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

by Jessica R. Patch

  “No. They stole our shed doors!”

  Sierra pinched her lips and gave Cassie a side-glance.

  “I’m gonna get those little suckers. When I find out who’s behind this.” He raked his hand through his hair, a deep scowl on his face. “And if they’re eighteen…it’s on. Southern style.”

  Was he going to deep fry them or something?

  “Cass, did you hear me? Those punks ripped off our shed doors!”

  Cassie batted her eyelashes. “Yeeeaaaaah….about that….”

  ***

  Ezra shifted uncomfortably in his white baseball pants. Purple socks. Purple jersey. He wasn’t exactly a ball cap kind of guy. Oh, the things he did for ego. Sierra had stood there and listened to Knox razz him. Friendly of course, but what choice did Ezra have? He had to say yes. Save face.

  She sat in a purple lawn chair next to Audrey and Cassie, who wore ponytails and had huge purple crosses painted on their right cheeks. Sure enough, they had pom-poms to match.

  Sierra waved, then strode to the dug-out. “Nice hat, Alcott.” She grinned and slapped the bill of his cap. “You’re playing First Christian. They’re good.”

  “I thought I saw Audrey’s brother, Jo, over there. I didn’t realize he went to a different church.”

  “Yes, and she holds it against him so make sure and go after him hard if you get the chance.” Sierra gave him a once-over. “I’m kidding. I mean, she does hold it against him, but in good fun.”

  Ezra scanned the rival’s dug out. “You want to get something to eat after the game?”

  “We all do. It’s tradition.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He forced down the disappointment of not being alone with her afterward.

  Gabe Brookson strutted their way. The man looked like he was born in a baseball uniform. After Sierra mentioned she’d been interested in Gabe, Ezra couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Which was ridiculous. The man was married, and a pastor. He clearly loved Audrey, but still…

  “Thanks for filling in, Ezra.” Gabe tucked his glove under his arm and shook Ezra’s hand. “You any good?”

  “He’s here to look pretty.” Knox popped a peppermint stick in his mouth.

  Jax stalked up behind Knox, aviator sunglasses and smugness on his face. “Nice. Dean just stood there. Can’t say there was any pretty to it.”

  Gabe popped a piece of gum. “Okay, let’s pray then wipe the floor with these guys.”

  “No mercy,” Knox said.

  “Well…” Gabe grinned. “No mercy. On the field.” He prayed and they took the field first.

  Ezra trotted to outfield.

  Knox waved him to keep going.

  “Outfield, Alcott! You’re still in the infield.”

  Ezra growled under his breath and jogged further back. Knox held his hand up.

  “You look very non-artsy, Alcott,” Jax quipped and took short-stop. “Missin’ your scarf?” He cackled and bent, feet apart, hands on his knees. He remembered him wearing a scarf at the art benefit from last October?

  “Maybe. By the way, Top Gun called. They want their sunglasses back.” Ezra saluted.

  Jax hooted. “Nice.”

  “You ready to stand and look pretty?” Knox bellowed.

  Ezra removed his cap, taking meticulous time to mess with his hair. “I am now.” He bent at the waist and put on his game face, or what he suspected might be a game face. “Don’t wanna disappoint the ladies.”

  Knox waggled his glove at Ezra. “I’m gonna keep my next comment about you disappointing ladies to myself. Might be considered lewd, and will save me a lashing from Eden.”

  “And I’m gonna save my next comment about you being whipped by your wife to myself.” Save him a lashing from Knox the giant, though he felt the camaraderie amongst the razzing. The feel of family. Something he hadn’t had in a long time. The artist community gave him a place in the world, but it wasn’t like family. There were always egos competing and ambition overriding camaraderie, at least most of the time. He’d made some lifelong friends, but he couldn’t honestly say he’d found a brotherhood. And it seemed these men, very different in appearance and background, had done just that.

  “All right, girls. Let’s play ball!” Gabe yelled.

  “Are you a preacher, pitcher, or jokester?” Ezra straightened the bill of his cap.

