“What kind?”
The boom box and extension cord cut into her arms. She moved and set them on the back counter. Removing her watch, she rubbed her arm where the box had dug into her skin. “Nothing in particular.”
“He just wanted to walk you to your car?”
She couldn’t identify his tone. “He wanted to talk about—” She broke off. How could she tell him about the deputy’s insinuations?
“About what?”
“Nothing.” She made the word abrupt to end his questioning. Please, Lord, I just need to get out of here.
“You don’t want to tell me?”
“No.”
He said something under his breath and put his cup down on the counter. “Why are you being difficult?”
“Me?” She stared at him, mouth agape. “You’re the one who’s been difficult.”
“We have to work together. It might be hard, but we can be civil.”
“Civil? You want to be civil? Wow. That’s new.”
His mouth drew into a thin line. “We need to get along. At least, until this project is finished.”
“Okay.” She forced the word, a kaleidoscope of emotions tumbling inside. Tears threatened. “Fine. Be civil. Fine.”
She whipped around, looking for the door, and fumbled with her watch. It slipped through her fingers, clattering to the floor. She turned back, stooped and snatched it up, coming within a foot of him.
“It’s too much for you to be civil?” The flat evenness of his voice had changed, and his next words matched hers in tone. “You’ve decided what you wanted, and you’ve got it, haven’t you? So, what’s your problem? You should be feeling pretty good about yourself right now.”
She caught her breath. The watch dropped from her fingers again, and she flung her hand at his face. He grabbed it. Their gazes locked. In another moment, she yanked free, whirled, and stomped out the door.
~.~.~
When the door slammed, John swung around and gripped the counter’s edge. Well, he’d been civil all right. For about one minute. But then no one had pushed his buttons these last two years like she was doing now.
And she’d almost slapped him. A whisper of amusement slipped through him. Five-foot-two and in his face one day, trying to slap it the next.
He took a long breath, picturing her face. When he’d caught her hand, her whole body vibrated. With anger? Or with the same pain he felt?
Her words on Monday pierced deeper than she could imagine. A few years ago, people could count on him for help, to lend a hand, to be there when they needed it. But now… What could he say about his life now?
He’d invited the homeless man to stay at his condo to prove her assumptions wrong, to prove to himself that the anger he’d harbored for three years had not made a difference in who he was. But it had.
Pedro’s struggle to survive, to fight his own weaknesses, to challenge society’s idea of who he was slammed into John in a way he hadn’t thought possible. Purpose in life had meant everything to him at one time. Pedro’s purpose was just to survive. What was his these days?
He stared out the window, seeing nothing, fighting the thoughts that flooded him. He’d been fine until a few weeks ago. Sharee had caused the problem. He’d felt good working on the project. Felt good with her. Another whisper of amusement swept through. Definitely felt good holding her, kissing her.
His hands tightened on the counter’s edge once more. She was so different from Janice. Body build, attitude and faith. Because of that, he hadn’t thought she’d be a threat to the life he led these days, but almost everything about her attracted him—her excitement about the program, her warmth to him and to others, her commitment to what she believed, the wild hair, her mouth… He took a long breath.
And she felt the attraction, too. That knowledge cut like a double-edged sword. He clenched his jaw, chewed on the inside of his cheek, and thought about that.
When he picked up his coffee a moment later, he drank it and pondered the possibilities. As Alan had said, she’d made the right decision…according to what she knew…
No.
No. He wouldn’t go there. He’d made the right decision in not telling her. He had lied to himself before, and to her, in thinking their relationship would work as is; but it wouldn’t. Not unless he changed, and it would take a miracle for him to change.
He banged the cup down. She didn’t need his baggage, anyway.
The air around him seemed to change, pressure made the atmosphere thick. His gaze shot upward.
“What? What do you want from me?”
But he didn’t wait for an answer. He picked up her watch, tossed it onto the counter and went out the door.
~.~.~
Sharee waited an hour before going back, and, when she did, the fellowship hall was empty. She picked up her watch, the boom box and extension cord and headed toward the control tower. Did the platform have room for two or three people plus the needed equipment? She needed to get up there and see. If she kept her mind on the project and off John, perhaps she could keep her emotions under control.
Setting the boom box and extension cord on the bleachers, she eyed the distance from the platform to the fellowship hall. She needed a longer extension, but first she’d check out the platform.
At a noise behind her, she stepped aside. John, George, and Pedro passed and headed toward the platform. George and Pedro sent smiles and nods her way. John’s eyes touched hers a brief instant and slid past. He and George climbed the ladder they’d propped against the side, and Pedro headed in the direction of John’s truck.
Sharee’s stomach dropped. Great. Now what am I going to do? Her eyes rested on John as he moved across the platform. Okay. I can be civil.
“Hey.” She stopped at the bottom of the ladder. “I’m coming up.”
George looked over the edge. “Be careful on the ladder.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve done ladders before.”
John’s voice, muffled, floated down to her. George laughed. Her peace evaporated. When John’s head appeared over the edge, she stopped on the fourth rung and narrowed her eyes.
