The ancient grandfather clock downstairs in the entry chimed ten times giving Braydon a nudge. His main shop in Corona del Mar opened at eleven on Sunday, so he’d better hurry.
Traffic, as usual in Corona del Mar, this small satellite town of Newport Beach, was creeping. Finally, he was able to turn off a side street to park behind Lovejoy’s - The Love in Bloom Florist – next to the fancy stationary store. He always got a kick out of the name that Mom had come up with. Parking the floral delivery van a bit crooked in the last vacant spot, he decided to situate it better. He backed up and heard a huge crunching sound. Oh, no! He jumped out of the van, remembering to put it in park, and raced to the source of the sound – a shiny red BMW roadster with a dented passenger door and crushed front fender.
A woman with long brown hair cascading over her steering wheel was slumped forward. When he pounded on her door she raised a tear-stained face. Chocolate eyes swimming in pools of tears looked accusingly at him. He took a step back realizing who it was. The girl from the other day, the one who’d collapsed in his arms but refused his help.
Chapter Three
Noelle stumbled into her condo, kicked off her shoes and stripped off her clothes. What a horrible day; four days, no, four weeks actually. Four weeks ago telling Clay the wedding was off, and a few days ago telling the flower man that there will be no wedding, and today he backed his van into her precious car. On a Sunday! Maybe she was paying penance for not going to church this morning.
She dialed Cindy’s number and cancelled the coffee date with the Candy Canes right now, after she got home from the accident fiasco. It was more than she could take, more than she wanted to explain. So embarrassing. Bad enough she had cancelled the wedding and they all still had bridesmaid dresses hanging in their closets. She would make it up to them, even if it took half a month’s salary. Yet, she was blessed by their group love and understanding. She hadn’t explained at the pedicure appointment yesterday exactly why the wedding was off. But, when Cindy grasped her arm in sympathy to show she cared, Noelle had winced. Cindy’s eyebrows had raised in question, and her eyes held sympathy for her friend. Noelle had smiled feebly and shook her head slightly. Cindy squeezed her hand and nodded.
She raced upstairs attired only in her bra and panties. Half naked. Not like her at all. But, like a woman chased by demons.
Slipping on a long soft cotton shift and clutching her Bible to her chest, she felt much better. More centered. More human. She sat down on the side of her bed and curled her bare feet under her. Misty jumped up and licked her toes making her collapse in giggles.
“Silly girl. So funny.” Noelle cuddled the little dog close to her chest. Her only true love who would never abandon her. “Thank you, sweet thing. I needed that.”
Misty jumped down and settled in her fluffy dog bed. Noelle opened her Bible randomly and was surprised to be in John. She scanned through and a passage caught her eye. Maybe it was the word “truth.”
But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. John 16:13
She clutched the pink Bible closer and sighed with such a loud whoosh of breath she alarmed Misty who raised her pointy little snout and woofed. She said, “It’s okay, girl,” but Noelle realized her voice was trembling.
She had finally accepted the truth about Clay. She remembered being so excited, actually overwhelmed, when he proposed that she’d dropped to her own knees to embrace him. His proposal had been so wonderfully traditional – down on one knee, a velvet box gleaming with a huge solitaire diamond that glittered wildly when he opened it. He slipped the gorgeous ring on her finger and kissed her hand. Her voice had trembled then, too. The whole scenario was everything she had dreamed since she had been thirteen. Now, at twenty-five, more mature, more worldly, more dependent on God instead of a man’s fake fawning, she knew she had done the right thing breaking it off. If only she had gathered her courage months ago, instead of four weeks.
Her eyes focused on the last part of the scripture, “he will tell you what is yet to come.”
“Really, God?” she whispered aloud startling Misty again. “That is almost like a prophecy. I’m sure I’m not prophetic; I don’t believe prophesy is a gift You have given me. Teaching, maybe. I know that is one of Your gifts.” She squeezed her eyes shut tight and envisioned rows of students in her class. How she loved them, and loved teaching. “Yes, teaching. Thank you.
