by Anita Higman
“All right.” Trudie wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking bashful. “Was your brother going to continue on with the family business?”
“Yes, he was. That was very much Nate’s calling. Just like my father.”
“But not your calling?”
“No.”
Trudie touched the photo. “I think it’s lovely that your father never changed the sign from ‘and sons.’ He must miss Nate very much.”
“He does. We all do.” Mason went over to his oak desk and sat on the edge of it. “But my father misses Nate in more ways than one.”
“How do you mean?”
“Nate was going to eventually take over the business after my father retired. Now, well…my father hopes I’ll run the funeral home someday.” Mason waited for her response before he went on. He couldn’t read her expression, but he wanted to. Desperately.
“Oh, I see.” Trudie left the wall of photos and strolled over to him. “How do you feel about that?”
“I think being a funeral director is a very special vocation and, like I said, a calling. But I don’t have it. Those are my honest beliefs. However, there is the family side to it. My father built the business out of one hundred dollars and a prayer. And he’s proud of what he accomplished, since his own father was very poor. And part of my father’s dream was to pass the business on to one or both of his sons. When Nate died…well, that changed everything.”
“Your father sounds like a wonderful man. But what about your dreams?” Trudie lifted her hands. “I am so sorry. Forgive me. This is none of my business.”
“There is nothing to forgive.” Mason gripped the edge of the desk. “I’ve thought about that same thing many times. Countless times, to be honest. But I love my father, and I’d like to honor his wishes. To keep the business in the family.” He looked at her. Trudie had such an angelic expression, but he wished he knew all that she was thinking. “My father’s not planning on going to heaven right away, but unfortunately, he has a bad heart, and so I know he’d like an answer soon.”
Trudie sat in the chair across from him. “It’s hard not to admire you for your choice. To love your family so much. And it is a noble profession.”
Mason wanted to hug her for her encouraging words, but he held back. “I can tell you, it’s never been good material to discuss on a date. Not on the first date or even the tenth date. It doesn’t set a very romantic mood.”
“I understand now.” She smiled. “Why you didn’t want me to see this room. I’m not the only one who’s asked about your family photos.”
“That’s right.” Mason eased off the desk.
“And apparently other women have objected to your switching careers. They might not be certain they want to marry a man who runs a funeral home.”
He looked at her. “Most women when they meet me, they see this successful guy in a regular job. All is well until I tell them about my possible career change. I keep hoping that if a woman gets to know me first, maybe it would change everything. But so far, it’s never been enough.”
Trudie rose from the chair and walked over to him. “I don’t know you, Mason, although in this short time, somehow I feel as though I do.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “And what I’ve discovered so far…well, what I think is…those women couldn’t have been more wrong.”
Mason rested his hand over hers. They both eased closer, hovering near each other. He lingered there next to Trudie, taking her in, studying every nuance of her face and enjoying every moment of it. She smelled of something delicate, like powder. All he could hear was the soft bubbling inside the aquarium and their breathing—which seemed to be a bit faster now. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman so much in his life, but he knew the time wasn’t right. Yet. “The stars will be out tonight. Do you want to see them?”
“Yes. I’d love to.”
Chapter Nine
Trudie backed away from Mason, feeling flushed and self-conscious. What had she been thinking? She’d taken a heartfelt moment and made it complicated. To reach out to him seemed like a natural response to his revelation, and yet it could have come off as too intimate. Maybe I’d better lighten things up. “I suppose you have a planetarium set up in your backyard.”
Mason chuckled. “No, I don’t even have a telescope, but that’s what I’ve promised myself for Christmas.”
Trudie followed Mason through the house and then out the back door, which led to a large wraparound porch. After a short walk up a flight of stairs, they were both standing on an open deck, looking at the sky. Mason had been right; the stars were out in their fullness, and they were already working their magic on the night. Incredible. “What was that like? To grow up in your family?”
Mason leaned against the railing. “Well, in many ways, it was like other families with their fathers going off to work in the morning. But when he came home, he didn’t talk very much about what his day was like. My father had such a reverence for the grieving families that he was careful in choosing his words. Then, when he felt my brother and I were old enough, he gave us a tour of all the facilities. Afterward I remember thinking that I knew of no one else who was more suited to the job than my father. He’d been given a special gift.”
“How did your brother respond to the tour?” Trudie sat down on one of the wooden benches.
Mason eased down next to her. “Nate had all the right questions. The right attitude…great compassion without being overly emotional. My father could tell Nate had the gift too. Everyone knew.”
Trudie thought of Nate and wondered what he’d been like as a brother. She took in a deep breath and gazed over at several willow branches that were swaying back and forth in the breeze. The night was warm and fragrant, and a chorus of bugs were busy singing their hearts out. It was a good night for heart-sharing. “I wish I could have known your brother.”
“I wish you had too. He would have liked you. A lot. Which could have been a problem, especially since we were close.”
Trudie smiled. “I’m curious. Did your family business affect your faith?”
Mason raised an eyebrow. “My, you really are the inquisitress, Miss Abernathy.”
