The Valentine Verse: A Contemporary Christian Romance

by JoAnn Durgin

  “So far. Since we still have a month to go before Valentine’s Day, I figure anything’s game. It’ll be interesting to find out.” Thornton waved to someone seated behind her. Popular guy. He must be a regular at Andrea’s when he was home.

  “It’s a smart marketing move—if that’s what it is—especially for a town named Cherish,” she said. “Simple yet attention-getting. Innovative and fun. My best guess says it’s an employee of the coffee shop. They have access, after all. It’d be easy and convenient for them to write the new quote on the board after the close of business each day.”

  Thornton’s gaze darted to the board and then back to her. “You’re really curious, aren’t you?”

  “Why not? Like most people, I enjoy a good mystery.” Vara briefly glanced around the room. “From what I can tell, Cherish seems to be a charming town.”

  “I’ve always thought so, and I grew up here.”

  “Which speaks volumes since most people can’t wait to get away from their hometown.”

  “I went through that stage, too. Being away so much has given me a new perspective. How about you? Are you planning on returning to Florida at some future date?”

  “If the right opportunity presents itself, I might. I haven’t thought much about it.” Her Dad would be ecstatic if she ever decided to move home, but it wasn’t like she didn’t stay in constant contact with her family. Since she’d been sitting in Andrea’s, she’d heard her phone buzz no less than five times, maybe six. No doubt family members wanting to make sure she’d survived the latest big freeze.

  “I’m sure you’re something of a mystery.” Vara savored another shot of caffeine as it slid down her throat.

  He shifted on his chair. “How do you figure that?”

  “You’re like the Happy Wanderer passing through town spreading joy, optimism, and thoughts of love. Then you’ll be off again, leaving the townspeople to do a double take, saying, ‘Who was that man?’”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Sometimes I think the people here know more about me than I do. They certainly have long memories and forget nothing.”

  Hmm. “I realize I haven’t known you long, but you have an honest face,” she said. “You’re also easy to talk with in spite of your obvious inclination to debate.”

  Thornton’s upper lip twitched. “I prefer to think of it as an open exchange of ideas.” That little lip quirk could quickly become addictive…for some other woman.

  “From what little I know about you, that’s not exactly a surprise.” And now it seemed she was definitely flirting. When it came to the sexes, what was the dividing line between an exchange of ideas, as he put it, and flirtation? Far be it from her to know.

  Vara started in her chair when a woman began to sing in the front room of the coffee shop. She turned wide eyes on Thornton, but he didn’t seem in the least surprised.

  This wasn’t merely singing—it was belting with gusto. Vara listened, not sure what was happening other than the song was an obvious imitation of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.” The songstress wasn’t horrible, and what she lacked in talent, she more than made up for in heart and soul.

  Thornton beckoned to her. “That’s Myrna Bryant,” he whispered. “She’s prone to bursting into song at random times.”

  “Why does she do that?” Vara whispered back. Myrna kept going but sang the higher notes an octave or two lower, a kindness for her audience, intentional or not. Still, the woman scored points for boldness.

  Thornton winked. “Why not?”

  “Is she trying to start a flash mob?”

  “I don’t think so, but she’s been known to do it. After she saw The Lion King at The Orpheum, she burst into ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ in the middle of Schiller’s Hardware. Myrna drew a sizable crowd, and I’ve heard a few light bulbs spontaneously burst.”

  Vara laughed quietly. In spite of herself, she liked Thornton. Very much. But if he winked again, she might need to set him straight.

  Resting his elbow on the table, Thornton watched her with a smile as the song continued. “Myrna and her husband, Bob, are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary this month.”

  “How wonderful for them.” Applause and cheers rang out as Myrna finished her song. “You’ve got to love a small town.”

  Amusement lit Thornton’s eyes. “You might be interested to know she always sings love songs. Never anything else.”

  “Then maybe Myrna’s the one writing those quotes on the chalkboard. Is she a relation of yours?” In a small town, weren’t most people somehow related to each another? People who enjoyed the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game—finding ways in which everyone on the planet was supposedly connected to the actor—would probably have a field day in Cherish.

