One step away from the top, he paused and considered what would be fixed by his going inside to pray with his loved ones. Would it make Sobo better? A strangled sound escaped his throat. It hadn’t helped Jakey Rayner when they had needed God most. Gray might be cold inside, but Rayner was even colder, four years in the ground. His had certainly been a misplaced faith.
Gray looked away from the church, unable to turn to a God he didn’t believe existed. And in the end, he walked away.
Chapter Eight
A couple of days later, Ruthie stood in the Connecting Threads shop, trying to get Savannah to accept payment for fixing the loose band on Sobo’s hat. Unfortunately, her friend refused to accept the cash Ruthie thrust upon her and kept diverting the subject back to Gray’s conspicuous absence from the prayer vigil.
“Pastor John saw him leave church the other night. He was hoping Gray would stay for prayer time. I think he wanted to know why he didn’t hang around.”
There had been four years of nonattendance on Gray’s part, so Pastor John clearly knew, even without Sobo and Pop saying so, that something had been keeping him from church. Like her, he had hoped Gray had experienced a change of heart. The pastor’s hope had been her own. “What did you tell him?”
“The truth. That I didn’t know.”
She pressed her lips together, then forced herself not to judge his decision. Gray had promised he would tell her what had made him turn away. Now she just had to trust that he would keep his promise and that God would give her the heart to hear Gray’s explanation and the right words to respond. “Well, despite his absence, the prayers are making a difference,” she assured her friend. “Sobo has made significant progress and should be able to go home soon.”
When they had heard the good news at the hospital last night, Gray had worried about the stress it might cause his grandmother if she returned home and noticed the doll was missing. They both agreed they needed to step up their efforts to find it.
Savannah dragged the dress form from the entry of her shop to the small raised platform where brides, prom goers and other customers modeled their purchases and the alterations she provided for them. “Time for a new fitting,” she said. “I changed out the zipper for pearl buttons, and I want to see if they line up properly.”
Ruthie stuffed the cash back into her pocket and decided she would find another way to pay Savannah for the hat repairs. “Sorry, not today.” When the wannabe bridal designer started to persist, she added, “I’m just not in the mood. Why don’t you have Paisley or Nikki model it for you?”
“Come on. You’re the closest to my size. Besides, Paisley’s getting ready for the lunch crowd, and there’s only one customer in your area.”
Closest to her size only if she padded the top and hips. “Exactly,” she said, focusing on the lone customer. “And I need to wait on her.”
“She’s browsing,” Savannah countered. “Let her shop in peace. If she wants to buy something while you’re all trussed up, I’ll wait on her.”
After a bit more back-and-forth, she agreed, but only on the condition Savannah would take payment for the hat without complaining. The perky blonde plucked the bills from her hand and stuffed them into her sewing machine drawer. Now Ruthie was her hostage for the fifteen or twenty minutes it would take Savannah to ooh and aah over her own creation.
She slipped into the changing booth and came out feeling like a princess in a Disney movie. She ran a hand down the front of the dress and reveled in the luxurious feel of the fabric. “How long have you been working on this?”
“Since I was fourteen and learned to sew my first seam in home ec class.”
Ruthie turned her back to Savannah and listened to the history of the dress while her friend buttoned the hundred or more tiny pearls from neck to hip. Savannah had started with a basic A-line dress, and as her skills grew, so had the details, embellishments and alterations on the garment. And as Savannah had grown curves, she had let out seams and added strategic and artistically designed inserts to accommodate her lush figure. Some brides might consider the dress to be a tiny bit overdone, but the layers of fabric and thoughtful attention to neckline, sleeves and even parts that weren’t seen reflected the depth, creativity and multilayered personality of the future bride.
“When will you know the dress is finished?” Ruthie asked.
Savannah laughed. “When I meet the man who’s smart enough to ask me to marry him.” She eyed her carefully, taking in her slim figure with an experienced designer’s eye. “Let me make a wedding dress for you. I’ll start puttering with it in my spare time, and by the time you need it, it will be ready.”
The last time Savannah had made that offer, Ruthie had been engaged to Gray. They’d gotten only as far as preliminary sketches of the dress when Ruthie received the breakup letter. The design her friend had come up with, however, had been the stuff of fairy tales. Unfortunately, her relationship with Gray had not ended with a fairy-tale wedding. “That’s not necessary, but thank you for the sweet thought.”
“If it was necessary, it wouldn’t be a gift. I’ll just take your measurements after you slip out of the gown. Then you can tell me what kind of fabrics and styles you like.”
Ruthie shook her head at her friend’s persistence. “I’ll have middle-age spread by the time I’m ready to use it, so you may as well wait.”
Though she joked it off, she yearned for her own wedding and her own fairy-princess bridal gown. Most of all, she yearned for a bridegroom who would look at her with such love and affection that she would turn into a sentimental puddle right there before the altar. A groom with nearly black hair and kind brown eyes who saw all her secrets and loved her anyway.
The bell over the door jangled to announce the arrival of another customer.