“Since you’re so good with ladders, can you give Pedro a hand with the tools?”
The look she gave him would have melted steel, but he had moved out of sight. She edged down the ladder.
“Sharee.”
She turned and glanced up.
His head appeared again. “Fasten the tool belt around your waist before you come up. It will stabilize your center of gravity.”
She glared. Always full of advice. Pedro stepped next to her, slinging one tool belt over his shoulder. He handed one to her. His own hung around his waist.
She threw the belt over her shoulder as he had done and noted its heaviness. Well, that should weigh down my center of gravity. She paused another minute, braced herself, and mounted the ladder. At the top, the ladder just ended. They’d made no railing, and she could use one to climb onto the platform. Great. She’d need both hands to haul herself up.
John and George were working on the half wall at the other side. Well, she wasn’t about to ask for help, anyway.
She yanked the tool belt from her shoulder and flung it onto the platform. Immediately, she rocked sideways. Heart jerking, she scrambled to right herself. Shoving her feet against the inside of the ladder, she grabbed at the platform’s edge. Her fingers scraped for a hold but found none. She teetered and gasped.
Both men whirled, then jumped for her. Too late. As their hands shot out, hers flew up in the air, whirling wide; and she fell.
Her mind stammered in disbelief. Instantaneous impressions followed—the sensation of falling, the thought of her body’s impact, despair for the Christmas program. All cut off as she slammed into something beneath her, something that gave way and collapsed. The impression of hands digging into her side, and a man’s grunt and explosion of air melded together with a second impact. Her he
ad flew back and pain slammed across her body. The hands fell away, blackness shadowed the edges of her vision, and then the sky above her closed.
Chapter 20
Her eyes opened. The blue expanse above moved and shifted. She tried to swallow, to breathe, but her body didn’t respond. Her heart jerked. She struggled to sit up but her body again ignored her command. Beneath her, something that was jammed into her back shifted. A spate of Spanish words buffeted the air. Hands fumbled at her waist, took hold, and moved her aside, flat on the ground. The pain eased.
“Estas bien…Sherry?” Pedro wheezed.
She could not talk or breathe. She flapped her hands, staring at Pedro, eyes pleading for his help.
The sound of pounding feet came through the ground. Excited words circled her. Lynn’s voice, high and startled, broke through the others. People crowded close. She lost Pedro’s face and shoved her hands to her throat, trying to swallow again, to breathe. John pushed aside the others and leaned over her. George shoved in behind him, his face sharp with anxiety.
“Sharee?” John’s voice sounded strange.
She curled her hands to her chest.
“Don’t move, Sharee.” Lynn dropped down next to her. A sea of legs surrounded them.
“You’re chest?” His eyes had caught her movement.
“She’s had the breath knocked out of her, I bet.” George’s voice came from over their heads.
Sharee heard the words and choked. Air expanded her chest slightly. Thank you, God.
Ryann leaned forward. “I’ll get Pastor Alan and Daneen. She’s a nurse.” Her head disappeared from Sharee’s gaze.
Someone asked Pedro a question. She heard an affirmative reply and concentrated on drawing in air and pushing down the panic. Faces swirled in front of her.
“Sharee.” John’s face appeared again. “Can you speak?” Her hand made its way to her throat. “No? Can you breathe? Are you hurting someplace?”
She caught a quick breath and saw him hear it.
“Good.” He glanced up. “Did someone call 911?”
Sharee grabbed his arm and shook her head.
He frowned. “You have no idea how badly you might be hurt.”
Lynn bent forward. “She could be okay.”
“I think we need the paramedics here.” He pulled its phone from its holder.
Sam put a hand on his arm. “Pedro caught her. Broke her fall.”
John darted a startled look past her to Pedro. “You caught her?”
Pedro pulled himself to a sitting position and gave a lopsided grin. “Si`.”
“You’re okay? Como estas`?”
“Bien.”
John nodded and turned back to Sharee. “Are you in pain anywhere? Any sharp pain?”
She tried to push up. “No.”
“Wait.” John touched her shoulder. “Don’t be in a hurry. Try moving your feet, your legs first.”
“Do as he says, Sharee. Give yourself a minute.” Lynn touched her hand. “You should have seen Pedro leap down from that ladder and catch you!”
Sharee turned her head snail-speed again and gave Pedro a lopsided smile. “Gracias…Pedro.”
His glance at Sharee showed apology. “I feel like I caught a ton of bricks.”
Patchy laughter followed, and the tension eased.
John’s frown returned as she pushed upward again. His hand caught her arm and helped her to an upright position. “Just sit for a moment. Make sure you’re okay.” He slipped his phone back in its holster and sat next to her.
Pastor Alan and Daneen pushed through the crowd.
“Sharee?” Daneen knelt beside her. “How are you?”
“I think I’m okay.”
“Pedro?”
“Bien, bien.”
“Pedro broke my fall. He caught me.”
“Thank God. Anything hurt?”
“Just sore.”
