Back on Blossom Street

by Debbie Macomber

  “Christian—”

  He cut her off as if he’d lost interest in the conversation. “I suppose my dear aunt told you the story of my less-than-happy childhood?” he asked.

  It wouldn’t do any good to press the subject of his pending troubles, so she dropped it. “Some,” Colette admitted, instinctively realizing that he’d hate her knowing about that part of his life.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  Colette thought about the deep affection his aunt had for him. She yearned to tell him how grateful she was for that hour with Elizabeth. During their visit, she felt she’d come to understand Christian in ways that would never have been possible otherwise.

  “No doubt she bored you to death with stories of my love of maps.”

  “She mentioned it.”

  “Just how long were you there?”

  “Oh, not that long.”

  “Apparently, long enough to let her think you and I were involved.”

  “I didn’t! I promise.” Colette had told his aunt about their one-night stand and the result. She’d also said that they weren’t seeing each other anymore; she’d claimed—convincingly, she’d felt—that it was for the best. Apparently, Aunt Elizabeth didn’t believe her.

  “You go to dinner with her,” Christian said. “I assure you, she’ll enjoy visiting with you far more than she would me.”

  “That’s not true,” Colette countered. She could see that this was quickly becoming a clash of wills. “Arguing is ridiculous. You’re the one who’s related to her, not me, so you should accept her invitation.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is ridiculous. Nevertheless, I gave you my word.”

  “I absolve you from it for that one evening,” she told him. She refused to be responsible for disappointing the older woman. “We’ll both go to dinner and be done with it.”

  He considered her suggestion. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It would only encourage her. Unless you’ve had a change of heart.” At her hesitation, he laughed. “That’s what I thought. No, it’s better that we not have anything to do with each other.”

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” she answered sadly. Her instincts about Christian were accurate; it would’ve been a mistake to tell him she was pregnant with his baby. A painful mistake.

  “Go to dinner with your aunt,” she reiterated.

  “Perhaps I will.”

  They left it at that, and a few minutes later, Colette closed her phone. Nothing had been decided. Not until the night of the dinner would she know whether or not Christian planned to go.

  The next morning Colette woke feeling depressed. The baby fluttered within her womb and she pressed her hand against the slight bulge. She loved this child with a swell of emotion that produced unstoppable tears. For her own sake and the sake of the baby, she’d keep her secret, but eventually Christian would need to know. She dreaded the day she’d have to tell him and decided to wait as long as she could.

  Tuesday afternoon after work, when Colette met Alix at Go Figure, she casually brought up the conversation.

  “Christian phoned,” she said as she stepped out of the dressing room. She’d noticed a pack of cigarettes in Alix’s open purse and wondered when her friend had taken up smoking. Maybe the cigarettes belonged to someone else, she told herself. She hoped so, anyway.

  Alix stared at her with an intensity that made her squirm.

  “We both heard from his aunt,” Colette explained. The music pounded, fast-paced and energetic. She wanted to get started on their routine, but Alix wasn’t budging. Colette regretted saying anything.

  “He wants to see you again, doesn’t he?” Alix said triumphantly.

  “No.” Colette shook her head. “Like I told you, we both received invitations to his aunt’s for dinner.”

  “Are you going?”

  When Colette nodded, Alix immediately smiled. “Good answer.”

  The music had a hypnotic effect on Colette as she threw herself into her exercise routine. All the while, she could feel Alix watching her, silently encouraging her to give Christian another chance—give herself another chance. But Alix couldn’t possibly understand that the situation was hopeless. And Colette couldn’t tell her.

  Once they’d finished, changed clothes and walked outside, Alix pulled out the pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

  “When did you start smoking?” Colette asked, making an effort not to sound as disapproving as she felt.

  “Saturday.” She inhaled deeply. “I don’t want to talk about it, all right?”

  “But—”

  “I need to smoke until after this wedding business is done. I’ll quit then.”

  “If you say so.” Colette sighed. Then she realized she’d been oblivious to Alix’s problems. “You want a cup of coffee to go with that?”

  “Don’t have time,” Alix answered with a shrug, blowing out a stream of smoke.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked. “I’ve been so absorbed in my own life that I wasn’t paying attention to what’s happening in yours.”

  With a shake of her head, Alix dismissed her concern. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s big enough for you to take up smoking, so clearly something’s happened.”

  “Not yet it hasn’t,” Alix said cryptically, then tossed the half-smoked cigarette on the sidewalk and squashed it with the toe of her boot. “Listen, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss it.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Alix actually grinned then. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” Colette asked.

  Alix didn’t look nearly as confident now. “I don’t know,” she said. “Ask me again next week.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Alix Townsend

  Alix woke feeling miserable, itchy and vaguely unwell. Scratching the inside of her elbow, she sat upright and switched on the bedside lamp. The alarm would go off in another ten minutes anyway, so there was no point in delaying the inevitable. The instant she turned on the light Alix knew her suspicions were correct.

  Hives.

  She’d broken out in a full-blown case of hives. No one needed to tell her why, either. Stress over this damned wedding. Nothing had helped. Cigarettes certainly hadn’t. Neither had avoiding the issue with Jordan. Or pretending she hadn’t overheard Jacqueline talking to Susan. In fact, she couldn’t think of any solution—except one.

