by JoAnn Durgin
“In answer to your question, a balloon chaser helps to inflate the balloon and works with the pilot on the launch. Then the chaser follows the balloon’s progress from the ground, meets up with the pilot when he lands, and then helps deflate the balloon. I figured I could take the tank and drive us there. Tyler said his balloon should be easy to spot among all the rest, a good thing when you’ve got a lot of balloons in the air at the same time.”
“What’s the design on his balloon?”
“It has the Texas state flag on it. Some of the balloons have shapes.”
Marta grinned. “That just begs for a corny joke about the size of Texas, but nope. Not going there.” Her smile quickly faded. “If it’s on Sunday, we’ll miss the church service.”
“I know, and that’s regrettable. It’s the only day Tyler will be there this year. I’ll speak to Sam. Of course, if you’d rather not—”
“Are you kidding? It sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Eliot. Sam will understand. If he gets cranky about it, I’ll speak with Lexa and she’ll give us a hall pass.”
Eliot laughed. “Sounds like a plan.” He stuffed his empty chip bag, apple core, and napkin inside the sack and tossed it in the trash can.
Marta held out her palm. “Feel that?”
A raindrop plopped on his head. Then another. “I do now.”
“Come on.” Tugging him by the hand, Marta dragged him off the bench. She ran a few feet away, lifted her head to the sky, and spun in a slow circle.
Watching her, Eliot marveled at her zest for living. Marveled at her. “I love your joy, Marta.”
She stopped spinning. “Then come and share it with me!”
As the rain started to fall, light but steady, they splashed, danced and laughed. Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such pure fun.
~~♥~~
Dean rounded the corner of the Sunday school room where Sheila helped to lay carpet. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the same as always when she worked at the church, and she wore denim shorts and a pink T-shirt. Concentrated on her task, she didn’t see him standing in the doorway until one of the women said something to her. Glancing up at him, Sheila gave him a small smile. Angling his head toward the hallway, he arched a brow.
“Hi,” he said when she came out to meet him seconds later.
“H-h-hi, Dean.” They walked further down the quiet hallway.
“Do you have time to take a break now? I was hoping we could talk. I’ll bring fresh fruit and bottled water.” He gave her his best smile, hoping either the enticement of spending time with him or a healthy snack would convince her to accept his invitation.
When she checked her watch, he noted something about her watchband. What do you know? The band was one of his designs and a Leather original. “C-c-can y-you g-g-g-ive m-m-me a-a-b-bout t-t-ten m-m-minutes?”
“Sure. Sounds good. They’ve put a few picnic tables under the trees to the side of the church. I’ll meet you there.”
Not wanting to stare as Sheila walked toward him at the appointed time, Dean fiddled with his watch to give him something to do. “Thanks for meeting me,” he told her as she climbed onto the picnic bench across from him.
“I-it’s a n-n-nice b-b-break.”
“Help yourself to anything you’d like.” He waved his hand at the assorted fruits, water, and juices decorating the top of the picnic table.
She smiled. “A-are y-y-you ex-ex-p-pecting a c-c-crowd?”
“I guess I went a little overboard, huh? I wanted to make sure to give you a well-rounded selection.” He’d noticed at their meals in the dining hall that she ate healthy—whole grains, few starches, nothing fried or greasy. Not that he was overweight, but he could stand to lose a few pounds. Since he’d turned 37, the calories liked to congregate around his middle. The long hours spent in his office had him eating out and getting takeout more often than not. The physical labor this week had been quite beneficial even though it rendered him sore most nights. Totally worth the discomfort, though.
Sheila eyed the fruit as if weighing her options.
“I got the fruit from Lila in the kitchen,” he assured her. “It’s all been washed.”
“I-I’m n-n-not w-w-worried.” Choosing a green apple, she bit into it and winked. “S-s-sour,” she said, laughing. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand when a tiny bit of juice dribbled. “T-t-tell m-me w-w-what y-you w-w-were g-going t-t-o s-say.”
He tilted his head and eyed her curiously. “You’re perceptive. I was thinking how I haven’t been getting as much exercise as I should back home. I’ve been too busy with the stores and working long hours.” If he was admitting to being out of shape, he might as well stress his strong work ethic to balance it out. “It might be a good idea to join a gym with Felipe. He seems to like working out.” Twisting the cap off a water bottle, Dean took a long drink.