“That’s true.” Her face warmed. “Sorry.”
“Actually, I love it that you’ve asked me.” Mason rubbed his hands together. “I do think people try to sidestep thoughts of mortality. That is, until they’re forced to think about it because of an abnormal test, or they experience the sudden death of a friend. But in the funeral business, my father is reminded daily that all of humanity faces a close to this side of eternity, whether rich or poor, young or old, beautiful or not so beautiful. But in answer to your question, I think the nature of my father’s business has increased our faith, not lessened it.” Mason looked at her again. “See why this doesn’t make good date talk? Kinda heavy.”
“I think it’s one of the most interesting discussions I’ve ever had.” Trudie looked up at the sky, marveling at the brightness and clarity of the moon. “What is that star near the moon?”
“It might be the planet Venus, but I’m not sure. That’s why I’d like to take an astronomy class at one of the local colleges after I get a telescope. That way I can truly know and appreciate what I’m gazing at.”
Trudie looked at him. He had such a fine smile—the color of sienna—always warm and welcoming. She turned her attention back to the stars. “Do you think when we’re born, God has our lives all set out for us, and our job is to fit ourselves into that groove? Or do you think there are many choices we could make and still live within His pleasure?”
“I’m not sure.” Mason stroked his finger against his chin. “There have been times I thought I was sure about that answer, but the older I get, the muddier my views get on that subject.” He rested his arm on the railing just behind her. “Now I have a question for you.”
“Fair enough. I’ve certainly asked you plenty of questions.”
“If there is one groove…I get the feeling you don’t
think you’ve found yours yet.”
Trudie wasn’t sure how best to answer. “Well, I’ve always tried to convince myself that I’m contented, but then maybe I’ve just been fooling myself.”
Mason rubbed his hand over his slacks. “I’ve told you about my life growing up. I’d love to know more about yours.” He raised a finger. “But first, not without some reinforcements. I’ll go get us some fresh coffee.”
“Thanks.” Trudie watched Mason through the window as he retrieved some mugs from the cabinet and poured them fresh coffees. She had to admit, Mason was a remarkable man. She did wonder, however, about his change of professions. Managing a funeral home would be a much harder job than financial consulting, and it would no doubt be emotionally draining. If the wife chose to help her husband, she would need special gifts of her own—compassion in working with people who were grieving, not to mention diplomacy and sociability.
Trudie rose, stepped over to the railing, and looked upward. Clouds began rolling in, covering up the lunar display like a curtain on a grand stage. She sighed, thinking about Mason’s possible career change. There really was no putting a soft focus on his choice. And yet if a woman’s heart were truly captured by Mason—which could happen so easily— then nothing would hold her back. How could it? Wasn’t love supposed to conquer all?
Mason walked back outside and handed her another mug of coffee. “I think you like it black.”
“I do. Thanks.” He was so attentive. So kind. She took another whiff of the brew and then several slow sips. Okay, at any moment he would expect her to tell him about her youth. What would she say? Was she ready to reveal her fears and dreams? He’d been so transparent—so giving of his feelings and views. She could do no less.
Trudie cleared her throat. “Okay, my childhood. I grew up on a farm in Oklahoma. My only sibling is Lane. My father was hardworking, but he was never too successful at farming. My mother was uncommonly beautiful. Like a delicate rose. In fact, she won a beauty pageant before she met my father. He was so proud of that, he kept her tiara on display in our house.” She fingered her mug. “But unfortunately, both of my parents are dead now.” Trudie turned to Mason, hoping he would be satisfied with her brief highlights.
“I’m very sorry for your loss. I’m sure they were fine people. But you failed to tell me much about Trudie.”
“Oh. You noticed.” She set her mug down on the railing.
“I did notice.” He grinned. “Didn’t you tell me earlier that you had an interest in art? Were you wanting to be an artist?”
“Well, I guess you could say that I was an artist early on. I’d sold some pieces through a gallery.”
“Really? At what age?”
“Fifteen.”
Mason’s mouth came open. “My goodness. Please tell me more.”
Trudie hesitated in continuing, but when she saw Mason’s gentle expression, she said, “Well, it all began when my mother took me to a fine arts museum in Tulsa. Even though I was only seven at the time, I was blown away by that trip. Gradually, I took an interest in art, and my mother encouraged it. Years later I did well enough that my mother traveled to Oklahoma City to show my work to some of the galleries. Even though I was new and very young, people bought my work.”
“That’s amazing at such a young age.” Mason took a drink from his cup. “I’m curious. Do mind if I ask how—”
“How much I sold them for?” Trudie grinned.
“Sorry.” Mason shook his head. “That’s kind of pushy of me to ask.”
“I don’t mind you knowing.” Trudie knew Mason wasn’t prying but was only asking out of genuine interest. “Sometimes I got paid several hundred dollars for a watercolor.”
“Now that really is something, especially at such a young age.” Mason set his mug down. “You must be very talented. Why aren’t you painting now?”
