by Mae Nunn
No, Jessica would do this work alone, placing her special signature on each and every container garden.
She was standing in the parking lot at three o’clock, exhausted and hungry, when the gates swept aside for the gleaming white sedan. She huffed a big sigh of frustration, knowing that an impromptu visit from Valentine would require at least an hour of nonexistent time. There was no chance for escape. She pulled off the gloves she was using to unload gallon buckets of fragrant lemon-yellow daylilies and perched herself on the edge of her wagon’s open trunk.
Valentine approached in her usual crisp linen and fashionable high heels. She looked Jessica up and down, shaking her head in dismay.
“Jessica, dahhhlin’, you look a fright.”
Jessica hadn’t checked her reflection since Monday and suspected her perfectly coifed friend was accurate. She pulled a tattered bandanna from her hip pocket, dabbed at the sweat on sunburned cheeks and then twisted it around her forehead, Willie Nelson style, to hold the damp bangs out of her eyes.
“Pardon me if I’m not dressed to receive visitors.” The tone was a little too sharp and the rumble of her stomach a little too loud.
“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to be tacky.” Valentine lovingly tucked stray hairs behind Jessica’s ears. “You’d be gorgeous in a cottonseed sack. It’s just that you’re back in the limelight again and you have to dress for the part you want.”
“Well, today I’m dressed for the part I have.” Jessica smiled tiredly.
Valentine didn’t return the smile. “Yes, I suppose you are, and that’s the problem.”
“What problem?” She rose to her feet, sensing trouble.
Valentine put a gentle hand on Jessica’s shoulder.
“Dahhhlin’, I didn’t say anything about this when you came up with your idea to start Living Colors from your home because I never dreamed there’d be a complaint. But now there has been, and I’m very sorry to have to remind you that Sacred Arms has a strict covenant preventing an owner from operating a business from the premises. You have to move all this stuff immediately and agree to relocate your business within thirty days.”
“Or?” Jessica steeled herself for what came next.
“Or risk legal action by the homeowners association against you and Living Colors. But it won’t come to that, dahhhlin’. We’ll satisfy the complaint and find a place for everything.”
A place for everything…and everything in its place.
The message was a jackhammer blow to Jessica’s senses.
“You said there’s been a complaint? By whom?” She gripped the dirty work gloves as she tried to keep her temper in check.
“Oh, child.” Valentine’s in-charge demeanor slipped for a moment. “I just knew you’d ask that and I’d rather not say.”
Jessica swallowed hard and fought the urge to throw the gloves on the ground and stomp on them.
How dare Drew promise he’d keep his worries to himself, then turn right around and make a complaint to Valentine!
So much for asking God for one man she could trust.
Pushing away the desire for a good old-fashioned tantrum, Jessica took several deep breaths and shook off the burning feeling behind her eyelids. The ache in her gut inched upward into her heart, the pain of being deceived much worse than the hunger for food.
“It’s okay, Valentine. I have a pretty good idea for myself, so I won’t put you on the spot.”
The older woman sighed with relief. “I appreciate it. Now, let’s not bother our pretty blond heads with that. Let’s figure out how we’re going to get you out of this—” she motioned toward the skids of materials that had been delivered in the past few days “—mess. Now, here’s what I was thinking.”
Valentine continued to talk, but Jessica had tuned her out.
For the first time in recent weeks, she began to feel a creeping sense of panic. Even after the accident she’d possessed the confidence that she’d make it on her own. In the back of her mind she’d always had a plan to get Living Colors off the ground. There just hadn’t been money to fund the plan. And there still wasn’t.
Once the checks cleared for the paint and floral supplies she’d purchased, there would be next to nothing in her account. Her last disability check would cover the mortgage and utilities. Becky Jo already paid for all their food and she refused to have it any other way. At least Jessica wouldn’t starve, although she thought she could probably live for weeks on the fat stored in her thighs.
There was no time to go through the bank for a small business loan. That could take weeks and she had only days.
Valentine was still talking and gesturing toward the Commons. Jessica glanced up at the spectacular stained-glass windows and felt heartbreak for the second time that hour.
“Well, if you’ve got a better idea say so. But don’t just sit there looking like you want to cry, while I work myself into a frenzy out here in this heat!” Valentine stood in a double huff, both hands on her hips.
“What?” Jessica put aside her private worry and focused on the charming pink face. “I’m sorry, Valentine. Let’s get inside before you sweat all over that expensive suit.”
“Honey, a lady never sweats. She glistens. Anyway, will you take my money or not?”
“Take your money?” Jessica suddenly realized her friend had been offering financial help. “No, of course not.” She shook her head emphatically.
“Well, for pity’s sake, why not? It’s not as if I can’t afford it, and I feel partially responsible for allowing you to get into this situation in the first place. And it wouldn’t have to be a loan—you could let me be your partner.”
Jessica hesitated. The temptation to let Valentine help was appealing. But the idea quickly turned sour at the thought of risking a friend’s money, especially one so dear.