“I-I’ve b-b-been pl-pleased t-t-o s-s-see h-him d-d-doing s-s-some of th-the h-h-heavy l-lif-t-ting h-here a-at th-the w-w-worksite.” Sheila took another bite of the apple. “H-h-he’s l-l-lean b-b-but s-s-strong.” She smiled around another mouthful of that apple. With her lips moistened from the juice, it was all Dean could do not to stare. He’d never realized eating a piece of fruit could be so…appealing.
“Keeps him out of trouble, at least,” he said, breaking out of his musing. “I noticed your watchband. From what I could tell, it’s from Leather. One of my designs, if I’m not mistaken.”
Sheila turned her wrist and studied it for a few seconds. “Y-y-you’re r-r-right! I-I re-re-p-placed i-it a f-f-ew m-m-months a-a-go. I-It’s a L-l-leather d-d-design.” She seemed genuinely pleased.
“May I see it?”
When she offered her wrist, Dean admired how small and dainty it was. He pointed to the design on the underside of the band. “See the tiny heart by the signature ‘L’ logo? I add a heart to all of my designs in honor of my mother, Rose. We tried to make a rose, but being so small, it didn’t translate well.”
Leaning closer, Sheila nodded and looked up at him. “I-It’s b-b-beauti-ti-f-f-ul. W-w-when d-d-did s-s-she p-p-pass a-a-w-w-w-ay?”
He couldn’t help his grin. “She didn’t,” he said quickly when Sheila gave him an odd look. “I’m happy to report Mama Rose is alive and well. If she’s not, then there’s some crazed woman who calls and gets on my case if I don’t show up for dinner once a week. She’s really taken to Felipe and is great with him. He likes her a lot, too. Better than me, I’m afraid.”
“Y-y-your m-m-mother l-l-likes F-F-Fel-l-lipe b-b-better th-than y-you?”
“No. I meant Felipe likes Mama Rose better than me.” His eyes widened. “I hope you don’t think I’m a pathetic, almost middle-aged loser who lives with his mother.”
She laughed. “Y-y-you’re n-n-not p-p-pathetic a-a-nd I-I’m s-sure F-F-Fel-lipe l-l-likes y-y-you. H-h-he j-j-just d-does-s-n’t kn-kn-o-w h-h-how t-t-o sh-show it.”
“I’m not middle-aged yet, either. Just so you know. At least I hope I’m not, but I suppose it’s dependent on my life expectancy.” He ran a hand over his hair, thankful he still had a lot of it with no bald spots. “I seem to have a tendency to say dumb things in your presence.” What was wrong with him?
Dean hoped his smile conveyed how grateful he was for her faith in him. The same way he could tell Sheila was thoughtful and kind. Gentle. A great mother. At first he’d thought she was a bit overprotective, but he’d been a teenage boy once with hormones in overdrive when he was around a pretty girl. Felipe talked a good game, but he seemed to genuinely like Angelina. From what he’d seen at the camp, they were becoming friends, and that pleased him.
“Sheila, I’m going to lay it on the line here and state my case.”
Tilting her head as she chewed, she nodded for him to continue. She didn’t appear scared and she wasn’t running away. That in itself was encouraging.
“I like you. Very much,” he said. “Above all, I’d like for us to be friends and spend
more time together once we get back to San Antonio.” He met her lovely brown eyes and held her gaze. “But, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more. We’re both consenting adults and—”
“Dean!” Coughing, Sheila cupped one hand over her mouth. “W-w-what a-are y-y-you s-s-sug-g-gesting?”
“What do you…?” He held up one hand. “Oh, no, no, no. Sorry. Bad choice of words. Please don’t misunderstand.” Dean shook his head, praying under his breath she didn’t think he was some kind of leering pervert. “I hope that what I lack in articulation skills, I make up for in other ways. Sheila, the other day, you told me that you’re damaged goods. If you’re willing to share, I’d like to know why you feel that way. Because the way I see it, that’s not true at all.”