“My mother’s death stopped me. You see, her dying…it was my fault.” Trudie looked away into the night, avoiding Mason’s eyes.
Chapter Ten
Mason sat down on one of the benches. “I’m sure you just mean that you feel guilty somehow. I felt that way about Nate, too. Since I was his older brother, I always believed I should have done a better job of watching out for him.”
Trudie kept silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. The last thing she wanted was to spoil a perfect evening with her confessions of guilt. But then she remembered the look on Mason’s face when he’d told her about his choice to honor his father’s wishes. She knew it had taken courage for him to tell her, especially since his news had brought rejection in the past.
“It’s okay, Trudie. You don’t have to say any more.”
“No, I want to.” She took in a deep breath and turned to face him. “I asked my mother to drive into the city that day. I demanded it, actually. A gallery was going to take several more of my paintings. My mother had become like an errand boy to me.”
Trudie’s eyes became misty. “I’m afraid the sudden ability for a kid to make that kind of money, coupled with all the recognition…well, it was pretty heady stuff. Over a rather short period of time, I became quite the diva.” She sat down next to Mason. “A car ran a red light that day and killed my mother instantly.” Trudie ground her fingernails into her palms. “But I will always believe it was my lack of humility that killed her. I doubt there’s anything that will ever change my mind.”
Mason covered her hand with his. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could say that would convince you otherwise.”
Trudie saw no judgment in his eyes, only compassion, so she let her thoughts unwind a little. “Perhaps if someone would have reminded me of the Giver of my gift, it might have softened me. Made things turn out differently that day. I don’t know, of course, but I do feel that acknowledging the Source of my talent might have refocused the limelight…changed my attitude…my demands. And, well, it might have lightened the emotional load too, since glory can be more of a burden than a blessing. At least it was for me.”
Mason squeezed her hand. “So, you didn’t continue your artwork after that?”
“I did on and off, but it gradually came to an end. I felt I didn’t deserve to continue. And my father…well, he never blamed me for Mom’s death, but he also didn’t encouraged me in my art after that. So, I eventually let go of it.”
“You could talk to your sister about it. Maybe she could help you find some closure.” Mason released her.
“After so many years, silence has a way of becoming easier.” Trudie circled her arms around her waist. “But I’ll think about it.” She smiled at him. “Since you suggested it.”
Mason rested his arm behind Trudie. “I get the feeling that you’ve not shared this with other people. Never leaned on anyone.”
It was true. She’d become like a rock, but it was fake all the way through. Tears came then, and she accepted his invitation to lean against him.
Mason reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to her. “This is all my fault…that you’re crying. Persuading you to tell me your story.”
Trudie wiped her eyes. “Well, it’s a good kind of tears, and it wasn’t your fault. I was long overdue to talk about it. And you were the right person.”
Mason wrapped his arms around her. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“In fact, it felt sort of…ordained.” She looked into his eyes. There was so much compassion there, it tore at her heart.
He reached over and moved a strand of hair away from her face.
“What are you thinking?”
“How lovely you look.”
“Especially in the dim moonlight?” Trudie fingered her earring and grinned.
Mason chuckled. “You’re funny, too.”
“I am?”
“Yes, and about as far from a diva as anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Well, if one doesn’t accept humility willingly, life tends to thrust it on you.” As Mason stroked her cheek, for a moment Trudie f
orgot the point she was trying to make. She instead wondered what it would be like for a couple to be so compatible that they brought out each other’s personal best. What would that feel like, and would that other person be someone like Mason Wimberley? She gazed into his eyes, searching them. “I wish I could read your mind.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’m sure.” She nodded.
“Well, I was thinking that you’ve had so much forced on you through the years, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to coerce you into a kiss.”
Without really thinking, Trudie reached up and touched his lips. She’d wondered what they would feel like against her fingers, and they were as soft as she imagined. “I don’t think it’s called coercion when the lady is more than ready.”
Mason grinned and raised her chin.
She closed her eyes and, rising up to him, felt his lips cover hers. Somewhere deep in her mind’s eyes, Trudie saw strokes of color and light, so much so that she thought a great work of art might be inspired by a single kiss from Mason.
When he released her, Trudie held her palm over his heart and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I saw rainbows.”
He chuckled. “I think I did too. It was a very good kiss.”
They held that pose for a moment, a little out of breath, as they looked at each other. Then Trudie rested her head against him. Something was changing, and she knew she’d never be the same person again.
He brought her closer to him. “And to think I missed getting to know you in high school. I must have graduated as you were coming in as a freshman. And then as an adult I almost missed meeting you again even though you were only five minutes from my house.” Mason kissed the top of her head.
And to think you were the blind date I didn’t want to meet. Trudie smiled but hated to close her eyes again. Perhaps she’d wake up. It had become, after all, the perfect dream.
Chapter Eleven
Lane Abernathy paced in her kitchen, feeling nauseated. She’d already lost everything in her stomach even though she’d barely eaten all day. She had no virus. No food poisoning. Lane knew what was wrong— she was heartsick.
