Sleeping in was not an option. He was scheduled to lead a large homeschool group on a stream stomp and frog and salamander hunt at 9:00 am. Oh joy. He chuckled to himself, knowing he wouldn’t trade his job for any other.
He set the novel on his nightstand then stood and stretched. Pushing aside his bedroom curtain, he checked the driveway out front. A full moon hung just above the treetops, spreading silver light over the yard and driveway.
No sign of Wes or his Toyota. He probably had more wedding plans to discuss with Lauren, or maybe they were just enjoying some quiet moments in front of the fire. Must be nice. Bill huffed and tossed that mental picture aside.
As he walked out of his room, he glanced across the hall at the closed bedroom door. He’d heard Jennifer’s soft footsteps on the stairs over an hour ago. She was probably sound asleep in there by now. He shook off thoughts of her and headed for the bathroom. After he’d brushed his teeth, he looked for the glass that usually sat on the counter, but it wasn’t there.
Then it hit him. The bathroom looked cleaner than the last time he’d used it. There wasn’t a splash on the mirror or a smudge on the counter or sink. He scanned the room. Fresh towels hung on the bar by the shower, and the corner wastebasket was empty instead of overflowing.
Jennifer must have cleaned up, because it sure hadn’t been him or Wes. He appreciated her help, but it felt a little like an invasion of his private space.
Well, this wasn’t his private space anymore.
Looking in the mirror, he grimaced, remembering how the bathroom looked earlier. No wonder she scrubbed everything spotless. Everyone knew women didn’t like grungy bathrooms.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Well there was nothing he could do about it now, except thank her in the morning.
Treading softly downstairs, he walked into the dark living room and reached for the light switch. A rustling movement on the couch stopped him. He crept across the room and peeked over the back of the couch.
Moonlight flowed through the sliding glass door, illuminating a petite form curled up under a light blanket.
Surprise rippled through him. What was Jennifer doing sleeping down here? He stepped back, hoping she hadn’t heard him and stole into the kitchen.
The small light over the stove had been left on. He noticed the clear counters and empty dish drainer. When had she cleaned the kitchen? Probably after they returned from Lauren’s and before she cleaned the bathroom. But he wasn’t certain because he’d retreated to his room to read as soon as they came home.
He shook his head recalling the stack of dirty dishes he’d left in the sink. Now he owed her a double thank you.
As he reached in the cabinet for a glass, he saw a note on the counter. Lifting the paper toward the light, he read the message.
Wes,
I’m sleeping downstairs on the couch tonight. I don’t want you to give up your bed for me anymore. You need your sleep so you can get up early and go to work. Besides, you’re too tall for the couch, but it’s not a problem for me. I know you won’t like it, but please let me do this one small thing for you.
Thanks for asking me to be in your wedding. I’m honored you want me to share that special day with you and Lauren. I’m sorry I was so weird about it when Lauren asked me tonight. (The next few words were scribbled out.) I’ll explain sometime. I really do want to be there for you on your wedding day. I love you, Wes. Thanks for letting me stay here. That means a lot to me.
Love,
Jenn
Warmth flooded his chest as he read the last few sentences again. Letting Jennifer stay was the right decision. Her heart already seemed to be softening toward her brother, and hopefully that would lead her one step closer to renewing her relationship with the Lord.
He scooted the note over under the light so Wes would be sure to see it. He grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet and headed back through the living room.
As he passed the couch, he stopped and looked down at Jennifer once more. Silvery moonlight highlighted the contours of her softly rounded cheeks and straight nose. He stepped closer, watching the slight movement of her eyelids. He smiled. She must be dreaming. His gaze moved to her slightly parted lips.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. What was he doing?
Jennifer sighed and shifted to another position.
His eyes flew open. He froze, his heart banging in his chest.
She’d rolled to her side, and her long hair fanned out over the pillow, exposing a trail of twisted skin that started at the hairline behind her right ear and extended to her collarbone where it disappeared into the neck of her T-shirt.