She took Valentine’s immaculate hands in her dirty ones and gazed with gratitude into the lively gray eyes. “You will never know how much I appreciate your offer. But I’ll have to find another way. You believe in me, don’t you?”
“What I believe is that, right after me, you are the bravest, most resourceful woman this side of the Mason-Dixon line. And you’re stubborn as a male mule, so I won’t try to change your mind. Just know you only have to say the word and the money is yours.”
Jessica’s eyes clouded with unshed tears in response to the older woman’s kind words and generous offer. She pulled the sweaty bandanna off her head and made an excuse to swipe at her nose. “I guess the pollen this year is finally getting to me.”
“Which is exactly why plan B will be a double blessing.” Valentine beamed.
Jessica stuffed the soggy rag back into her hip pocket. “Plan B?”
“Dahhhlin’, didn’t you hear a thing I said earlier?”
Jessica’s head was beginning to pound from the confusion.
Valentine went on. “I guess not. Well, let’s go, then.” She motioned for Jessica to follow. “I’ll show you what I had in mind and this time I won’t take no for an answer.”
Valentine turned and headed across the parking lot, leaving Jessica no choice but to grab her cane and fall in behind the determined steps.
Well after dark the thunder of the vintage hot rod filled the parking lot. As was his new custom, Frasier barked at the sound and pleaded for a walk. Tonight Jessica obliged him, glad to get the confrontation over and done. The emotion and activity of the afternoon had physically drained her, but she needed this closure before she could rest.
Drew was a neighbor. Nothing more. He and his father had seen to that. They’d both made it clear that Drew’s interests and loyalties lay elsewhere. She felt foolish, misreading his signals, making too much of the intimacies that were certainly nothing to him.
She’d rehearsed clever insults that would make him believe she felt the same. She’d even tried a few times to convince herself it was true. But remembering his tender kisses only served to make the memories that much sweeter, and that much sadder because they
were special only to her.
Wondering what had changed since he’d left, Drew stopped halfway between the garage and the building. Sensing something was out of place, he stood still and gave his home a sweeping reconnaissance. The halogen lights were shining overhead. The wrought-iron gate was firmly closed. A light breeze stirred the crape myrtle.
Jessica’s car was neatly parked, the area around it tidy, the recent effort of a leaf blower.
Neat? Tidy? Words he’d never associated with Jessica before suddenly made his heart race. Something was terribly wrong.
The heavy security door fell shut behind the small dog, struggling to drag his resistant owner to the parking lot. Throat thick with emotion, Jessica abandoned her plan to confront Drew. She yanked on the leash and turned away, forcing Frasier in the direction of the lawn.
“Jessica? Wait,” Drew called out.
Without a backward glance, she continued on the path that led beyond the pond to the vegetable garden.
“Jessica? I haven’t seen you in days, and we have something important to discuss.”
The shih tzu refused to cooperate any longer. He strained hard against the leash. The delay gave Drew the few seconds he needed to catch up.
Confronted by the source of her pain, Jessica’s well-rehearsed, snappy one-liners fled. She spoke over her shoulder, refusing to face him. “I can’t think of anything we could possibly have to say to one another.”
“For starters you could tell me what happened to all the stuff in the parking lot.”
She turned to him, fighting mad. “It’s gone. It’s all been moved. You won’t ever be bothered by it again. And if your plan works, the same thing will apply to me.”
He stood tall, fisted hands on hips, disbelief on his face.
“Would you please explain what you mean by that?”
“I found out you complained, even after you promised you’d give me time to get through this job.”
“What?” Drew’s head popped back, as if he’d been struck on the chin. “What are you talking about? And how did you come by this information?”
“Valentine told me there was a complaint. Nobody else has ever had a problem with my activities before you came along, so it was pretty easy to figure out. You gave your word. You even shook on it. So much for the integrity of you ex-military guys.”
“Now, wait a minute—” Drew stepped forward.
“No, you wait a minute.” Jessica stepped up as well, punctuating every third word with a blunt index finger to his chest. “I trusted you to give me a chance to get my life back on track. And now I have to choose between my home and the only way I know to make a living. But I’ve done the best I can to put your worries to rest, Captain Keeeegan,” she mocked. “You can sleep well knowing your investment is safe.”
Breathing deeply and struggling for control, she turned and resumed her determined march with Frasier, for once in quiet cooperation.
Chapter Eleven
Drew froze, watching her proud back as she turned the corner and disappeared behind the stone wall. He stood alone in the quiet darkness, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Lord. He looked upward. Why did you make women so hard to figure out?
He knew leaving town had been bad timing after the fiasco at his house, but he fully meant to explain everything and make it up to Jessica, if only she’d give him the chance.
This was out of control. It was a sickening sensation he’d known very few times in a life of being in command. Giving God dominion over his life was the hardest thing Drew had ever done.
Father, I’m lost here. I thought I was finally on the right track. Now everything almost seems worse than before.
Tomorrow he’d get to the bottom of the complaint and figure out how Jessica had drawn her false conclusion. Right now he had to make her listen to reason.