Pedro climbed to his feet. Sharee looked up at him and took the hand he held out to her. John stood and put a hand out too. She took both and let them draw her to her feet. Everyone clapped.
“Pedro’s the hero of the day,” someone said.
“Yea, he is.”
John’s arm slipped around her. “Your face is pale.”
“I’m okay.”
“You could have been badly injured.”
“I should have listened to you. I’m too stubborn.”
“No, I should have had a railing up there. Something for you to hold on to.”
“It was my fault.”
His mouth curled. “Let’s argue about it, shall we?”
She tilted her head back, and her heart slammed at the warmth she saw in his eyes.
“Both of you,” Daneen said and pointed first at Sharee then at Pedro, “come to the office for a while and just sit. Please. I want to make sure you’re okay. I don’t want anyone fainting out here.”
Sharee looked her way. “No one’s going to faint.”
“You never know about Pedro,” George put in with amusement.
People laughed. Daneen put her hand out and caught Sharee’s and pulled her to her side, heading toward the office. The group broke apart to let them pass. Pedro and Pastor Alan followed.
~.~.~
John stared after them. The volunteers drifted back to their projects.
My hand is not shortened that I cannot save.
His eyes rose. The verse had popped into his head with such force it seemed audible.
“Thank you.” Gratefulness washed through him. But when he lifted his gaze again, he sighed. “That is why I don’t understand. Where were you before?”
Where were you when I made the worlds?
John shook his head. God’s words to Job were the same as God’s words to him now. Whether or not they came directly from God or out of the recesses of John’s memory, the question still stood. Who am I to question?
Another moment passed and familiar anger surged through him. I’m your child.
His hands clenched. The feelings he’d felt while he scrambled down the ladder surged over him again. He hadn’t seen, hadn’t known that Pedro caught her. A miracle.
The thought stopped him. Pedro had caught her. He recognized the irony, after railing against Sharee for picking him up and against Alan for giving him a job.
His eyes looked upward a third time. You do it good when you do it.
John stood in the middle of the field. People talked and laughed once again, but around him, everything stilled. Silence settled as if he stood on the planet alone. Minutes passed. The communication went deep into his soul.
Pressure built inside him. His resistance made a wall, but the pressure robbed him of breath. What do you want from me? But he heard nothing, just the pressure inside slowly filling him.
“All right!” The words exploded from him. “Okay. All right. For now.”
Feeling release, he turned and strode across the field to the office. He yanked the door open. His glance swept the room and found Sharee. Her head moved in his direction, her face white, her eyes large and dark against her skin. She looked fragile and delicate. The leap of his heart caught him off guard.
“She’s okay,” Pastor Alan said. “They both are. God is good.”
John forced his attention to Pedro. “Pedro? You’re doing well?”
The man smiled. “I’m okay, except I’m getting restless with the Pastor’s wife making me sit here when I need to be working.”
“Some people would take advantage of that.”
“I need to work,” he said. “I’m not getting paid to sit here.”
Sharee stood. “He’s right. We’ve got a lot to do yet.”
John tried to control the frown that rose at her words. Would she ever learn to take of herself? “Sharee, sit out a while. You don’t need to…” He saw her face change, her body stiffen and he broke off. Stubborn would fit her as a middle name.
“I’m f
ine. I’m going back to work.”
“Well, stay off the ladder until I get a railing up there.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Careful?” Did she think he’d let her go up there again without making the platform safe? “No one’s going up there until George and I have a railing in place.”
Sharee glared at him, the frail look vanishing.
“That’s only common sense after what just happened.”
Her eyes widened, and she pushed past him out the door. He raised his brows, and then the words he’d used hit him. He went after her.
“Sharee.” He knew she heard him, but she continued walking. “Sharee, come on.” Obviously, references to her common sense had the same effect as references to her height. He struggled with his laughter. “It wasn’t meant the way it sounded.”
She rounded on him. “Don’t laugh at me.”
At her look, he swallowed the amusement. “If I’d put a railing up there, you wouldn’t have fallen. You can’t expect me to let you or anyone else go back up there until I’ve done that.”
She started walking again. When she reached the parking lot, he caught her arm. She whirled to face him, trying to free herself; but he caught the other arm, too.
He just wanted her safe, off the platform until he fixed the problem. “Listen, will you? If anything had happened to you, it would have been my fault. I don’t want to live with that.” He paused, washed with memory. “You have no idea what that’s like.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Come on.” He tried coaxing her. “You know it makes sense.”
“All right. Just don’t treat me like…like…”
“Like what? Like I care?”
“No, that’s not...”
“Because I think you know that.” He dropped his hands, studying her. What would she say if he told her? He again felt the cold dread and disbelief as he scrambled down the ladder. The fear. He knew the tenuousness of life even if she didn’t, the fact that it could be stolen from you in an instant. He had to try.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“If you knew I had a relationship with Christ, would it make a difference?”
Her head rose, and her eyes widened. “Are you saying you do?”
Amber Alert: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 1) Page 16