“Now, Lord, please get me through this difficult period of my life. Give me the courage to move forward and to put behind all the ugliness. I know You have a hope and future for me, a good future, as Your Word says in Jerimiah 11. I know I’m not supposed to see it just now, but to trust.” Shaking her head, she petitioned Him again. “Please, give me vision, and give me peace.”
~
Noelle met with the insurance adjuster the next morning in front of her condo. Fortunately, she had been able to drive her little red car home. Still, it was very damaged. Thanks to Braydon the florist guy. It almost had to be towed here. Yet, as embarrassing as it was, it functioned. She thought about the tow truck guy laughing and showing her how to drive it. Short distances he said. Fortunately, she lived only a stone’s throw from Vista del Mar High School where she taught English. But, she wasn’t looking forward to all the comments and questions she would receive in the school parking lot.
Chapter Four
“What the … happened, Noelle?” Bruce Walker, the principal, put his arm around her shoulder. She tried to shrug it off without being impolite, but his reaction to the damage on her little car was exactly what she expected, and dreaded. From other teachers, but not from him.
“Someone backed into me in a parking lot. Not a big deal, sort of a minor inconvenience.”
“I hope you weren’t hurt?” Bruce squeezed her shoulder more tightly than she would have liked. He had done that before after the faculty meeting, and even the day she was hired. She had tried to diffuse his actions then and hoped she’d succeeded. Obviously not.
“You look as lovely as always. Maybe a tad stressed.” His grin crowded between his short gray beard and moustache. He squeezed her shoulder again and leaned closer to her, his coffee breath hanging next to her ear.
She pulled away. “Yes, thank you. Really, I am fine.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “No big deal,” she repeated. “But, thanks for asking.” Noelle opened her trunk and lifted out her laptop case and the funny looking black patterned tote that held her class stuff – lesson plans, corrected papers, syllabus.
He wouldn’t let it go. “Let me walk you in.” He insisted, this time wrapping his arm around her waist. How could she refuse and offend the school principal?
She tried. “I’m really, really fine, Bruce. Thank you so much for caring.” He didn’t get the hint, no matter how strong her voice was, no matter how much she tried to pull away from him.
“NO! I want to escort you and be sure you feel safe.”
She did not feel safe in his arms. He had tried many times to entice her to go out with him, until he learned she was engaged.
Gaining courage from her memory of Psalm 119 last night when she was sitting on her bedside with Misty, she pulled away. “Bruce,” she said firmly, “I really appreciate your concern. But, I need to do this alone. Do you understand?”
Bruce pulled back. He appeared offended, but tried to hide it with another ear to ear smile showing gleaming teeth. (Probably implants, Noelle thought irreverently. Then giggled silently to herself. This man was such a phony.)
When another car pulled up, he finally released his hand from her waist. Noelle relaxed and audibly sighed, maybe too loud. Hoisting her laptop bag on her shoulder and grasping the tote bag, plus her over stuffed purse, she waved a thank you.
What? He was pursuing her?
“Noelle, wait. Please.” The older man’s voice had a leer in it. She stopped. After all, he is the prin
cipal of her school, her boss. She mustn’t ignore his request.
Please, God, may it be just to be sure I turn in my student evaluations. Not something personal.
Bruce caught up with her. He was breathing hard. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around. “I am very worried about you, Noelle.” His brow furrowed, and he looked directly into her eyes. “Let’s talk this situation over dinner tonight. K?”
~
Noelle almost panicked. She wanted to get away from this persistent man. But, again she reminded herself that he is her boss. She forced a grin and said, “Sorry. Busy tonight, but thanks.” But, what situation was he referring to? Her little accident?
She rushed ahead ignoring the heaviness of her laptop and tote and silly purse. Why did she keep so much in it? Waving to Carly Beasley the receptionist, she ran to her classroom and collapsed in her desk chair. Apparently, he wasn’t close on her heels. Thank God he hadn’t followed her. School district protocol implied, if not stated in a document, that principals should not enter a classroom without first announcing such to a teacher. It could set a teacher on edge and interrupt her lesson.
