Herman snorted. “Better than I deserve. Always has been.”
Bernie leaned back in the chair, hands relaxing in his lap. Herman had been in sales long enough to recognize an invitation to speak.
The pastor hadn’t condemned him in their last meeting, and maybe he could offer wisdom about reconciliation. He hesitated. The presence of the holy book flavored the air between them with a tension he hadn’t felt in the diner, even considering the scornful waitress.
“All of us are unworthy of love.” The preacher’s gaze dropped toward the foot of Herman’s bed.
Herman snorted. “What could a preacher do to feel like he didn’t deserve love?”
The other man’s face blanched. He cleared his throat and clutched the black book with both hands for a moment before closing his eyes, lips moving silently.
“All have come short of the Lord’s righteousness.” The preacher lifted the book. “But if He can offer forgiveness, so can a woman as dedicated to His service as your Norma.”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
“But I know the grace of God.”
Grace? Herman massaged the center of his chest, startled by a sudden pang. It wasn’t his heart this time, not in the physical sense.
Silence stretched, a rubber band reaching its snapping point. Herman stared at the ceiling, an assortment of perforated tiles interspersed with a narrow, recessed fluorescent fixture. He breathed deeply, wishing he was a praying man. But he wasn’t. He was the sort of man who pulled himself up by his bootstraps.
“I had a duty to Adonis and to Norma. I’ve worked hard, done my best to care for them. But now—” The twinge he was supposed to avoid niggled in the left side of his chest.
“You lost your job.”
Herman nodded, still shocked by the sudden reversal of fortunes. Shame washed in, but the sense of failure didn’t overwhelm him.
“And now your health opposes a job search.” Bernie’s eyes held understanding.
“Which isn’t favorable to a man my age anyway.” If his strapping young son couldn’t get hired, Herman stood no chance.
“The Lord has a plan in all this.”
Herman scowled. He hadn’t given God much consideration, so why should he expect anything from Him?
“Sometimes God has to put us flat on our backs to get our attention.”
Herman blinked at the man. Sincerity oozed from the preacher, and the usual discomfort he felt around “religious” folk ebbed to nothing.
“What I really need help with…” He swallowed. “Is wooing Norma.”
Bernie pursed his lips. “Earning back her trust won’t happen overnight.”
“Do you think there’s a chance with the boy around? I want to be part of his life, but if I have to choose…” Tingling started in his left arm. The doctor told him the sensation indicated his heart was stressed.
“As much as she loves children, I doubt she’d expect you to send your son away.” The pastor heaved to his feet and stepped closer to the bed.
Norma had a big heart, but expecting her to love his illegitimate son seemed out of line. Herman inhaled deeply, tried to manufacture a peace he didn’t deserve.
“Think back to how you won her heart.” Bernie slapped the book against his thigh. “And then woo her with the same sense of purpose you had then.”
Herman’s eyes darted between the book and the preacher’s face. How had Herman won Norma all those years ago?
“I’m going to pray over you.” Bernie winked. “That’s my job, you know.”
Herman steeled himself for a wave of resentment or disbelief. None came.
Bernie bowed his head, placed a hand on Herman’s arm, and closed his eyes. “Lord Jesus, I lift Norma’s dear husband up to You. He needs physical healing and spiritual direction. Send Your Spirit to guide him as You’ve promised in Your word.”
Herman’s stomach clenched. Would this Jesus heal someone who didn’t believe in Him?
The pastor’s voice lowered. “Bless Norma and do a work of forgiveness in her heart. We want only Your will for their marriage. In Your Holy Name, Amen.”
The pastor’s eyes popped open, and he met Herman’s gaze. A flicker of something deep ebbed between them, and stillness settled inside Herman. The peace of mind he sought?
The men shook hands, and on his way out, the pastor promised to check back with him in a few days.
Herman stared at the door. He never had any use for God because he’d never needed him. And now?
He needed all the help he could get.
His eyelids fluttered closed, and ideas for romancing Norma raced until he formed a semblance of a plan.
Please let this work.
14
“Delivery for you, Norma.”
Norma glanced up from her desk behind the reception counter in the high school office. Iris Smith stood there, a bouquet of daffodils in a crystal vase with a balloon tied on its neck, in her hands.
“For me?” Norma’s heart leapt. It wasn’t Secretary’s Day or her birthday. She stood and reached for the flowers.
“About time he treated you right.” Iris harrumphed and set the vase on the counter but didn’t move away.
Norma ignored Iris’s jibe and set the arrangement on her desk. The balloon bobbed, drawing her attention to the purple lettering on the golden Mylar surface. “You are so beautiful.”
Her pulse thrummed in her neck. When they’d first dated, Herman had played the Kenny Rogers rendition of that song on his cassette player. She could almost hear the crooning words.
Her hand covered her palpitating heart. When had she last felt beautiful? During the years she focused on getting pregnant, she’d brushed away Herman’s compliments and adoration, thinking only of her failure. And now? She glanced down at the bright dress flowing over her curves. Did Herman find her attractive?