  “To my knowledge, Myrna and I aren’t related. All I’ll concede is that the messages originate from a local resident who chooses to remain anonymous.”

  She lifted her cup in a salute. “You score high on the charts for loyalty.”

  “I try my best.” Pushing back from the table, Thornton rose to his feet. Taller than she’d expected, he had to be close to six feet. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Vara, but I need to be on my way.” Grabbing his black down jacket from the back of the chair, he shrugged into it and then zipped it up to his neck.

  “I’m sorry if I kept you,” Vara said. Why was she apologizing? Thornton could have left any time he wanted. Then again, it wasn’t like anyone forced her to stay seated. After talking with him, she was jazzed in a way that had nothing to do with caffeine or chocolate.

  Like it or not—except for his obsession with love—Thornton was the type of man she’d always found appealing. Handsome, intelligent, and with a healthy sense of humor, he seemed more focused on things of the mind than filling out the shoulders of an expensive suit. Not that his shoulders were anything less than Thor-worthy.

  “You didn’t keep me. I was fully invested.” After carefully folding his glasses, he tucked them inside a hard case and pocketed it. “Can I give you a lift somewhere or do you need directions?”

  “Thank you, but my SUV’s parked down the street. My trusty GPS will guide me.”

  “Do you think your trusty GPS might guide you to Cherish again anytime soon?” Tugging a black wool cap over his head, Thornton laughed under his breath. “Nothing like putting you on-the-spot. You should have stopped me when I gave you the open door early on.”

  “Not a problem. All’s fair in life, right?”

  “And love and war.” Tugging on his thermal gloves, he gave her a wink so fleeting she had to question if it even happened. She’d led herself straight into that one. As long as she could avoid Thornton on future trips to Cherish, she should be fine.

  “I’ll better know the answer to your question after meeting with my patient this morning. I’m an SLP for Mercy Grace Hospital in Minneapolis.”

  “SLP?” His forehead creased. “Afraid you lost me. It’s hard to keep up with all the initials, especially with medical lingo.”

  “Sorry. S-L-P stands for speech and language pathologist.”

  “Ah, gotcha.” Something indefinable flickered across Thornton’s features. “That’s a noble profession. Are house calls customary in your line of work?”

  “No, but this is a special patient. Enough to warrant my coming to Cherish twice a week for however long it takes to help her.” She sure was giving Thornton an awful lot of information for someone she’d be better off to avoid.

  “Special meaning a wealthy patron who donates a boatload of money to your hospital.”

  “Yes, to be blunt.” Now she had to question her ethics. She’d never been so loose-lipped in her career. Talk about unprofessional. “Pretend you didn’t hear that.” Darting a quick glance around the immediate area, she hoped her words wouldn’t come back to haunt her. Ears could be big, especially in a small town.

  “Your secrets are safe with me.”

  “I appreciate that, but I shouldn’
t be spilling them in the first place.” She watched as he retrieved a backpack from the floor. “I don’t think I caught what you do for a living. Except that you’re not a professor.”

  “You didn’t miss anything. I didn’t say.” Thornton hiked the heavy-looking backpack over his shoulder with ease.

  She angled her head at the oddly shaped bulge on one side. “Do you have a science project in there?”

  “Something like that.” He grabbed his scarf from the back of the chair. Within seconds, he’d circled it around his neck and tucked in the ends with the nonchalance only guys native to cold weather could. “Let’s shelve that discussion for the next time.”

  “The next time?”

  Thornton’s warm brown eyes met hers. “In a town as small as Cherish, if you spend much time here, it’s a given we’ll meet again. Until next time, Vara.” He grabbed his empty cup and turned to go.

  “Bye, Thornton,” she murmured. Why would that necessarily be a given?

  Stopping, he retraced his steps. “By the way, he didn’t deserve you.”

  “How could you possibly…?” Vara blew out a sigh. “He wasn’t the only one at fault. Mostly, but not completely.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, his tone compassionate. “I like to believe I have halfway decent instincts about people, but I hope one bad experience hasn’t soured you on love.”