  “I’m all three. And a landscaper.” He dug his feet into the pitcher’s mound and struck out the first two players with skill.

  Audrey and Cassie butchered cheers and yo’ mama jokes until Ezra’s ears nearly bled. Audrey’s brother stepped up to the plate.

  “No mercy, Gabe. Even for family!” Knox barked.

  “Sorry, Jo,” Gabe hollered. “You’re going down.”

  “We’ll see about that, bro.” Jo gripped his bat and took a few practice swings.

  Audrey belted out another yo’ mama joke. She did realize it was her mom too, didn’t she? The sun baked down on Ezra, sweat sliding down his temples and back. Good thing they weren’t playing during noon heat.

  Gabe sent the ball zinging over the home plate and Jo connected, sending the ball flying through the air straight for Ezra.

  Crap.

  He started running backward, trying to keep his eye on the ball, but the sun blinded him. No wonder Jax kept sunglasses on.

  The crowd screamed and cheered. Ezra caught Sierra’s voice. “Catch it, Ezra! Catch it! Go, Ezra!”

  Some odd need rose in his gut clear to his chest, and determination set in to catch this ball and bring his team up to bat.

  “I got it!” Knox growled.

  “I got it!” Jax returned.

  Ezra caught Knox running toward him from one side. Jax the other. Like iron giants. Didn’t they have their own positions to guard…play…whatever?

  “I got it,” Ezra called. He hoped. He opened up his glove as the small, white blur plummeted further toward his face.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  It happened so fast and yet felt like slow motion. His feet came out from under him on impact. As his back slammed into the ground, he lost his breath and cracked his head on the field. An irony taste filled his mouth.

  Screams still resounded in his ringing ears.

  Had he been hit by a truck?

  Yes. Two of them.

  Knox and Jax loomed over him.

  “Dude, you gonna make it?” Jax asked.

  Knox took his peppermint stick from his mouth and pointed it at Ezra. “Welcome to baseball, Alcott.”

  He must be confused with hockey.

  “Is he okay?” Gabe raced over. “Hey man. How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Ezra groaned. “Two,” he muttered and worked to sit up.

  Knox handed him his baseball cap that they’d knocked off his head in the tackle. “I thought we were playing for the same team.” Which jogged his memory. He grinned through the pain and opened his mitt.

  The ump hollered, “Out!”

  Abundant Life congregants cheered, but he strained to hear one. Didn’t take long. She was on the grass and in his line of vision.

  “Ezra, are you all right?” Sierra pushed through the players and scowled at Jax and Knox. “Good thing it wasn’t Dean. You’d have broken his hip! Now move before I mow the both of you over.”

  “Sierra Bradley, you’re feisty. When did that happen?” Knox’s eyebrows twitched north.

  A player from the rival team stood next to Sierra. “I’m a doctor. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine. Bit my tongue. Other than that, I’ll live.” He stood and the crowd cheered again.

  “You hit your head pretty hard. You mind if I take a look?”

  “Go ahead.” The doctor did a quick exam and cleared him to continue playing. Ezra clipped Sierra’s chin. “Worried about me?”

  “Yes. And you would be, too, if you’d been me. Wait until you see it on video. Audrey recorded it with her cell phone. Swears it’s going viral.”

  Great. �
�I’m fine.” But she was out here, seeing to him. It warmed his heart.

  She rubbed the back of his head anyway. “That was an awesome catch, by the way. You’ll forever be Audrey’s hero.”

  He grinned. “Yeah? What about you?”

  “I have less anxiety when you paint.” She snickered and squeezed his bicep. “Sorry about your tongue.”

  “You know what they say about boo-boos, don’t you? Kissing makes it all better.” His stomach constricted as her already pink cheeks deepened to a lovely shade of rose. Must be the head injury loosening his tongue or the fact he’d been thinking about a more intimate kiss since the day in the woods. Probably a little of both.

  “That’s kiss it and make it better. And you’re not five.”

  “Okay, considering where the injury is, I’d think it’s pretty much one and the same in this case.” He tugged her hair. “So…think about it.” He would be.