She needed to get out of this dress and back to work, but first she wanted to finish the little fantasy that played out in her head. She turned back to the mirror and imagined herself with a bouquet of anemones of various colors. Daisy, who loved all things floral and had even chosen her own nickname, had told her the anemone stood for faith and belief.
Beside her would be a tall, handsome groom who was strong in everything he did. A man who unflinchingly adhered to his values, revered God and committed for a lifetime to her and the children they would raise together.
As if her thoughts had morphed into flesh, Gray appeared beside her in the mirror. Instead of a tux, he wore a dark suit that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. And even though she stood on the raised platform, he stood a couple of inches taller. Gray stared back at her in the mirror as if he had just read all of the silly thoughts that had played out in her imagination. His expression flickered between curiosity, amusement and nervous uncertainty.
Awkward. The word didn’t begin to describe how she felt right now. It was worse than being caught as a teenager dancing on the bed and singing into a hairbrush.
Self-conscious about having traveled to that fondly wished-for wedding scenario, she turned and stepped off the platform.
Gray came forward and lifted a supportive arm as she descended. After she was safely back on the worn hardwood floor, he stepped back and slanted an inquisitive gaze at her. His eyes raked over the incriminating layers of white. Did he think she’d recently gotten engaged? And if so, how did he feel about that?
A foolish part of her hoped he was upset. Maybe even kicking himself for letting her go. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then clamped it closed and silently waited her out.
“I, um...”
Ever the matchmaker, Savannah piped up. “Doesn’t she make a beautiful bride?”
Gray granted her a thin smile, his only response, then turned back to Ruthie.
“This is Savannah’s dress. She asked me to model it for her so she could check the fit.”
Ruthie caught his gaze flicker almost imperceptibly between her and her friend, and a hint of incredulity dusted his features. Okay, so Savannah wasn’t officially engaged yet, either. Not even dating, in fact. She could understand how it might raise an eyebrow that her friend was already working on a dress.
“I found the house,” he said, changing the subject and removing the need for further explanation about the dress. “It’s the only one described on the website as having an Asian influence in the decor. I drove past there on the way over, and there’s a garage behind the house. Probably with an old Mazda Coupe parked inside.”
“You didn’t stop?”
He was as anxious as she to get Sobo’s doll back, yet he’d driven right past the house where he knew it might be? That didn’t make sense.
“I thought the lady might be more receptive to opening the door if you went along, especially since the prowler hasn’t been caught yet. A man by himself might raise suspicion.”
Savannah emitted a tiny hiccup of a laugh. “In that suit, she’s more likely to mistake you for an insurance salesman.”
Ruthie eased past him toward the shop entrance. “Sure. Let me get my purse.”
Gray stopped her with a hand to her upper arm. His strong fingers were gentle, but they crushed the white lace sleeves. “Perhaps you should change rather than go looking like somebody’s bride.”
* * *
On their way to the house on Monument Avenue, Gray couldn’t stop thinking about Ruthie in that dress. Sure, it sagged a little in some areas, but the image she’d branded onto his mind had been that of a willowy red-haired waif who could bring a man to his knees merely by peeking at him through those ridiculously long eyelashes.
It had been almost like a glimpse into the past—of what might have been. Had circumstances been different, he might have waited near the altar of the church he’d fled two nights ago, Rayner standing beside him all decked out in his best man getup, and watched the most beautiful woman in the world walk down the aisle toward him. And he would have been saying “I do” and kissing the bride instead of “I don’t” and wishing for kisses that would never come.
Distracted, he forgot to watch for the house number until Ruthie shot forward in the passenger seat and pointed to a stately house on the corner. “Is that it?”
He slowed in time to see that the number matched, then pulled into a parking spot in front of the neighboring house. “How did you know?”
She lifted a shoulder. “The sculpted shrubs, meditation pool and rock garden gave it away.”
They got out of the car, and Gray took a moment to study the brick home. It did have an Asian flair to its simple landscape. As they approached the house, more telltale signs hinted that they’d reached the right one: a bird bath with a ceramic water lily in the center, a wind chime with Japanese characters in place of the more typical metal tubing and a flower box with an upward-pointing roof to shade the new spring blossoms.
He pressed the doorbell, and the melodic sound carried outside. A fluffy white dog bounced near the narrow curtained window beside the door and yapped to announce their arrival.
“Did you bring a picture of Sobo?” Ruthie asked.
He shook his head, then pushed his hair back in place. “Why would I do that?”
“Seeing a person’s face helps strangers identify with them. If the customer sees the doll as being returned to a likable person, she might be more willing to sell it back to us. Besides, who could look at Sobo’s sweet smile and not like her?”
The inner door opened, and a pretty fiftysomething woman peered at them through the storm door. She was every bit as elegant as the others had described her, with chin-length brown hair falling in soft waves around her face and smooth skin that made her appear younger than her years. Her voice was so soft she could barely be heard over the dog’s barking.
“Yes?”
