“Do you think it’s Abbey?”
“Not sure, but if it is, why you? Is she angry with you?”
“She could be. We had a run-in at Marci’s shower, but after reading that note you found…” The words faded. “What if it’s not her?”
“Then someone has a sick sense of humor. Lock up.” He opened the door and stepped back through the doorway. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She nodded and sent one last glance his way before closing the door again.
John waited until the sound of the bolt sliding into place ceased. A few miles down the road, he remembered he still didn’t have her phone number. He fought the urge to turn around.
Glancing upwards, he whispered his first request in three years, “Keep her safe…please.”
~.~.~
Sharee arrived at work early the next morning, glad the long night had ended. When she walked into the Downtown Ministries offices, the phone’s musical bleep swelled in her ears. The receptionist had a phone to her ear already. The girl pointed to the other line, and Sharee scooted into her office and lifted the receiver.
“Good morning. Downtown Min—”
“What’s your phone number?”
She pulled the phone away, staring at it in surprise, then put it to her ear again. “You just called it.”
“Your cell number.”
“And how are you this morning?” She made her voice warm and sweet, trying to keep the smile hidden.
“Your number,” John said. “I almost came back last night for it.”
“Did you?” She forced a serious tone. She had thought about it, too. Neither of them had the other’s number. “I’m surprised you weren’t at my door first thing this morning.” She thought she heard a growl and glanced at the phone again, grinning.
“I thought about it. Your phone number.”
She reeled it off. “Please don’t lose it.” She didn’t bother to hide the amusement this time. “We don’t want to go through this again.”
Definitely a growl. “You’re asking for trouble.”
“No. I could be if you were here, but you’re not.”
Quiet settled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“That you were worried about me? I guess I am. It’s nice to know you care.”
“And you didn’t know that?”
“I did, it’s just—”
“Because there are some things I could do if you need to know.” His voice deepened.
“No,” she said, reacting to the change.
“Some very definite things…”
“John.” He’d turned the tables on her.
“If I were there.”
Heat fled up her face. “John. I’m at work.” She watched the receptionist motion to her. A girl in cut-off jeans and a dirty t-shirt stood at the other woman’s desk. “I have a client.”
“All right, babe.” His voice was warm with laughter.
Her heart did a quick somersault. Babe?
“I guess I have what I called for. But…” He let the word hang a moment then said softly, “I wish I were there.”
~.~.~
Phones were great, but they nowhere near took the place of an in-person, right-now, arms-around, eyes-on date. And Tuesday to Friday had stretched John’s patience. He’d almost stopped by the ministry offices on Thursday but forced himself to wait. She’d worked late each night this week.
“I can’t get away again until Friday. It’s the holidays.” Her voice over the phone did not sound nearly as frustrated as he felt. “And the cold weather up north. We always have more homeless this time of year. They migrate.”
“Like birds?”
She laughed. “You could say that. It’s too cold up north, so many come south. It will even out in a month or so.”
“A month? You mean you’ll be working late each week for a month?” And she’d be spending a week at home over Thanksgiving.
She laughed again. “Maybe not every night.”
He didn’t remember what he’d said to that, but he managed to get a promise from her to be ready by 6:00 on Friday. And Friday was here.
When he knocked on the door, she yanked it open and beamed as if she’d just won a race. Warmth flooded him, and he wrapped her in a bear hug.
“A woman who can be on time is worth millions.”
“That is such a gender put-down. My mother would say you’re a chauvinist.”
“Would she?”
“Without a doubt. Where are we going?”
“A surprise. You’ll have to wait and see.”
She made a face at him, walked to an end table and grabbed her purse. He took notice of the powder blue t-shirt, the jean shorts and the bare legs. He’d told her the night would only require casual dress. The imprint of a flower rested just above her ankle. From it, a vine scrolled upwards about two inches.
“You have a tattoo.”
“What?” She glanced down and turned her foot. The slim silver flip-flop highlighted the gray and crimson flower. “You don’t like it?”
“My whole image of you just crumbled—the whole conservative traditionalist idea—dead.” Her mouth opened but nothing came out, and he laughed. “I like it.”
“Do you?”
He pulled up the left sleeve of his t-shirt. She moved forward to look at it. A line of script was tattooed in a circle just above his bicep.
“‘Snatch others from the fire and save them,’” he quoted and dropped the sleeve back down. “Jude 23.”
“I’m impressed.” Her eyes lifted to meet his. So, he had been serious about his faith at one time.
He drove along Pinellas Avenue and down the Intracoastal Waterway. The sun glittered on the waters. When they reached Clearwater Beach, he circumnavigated the roundabout and parked few blocks from Crabby Bill’s.
They were seated in front of a big glass window. The view past the street and the pier showcased the sun hovering above the Gulf waters. Its heated blaze sent pale salmon fingers into the cyan sky.
“You’ve been here before I’m sure. Do you want the conch fritters or gator?” He grinned at her widened eyes. “They’re both good.”