Her face heated as she pulled the card from among the dainty blooms. Fingers fumbling, it took her two tries to get it out of the miniature envelope. She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but the words curled her toes. “Missing my beautiful wife. Looking forward to dinner tonight.”
“That Mexican boy came in and placed the order.” Iris smirked. “Signed Herman’s name. Said he was convalescing.”
Norma quirked an eyebrow, doubting Adonis used that word. “Do you mean his son, Adonis?”
Iris’s jaw slackened. “Why ever would you want to spread that news around town?”
Norma raised her chin. “As if people aren’t talking? Herman’s trying to do right by his son.”
Iris stiffened. “What about doing right by you?”
Norma ground her teeth and painted a phony smile on her lips. “Who says he’s not? Do you hear me complaining?”
Iris huffed.
Kyanna breezed in from her office around the corner. “Flowers? Iris, thank you for delivering these, but Norma needs to get back to work.” She turned from the gossipy woman and extended a folder to Norma.
Iris grumbled and stomped out of the office. Obviously she’d hoped to get more fodder for her one-woman gossip column. Norma shook her head and reached for the folder.
Kyanna withdrew it. Norma frowned.
“A ruse. Although I’m sure you have plenty to keep you busy.” Her glance slid over the colorful bouquet.
“I appreciate your rescue.”
“Church ladies who gossip are a stereotype I wish we could eliminate in reality.” She nodded at the flowers. “From Herman?”
Norma handed her boss the card, fingering a green leaf while Kyanna read the sentiment her husband’s son had penned. How did Adonis feel about doing something like this for her?
“About time he realized what a treasure you are.”
“We had plenty of good years.”
Kyanna’s eyebrows shot beneath her bangs. Norma could read the question in those piercing blue eyes: While he was playing house with another woman and a son you didn’t know about?
Norma took the card, t
hreaded it on the plastic fork-like stem, and tossed the envelope in the trash. She didn’t need to explain her marriage to anyone, not even her understanding boss, who had rallied beside her when she needed it most.
When she walked into the house at a few minutes before 5:00, the scent of garlic and Italian seasonings greeted her. She hung the truck keys on the hook and sauntered into the kitchen.
Herman sat on a stool beside the stove, stirring a steaming pot. Norma’s mouth watered as delicious aromas circled her.
“Good evening.” His bass voice started a flurry of goose bumps along her spine. “How was your day?” He stood as she swept past him.
Once, they would have shared a kiss, even something as platonic as a kiss on the temple or cheek. His flushed face drew her attention instead.
“Are you overdoing things?”
“No, mother.” He raised an eyebrow, and one corner of his mouth twitched.
An odd impulse to kiss his smirk away had her sliding her feet in his direction. She stalled herself. It was up to him to make the first move in that department. He owed her that much.
“Your face is flushed.”
“It’s hot in this kitchen.”
Norma noticed the oven was on and another pan of water boiled on the back burner. A box of spaghetti noodles waited on the countertop.
“Do I need to make a salad?”
He shook his head. “You need to relax and let your lazy husband take care of you.”
She pursed her lips together, and his gaze riveted to them. Heat seeped up from her stomach, flowing downward at the same time. He wanted to kiss her? Her heartbeat fluttered, butterfly wings trapped against a glass barrier.
“Do I have time to change?”
“Why? You look beautiful.”
She didn’t think her cheeks could get hotter, but they did.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
Herman stepped closer. “I was thinking of you.” The last words came out in a rush of warm breath that tickled her ear and started another procession of tingles down her spine.
His lips pressed against her temple, and one hand rested lightly on her waist. Her heart lunged toward him, battering against her ribcage.
After he stepped back, Norma rushed from the room. It was either that or wrap her arms around him and kiss him like they were newlyweds.
As she fled upstairs and fumbled with her clothes, she tried to remember the last time she’d felt amorous. And couldn’t. Had it really been such a long time since she’d wanted to make love to her husband? If so, was it any wonder he found other outlets for his physical passions?
I might not have thrown myself at him, but I’ve always been willing.
What if he’d been hoping for her to make a move or give him a sign? She recalled a marriage seminar she’d attended at church a few years ago where the speaker had encouraged women to instigate sexual encounters. It made men feel loved in the same way a tender gesture like cooking dinner or cleaning the kitchen made a woman feel cherished.
How had she forgotten?
She brushed her hair and applied a coat of lipstick. Her jeans were clean and hugged her hips, and the short-sleeved blouse she paired with them had bright green stripes that made her eyes pop. She squinted at her reflection in the mirror of her bathroom, knowing it had been months since she’d taken such care with her appearance just for Herman.
Lord, some of this is my fault, isn’t it?
A marriage takes two. That’s what the pastor who performed her wedding ceremony all those years ago had said. You’re not vowing to give fifty percent, but one hundred.
Norma pressed her lips together. Tonight, she’d show Herman that she appreciated his efforts. And maybe, maybe she’d open her heart to his affectionate touches once more.
15
Herman puttered around the workshop. He shook his head at the dust under his hands. His grandfather had taught him better than to let his tools go unused. Thoughts of Pop reminded him that the special woodworking skills the man had apprenticed him with could be an answer to his financial woes.