  In eighteen months on the job, not once had Alix phoned in sick. Even now, with her arms swollen and her face blotchy, she hated doing it. Not showing up, especially at the last minute like this, was a hardship on everyone. Alix took her responsibilities seriously.

  Reluctantly she picked up her phone. After making the call she swallowed two antihistamine tablets and went back to bed.

  Thankfully, they made her sleepy, and when she woke again, she felt a little better. She took a shower, slathered on some calamine lotion and put on loose jeans and an old T-shirt. Then she caught the bus to Blossom Street. Only she didn’t stop at the French Café. Instead, she walked over to the Free Methodist Church, where she knew she’d find Jordan.

  When she arrived, he was on the phone in his office. His eyes widened when she came into view. Alix couldn’t tell if his reaction was simply one of surprise or of shock at her appearance—the swollen face with its red blotches and the calamine-pink streaks on her throat and arms. Cute, very cute.

  He ended the conversation quickly and Alix made herself comfortable. Or as comfortable as someone with hives could be. She slouched in the chair across from his desk, trying not to move any more than necessary.

  “Alix, what are you doing here?” Before she could answer, he asked anxiously, “Are you all right?”

  “Does it look like I’m all right?” she fired back. “I’ve got hives.”

  His concern was immediate. “Have you made a doctor’s appointment?”

  She knew from past experience that medical help could only addr
ess the symptoms. “No doctor can do anything for me.” Even with her jacket on, she couldn’t resist scratching. With a determined effort she stopped.

  “Nerves?” he asked gently.

  Alix tried hard not to let him know how close to the edge she was but didn’t quite succeed. “Something like that,” she snapped.

  “You need to relax.” He reached absently for his coffee mug, which stood by the telephone. “Anything I can do?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  Apparently her answer surprised him, because his gaze shot to hers. “Name it.”

  This was the opening she’d been waiting for. “Cancel the big fancy wedding,” she pleaded. “Let’s go away and just get married. It wouldn’t be an elopement, but it wouldn’t involve all these strangers. The only people we need are family and a few friends. Can we do that, Jordan? Can we end this craziness and have a simple, private wedding? Please?” she added, staring intently at him.

  Jordan frowned. “You want to cancel the wedding?”

  “The big fancy affair and replace it with a small sane one.” The itch was too severe to ignore and she tore into her thigh, scratching relentlessly through her jeans.

  Her fiancé’s shoulders sagged with what could only be described as disappointment. “Alix, we’ve already had this discussion, remember? We can’t change everything at the last minute. It’d be too difficult and cause a lot of hard feelings.”

  “Don’t you think I know it’s the last minute?” she cried. Today was May first; the wedding was in exactly four weeks and one day. She was well aware of what backing out would mean. The invitations had been mailed; people had started sending gifts. Alix hadn’t seen any of them yet, but Jordan had told her about the pile accumulating at his parents’ home.

  “I know you’re feeling nervous,” he began.

  “Look at me,” she cried, holding out her arms, although her jean jacket prevented him from seeing much. “I’ve got hives from head to foot. And there’s something else I didn’t tell you about earlier, because you’d get mad.”

  “Something else? What?” he asked, frowning.

  “I started smoking again.”

  Jordan’s eyes widened, but to his credit he held his tongue. “Did it help?”

  She held out her arms again for his inspection; her sleeves slid up, revealing the red welts and the streaks of pink lotion. “You tell me.”

  He nodded. “Guess not.”

  “I threw away that pack of cigarettes this morning, which probably wasn’t the best idea.” Still, Alix figured she might as well quit now. With the price of cigarettes, she couldn’t afford them anyway.

  “Alix, it’s going to be all right,” Jordan murmured. “The wedding will be fine, I promise you.”

  Unfortunately, she knew otherwise. But the problem wasn’t just the wedding and everyone else taking control. It was also the man she was about to marry. He hadn’t listened. He kept pushing her away, putting her off, discounting her concerns. Much as Alix loved him, much as she wanted to be part of his life, she was beginning to realize that marrying him was a mistake.

  “This isn’t our wedding anymore. It never has been. Your mother and Jacqueline have turned it into a…a circus. I know they mean well and I appreciate their efforts, I really do.” She struggled to explain how trapped she felt. “I’ve tried to pretend everything would be fine. I wanted to do this for you and your family and for Jacqueline and Reese, too. But I can’t go through with the wedding as it stands. I just can’t.”

  “You don’t mean that!”

  Her throat tightened and her eyes stung with tears. She swallowed painfully. Her voice was choked, hoarse, when she spoke again. “It’s far too important to you to make everyone else happy, Jordan.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” She looked sadly down at her hands and then removed the diamond from her finger. For an instant she closed her hand around it, wanting to hold on to it a moment longer.

  “You can’t be serious,” Jordan said, and he sounded almost as if he were laughing, as if he thought this was all some practical joke.

  Alix set the diamond ring on the corner of his desk.

  “Alix, listen to me. Every bride goes through these prewedding jitters. It’s normal.”

