It's Always Been You (Seasons of Hope Book 4)

by Jessica R. Patch

  “Maybe a few times a week.” She covered her face. “I sound like a Peeping Tom for sure, don’t I?”

  He paused and she swung around.

  “Sounds like you love this house and the idea of turning it into a bed-and-breakfast. Take the plunge, Sierra. Are you worried you can’t run two businesses? Because I know how organized you are. It’s in your DNA and if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

  Her face softened. “Thank you. But it’s not that. It’s…I’m not only toying with opening the bed-and-breakfast, I’m also toying with closing The Bistro. So you can see the turmoil I’m in.”

  “Do your parents know about your ideas?” He had a sneaky feeling they didn’t. They could be controlling. He’d been on the receiving end of that.

  “No. Because I see no point bringing it up when I’m not even sure I’m going to do it. So many people will be let down. Especially my parents. Nana left this to me as a legacy. How can I throw it all away?”

  “What about you, Sierra? If you don’t open it, will you be let down? Sometimes you have to do things that make you happy. You can’t let the fear of disappointing someone hold you back.”

  “Like France?”

  The muscles around his neck tightened and he clenched his jaw. Didn’t look as if he could be her confidant. Not when she kept tossing out digs. “You know, the barbs don’t look so pretty on you.”

  “You’re right. I just don’t want to be selfish. That’s not a barb.”

  “I know.” Had leaving for France been selfish? No. They’d talked about it often, and he’d saved every last penny he had to go. Working three jobs the previous summer had almost done him in. It wasn’t just the back-breaking work. It was not seeing Sierra every single day that summer.

  That night had been about choices.

  And maybe some selfishness.

  Maybe on both their parts.

  “If Nana hadn’t groomed you from birth to take that restaurant, would you have gone to culinary school?” He already knew this answer.

  “Maybe.”

  “Then you have changed. Because once upon a time you wanted to travel the world and play violin in an orchestra.”

  “I love cooking. You know this.”

  “I do. But I think you’re afraid now, just like you were then.” Part of her hadn’t changed. “Afraid to stand up for what you want. If you want this bed-and-breakfast, then go for it.”

  She twisted her hair around her index finger. “Easier said than done.”

  “Not really.” He huffed and they walked in silence to The Bistro. Out front, Ezra broke it. “You guys figure out a menu for the wedding?”

  “I think so. She went from appetizers to buffet and now a formal dinner. I can pull it together if she’ll stick to one idea.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “So what about you? What will you do after the wedding? Move to Chicago and run the gallery?”

  And back to France.

  “That was the original plan, but plans alter. I was offered a two-year contract to teach at the Paris Art Institute. I can’t pass that up. So, I leave right after Jemma’s wedding.”

  They stopped in front of The Bistro. “That’s nice.”

  “Yeah. I really found my niche there.”

  Sierra blinked as if a bug had landed in her eye. What did she want to hear? That he hated France? “You’ll make a good teacher. I’m glad things worked out for you.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  In some ways they had. He’d done everything he set out to do and had planned to come back and throw it in Sierra’s dad’s face. Prove that he could have provided for Sierra financially and deserved the blessing Jim Bradley had refused Ezra. Never in Ezra’s wildest dreams did he imagine Jim forbidding to give Sierra’s hand in marriage. He’d been shocked. Disappointed. Wrecked.

  He’d looked Jim in the eye and told him Sierra wouldn’t care about any of that. She’d elope with him. One day Jim would be sorry for not walking her down the aisle. He’d be sorry when he missed out on grandchildren and important life events.

  Jim Bradley had known his daughter better than Ezra had, which added to the blazing agony.

  Truth was Jim Bradley had made some valid points. It took a few years for Ezra to see it. When he was living hand-to-mouth and not eating at all sometimes. When he was scared to sleep at night because of where he lived. That was no place for Sierra. No life for her to live. She did deserve better.

  When he’d paid years of dues and established himself in the artist community, money poured in and he almost came back for her, except money shouldn’t be the deciding factor in love. So he stayed gone. Kept working. Kept rising to the top. Lost himself.