He found her squatting beside a bed of radishes, searching under the security lights for nonexistent weeds. An uncalculated gesture, he reached out to give her his hand for support. She slapped away his offering, and once again he felt the stirring of helplessness.
“Please let me do something for you, Jessica.”
“Oh, right. I suppose you think a foot massage will fix this, too,” she snapped.
It was his turn to snap back. “As a matter of fact, it might clean up your present disposition. And later I’ll be happy to help you clean up your car and that mess you call home.”
Continuing to resist the extended hand, she struggled to her feet and faced him. “That mess may not be my home much longer, thanks to you.”
Drew shook his head, thoroughly confused. Clearly he was blowing it, so he dropped back and went in search of information.
“Exactly what did Ms. Chandler say?”
“That I’m in violation of the Sacred Arms homeowner’s agreement. It seems there’s a covenant against operating a business from my residence. Now I have thirty days to find a place for everything or face legal action by the association.”
Drew turned away, searching his mind for an answer. He needed to think this through, to make some sense of what she was saying. Debating with her tonight, without the facts, would accomplish nothing.
When he faced her, she turned away dismissively. He stepped forward and rested his palm lightly on her shoulder. She stood, head bowed, staring down at the rubber tip of her cane.
“Maybe this was someone’s way of reminding you that the natural beauty of Sacred Arms is what attracted everyone to it. And maybe you owe it to the other homeowners to respect and preserve that.”
She lifted an amazed face to him.
“Drew, I created that natural beauty. This is my work.” She emphasized the last two words by pointing toward her heart.
“Look around you,” she insisted.
He did, admiring the host of colors in beds of lush green, softened by the glow of the tall lamps.
“Most of what you see has been here less than three years and it’s the work of my own hands. The ferns, the flowers, the vegetables, everything but the trees and the oldest shrubs. And that’s just because I haven’t had the time or the physical ability to get to them yet. But I will.” Her voice became a whisper. “At least, I hope I will.”
Jessica’s face was in his shadow, but Drew knew there was determination in those emerald eyes when she turned to face him again.
“I love this place, Drew, just like everyone else. But make no mistake, nobody knows better than I do that its beauty wasn’t nearly this ‘natural’ a few years ago.”
He had to concede. “You’re right, and I’m sorry for what I said. I’ll clear this up tomorrow.” He’d find a way to fix things.
She held up both palms, a sign to stop.
“The covenants are clear and my options are very limited. In thirty days if I can’t afford a new place for Living Colors, I’m going to sell and go back to Texas with Becky Jo.”
“No,” he insisted. “We’ll work this out with Ms. Chandler in the morning.”
Jessica released a deep sigh and leaned tiredly on her cane as she stooped to pick up Frasier’s leash. “Listen to me. You’ve done quite enough already. I don’t need your help. Stay out of my business. And stay away from me.”
Drew’s stomach churned at the dismissive words. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’d like to clear up this confusion, but I won’t get involved if I’m not wanted.”
He’d come home with such high hopes, and he suddenly felt helpless to unravel this misunderstanding. If he denied the claim, she wouldn’t believe him. Not tonight, anyway.
“If you need help, anything at all, just call. Otherwise I’ll do as you ask and stay away.”
“That should make everybody happy.” She turned and left him standing alone in the dark.
“Everybody but me,” he whispered to himself.
Drew backed the truck into his usual parking space the next afternoon at Metro Muscle. Glancing to the right, he spotted the stack of mail resting where he’d t
ossed it the day before. He thumbed past several envelopes, pausing over a postcard from Peachtree Christian Church.
“‘Please worship with us again,’” he read aloud, then flipped the card over to note the list of outreach services provided by the staff.
“That was quick.” Hank poked his head into the open passenger window. “Thanks for making the lunch run for us.”
Drew slid the card into his shirt pocket and turned toward his partner. “Think you can manage without me this afternoon?”
“No problem, but don’t forget you have plans tonight with that guy who’s flying in from Chicago. Since he’s paying up front for a full restoration on his Boss, I think we should buy him a nice dinner in exchange for that check.”
Drew thumped the steering wheel with the heel of his left hand. “That’s right.”
“You need me to take him off your hands?” Hank offered.
“I’d better handle it. I’ve been negotiating this deal with him for a week and I don’t want to throw a wrench into his works now.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. But I need to do something important before it gets any later. Would you mind?”
Hank grabbed the sack of burgers and fries off the seat and stepped back with a smart salute.
The church parking lot was nearly empty. Drew’s eyes adjusted to the dim light as he stepped into the quiet vestibule. He followed the praise music that filtered through an open doorway.
“May I help you?”
Recognizing the pastor, Drew extended his hand.
“Good afternoon, sir. I’m Andrew Keegan. Am I interrupting?”
“Interruptions are often the best part of my day.” The man smiled and gestured toward a chair. “I’m Joseph Driskell, the senior pastor.”
“I know.” Drew pulled the postcard from his pocket. “I attended a service here a couple of weekends ago.”
“Great. We hope you’ll join us for worship again. What brings you here today?”
Drew glanced down at the card in his hand. “I see you offer counseling services. Do I need an appointment?”