“Conch fritters or gator?” Sharee’s voice squeaked. “I’m thinking of something a little more traditional.”
“Were you? Me, too.” He held her gaze for a moment.
When she dropped her focus to the table, he reached over and enclosed her hand using a gentle pressure to bring her eyes back to him.
“Sharee…”
The waiter appeared placing the menus before them; and he stopped, not sure what he wanted to say, only knowing that something strong happened each time they were together.
He couldn’t prevent himself from pursuing it, but wondered what it might cost him. He’d said okay to God, not because he trusted Him; but because he wanted her, and that might be a grenade that would blow up in his face.
~.~.~
Sharee shivered, and John’s arm slipped around her shoulders as they strolled across the street to the beach. The pier stretched far out into the Gulf, showcasing the white sand on either side. Artist and mimes and break-dancers had gathered and used it as a stage.
“Thank you for dinner, and for bringing me here. I always forget how unique this place is.”
John drew her along the pier. Below them, the breaking waves curled and crashed, rolling onto the damp sands. The smell of the sea circled them. Vendor stands lined each side, their distinctive wares bathed in the sun’s last rays. John urged her over to the guardrails.
On the sand below, two men twirled fire sticks, and a large crowd had gathered. Fire swirled and leaped as they tossed the sticks into the air.
After a few minutes, John took her hand once more, and they continued along the pier. Now and then, they paused to admire the crafts and trinkets for sale. John purchased a gemstone necklace.
“Tourmaline. This one matches your hair and you
r eyes.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I won’t say the obvious, but the thought is there.” He fastened it around her neck, his fingers lingering, caressing, and then dropping to her shoulders to turn her around to face him once more.
Her heart slammed at his look. The endless parade of tourists shifted in waves around them, background noise to what he seemed to say with his eyes. When, at last, he dropped his hands, and she could breathe again, he drew her back down the pier and onto the beach.
They ran along the sand, away from the crowds, barefoot, holding their shoes, laughing as they escaped the rush and surge of the incoming waves. She was breathless when they stopped. He watched her for a moment. When her breath slowed, she smiled up at him. He pulled her into his arms, his kiss as gentle as the moonlight touching the waters.
Finally, he turned her and they stared out across the charcoaled water, the silver tops rolling to shore.
Sharee leaned her head back against his chest. “God does such good work.”
John grunted but said nothing.
She straightened, twisted in his arms, and looked up at him. “You know God’s the most important thing in my life.”
He gave a short nod.
“We talk about everything else, John. When are we going to talk about Him?”
His face changed and his stance. “Give it some time, Sharee.”
She had given it some time. How much more time, she wanted to know? But she didn't say anything. Instead, she just nodded, her stomach hollowing, and wondered.
Chapter 25
Sharee pulled a holiday sweater over her red t-shirt and blue jeans, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. That walk on the beach a month ago was in seventy-degree weather. Today, the first real taste of winter had blown into the area with temperatures hovering in the sixties. It would drop lower tonight.
She pulled her hair into a ponytail. No use doing anything else with it. The humidity after the rain today would cause it to curl and frizz even more than usual. Wild, John had described it, with his ever-present amusement, and that description fit tonight.
She sent a prayer of thankfulness to God. No more dolls or notes had appeared since the one left on her door. Whoever had played the ill-intentioned pranks had quit. Deputy Richards had met with John and took possession of the dolls after the last call. Now the Sheriff’s department could deal with them if needed.
She directed her thoughts to the night’s rehearsal—their last rehearsal. Tomorrow, they would do it for real. The following Saturday they’d do it once more. She gave a deep sigh. Why, when you looked forward to something with so much anticipation, could you look forward to its end with just that much delight?
Her phone chirped. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, tugging out the phone and balancing it as she locked her door.
“Where RU?” the text read. “Things need attention here.”
“On the way.” She texted the reply and stuffed the phone back into her purse.
She climbed into the CR-V and thought about last Saturday’s visit to Howard Park—and Matthew Thornton. What a surprise seeing him there among a bunch of women. And he’d been just as surprised to see them.
Of course, they were doing what had become their weekly jog, running along the Gulf of Mexico, taking in the sun, sand and waves. Matthew, on the other hand, was giving classes in car seat installment and safety.
When she waved, Matthew’s eyes rounded; but he waved back and said something to one of the women before jogging over to them.
“Hi, Ms. J., Mr. J.” His smile looked awkward.
“Hey, Matthew.” Sharee glanced past him at the women he’d left climbing into a van.
“I’m here with a group from the Pregnancy Center.” Matt indicated the others with his head. “I teach car seat installment and safety.”
“You do? That’s great.” Sharee glanced at the women again. “We have classes, too, at Downtown Ministries. You teach at the park?”
“Well, it’s a way to get everyone to come. We come, do the class then have a picnic. We leave the babies at the center with babysitters. It’s a nice outing for the moms. When we get back, they install the free car seats in their cars, and we’re done.”