  She surveyed him for a long moment. “I imagine you enjoy a healthy…discussion…about most things in life, don’t you?” Thornton should have a yellow Caution! sign plastered on his forehead.

  His slow smile resurfaced. “I’m not the only one with good instincts. See you soon.”

  Vara watched as he called out greetings and disappeared into the other room. Seconds later, he passed by the picture window. Trying not to be obvious, she followed his progress until he was out of sight. His long stride was confident, and she wouldn’t doubt the Happy Wanderer was whistling.

  She took another drink of her warm espresso and checked her watch. In another five minutes, she’d need to be on her way. Sensing she was the subject of scrutiny, Vara spied two women sitting together at a nearby table, eyeing her, clearly discussing her.

  Good morning, she mouthed. Their half-smiles were more formal than welcoming. So much for being friendly.

  “Don’t pay them any mind, honey. They’re just jealous.”

  “Excuse me?” Vara turned to face a middle-aged woman with graying hair and piercing blue eyes. Like Ron at the counter, she wore a deep red apron, but hers sported the name Andrea. “You must be the owner of the shop?”

  “Guilty as charged.” A grin spread across Andrea’s face as she wiped down an adjacent table. “I’m glad to see you survived your death by chocolate.”

  “I think I’ll live to see another day.” Vara smiled and drained her cup. “It was perfection.”

  “Thanks. Ron made it, and I’ll pass on the good word. Fair warning, though. They have a way of becoming addictive.”

  “That’s not hard to understand.” Vara wiped her mouth with a napkin and handed it to Andrea along with the empty cup after she gestured for them.

  “The chocolate latte espresso is a rite of passage around here. Not many are brave enough to try it. If you survive your first one, the next one’s on us. Did you drive in from the Twin Cities?”

  Vara nodded. “Minneapolis.”

  Andrea concentrated on scrubbing a sticky spot on the other table. “Thornton sure is a handsome man, isn’t he?”

  “He’s definitely intriguing.” That statement summed him up well even though it only nicked the tip of the iceberg.

  “He’s our resident Indiana Jones.” The other woman continued with her scrubbing. “He’s been gone the past six months and just returned home a few days ago.”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  Andrea laughed. “I’m not sure I could explain it if I tried. I’ll let him tell you sometime.”

  Again with the next time business? God must be having fun with her today.

  “I think women find his world-traveling lifestyle romantic and mysterious. He hasn’t shown any interest in a woman here in Cherish in a long time. Not that they haven’t tried.” Andrea gave a subtle nod to the ladies at the other table. “That’s why you’re getting the evil eye. You’ve captured Thornton’s fancy, and they know it.”

  “I wasn’t trying to—”

  “I know you weren’t, and that’s what captured his attention. Thornton’s friendly with everyone, but he had a special sparkle in his eye this morning. Doesn’t take much to figure out who put it there.” Andrea tossed her cleaning rag in a small plastic container and brushed strands of hair away from her face. “Welcome to Cherish, Miss Sarah. Don’t be a stranger.”

  “It’s Vara,” she said, but Andrea had already moved on. After checking her watch, she rose to her feet and grabbed her coat. Sparkle in the man’s eyes or not, she was in Cherish on an assignment.

  While she bundled up again, Vara pictured Thornton’s handsome face and smile. Those dancing eyes and that lip quirk. Why did Andrea have to plant that seed in her mind? Her sisters had been coaching her to get back into the dating game for well over a year. No way was it going to happen with a man who couldn’t stay in one place long enough to sustain a meaningful relationship.

  As though by a force of nature, Vara’s gaze was drawn to the chalkboard as she headed into the other room. My soul rejoices in the hope of meeting the other half of my heart. Right. Such optimism was for dreamers who believed in fairy tales. Like most young girls, she’d once believed in the glass slipper, the carriage, the fairy godmother, the handsome prince…all of it. Until that little girl grew up, moved to Minnesota, and had her heart stomped on—and the glass slipper shattered—by the heel of a man named Daniel Forrester.