He clenched his teeth and made himself study the scars, hoping familiarity would ease his gut-wrenching reaction. That burn had to have hurt more than anything he had ever experienced. How far did it go? He immediately squelched that thought. But as he remembered the clothes she’d worn over the last few days, he realized they all had long sleeves and collars even though the weather had been warm.
A new realization washed over him. Those scars had cost her more than physical pain and the loss of her home and dog. Jenn was a beautiful young woman, an actress whose career required a flawless appearance. What would she do now? And what about her heart and spirit? Had her burns made her believe that God didn’t care and wasn’t watching out for her?
A sorrowful heaviness draped over his shoulders. He blew out a deep breath, yearning to do something to right this wrong.
Father, please heal Jenn’s scars, those you showed me tonight and those in her heart. Use the pain and loss she’s been through to bring her closer to You. Thanks for letting me see so I can understand a little more of what she is dealing with. Show me how to help her. “Amen,” he whispered.
Then he gently pulled up the blanket and tucked it around her shoulders. For a split second he thought about bending down to kiss her cheek, but he turned away and headed upstairs.
Chapter Six
Jenn carefully lifted the lid of the waffle iron and poured in a cup of creamy white batter. It bubbled and sizzled as it spread over the hot griddle. Satisfied she’d added enough, she lowered the lid and watched the steam escape around the edges.
Breakfast was her favorite meal, and cooking for others made it even better. Hopefully, Wes and Bill wouldn’t mind her getting up early to make waffles.
The sound of footsteps overhead made her stomach tighten. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and checked the table. Everything was ready. She’d put on the coffee, made the orange juice, sliced the strawberries, warmed the maple syrup, and set three places. In the center of the table she’d placed a small jar filled with wild flowers she’d picked in the yard. Their cheerful little faces seemed to smile up at her, giving her courage a boost.
She definitely needed that this morning. It was time she and Wes talked about a plan for the summer. She couldn’t just sponge off him and his roommate indefinitely.
Footsteps descend the stairs and crossed the living room. She looked up as Bill walked into the kitchen wearing jeans and a navy knit shirt with the Wild River Resort logo embroidered over the pocket.
“Good morning.” She sent him a bright smile. But her stomach quivered as she noticed the healthy glow of his clean-shaven face. His dark wavy hair, still damp from his shower, curled behind his ears and touched his collar at the back.
“Morning.” He frowned slightly as he studied the table. “What’s going on?”
She stared at him, her courage fading. “I . . . I’m making waffles.”
He lifted his dark eyebrows and shot her a curious glance. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She turned toward the sink. “I know, but I wanted to do something . . .” Her mind spun, searching for an explanation. What could she say? That she couldn’t face sitting around all day feeling useless? That she had to prove she wasn’t a burden? That she’d cleaned and cooked and slept on an uncomfortable couch so they’d consider her helpful and
wouldn’t send her away?
Bill stepped up behind her. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. Waffles sound great.”
Waffles! She spun toward the counter. The red light on top of the waffle iron had come on. “Oh, shoot!” She jerked the lid up and grabbed a fork. A dark-brown waffle stuck to the upper griddle. Her hand slipped as she tried jabbed it with a fork. Scorching pain shot through her fingertips. She gasped and jerked back, dropping the fork on the counter.
Bill grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the sink. Before she could ask what he was doing, he turned on the cold water and thrust her fingers under the icy, gushing stream.
Hovering behind her, he held her arm steady. “Just keep your hand in the water.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, but then quickly glanced away as tears gathered in her eyes. Her fingers stung, but that wasn’t what made her cry. Self-doubt programmed into her from years of criticism rose to the surface. Why hadn’t she been more careful? How could she forget the danger of a hot appliance or the pain burns could cause? Couldn’t she do anything right?
Bill eased his hold on her arm and stepped back. “I’ll unplug that waffle iron.”