“You volunteer?” John asked.
“Yes.”
“Good job.”
Matt gave an uneven smile. “Well, I’d better go before they leave me.” He nodded and headed back to the van.
Sharee watched Matt clamber on board the bus. “Did that surprise you, too?”
John gave a slight nod. “Especially the group he’s with.”
“I took Ryann to the Pregnancy Center when she told me about her pregnancy.”
He slanted his head at her. “She told you before she told her parents?”
“Yes. Her nerves and her fear kept her from telling them right away. The Pregnancy Center is Christian. I wanted her to be sure, to have an accurate test, and get good advice. She brought Matthew with her, not the boyfriend.”
“Ah.”
The boyfriend disappeared as soon as Ryann told him.”
“Around for the fun, but not for the responsibility. You were right about responsibility. Too many of us men, young and old, shelve their responsibility in these areas.”
The van pulled out, and they walked to John’s truck.
“It was such a tragedy when Ryann lost the baby.”
“And now Matthew is on the scene.”
“Yes.”
Sharee brought her focus back to the present. And maybe with Matthew on the scene, Ryann would look beyond her loss to the future. As she turned in at the church, she prayed for God’s presence and His anointing in the rehearsal tonight.
The lights in the fellowship hall and the six-pointed star over the field glowed with welcome. The actors filled the drive that ran between the hall and the field, most in costume, ready for practice. The areas formed by the six-pointed star glistened in the lights. She climbed from the car and stared out over the field. Everything looked ready.
She’d never mentioned the spotlight again, but somehow John ended up shouldering it through rehearsals. Matthew shadowed him once or twice as back-up. Sam Byrd volunteered to read the scriptures during each scene, and Christy offered to work the sound system. Lynn, as usual, had volunteered to provide baked goods for after the performance. Her hand-picked assistants were inside decorating the large dining room for tomorrow night.
She grinned, turned around and looked to her left. The animal pens John had built housed the donkey and three sheep Ryann’s uncle had provided. She could see the donkey’s head over the stall wall.
Turing back around, she headed to the control tower. John stood near the edge at the top of the ladder and watched her ascend. He stood next to the ladder anytime she climbed up these days. She smiled at him, and he took her hand and pulled her close.
“You made it. Some of the actors were wondering if you’d run out on us.”
“Right. You mean they wish I had then they could all do the parts like they want to.”
“Yep. That would be my guess. You run a tight ship, boss lady.”
She wrinkled up her nose at him, and he laughed.
Sam and Christy Byrd joined them. Christy went right to the sound equipment, checking it. John had the spotlight, a barrel-shaped older model about three feet long, resting on a stand. During the production, he hefted it to his shoulder, using its light to follow the characters as they moved from scene to scene.
Sharee looked out over the field. “Is it too wet, do you think?”
“The ground’s still damp,” Sam said, “but everyone should be okay. And tomorrow will be great. Dry temps in the low sixties. Cool, but great for this. George is keeping an eye on the electrical things. He’ll be on hand if needed.”
“Everything’s in order?”
Sam nodded. “We’re ready.”
“Shall we call the group t
o order down there?” John inquired.
“Yes. Ask everyone to take their places. We’re going through the whole thing. Any questions can wait until the end. I’ll give you a cue to start.” She dropped his hand and eased down the ladder.
When she stepped to the ground, Roseanne bounded out of the darkness. “Sharee, where have you been? I can’t find the headpiece to this costume. Someone’s taken it.”
“You don’t know where it is?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“All the costumes were together. Maybe someone took the wrong one.”
“I’ve asked everyone.”
“We’re about to start. Do without it for now. We’ll look for it later.”
“And where’s Marci and Stephen and the baby? I haven’t seen them.”
“They’re here, I’m sure. Someone would have told me if they weren’t.”
“But you just got here. I don’t know how you plan on doing this if you aren’t here on time.”
“Roseanne…”
She heard John making the announcement for everyone to get in their places. Matthew stepped next to her holding a donkey on its lead and splattered mud on them.
Roseanne jumped back. “Get that animal away from me!” She whirled and disappeared around the bleachers.
Matthew chuckled and disappeared into the darkness. Sharee jumped at the sound of wheels on the wet pavement behind her.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce rolled up next to her.
“That’s okay. Can you get around all right with everything so wet?”
“Yeah, I’ve stuck to the paths we’ve made for the star. But I wanted to talk with you. I’m having second thoughts about this.”
“You are? Why?”
“You don’t need me, and there are no wheelchairs at this time in history.”
Sharee couldn’t identify his tone of voice; but his face, lit by the star’s lights, seemed taught, drawn. “That’s beside the point.”
“Not for me.”
She bit her lip. “That came out wrong. I don’t think anyone will be thinking whether there were wheelchairs or not. Your part plays off King Herod and allows the audience to know what Herod is thinking. It’s important.”
Amber Alert: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 1) Page 20