  “Thanks for the compliment, Sarah!”

  Hesitating just inside the front door, Vara returned the barista’s smile. “You’re welcome, Ron. It was well-deserved.”

  With a small wave, she stepped outside and then immediately reared back when a bitterly cold gust of wind swirled around her.

  Force of nature indeed.

  Shivering, she burrowed her face into her knit scarf and hurried to her SUV.

  Time to go see her patient.

  Chapter Three

  Vara shivered as she pushed the doorbell of the stately, three-story Tudor home. Mansion, really. With a circular driveway and attached three-car garage, it was on a much grander scale than most of the homes she’d driven by in Cherish. Not that she was surprised. As Thornton had surmised, her patient did, in fact, have a boatload of money.

  Shaking her head at the thought, she shifted from foot to foot on the recessed front porch. Her breath escaped in short puffs. “Please come quickly.” She knew she had the right day and time. Surely they hadn’t forgotten? Should she ring the doorbell again?

  Lifting her head, Vara eyed the high arched opening. Bay windows, a red front door with black metal hardware, an abundance of stone and brick, and Renaissance-looking mounted wall sconces added up to one impressive, if not imposing, home. She’d certainly never set foot inside such an elegant residence. If someone didn’t invite her in soon, she might not be doing so today, either. “Any day now would be nice.”

  When the door finally swung open, Vara gaped at the man standing in the entranceway. “Thornton?” In her surprise, she’d blurted out his name like a commoner. Her grandmother would be mortified by her lack of proper manners.

  “No, I’m Morton, his identical but slightly devious twin brother. Sorry to keep you waiting. Your little dance-shuffle is entertaining, but come inside so you can warm up.”

  Stepping back a couple of steps, still flustered, Vara double-checked the house number. “Do I have the right house for Charlotte Fielding?”

  “You do.” When she apparently didn’t move fast enough for him, he took hold of her elbow and helped her over the threshold. At least he was gentle in his manhandling.
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  “Thanks, but I think I could have managed on my own.”

  “Force of habit,” he said. “I’m used to helping visitors into the house.”

  “You’re fine. Gallantry is a fading art, so it’s a nice surprise.” Vara peeled off her gloves and removed her hat. Her gaze swept over the entranceway with its pristine white marble floor and high ceilings with decorative crown moldings. An intricately carved entryway table held a vase overflowing with at least two dozen white roses. Mounted above it was one of the largest mirrors she’d ever seen. An elaborate tapestry hung on the opposite wall.

  She inhaled a quick breath at the magnificent, winding staircase, the likes of which she’d only seen in films or on television, which led to the upper floors. The house might be old, but that seemed part of its innate charm. It had clearly been well-maintained and practically screamed elegance and old money.

  “This house is fabulous! Are you the butler?”

  His lips curled. “Your stroke patient, Charlotte Fielding, is my grandmother.” When Thornton’s gaze moved to her head, Vara quickly smoothed both hands over her hair. Static cling was a dreaded hazard in this winter weather.

  “And is your last name Fielding?” Perhaps that was rude, but he didn’t seem to mind impertinence. That question was infinitely better than admitting she wasn’t aware of his very existence. Either she was grossly unprepared, or she’d missed an important bit of information somewhere along the way.

  “It is,” he said. “May I ask your last name?”

  “Alexandris.”

  He bowed at the waist. “Nice to formally make your acquaintance, Miss Alexandris.”

  She nodded. “Mr. Fielding. Sir.” Something about Thornton made her want to salute. Or else tease him. Then again, it was highly possible the death by chocolate had seriously messed with her system.

  You loon. Get on with it.

  “Did you know who I was all along?” A sliver of accusation slipped into her question. Or was it defensiveness? Sometimes the dividing line was incredibly thin.

  “I knew someone from Mercy Grace was coming to meet with Charlotte this week, but I didn’t know when. When you said you’re a speech and language pathologist, it didn’t take much to figure out the rest. That was close to the end of our Long Minnesota Good-bye, remember.”