“Wait, I still have a lot of batter.” She pulled her hand out of the water and turned it over. Pain throbbed from the pink, oval-shaped welts marking the tips of her index and middle finger.
Bill returned to her side. “Hey, it’s not time to take your fingers out yet.” Concern filled his eyes as he gently guided her hand back under the stream of cool water. “This’ll help reduce the pain and any possible swelling. But you’ve got to give it a little more time.”
She nodded, grateful for his kindness and the soothing tone of his voice. “I’m okay. It’s not a bad burn.”
“Good. You stay there, and I’ll take care of that crispy critter.” He grinned and cocked his head toward the open waffle maker.
“I can’t believe I burned it.” She bit her lip. He probably thought she was a brainless blond with no cooking experience.
“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.” He chuckled. “I usually burn one or two of them every time.”
“Really?” Surprise filled her voice.
He nodded, picked up the fork and turned his attention to removing the scorched waffle.
She hadn’t met many men who were willing to admit their mistakes. Her former fiancé never liked to say he was wrong. Appearances and putting on a good front mattered more to him.
The last time she’d seen Phillip flashed into her mind. He’d come to the hospital the evening of the explosion and fire, and though he was an experienced actor, he hadn’t been able to hide his shocked response to her burns. When he walked away, he’d taken a piece of her heart, and almost convinced her it wasn’t worth fighting to recover.
He may have been wrong to desert her, but he was right about one thing. Her scars were beyond ugly, and she’d never be rid of them.
She glanced at her right arm and slowly ran her hand down her sleeve feeling the uneven texture of her skin under the thin cotton material.
Bill tossed the burnt waffle in the trash then poured in the next round of batter. “My problem is I can’t wait to eat, so I sit down and start enjoying breakfast, and I forget I’m still making more waffles.”
She leaned on the edge of the sink, watching his confident, easy movements. He obviously knew his way around the kitchen.
Grabbing a sponge, he wiped a few batter drips off the counter. Then he took a small plate from the cabinet and set it under the drippy measuring cup to avoid making any more mess. With a final glance at the steaming waffle iron he walked back toward her.
“Let’s see how it’s doing.”
She pulled her hand out of the water and held it out to him.
He turned it over and gently cradled her cold, wet fingers in his warm hand. “Looks like we got it cooled off in time. I don’t think it will blister.”
She swallowed, suddenly aware of his nearness and touch. He smelled clean and fresh, like herbal soap and crisp mountain air. Energy seemed to radiate from his hand and vibrate through her. She looked up. Their gazes connected and held, sending a tremor through her.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Wes crossed the kitchen toward them.
“I just burned my fingers a little.”
“Let’s see.” Wes stepped over closer, and Bill released her hand to her brother. He checked it out and looked up at Bill. “What do you think?”
“First degree. Pain should diminish in a few hours.”
Wes nodded, looking relieved.
She glanced at Bill. “How do you know that?”
He sent her an easy grin. “Just an educated guess.”
“Hey, tell her the truth.”
“It’s not important.”
“Yes it is.” Wes turned to Jenn. “He’s a certified wilderness first responder.”
She looked back and forth between them, uncertain of what that meant.
“He’s trained in CPR and first aid for just about any medical emergency we could run into at the nature center or one of our outings.”
“Did you go to school for that?”
Bill nodded. “I took a course up in Maine.”
Wes slapped him on the shoulder. “That training puts him right up there with an EMT.” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, grinning, looking as though he enjoyed embarrassing his roommate. “He also has a BA in ecology and environmental studies and an MA in Forest Ecology.”
“Stop.” Bill scowled at Wes. “She doesn’t care about that.”
“Oh, I’m impressed.” She smiled, enjoying being in the middle of their exchange. For some reason her mind shifted to Phillip again. He had pursued three different majors over six years in college but never graduated. She silently chided herself for comparing Phillip and Bill and shook off those thoughts. “I’m glad you knew what to do for this burn. Thanks.”