  Warm brown eyes cast a flirty glance his way, and she sauntered off the field without replying. Well, it wasn’t a no.

  They finished the game and won by three runs.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Four weeks until Jemma’s wedding. Finally, things were set in stone, and they were working to bring it all together. To make it perfect. Sierra was closing down The Bistro so Jaynie could have a night off. Sierra suspected a date, but Jaynie was private about her personal life, and Sierra didn’t ask questions.

  In the last week, the senior pranks had swelled. Greta told Sierra just today that Corey had been out of town with his family last week, only to come home to the yard full of Christmas blow-ups, lawn candy-canes, and thousands of colored lights covering the trees, bushes, and house. His dad had griped about what the electric bill might look like and why his neighbors hadn’t done anything. Even if they did live half a mile away.

  Brett Minor had been on that boat with Corey and Greta a few weeks ago. He’d know if they were going to be out of town. Clever. And a little funny. Christmas in July. But it was August now, so hopefully all the stupid pranks would die down.

  Sierra entered the eating area. Four customers dined late. No one needed anything.

  Paul Monteith walked inside and Sierra’s stomach knotted. Seeing Paul only made her think about the house. The dream. The fear of jumping in with both feet.

  “Hey Sierra, I know I’m pushing it but I just got in. Could I grab something quick and easy? Sandwich?”

  “Sure.” Sierra motioned him to a table in the corner. Jitters going crazy inside. “What brings you to town? Checking up on the house?”

  “Yep.” He gave his order. Club sandwich. Dare she ask if he was planning to sell? She hurried and put his order in to Andrea, then came back out with a glass of water.

  “Have a seat,” he said. “Catch me up on life. I hear Ezra is in town.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I never liked him.”

  She smiled and fiddled with the paper napkin ring. “Why’s that?”

  “He had you.” Another smirk.

  That he did. “I think you fared well with the ladies.”

  His grunt indicated he knew that was completely true. Paul had been a heartbreaker. “I’m thinking of settling back in town.”

  Sierra’s heart sunk.

  “Don’t look so disappointed.” He sipped his water.

  Did it show? “It’s not that. I think it’s great you’re moving here. You giving up flying planes?”

  “No. But I’m going to do some private stuff. I’m done with commercial.” He scooted his water aside. “How great do you think it is?”

  She shook her head. “Always the flirt.” She dodged answering his semi-serious question. At least she thought it might be. She simply wasn’t interested in him that way. However… “I’ve been in love with your house for a long time. It’d make a perfect bed-and-breakfast.”

  Andrea brought out Paul’s dinner. The smell of turkey and spicy mustard rumbled Sierra’s stomach. In a restaurant all day and she’d missed dinner.

  Paul pulled the toothpick out of the center. “Are you interested in buying?”

  Was she? “I don’t know. I guess I was just making a comment.” Should she take the leap? Could she run two businesses? Did she want to run two businesses? As much as she loved The Bistro and Nana, the passion wasn’t quite there.

  “Look, Sierra, if you think it might be something you want, we can talk about it. I planned on moving in, but I’m a sucker for red heads.” He took a healthy bite of his sandwich. “And money talks.”

  Fear talked, too.

  ***

  Ezra leaned his head against the wall and stared at the portrait in his guest room. He’d turned it into a studio over the last few weeks for when he wasn’t painting outside.

  A gentle knock came and Genevieve entered. “Just coming in to see your best work. Your heart.”

  “You’re seeing pain, Gen.” Pain he’d handled on his own when God wouldn’t remove it from him.

  “This one is my favorite, I think.” Gen pointed to the swirls of blue and white creating a lake. Red hair piled on a svelte neck leading to creamy bare shoulders beckoning to be touched.

  They were all his favorite. Memories of Sierra coupled with emotion splayed on one canvas after another.

  “You should have let me sell them.”

  He’d put them on display in France and New York but when the offers actually came, he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t part with any of his Elusive Collection. It wasn’t because he wanted to hang on to the pain.

  He needed to hang on to the beauty. And he had to admit, it was his best work. It had soothed him and aided in releasing the hurt.