  “Well, I’m going to go in and prep for the morning, and I have practice tonight at church.”

  “Still singing in the choir?”

  “I lead worship now.”

  “Really? That’s great. I guess I’ll see you next time sketching is in order.”

  She laid on a sweet smile that sent a tug into his gut. “Maybe next time it won’t be filled with so many frowns.”

  “It’s Jemma. So I’m sure it will.” Ezra waited for her to go inside the restaurant before he collapsed on a bench in the square. He pulled out his pad. Time to polish the sketch of Sierra at the Monteith house and figure out how to keep his heart at a distance. He’d think about France. That would do it. He would not fall for Sierra again. Would not let history repeat itself. Because no way would Sierra ever leave this town. She was still the same fearful girl who refused to take risks. And if she did take a risk, it wouldn’t be on Ezra. It would be on the Monteith house.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ezra spent the last few days sketching meetings. Less frowns. When he wasn’t trailing along with the bridal party, he’d worked at the gallery preparing for the opening. Today was a gorgeous Saturday and he wasn’t spending it painting like he wanted. Instead, he readjusted his tote bag on his shoulder and waited for someone to answer the door at Eden’s lake house.

  At first invite, he’d turned her down, but she’d refused to take no for an answer. Now he stood on her porch wishing he’d have stuck to his guns.

  “I’m glad you came, Ezra,” Eden said and offered to take his bag. He shook his head and stepped inside her home. Soft, muted colors. Sweet and simplistic yet sophisticated.

  Like Eden.

  Knox came around the corner toting a chubby little baby on his hip. He placed a scruffy kiss on her cheek and grinned at Ezra. “Hey, man. I hear you have to sit through all the girlie meetings and draw. Sounds terrible.” He handed off the raven-haired princess to Eden and planted a kiss on his wife’s lips. “I’m gonna let Ezra soak in some testosterone.”

  He’d rather be off by himself sketching. But he’d buck up and not voice that to the hockey player who still had the physique of an enforcer. Rather go willingly than be forced.

  “Grab a soft drink or a bottled water and don’t let Knox hustle you for money at horseshoes.”

  Ezra pointed to the baby. “What’s her name?”

  “Rachel. She’s eight months old and pulling up already. I bet she’s walking by nine.”

  “That’s because she’s my girl. Bet she’s skating by two years. I’m gonna make sure of it.” Knox gave Eden the don’t-argue-face.

  “She’s beautiful, Ede.”

  “I was actually going to ask you what you’d charge to paint her…if you have time while you’re in town.” Eden’s hopeful eyes smiled.

  “I don’t know if you can afford it, Eden. I’m pretty sought after,” Ezra teased. He’d never in a million years make her pay. In fact, he’d rather like to paint the little beauty. Her portrait belonged on a wall in a museum of beautiful children.

  Eden playfully punched his arm and looked over his shoulder. “Hey, I thought you weren’t making it until later.”

  Sierra stood in the doorway, billowy sundress falling to her ankles. She’d always looked gorgeous in green. A li
ne formed across her brow.

  “I invited Ezra, Jemma, and Ansel. Thought we might get some work done after lunch, while we sit by the lake.” She turned to Ezra, her cheeks pink. “And of course, because you’re our friend.”

  Leave it to Eden to think he’d feel offended. He patted his canvas bag. “Thus the supplies, and the offer to paint little Rachel for one home-cooked meal. I’ll starve at Gramps’s cottage.”

  Eden pointed at him. “Done. Although, she’s not going to sit still. Ever.”

  “Come on, Alcott. Let’s turn the meat on the grill over. It’ll make us feel like men.”

  Ezra followed Knox outside. Cassie sat in her husband’s lap, a story spilling from her mouth a mile a minute. “And that’s why I refuse to own chickens but—Ezra! Hey.” She jumped up and hugged him. “Long time no see.”

  He’d seen her two days ago while he sketched them having tea and discussing bridesmaid and wedding dresses. Next week he had the not-so-great pleasure of accompanying them to shop. Things were sort of coming together. Jemma had been in a better mood since Ansel had given up two golf games to talk wedding plans and been fitted for his tux, along with the groomsmen, including Ezra.