He glanced at her hand. “How’s it feeling now?”
“It just stings a little. I’ll be fine. Let’s eat breakfast.” She turned to check the waffle iron. “Looks like the next one is done.”
“Let me get it.” Bill lifted the lid and used the fork to pull out a perfectly toasted waffle. “Here you go, Wes. You can do the honors.”
“Man, I wish I had time. But I promised Toby I’d stop by before work.” He grinned. “He has some big end-of-the-school-year project he wants to show me before he turns it in. Guess I could take that waffle with me.” He snatched it from Bill’s fork and took a bite. “Delicious. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Jenn called as Wes crossed the kitchen.
He grabbed his keys off the counter. “See you guys later.”
She waved goodbye as he walked out the door. So much for having a talk. It looked like she’d just have to make her own plans. And first on the list was finding a job, though she wasn’t sure what she was qualified to do besides acting. Even if she did find someone who would hire her, how would she get to work without a car? She’d sold hers to help cover her medical bills and living expenses for the last two months.
Bill poured more batter into the waffle iron, then looked up. “Don’t worry. These look great. I’ll eat all Wes’s waffles and mine too.”
Jenn smiled. “Okay, but save me one.”
“You’ll have to fight me for it.” He grinned and lowered the lid on the waffle maker. “Hey, I’ve got to work this morning, but I’m off this afternoon. I thought I’d headed into town around twelve-thirty. Want to come along?”
Jenn studied him for a moment, surprised by his invitation. A trip into town sounded better than spending the rest of the day here alone, and she might see a help wanted sign or places she could apply. “Sure, thanks.”
“Great. I’ll show you all the hot spots in Tipton in about two minutes.”
His humor nudged her spirits a little higher, but her questions soon returned and stirred her anxious thoughts to the surface. How long would it be before Bill got tire
d of having her around? What would she do then?
Chapter Seven
The bell over the door of the Tipton General Store and Post Office rang out a cheerful greeting as Jenn stepped inside. Bill followed her, closing the door behind him and setting off the bell again.
As she lifted her sunglasses and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, she noticed the faint scents of peppermint, pipe smoke and fresh cut wood.
“Well, hello, stranger. I haven’t seen you for a while.” A man with a full, silvery beard and twinkling blue eyes greeted Bill from behind the store’s wide, wooden counter. He wore a faded, green plaid shirt and peered at them through wire-rimmed glasses.
“Afternoon, Howard. How you doing?”
“I’m right as rain, and hoping it’ll stay sunny.”
As the men shook hands, Jenn glanced around the store and felt as though she had stepped back in time. The walls were covered with shelves filled with every kind of grocery and household item you could imagine. Glass jars holding various colored peppermint sticks stood in a neat row next to the old-fashioned cash register. Baskets of lemons, apples, potatoes, and onions sat on the floor in front of the counter. Nearby, bundles of kindling were stacked next to boxes of fishing tackle.
Howard stroked his beard and peered at her with interest. “Who is this pretty lady?”
“This is Jennifer Evans, Wes’s sister.” Bill turned to her and smiled. “Jenn, this is Howard Clarkson, Tipton’s post master, owner of this fine store, and the best horseshoe player in all Addison County.”
Howard chuckled. “Thanks, but I don’t know if I’ll be holding on to that title much longer. Ralph McHenry’s been practicing all year. Says he’s gonna’ show me a thing or two at the Fourth of July picnic.”
Bill shook his head. “Don’t worry. He’ll never beat you.”
“Hope you’re right, or I’ll be eating a lot of crow instead of my wife’s fine potato salad.” He chuckled and clapped his hands together. “Now then, what can I do for you two today?” Before they could answer, he stooped behind the counter and brought up a small white carton that looked like the take out containers Jenn brought home from her favorite Chinese restaurant in Portland.
Surrendered Hearts Page 4