He could see her swallow the last bite of her apple. Lowering her gaze from his, she grabbed a napkin from the table and wrapped the apple core inside it. Finally she spoke although she still didn’t look him in the eye. “Th-there a-are pl-plenty of w-w-omen w-who’ve n-n-never b-b-been m-mar-r-ried, n-never h-h-had a ch-child. Y-y-you sh-should f-f-find one of th-them.”
“I might not want one of them.”
Sheila’s eyes grew wide, but she remained quiet.
“First of all, your heart might be damaged, but that’s not your soul. It shouldn’t define who you are or prevent you from finding happiness. You’ve triumphed over the past and you’re strong and independent. You’ve survived, you have a terrific relationship with Angelina, and a satisfying career. Don’t you see? The most important thing is that you’re whole in God’s eyes, and I want you to know that you’re also whole in my eyes.”
Sheila’s eyes were moist, and he hoped his words had reached her in the way he’d intended.
“Dean, m-m-my f-f-family f-f-forced m-m-me t-to m-marry H-Howard.”
“Did you love him? I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no right to ask that question. Or expect an answer.”
“I-I th-th-thought I l-l-loved h-him, a-a-and th-then I-I g-g-got p-p-pregn-n-nant wh-when I-I w-was b-b-barely 16.” She lowered her voice. “H-H-Howard w-wanted m-m-me t-t-to a-a-b-b-ort th-the b-b-bab-by. H-He g-g-grew t-t-to l-l-love An-Angel-lina, b-b-but I-I w-w-was v-v-very pr-pr-o-t-tect-t-tive of h-her.”
“I can understand why. You’re a terrific mother.” Compassion filled him for this woman, and he stretched his hand across the table. After only a few seconds, Sheila put her small hand in his. Wrapping his fingers around hers felt natural, as though he’d been doing it all his life. Even when he was dating Cynthia, he’d never felt an emotional connection with his ex-girlfriend the way he did with the woman sitting across from him now.
“I’m sorry you had to endure all that, Sheila. Sounds to me like you were never allowed to enjoy your youth or the freedom to make choices for yourself. And I figured you must have been a child bride.”
“Y-y-you’ve n-n-never m-m-married, Dean?” She carefully eased her hand away from his. He wanted to grasp hold of her again, but pushing the issue didn’t seem advisable.
“No. I had a serious relationship for a few years. Turns out we wanted different things.”
“I-I f-f-ind th-that s-surp-p-r-rising. Y-y-you’re w-w-wond-d-derf-ful a-a-and v-ver-ry h-h-handsome.”
He smiled, thrilled by the unexpected compliments. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so.”
“M-m-maybe y-you l-l-looked in th-the w-w-wrong p-p-places.”
Feeling bold, Dean squeezed her hand. “Or maybe the Lord knew I’d find the right person through TeamWork and He kept blinders on me for all these years.”
Sheila withdrew her hand. “I-I sh-sh-should g-get b-b-back t-to w-w-work n-n-now.”
“Sheila—”
Jumping up from the bench, she took off at a fast walk, headed in the direction of the church. Dean beat his fist against his forehead a few times. “Way to go, Costas.” He’d been making headway and then he had to spout something that made her run away. Again.
Lord, it’s not supposed to be this difficult, is it?
Slowly getting up from the bench with a heavy sigh, Dean retrieved the cardboard box he’d left on the ground and began to put the fruit and bottles in it to return to the kitchen. He moved slowly, his motivation sapped. But he’d hang onto her comment about him being handsome. That was headway. He’d found out more about her relationship with Howard. Although he wasn’t surprised, he was thankful she’d opened up to him. That, too, was headway.
He’d keep on trying, an inch at a time, if needed. Whatever it took. He hadn’t built his business by walking away from adversity. Not that Sheila was a business deal, but she was definitely worth the wait.
~~♥~~
“Dad, I’ve got a problem.”
Joe only called him Dad when he wanted a heart-to-heart chat. His boy was almost four going on forty. He took things so seriously. His TeamWork reports could wait. “Sure, son. Want to go sit on the porch and talk?”
“Uh huh.” Joe walked beside Sam from the office and out onto the porch. The early evening had cooled a bit and a slight breeze rustled the leaves of the towering trees.