  “These hives aren’t normal. Jordan…” She took a deep breath. “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to be your wife, but I can’t become someone I’m not. I can’t marry a man who’s so willing to ignore me and listen to what everyone else wants.”

  Jordan frowned at the ring. “You’re actually calling it off?”

  Her throat constricted again; unable to speak, she simply nodded.

  “Just like that?”

  She gave another nod.

  He stood and leaned forward, placing his hands on the edge of his desk. “Fine. You want out. That’s wonderful news. Just what am I supposed to tell everyone?”

  That was all Jordan cared about? What other people thought? Alix would have answered him but the pain in her throat made speaking impossible. When she turned to walk away, Jordan stretched out his hand. “Don’t do it,” he pleaded. “We need to talk this out.”

  “There’s nothing more to say,” she whispered, watching as he reached across his desk for the ring. He held it between his thumb and finger and stared down at it in disbelief, as if the diamond could explain what had gone wrong.

  “Your mother had me pegged from the first,” Alix said. She wanted Jordan to know she was aware of Susan’s feelings toward her. “I’m not the right kind of woman for you. I never have been and I was a fool to believe otherwise.”

  Jordan gaped at her.

  “Apparently you hadn’t noticed, but your family did,” Alix continued. “I’m really not good church material, either.”

  “That’s…that’s absurd,” he stammered.

  Alix felt he was the absurd one, thinking she could change who she was, wipe out her past and play the role of pastor’s wife. “I’m sorry. More than anything, I wish I could be the woman you and everyone else want me to be. I tried, but it’s not going to work.”

  “You’re serious, then? It isn’t just the wedding you’re calling off, it’s the whole marriage?”

  This wasn’t a ploy or a trick to get him to change his mind about the wedding and do it her way. He’d summarized the situation clearly. She couldn’t marry him. She’d let her love cloud her feelings, confuse her actions. She’d realized, while scratching the skin off her arms, that Jordan hadn’t listened to her. He thought he had, assumed he’d allayed her fears. Because she’d wanted to believe him, she’d allowed his confidence to momentarily reassure her.

  “What do we do now?” he asked. He gestured weakly, then let his arms fall to his sides.

  Alix shook her head and shoved her hands in her pockets for fear she’d start scratching again. “Your mother will know the proper protocol,” she told him.

  His mouth thinned, and Alix could tell that the prospect of facing his mother displeased him.

  “I don’t think canceling the wedding’s going to be that much of a problem. Don’t worry. Your family will smooth everything over.” With these words, she walked out of his office.

  Jordan didn’t come after her.

  Alix got on the bus and rode around for a long time, lost in her misery. On impulse she changed buses and went out to Sea-Tac Airport, then walked to nearby Star Lake, where Jordan’s grandmother, Sarah Turner, lived. With the wedding officially canceled, Alix didn’t know if she’d ever see her again. The prayer shawl was finished and she wanted to give it to Sarah. Unfortunately she didn’t have it with her.

  It was quite a hike from the road to the residential area around the lake, but the physical exertion made Alix feel better.

  She recognized the house from her visit at Christmas and the time she and Jordan had gone in January. She walked down the dusty driveway and discovered Grandma Turner busy working in her yard. The old woman hel
d a large watering can and wore coveralls and rubber boots, her thick white hair tied back with a red-and-blue bandanna. She straightened when she saw Alix.

  “Hello, Grandma,” Alix said, although she knew it was presumptuous to address Pastor Turner’s mother as Grandma, since Alix was no longer going to be part of the family.

  “Alix? Is that you?”

  She nodded.

  “Where’s Jordan?”

  Alix shrugged. “Work, I guess.”

  Grandma set the watering can aside and clumped over to the house to turn off the faucet. “Well, come inside and have a glass of iced tea. I’m glad you’re here.” Her welcome was so warm, it almost brought Alix to tears.

  Obediently Alix followed her to the house.

  “I was watering my garden and tending the rhododendrons,” Sarah said as she removed her boots, lining them up on the back steps. “They’re gorgeous this year. Did you notice?”

  Alix barely heard her. She stood in the doorway, hands in her pockets, and knew she had to say something, had to explain. “I shouldn’t have come,” she mumbled.

  “Nonsense,” Grandma Turner said briskly. As if to prove her point, she took two glasses from the kitchen cupboard.

  Alix stepped inside and breathed in the simple beauty around her—the scarred oak table, scrubbed clean, the pots of herbs, the handwoven curtains and braided rug. She loved this house and she loved Jordan’s grandmother. To her horror, she began to cry.

  Sniffling, she ran her sleeve under her nose. “I…wanted to tell you I knit you a shawl.” Somehow she managed to get the words out but she didn’t know if they were even intelligible.

  Jordan’s grandmother turned to squint at her. “Where’d I put my eyeglasses?” She started moving things on the table in a fruitless search. “I hear better with my glasses on.”

  Despite her misery, Alix grinned. Seeing them on the counter, she walked farther into the kitchen and handed them to the old woman. Grandma Turner slid them on, then looked at her and frowned.

  Alix wiped her nose again. “I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again,” she said. “I came to say thank you and to tell you goodbye.”