one person at a time, like Pastor Derek says.”
Ryan waved across the restaurant to the high school girl standing behind the counter. “Rachelle, can I get some more cherries? Ellie’s hogging them over here.” He fed me another plump cherry.
“Sure thing, Ryan.” Goodness, Rachelle’s voice practically dripped with sugary-sweet syrup. Who could blame her? I wasn’t blind. Half the girls in town were in love with Ryan.
Leaning across the table, Ryan opened his mouth and caught the cherry I flung at him in a moment of juvenile silliness.
“No fair sweet talking the server,” I said. I indulged in another bite of the delicious sundae, this time with an extra dollop of hot fudge. Nothing like warm hot fudge.
“You’re the only one I sweet talk, and you know it,” Ryan said. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Sass. I’m sure you have a plan. You always do.”
I quirked a brow. “Is that a complaint?”
“No. It’s a sincere compliment.” Ryan took a bite of the sundae and when he met my gaze, I nearly forgot my name much less my last thought. I’ve known Ryan my whole life, and he still has that effect on me. Always will.
“I’m thinking about starting an organization to help people who can’t meet a need on their own for whatever reason. We could start it, and head it up, but we’d need to recruit volunteers to help carry out the work.”
“Goodwill and The Salvation Army take care of the basic needs—food, clothing, shelter. Stuff like that.” Ryan took the bite I offered him from my spoon and then licked his lips. “Let’s start by narrowing it down to a focus group.”
Thankfully, he hadn’t questioned my sanity and seemed more than willing to discuss the idea.
“Well, we both love kids,” I said. “Let’s start there. We can provide help with their wishes or something. Like the Make-A-Wish Foundation. I’ve always admired what they do.”
Ryan’s handsome face sobered and his brow creased. “No dying kids, Sass. Please. I couldn’t handle that.” My big strong soldier and he can’t handle the idea of a child being sick or worse. Makes me love him even more.
“How about granting Christmas wishes?” he said. “We both love Christmas, and every kid should get a gift or two. I know they have the angel trees at churches and other community groups to meet needs, but from what I know, there are always more than enough requests to go around. Maybe we can work in conjunction with them, if needed, and fill in some gaps. I’ll make some calls.”
“Sounds like a great place to start,” I said. “Thanks for jumping onboard.”
“Sure thing.” Ryan appeared thoughtful. “We need to do something besides buy gifts.”
“Like what?” I scooped another bite of the ice cream. “Hold on a second.” Abandoning the spoon, I massaged my temples. “Brain freeze.”
“Want something warm to drink?”
“I’m not sure that’ll help.”
Ryan shifted in his chair and touched my arm with a concerned expression. “Here’s what you do. Before your next bite, roll your tongue into a ball and press the bottom of your tongue against the soft palate at the back of your mouth.”
“I know where the soft palate it is, smart man.”
“Seriously. It will warm up your mouth and help t
he ice cream go down easier.”
“Or make me seriously gag.” I frowned.
“Okay, as a last resort, you could press your thumb to your palate.”
“I’ve never sucked my thumb, even when I was a kid, and I refuse to start now,” I said with feigned indignation. “How do you know all this stuff, anyway?”
“I’m a certified brain freeze expert. Observe and learn.” Ryan spooned another bite of ice cream into his mouth and sucked in his cheeks. “Warming it on my tongue first,” he said through pursed lips.
I shook my head. “Back to the topic of conversation, please.”
“We could write a personal note to encourage each kid and tuck it inside a children’s Bible,” he said. “If we buy the Bibles in bulk, we could get a decent discount. Or maybe the Gideons will donate some to us.”
I pondered his suggestion while Rachelle brought him the bowl of cherries, at least a dozen. I eyed them with a quirked brow. “You’re going to get a massive sugar rush from all those cherries.”
“No more than you with all that hot fudge you’re eating, Miss Brain Freeze.”
“Thanks for the sympathy.” I licked the rich, luscious chocolate off the spoon. “So you caught me. You know I go weak in the knees for hot fudge.”
“That’s not all.” Ryan’s brows lifted up and down. I grinned and felt my blush down to my toes. Even though he was only referring to kissing, our kisses had grown better with time. That’s quite a feat when they’ve been great from the start. Ryan’s kisses always seem new. He’s a very creative man.
I cleared my throat, needing to concentrate. “I think your idea has definite merit although discussing a discount on Bibles sounds somehow disrespectful.”
“Not at all,” Ryan said. “We still need to be financially responsible. I’ll check on the legalities with Nick and get him to help us set it up.” A slow-moving grin creased his face. “I can see your mind working over there. You already have a name picked out for our project, don’t you?”