Gray hoped the website had listed the name of the house’s owner correctly. If he got it wrong, he might come across as rather shady. “Are you Amaya Kagawa?” At her subtle nod, he felt encouraged. “I’m Gray Bristow, and this is—” Here he went again. That awkward introduction. “—my friend Ruthie Chandler. We’re here to ask if you—”
“I don’t want to buy. Thank you very much.” The woman dipped her head in a slight bow and started to push the door closed.
Ruthie eased past him. “Wait, Mrs. Kagawa! I own Gleanings, the shop in Carytown where you bought the Japanese doll. The doll in the red silk dress.”
The door opened again. This time, the customer gently nudged the dog back with her foot and stepped outside. She glanced toward the sidewalk as if to check whether anyone else was in the area, leading Gray to wonder if she suspected they might have henchmen lurking nearby. Perhaps he’d better let Ruthie do the talking.
“The doll belongs to his grandmother.” Ruthie went on to explain how Pop had mistakenly brought a box of Sobo’s and his personal belongings to the store to be sold. She even described Sobo’s troubles with her broken hip and subsequent hospitalization, not details he would have thought to share but which seemed to garner some sympathy from Mrs. Kagawa. “It’s the only thing she has left from her childhood. So we were wondering if you would sell the doll back to us. We’ll give you double what you paid for it.”
He suspected Mrs. Kagawa might be swayed by sympathy for Sobo’s plight, but judging from this house and its location on Richmond’s historic Monument Avenue, money was probably not the best motivator for her.
“I’m so sorry. It is a gift for my oba. My aunt. Her birthday party is in two Saturdays, and I know the doll is the only thing she would want.”
Gray fisted his hands. They were this close. He and Ruthie had searched relentlessly to find the doll, and now they couldn’t just walk away without it. “What if we buy you another one?” he suggested. “An even nicer doll that’s brand-new. I can have it shipped to you overnight so you’ll receive it in plenty of time for the party.”
She reached for the doorknob, and from inside, the dog resumed its yapping. “I wish I could help you.”
He decided now was the time to pull out the big guns, and he named a figure that even the uppermost crust of the ritziest Monument Avenue residents would consider long and hard. But Mrs. Kagawa apologetically shook her head.
Ruthie looked at him as if to ask whether he had any other ideas up his sleeve.
Unfortunately, he could think of nothing other than giving her his card. Considering how she had warmed up to Ruthie, he jotted her name, the name of the shop and her phone number in case Mrs. Kagawa felt more comfortable calling her if she changed her mind.
He handed her the card and asked her to call either of them if she thought of anything else her aunt would rather have for her birthday.
“Thank you,” the woman said, and accepted the card with a slight bow. Something told him it might go into the trash before he and Ruthie even made it back to the car. “I hope your obaasan is better soon.”
The door closed with a final click, and the dog’s frenzied yapping quieted almost immediately. As they turned to descend the porch steps, he offered his elbow to Ruthie. She curled her fingers around the crook of his arm and he gave them a gentle squeeze. Together they would think of something.
They had to.
Even after they reached the sidewalk, Ruthie clung to his arm. Grateful for his chivalry, she let him walk her to the passenger side of the car and open the door for her. The frustration of having come so close to regaining the precious doll only to have their very generous offers politely refused chipped away at the composure she’d been fighting to hold on to ever since Gray had shown up in her life again a little over a week ago. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back as she settled onto the leather seat.
Gray got in and put the key in the ignition, the
n looked at her and dropped his hand without turning it. “Are you all right?”
He was so sweet. So caring and understanding. And that was her undoing. His low-voiced concern brought to mind the night he had shown her his orders to deploy to Afghanistan. He had been more worried about her reaction than about the risky situation he was about to enter.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, her voice choking on the words. “It’s Sobo who’s sick and vulnerable and missing a piece of her past. There’s nothing I can do. Nothing else either of us can do. It just makes me so...” She lifted a hand to brush away the tears that threatened to roll down her cheek. Her fingers shook. “So angry. But what makes me even angrier is that there’s no one to be angry with. Mrs. Kagawa bought the doll fair and square, and she has every right to refuse our offers to buy it back.”
She drew in a breath and let it out on a shaky sigh.
“I don’t blame her,” she continued. “It’s a beautiful doll, in excellent condition. I’d want to keep it, too.”
Gray reached over and grasped her hand, bridging the distance between them. “There’s still time before the party next weekend. Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and give her a picture of Sobo, like you suggested.”
She wanted to hold on to hope that her customer’s mind could be so easily changed after having turned down all their other offers. But reality whispered that they’d done all they could. That the doll was forever lost to them. Lost to Sobo.
“It’s no use,” she said, a tremble in her voice. “We’ll have to tell Sobo that I sold her only remaining childhood keepsake. She’s going to be devastated.”
She sniffled, and the last word wobbled crazily off her tongue.
“Hey, come on,” Gray murmured. “Stop beating yourself up.” He let go of her hand, scooted closer and draped his arm around her shoulder. He gave her a warm squeeze and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “What happened to that mustard grain of faith you always carry around inside you? Aren’t you the person who always says you can do anything through God, who strengthens you?”
Love Inspired June 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Single Dad CowboyThe Bachelor Meets His MatchUnexpected Reunion Page 51