  “I don’t believe we’ve officially met.” Audrey’s husband, Gabe Brookson shook Ezra’s hand. Ezra had meant to get to church, maybe he would tomorrow.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Ezra said.

  “Same here.”

  Thirty minutes later, they sat at an extended wooden picnic table Jax Woodall had made. Food abounded. Hamburgers, brats, potato salad, baked beans, deviled eggs, pasta salad, and desserts galore. Conversation was equally abundant.

  Jemma and Ansel had canceled last minute. Typical. Jemma had little regard to other people or their plans. She was spoiled, and Ezra hadn’t been around much to steer her in a more humble direction. He regretted that. He’d been fixated on becoming someone worthy of Sierra. He now had the money. But not the woman.

  He watched Sierra. Taking plates, serving desserts and carrying trash bags to the kitchen and back. She rarely sat. Not to avoid Ezra, though she’d done a pretty good job of that, but that was her way. Always doing. Always busy. Always serving. She’d do a fabulous job running a bed-and-breakfast, if she’d ever garner the courage to try.

  He slipped from the table and grabbed his sketch pad. Settling under a huge tree, he studied Knox and Rachel. He worked quickly, capturing the love of a father and the innocence and adoration of his daughter.

  Ezra’s heart thumped, the fourteen-year-old boy in him missing Dad. Still hearing Mom tell him he’d been killed in a car accident. Dad had bought him his first set of paint brushes and canvases.

  “Would you like a piece of cake or a slice of pie?” Sierra appeared at his side. “Oh wow. Just…wow, Ezra.” She squatted, her sweet rose scent enveloping his senses. He turned the sketch toward her. Never could deny her a look. His one exception.

  “You like it? I think I’m going to paint it. For Eden.”

  Sierra nodded. “I think she’ll cry. But she’ll want one of Eli, too.”

  Ezra looked toward the volleyball net. “I’m going to do a collage. She can hang it somewhere in the house. Who’s the little girl following him around like a pup?”

  Sierra laughed. “That would be little Miss Daisy Ray Woodall. She’s nine. And I’m pretty sure she has a crush on Eli. She belongs to Jax. First marriage.”

  “Ah.” He studied them a minute. Hopefully, it’d end a crush, too. More than that was misery. Just look at him and Sierra.

  “So, cake? Pie? A brownie?” Sierra stared at the sketch again. “So life-like. I mean it’s like they’re breathing off the page.”

  He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes, smelled a hint of chocolate on her breath. “You always did see more than the actual picture. You saw the soul. I loved that about you.” He needed to clam up ASAP; it was difficult to stay angry, especially when she came with such a meek attitude and offered him genuine compliments and a side of chocolate pie or cake. It was hard to remember how she’d devastated him.

  Sierra’s eyes flashed with turmoil that he wished he could comfort. “I should help clean up if you don’t want that dessert.”

  He wanted to know why Sierra had given up on them before they ever really got started on life. He wanted to search her eyes and see answers, but he only found pain. Did she regret it? Saying no.

  “Maybe later. You thought any more about the bed-and-breakfast?”

  “No. I mean at night I drift off thinking and praying about it, but sometimes my emotions get in the way of clearly hearing God.”

  “Emotions like fear?”

  “Like a lot of things. I need to get things cleaned up. Eden has enough to deal with.”

  Again, thinking of others first. He admired it and wished it wouldn’t hold her back from her new dream. She’d never mentioned wanting to do that when they were kids. Dreams changed though. He never imagined teaching art.

  She dashed away and he spent the next few hours sketching, playing horseshoes and losing to Jax, talking with Gabe about golf and God, and playing a volleyball game as the afternoon turned into evening. He’d seen Sierra sit down once and that was to feed Rachel. But he’d captured it with the charcoals. Sierra would be a wonderful mom. All his friends with families and children. An ache formed in his chest and traveled to his gut, cinching it tight.

  ***

  Sierra stood over Eden’s sink and scrubbed the silver cake server with more grit than necessary. Why did Ezra have to come back? Why did he have to sketch the events leading up to the wedding? Why did he have to move her to tears with the way he drew?