  As gold comes from the northern mountains, so a terrible beauty streams from God.

  That’s what these painting were. “A terrible beauty,” he mumbled, wondering where that Scripture came from.

  “I love that description, Ezra. Frightening yet awesome. That’s what people do when they stand in front of these paintings…stand in awe of the majestic beauty.”

  “I didn’t paint the pain away.”

  Gen frowned. “What?”

  “God’s let me stream the beauty like rivers of gold. He did it…with the brush.” It never crossed Ezra’s mind that God had been in every stroke. He’d been too angry at God to see it. “Job.”

  “What about Job?”

  “That’s the Scripture. A book about pain and healing. Taking away. Giving back. And God’s awesomeness. His beauty in creation.” Ezra had assumed he was the creator. But he wasn’t. He only mimicked the image of a heavenly Father, been allowed to inherit some talent and imagination from the Creator.

  Tears stung the back of his eyes.

  “Ezra, go after her.” She pointed to the paintings. “You carry her with you wherever you go anyway. Not just on these walls but in your heart.”

  Ezra shook his head. “She’ll reject me. I’m leaving for France. She’s thinking of buying a house to open a bed-and-breakfast. Here. In Mistletoe. I’m bound by a contract.”

  “That’s bull. You can get out of a contract. You’re hiding behind it. Like a coward. And the Ezra Alcott I know is far from a coward.” She stabbed a red nail at him. “What would you rather live with, Ezra? Rejection or regret?”

  “Neither.”

  “At least with rejection you know. Regret leaves you with what ifs. You’ve never been afraid of taking chances and risks. Don’t be afraid now.” She slipped past him and closed the door with a soft click.

  Ezra needed to ask forgiveness for being blinded by anger and stubbornness. “I should have known any sliver of healing came from You. That I can’t heal myself, and painting can’t either. But I have to be honest, God. I still ache. I still love her. I didn’t even realize how much until now.” Because only God could fully heal the heart. All Ezra could do alone was mask and bury it.

  Now it was time to trust God to do what Ezra needed Him to all along. He’d either give Sierra back to Ezra or He’d heal him completely and give him the peace and streng
th to move on without her.

  He studied each painting. Should he give it a shot? Go to Sierra, throw it out there, and see what happened? Ask her to come with him to France? Again?

  Take a chance. Take a risk.

  He rushed through the house, grabbed his car keys, and made his way to The Bistro.

  The place was empty sans Sierra and Paul Monteith. They sat across from each other eating pie and laughing. Paul touched her hand, messed with a strand of hair.

  Guess his feelings hadn’t changed over the years either. But that didn’t bother him nearly as much as the fact that they might be discussing her purchase of the Monteith home. Sierra might finally be taking a leap.

  And it had nothing to do with him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ezra adjusted his satin gray tie and tweaked his hair. The smell of food wafted from the gallery kitchen where Sierra had set up for the opening event. Tonight was only open to local artists, investors, and cash cows.

  “You look tortured and miserable.” Genevieve stood beside him, almost meeting his six-foot-one frame in her spiky heels.

  “I am.” Especially since Sierra was here. “Heath coming tonight?”

  “No. He’s stuck in L.A. Business meeting with Maddox Palmer. Everyone knows you don’t miss meetings with that man.” She flicked at her nail. “Did you take a chance?”

  “No.” He squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. “She deserves to be happy. To buy that house, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen.” Especially after seeing her with Paul Monteith last night.

  Gen embraced him and whispered in his ear, “You’re such an artist. Stubborn and broody.”

  “And you’re such a business woman. Pushy and unrelenting.” He took a glass of champagne from a server.

  “What if she’s only dreaming of the bed-and-breakfast because she thinks her dream of spending a lifetime with you is over?” Gen clinked her flute against his and sipped. “To second chances. For love. No regrets.”

  He hadn’t thought about that. Maybe he should put the paint to the canvas and see what picture came out. He wouldn’t beg. He’d just reveal his heart. Later. When she wasn’t distracted with work.