Her students filed in, took seats and looked at her funny. Was her makeup smeared? She knew her clothes were not tattered or in disarray. Finally, her boldest student, Josh, a nice kid, but one who had no problem speaking out, said, “You okay, Ms. Day?”
“Yes, Josh. Why do you ask?”
“Because your shoes are on the wrong feet and your watch is on the wrong hand. You are right-handed, aren’t you?” Josh settled back in his chair with a grin. Mr. Confident. But, he was one of her best students, and she wasn’t offended. She simply grinned back and giggled.
She switched her watch to her left hand and made a display of kicking off her shoes and transferring them to the other feet. It as a fun moment, and the class settled down, after a good laugh at her. And, she at herself. This, she reminded herself, was why she loved to teach, and how she teaches best. She felt a bond, an affinity with her students. Teaching them was so much fun, and she knew it was reciprocal.
~
Noelle parked the damaged BMW in an empty slot and traipsed into her condominium schlepping the tote and laptop, and also her heavy purse. Designer accoutrement or not, she had to get rid of it soon. Either empty it and dispose of stuff, or buy a new smaller one, one that couldn’t possibly accommodate all her stuff – much of it unnecessary. Her right shoulder was aching, had been for about a month. Purse? Possibly. Stress from the breakup. Probably. Maybe both.
But, it was the one Uncle Mart had bought for her on a whim at Bloomingdales. The one Clay, her former fiancé, wanted to buy for her, then criticized when Uncle Mart bought it for her.
She rubbed her left shoulder and upper arm. Why did they still hurt? It had almost been a month. When the Candy Canes learned about her ‘situation,’ as she called it, every girl praised her for having the courage to end the relationship. Although she finally had, the hurts were still there. In her heart and on her body.
She wandered into the kitchen for a soda and pushed the button blinking on her answering machine. Clay’s surly voice penetrated the small room. “You can’t do this, Babe. It’s so embarrassing. Think about our parents, especially your mother.” He was going for the jugular. Playing on sympathy for her mom. How phony! His voice driveled, almost like a panting dog salivating. “How will she ever hold her head up high again? How will you? Everyone will think you were unfaithful … because,” he paused dramatically, “I will tell them that.” He rambled on in a piercing voice. She pushed the delete message button on the machine and collapsed in a kitchen chair. A threat. How horrible was this man? This man she had claimed to love, almost for a lifetime. Her mind spun.
Why can’t he leave me alone? I am no longer his. I made that very clear. The wedding was canceled. So were all the special things. The cake, the caterer, the venue, the program, even the flowers.
The flowers. Braydon. The man who ran into my car. The kind man who rescued me when I passed out; the kind man who told me he tore up my check; the kind, and very handsome man.
No, I can’t go there. Too soon.
Chapter Five
Braydon was a little confused. The floral request was for a huge bouquet of pink roses to be delivered to a class room at Vista del Mar High School. Room 38. The salutation only said to deliver to Special Teacher. That was crazy, no name. The credit card that he ran through was in the name of D. Walker. Strange. He knew the latest principal was Bruce Walker, but who was the D.? Anyway, it was a valid card, so he put together the big bouquet of pastel roses. But, pink?
He knew they could denote appreciation, but they could also mean love and admiration. Braydon knew the speculative meaning behind every rose color, but this one mystified him. Why pink? Who, he wondered, was the teacher in Room 38?
He also wondered why the bouquet was ordered from his floral shop. So many people lately use the internet. Then, he remembered the order was to be delivered immediately. That was probably why, since even the internet orders took at least a day. Even with one day shipping. Plus, he could deliver in person, avoiding the UPS or FEDX delivery.
Who was the teacher in Room 38?
Braydon parked his floral delivery van in a slot near the school office. He had made the bouquet extra special with a wrapping of tulle. It appeared to float right out of his arms. The recipient would surely gasp at the loveliness when he presented it. It was truly eloquent, one of his best.
He was a little confused about how to deliver it. Should he just traipse to Room 38 and open the door? Or, should he be announced?