In a few minutes, he’d walk his children over to the dining hall for dinner. He’d put in an appearance earlier but Lexa had shooed him out, telling him everything was under control. The tantalizing aromas of food filled the air. The ladies of the One Nation Church had been cooking for hours, and they were all in for quite a feast tonight.
After Joe dropped into one of the rockers, Sam took the other. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Gracie.”
“Ah.” Resting one elbow on the arm of the chair, Sam began to rock as he stared out over the expanse of the camp. Maybe it was no surprise that—as the son of two former financial planners—Joe already exhibited signs of an analytical, logical mind. Sam’s brother, Will, was Joe’s personal hero these days. When he’d first heard Will had been named a shuttle commander for an upcoming NASA mission, Joe had whooped and hollered and declared he wanted to be an astronaut. No doubt they’d be paying a lot of visits to Johnson Space Center.
Sam glanced over at Joe. “How’s that arm?” Since they’d arrived at the camp, Joe had complained that Gracie punched him at every available opportunity. He knew Natalie and Marc were working with their daughter to try and control her inclination to sock Joe, apparently Gracie’s sole target.
Joe rubbed his fingers over his upper right arm. At least no bruises were visible. “Sore. Like always when Gracie’s around. It’s good she lives in Massa….”
“Massachusetts. Why do you think she hits you?”
Scrunching his features into a frown, Joe appeared to consider the question. “’Cause she’s mean.”
“Is she mean all the time?”
“No. She’s nice to Hannah and Leah. And Luke. She wants to carry Emily around like she’s her baby. Chloe thinks Gracie’s okay when she’s not bossy.”
The corners of Sam’s mouth quirked. “And what do you think?”
“I think Gracie hates boys.”
“That could be it, although I doubt it’s as strong as hate. Do you like Gracie? Even though she’s a girl?”
“Sort of. If she’d stop hitting me all the time, I might like her better. I don’t hate her.” Joe’s feet didn’t reach the porch floor, so he scooted to the edge of the chair. Pushing off with both feet, he began to rock.
“You know, Joe, sometimes girls hit boys for the opposite reason. Maybe Gracie punches you in the arm because—deep down inside—she secretly likes you.”
“She sure has a funny way of showing it.”
Sam laughed. “You know, your mother wasn’t sure she liked me all that much when she first met me, either. It was at our first TeamWork mission together outside San Antonio.”
“Did Mommy hit you?”
“She did, but it was an accident. We had a flat tire on the old Volvo station wagon—the one in the garage out back at home in Houston—and I was trying to fix it. When Mommy tried to hand me a wrench, it slipped out
of her hand and hit my leg.”
“So she didn’t mean to do it.” The implication from Joe being the situation was different since Gracie intended to hit him. Smart boy.
“No, no. It was heavy and slippery. But she sure made a big impression on me. And I think Gracie’s made an impression on you.”
Joe tilted his head. “What’s that mean?”
Sam chuckled and ran one hand over his chin. “It means I started liking your mother.”
“Because she hit you?”
He wasn’t doing the best job of explaining. “Mommy got my attention, but then she kept my attention because she was different from all the other girls. In a good way.”
“Yeah. Gracie’s different, too, but does that mean I have to like her?”
Joe asked insightful questions that helped to keep Sam sharp. He learned from his children on a daily basis, and that was one of his favorite parts of being a father. “As a Christian, we’re told in the Bible to love one another. I always try to do that even when people do things I don’t like.”
“Like what?” Joe rocked away in his chair and looked at him with wide-eyed innocence.
“They lie or they cheat. Or they do something they know could hurt someone else and they do it, anyway.”
“Yep.” Joe shook his head with a sad expression. The compassion in his boy—even for Gracie—warmed his heart. They wouldn’t be having this discussion now if he didn’t care.
“Sometimes it’s hard to like people, Joe. All God asks is that we try. Be patient with Gracie. God’s working in her heart just like He’s working on you and me.”
Joe nodded. “Makes sense. My tummy growled. Is it time to eat?”
“So did mine.” Sam lifted from the chair. “Let’s go get your sisters and head on over to the dining hall. Thanks for the talk, son.”
“Anytime, Dad.”
Chapter 19
~~♥~~