He was still wiping the metal tools with a lightly greased rag when Fritz Travers’s old Chevy truck rumbled up the drive. Fritz’s son, Bailey, stepped out of the cab and raised his hand.
Herman set his rag aside, wiping his palms on the outer seams of his work pants. The two men shook hands. Bailey stared around the workshop.
“Was driving past and thought I’d stop in to ask about your pasture.”
Herman’s stomach dropped toward the ground. He hated to have this conversation when he knew the Travers’s ranch had fallen on hard times.
“How’s Fritz?”
“About the same.” Meaning the cancer was winning the war against the man’s body. “I’m thinking three rotations in your pasture: May, July, and early September, just before I take the calves to auction.”
Herman swallowed the lump in his throat. “The schedule sounds fine, but I need to let out the fields this year.” He cleared away another clot bent on stopping his speech. “I lost my job, and I hear lots of people rent their fields.”
A look of despair flickered across Bailey’s face. He clenched his teeth, and his eyes hardened. “Guess your luck has taken a big hit lately.”
Herman stiffened. He didn’t expect a town full of Norma’s friends to say anything good about him.
“A man makes his own luck.” Herman gestured toward the shop. “My grandfather was a gifted woodcrafter. I’m thinking I might enjoy working with my hands instead of sitting in an office.”
Bailey straightened. “Would you be interested in a trade?”
Herman furrowed his brows. “What d’ya have in mind?”
Bailey explained how he was preparing the ranch for a new venture and needed to sell off his foster father’s woodworking tools. Herman vaguely recalled seeing the other man’s work, and he definitely needed tools.
“I’ll have to see what you’ve got, but I’m sure we can agree on terms.” Herman mentioned the weekly pasture rental fee, and Bailey accepted it as fair.
They shook hands again. “I’ll bring cash for the tools.” Herman knew they would be more valuable than the few hundred his neighbor would owe for the fields.
After they decided on a time for Herman to check out Fritz’s tools, Bailey shambled toward his truck and Herman ducked back into the shop, mind whirring with possibilities. With the right tools, he could turn his idea into a profitable venture.
A few minutes after the truck rattled out of the drive, Adonis sauntered through the open bay doors. “What’s that about, Man—Dad?”
Herman’s chest constricted, and his ears burned. He’d missed hearing that word more than anything else since leaving Las Cruces behind. What about Norma? Without children, she’d never hear anyone call her Mom.
Lord, I’m sorry I hurt her.
Did he just pray? He shook the thought away.
“He can’t afford to rent the pasture. His dad is dying, and they haven’t had a profitable ranch in years.” Herman took a deep breath and stared at the rag in his hand. “But we might be able to help each other out.”
Adonis wandered over to the tool bench and fingered a set of router bits.
“My grand pop built furniture, taught me how. I figured I’d clean this place out and try to build some things. Lots of fairs and such allow craftsmen to sell handmade stuff.”
Adonis was quiet. Herman replaced the wire grips into his toolbox and pulled out a wrench.
“I’d like to teach you what I know.” He hesitated. “Since you like building things.”
Adonis whirled toward him. “Really?”
Herman cringed at the obvious need for approval he saw in the young face. So many mistakes to remedy. He lowered his chin.
“That’d be great.” Adonis glanced toward the miter saw. “Maybe I could design some stuff, too.”
“We’ll have to see what sells.” While the idea of a father-son team appealed to him, he wouldn’t
get in the way of the boy’s dreams. “What about school in Austin?”
The boy didn’t answer for a long moment. “I’m not much for school.”
Herman’s stomach jolted into his heart. The lurch made him grit his teeth. “You don’t have to work with me if you find another job.”
Adonis stared at him. “I like building things.” He cleared his throat. “I can pay rent. I’ve got money from the sale of Mom’s house—“
Herman swatted away the words. “My son ain’t payin’ to live in my house.”
“Maybe just until we make some money with the business.”
We. He liked the sound of it. “That house in Austin should sell quick, and money won’t be a worry for a year or more.”
He hoped. The severance package took a hit with his hospital stay, but at least he still had medical insurance for six more months.
“I want to help, not be a freeloader.”
Herman set the tools aside and closed the distance between them. His hand settled on the boy’s shoulder, equal in height to his own. His son was a man, and he hadn’t been there for than transition any more than his father had.
“I’m happy to have your help in the business, but I don’t need your money to pay my bills.”
They stared at each other.
Adonis nodded slightly, then his lips quirked up. “You do need my advice for wooing Norma, though.”
Herman slapped the boy’s back. “But I’m the one doing the wooing.”
His chest swelled at the thought of his next surprise for his wife.
* * *
On Wednesday, Norma stopped at the market on her way out of town. Maisie Bryant was ringing customers while her cashier took a break.
“Things better with you?” It was little more than making conversation, but Norma bristled. She needed to stop assuming everyone discussed her and Herman with relish, and every inquiry was “Are you still with that cheating jerk?” couched in more socially acceptable terms.
“Kids are chomping at the bit for Easter break next week, but I’m enjoying the temperate weather.”
Love's Little Secrets (Sweet Grove Romance Book 2; First Street Church #10) Page 8