He decided to stop at the main receptionist’s desk and sucked in his breath. What a surprise. Mrs. Beasley was still there!
“Well, my heavens to glory,” she exclaimed. “Is that really you, Braydon?”
He nodded feeling heat creep up his neck and cheeks. She still remembered him after all those years? Was it because of the time he let out the former principal’s tires, the time he mooned the P.E. coach, or the times he had finally grown up and led the debate team to victory? He hoped and prayed the latter.
“So,” she said with a grin she was trying to contain. “Mr. Mooner.” She chuckled then, just loud enough the others in the front office gave her questioning looks. “One of our former, exceptional students.” She had emphasized the word exceptional.
Braydon wanted to melt into the tile floor, but with extreme effort he stood tall. “How nice to see you, Mrs. Beasley. So glad you are still here.” He wanted to add, “in charge, and embarrassing former students.” Instead, he grinned and plucked one rosebud from the arrangement and handed it to her with a bow. “For you.”
“Oh, my! Thank you.” Her smile illuminated her jowly cheeks. “Won’t it be missed in the bouquet?”
“Probably not, since it’s such a large bouquet, and,” he added, “because the recipient isn’t expecting it. So, I doubt if she will count the roses.” He grinned. “Can you tell me where room 38 is?”
“Braydon,” she whispered leaning over her desk toward him exposing a cleavage from her low-necked blouse. Was that appropriate attire for a school district employee? Especially, an almost ancient one with sagging skin? He almost shook his head to rid it of the unkind thought.
“I want you to know that I got such a kick out of you mooning Coach Wilson. He really deserved it.” She plopped back in her swivel chair, snickered and sent him an air kiss with her fingertips.
Braydon reached across to clasp one of her hands, squeezed it gently and said, “You were always the best, Mrs. Beasley. Thank you.” Did that comment redeem him?
“Now,” she gestured, “Room 38 is down that hall and on your left. Just tap on the door, then open it quietly. Good luck.”
Braydon remembered the smells of sweat of young athletes and overly used perfume by teen girls. The lingering odor of mac and cheese lunches and spilled Cokes. He lived in a whole different world now. But, it was fun to be back. For a few minutes.
/> He wandered down the corridor to Room 38. Most classroom doors were open, at least a little. When he approached his destination, he heard a voice he recognized.
“Wonderful students,” it said melodically. “Let’s get right down to Lady Macbeth. Let’s analyze her.” Papers shuffling, otherwise silence.
“Joshua, give us her profile. I know you told us you want to be a psychologist. So, you should have a good take on her.”
Braydon had never had a teacher encourage students in this manner. Mrs. Dudley had been very encouraging, but more traditional in her approach, making each student memorize a scene and present it to the class. This was fun. He lingered outside the slightly open door for a few minutes to hear the rest of this unique teaching. Josh proceeded to describe Lady Macbeth with what Braydon thought was a lot of psychological mumbo jumbo. Bio polar, schizophrenia and especially obsessive compulsive disorder, OCD as he explained it. Josh was on a roll, and Noelle had to contain him. She eventually did with effusive thanks and compliments on his research.
Finally, he felt guilty eavesdropping and tapped lightly on the door frame. Beautiful Noelle looked toward him. She looked confused, but gestured him in with a wave of her hand.
He made an instant decision to make a grand entrance. For Noelle this should be special.
“For you.” He bowed.
“Me? From you?”
“No, sorry. I believe it’s a secret admirer.”
He felt like a heel when he left the classroom. The students were hooting and whistling, and Noelle’s face was crimson. Like his Candy Cane roses. Those are what she deserved, not pale pink.
~
Braydon raced back to his van in the school parking lot and slumped in his seat. If he had known the rose bouquet was for Noelle, he would have had one of his delivery guys take it. But, there had been no name on the delivery request, only Room 38. Because it was his old high school, he thought it would be fun to visit. Not so.
Noelle's Christmas Wedding: Christian Contemporary Christmas Romance (The Candy Cane Girls Book 1) Page 2