  “Hey.” Gabe’s soft voice pierced her drowning thoughts. He carried a few spatulas to the sink. “You look deep in thought.”

  A lump in her throat kept her voice silenced. She took the spatulas from his hands, placing them in the warm sudsy water.

  “Sierra, Audrey told me about you and Ezra dating in high school. That he left for France the summer after you graduated. Just from observing, I’m thinking you two were pretty serious about each other.” He leaned against the counter as she scrubbed another cake server.

  She swallowed the throbbing lump in her throat. “He asked me to marry him. I wanted to.” She gripped the handle of the server. “I never told anyone that—that he asked. I’m sure I told everyone I wanted to marry him.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  Gabe was her friend and her pastor. She trusted him completely, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about that night, but since Ezra had been back she’d been reliving it day after day.

  “He left. Never called. Wrote. Or even sent a postcard. He just got angry and didn’t seem to understand why I couldn’t do it. I thought he loved me more than that.” She grabbed a serving spoon. “I guess he didn’t.” She refused to cry for fear if she did, she might not be able to stop.

  “You know I’m going to ask. Have you prayed about it? Then? Now?”

  Tears blurred her vision and she blinked. “Yes, but I was confused…and afraid. I was only eighteen.” She was just as confused and afraid now. “I didn’t want to elope and wasn’t sure why he was so insistent on it. I wanted a wedding. Is that wrong? All he had to do was wait a little longer. He couldn’t wait for me, though. He had to get to France. Had to paint.”

  “No, it’s not wrong,” he said and laid a hand on her shoulder. “But I get the feeling it was more than being young and wanting a big wedding.”

  Gabe would be right. “It’s scary. Running off somewhere new. Into the unknown. And I had responsibilities here. Nana always said she’d pass down The Bistro to me. I had to go to culinary school! I couldn’t fail her legacy…” She groaned and focused on the dishes.

  “The unknown can be extremely fearful. I’m from Florida, remember? I didn’t know anyone coming here. But I knew God and I trusted Him. Look how that worked out?”

  Sierra studied the popping dishwate
r bubbles. “I wasn’t sure if God was telling me to go or stay. You had clear direction.”

  “I had moments of being unsure. Fear can clog your spiritual ears. I think there’s a fair amount of fear with clear direction and when you’re not quite sure. Uncertain places, change, new things…” He shrugged. “Still uncharted waters. You feel like you made a mistake by not eloping?”

  “I don’t wanna think about it to be honest. I’m just praying to get through these next few weeks with grace. After so many years, all those old feelings have returned. The good and the bad. Memories I’ve tried to bury.” Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked well. “It’ll all pass. When he leaves for France.”

  Gabe rubbed his chin. “Maybe. In the meantime, the best way to get through is prayer. So…guess what? Let’s pray.” He bowed his head and prayed for wisdom, peace, and comfort. Gabe was right. It soothed her sore heart for the moment. Gabe opened his eyes and grinned. “He’s a nice guy. Stinks at volleyball and horseshoes, though.”

  She laughed. A good deep belly laugh. The perfect medicine. Sierra had a sneaky feeling Gabe knew it and had administered the meds on purpose.

  “There you two are!” Audrey bee-bopped into the kitchen. “I thought I told you Eden would wash these dishes later.” A hint of playfulness popped in her blue eyes.

  “You did but that was mean.”

  Audrey laughed and looped her arm through Gabe’s then gave him an almost invisible nod. “So come out to the deck. I promise to help later,” she said with a mischievous grin. “What are you guys in here talking about anyway?”

  “Sports.” Gabe motioned Sierra out then guided Audrey. Everyone sat on lawn furniture. Looked like they’d been summoned, too. Ezra sat alone in the corner, but he appeared relaxed and comfortable.

  Gabe wrapped his arm around Audrey. “We have good news.”

  Eden erupted in tears. Knox squeezed her hand and Jax frowned as Cassie elbowed him in the ribs.

  “We’re pregnant! Due around Valentine’s Day. How perfect is that?” Audrey asked. Hugs and cheers circulated along with congratulations.