The Valentine Verse: A Contemporary Christian Romance

by JoAnn Durgin

  “Southern California.” He scratched the side of his head. “Little models. Such respect I get around here. Gertie, I’d like you to meet my good friend and Charlotte’s speech and language pathologist. This is Vara…Pumpelsnitch.”

  Gertie wiped both hands on her apron before shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Vara.”

  Vara shook her hand and gave her a warm smile. “Same here.”

  “Don’t pay Thornton any mind. He’s been playing pranks and practical jokes since he was a toddler, but everyone in town loves him, anyway.”

  “They’re very forgiving. Or else forgetful.” Chuckling, Thornton kissed Gertie’s forehead.

  “You charmer, you.” Blushing, the older woman put one hand on his chest and playfully pushed him away before her approving glance swept over Vara. “You must be Thornton’s pretty lady friend from Minneapolis that I’ve heard so much about. What’s your real last name?”

  “Alexandris.” Surely Gertie heard the part about her being Charlotte’s speech and language pathologist, but apparently the citizens of Cherish preferred to think of her presence in town in terms of Thornton, not Charlotte.

  “Gertie, I’m currently in need of some gemelli,” Thornton said. “Or fusilli. I can’t figure out your system to shelve pasta.”

  “Let me see what I can do. My son, Manfred—I’m sure you remember Manny—does all the stocking, but most of our regulars sort of understand how he does things.” Gertie frowned. “Sometimes I figure they know better than me anymore.”

  Side-by-side, the three of them stood and scanned the variety of pasta boxes.

  “Here it is!” Vara pulled it off the shelf and dropped it in the basket.

  “Thanks. About time,” Thornton muttered. The man was getting a little testy. “What’s next?”

  “A pound of peeled, deveined medium raw shrimp.”

  Thornton groaned. “I’m in trouble here. I have no clue what deveined means.”

  “No worries, Thorny.” Gertie patted his arm. “We have bags of shrimp that are already peeled and deveined. They’re frozen, though, so you’ll need to brine them for about 20 minutes. That’ll bring out the flavor and sweetness.”

  “Brine? I’m already in over my head.”

  “No worries, Thorny.” Exchanging a smile with Gertie, Vara took him by the arm. “All that means is that you’ll need to soak them in salty water. Easy-peasy. You can do it in the microwave while you’re preparing the rest of the meal.”

  Leaning close, he lowered his voice. “Call me Thorny again, and you will pay.”

  “I’m shaking in my boots. You’ve crossed off butter, as well as the kosher salt and black pepper, so I’m assuming you checked with Rosalinda?”

  “I did. Those are staples in her kitchen. Next?”

  “You’ll need the zest of one lemon. Did you check that with her?”

  “Got it covered. Rose is going to explain zest back at the house.”

  Vara nodded. “Heavy cream?”

  Thornton’s brows drew together. “Can’t remember. We’d better get some to be safe.”

  “Next we’re moving on to the leeks and baby spinach.”

  “Leeks are onions, right?”

  Gertie spoke up. “That’s right. They look like overgrown green onions. They have excellent nutritional value. Follow me, and I’ll show you where they are.”

  Thornton chuckled. “Gertie, I knew I could count on you for a lesson in nutrition as well as fulfilling my fresh produce needs.”

  Gertie led them to the other side of the store. “You mind your manners, young man,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t topple any of my displays.” When they reached the produce aisle, she turned to Vara. “As a kid, Thornton liked to bowl, practice his archery, rollerblade, and build things in my market.”

  “That’s only half the story,” Thornton said.

  The older woman snickered. “I’ll say. I could have sold tickets to see what you’d do next.”

  “I paid my penance by working here on weekends when I was a teenager,” Thornton told Vara. “It was my first official job, and I proved I wasn’t on-the-road to ruin, didn’t I, Gert?”

  The older woman beamed. “That you did. You were always finding some new way to display the goods. I think your best creation was the fort you made with canned goods and cereal boxes. Oh, how the kids loved playing in that! Then the food started expiring, and I decided to just leave it. That display kept the kids occupied while their mothers shopped and more than paid for itself in grateful customers.”

  “He’s a smart one, that Thorny Fielding.” Vara ducked when he grabbed a red apple and pretended to take aim. “He’s the King of Distraction.”

  “You two try to be good,” Gertie said. “I need to go check on the new kid. I’ve already caught him smooching his girlfriend in the back. At least I didn’t catch you doing any of that back in the day when you worked for me.” She darted a glance between the two of them. “Don’t think about starting anything now, either.”

  Thornton chuckled. “We’ll be good, Gert.”

  Vara avoided Thornton’s gaze. She knew he was amused and sensed his eyes on her. Time to keep the conversation moving forward. “How about rolls or fresh bread? That’s always a nice complement to a meal.”

  “Rose bakes bread from scratch. Yeast rising, the whole thing. We always have a fresh loaf. Don’t ask me what’s in the latest loaf, but I can guarantee it’ll be great.”

  “I’m sure it is, although the cornbread at the chili lunch will be mighty hard to beat.”

  “I’m glad you came on Saturday, Vara,” he said as she helped him select the spinach. “Glad we…talked.” Thornton’s eyes settled on her, contemplative and warm.

  “Oh, Thornton!”

  “She’s back,” he said under his breath. Sure enough, Gertie waved and headed in their direction.

  “Before I forget, I was talking earlier with Rose at the florist shop. She said something about having a question about your weekly order. You might want to check in with her as soon as you can since it is Monday.”

  Thornton’s jaw tightened. “Thanks. I’ll give her a call when I get back to the house.”

  Vara couldn’t resist. “The woman who works at the florist’s shop is named Rose?”

  “Yes. Gertie said that to distinguish her from Rose at the dry cleaners and Rose the church secretary at Cherish Community. Then there’s our Rose, of course. It’s a popular name.” When he leaned against a produce case, Thornton’s hand hit an apple, sending it tumbling to the floor. In quick succession, several other apples dropped to the floor and rolled in different directions.

  Springing into action, he threw his arms wide and crouched in front of the case in an attempt to stem a potential avalanche. “Holy buckets, Gertie will be all over this.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Vara? Can you help me out here?”

  “Sure, but what can I do short of throwing myself on the apples?”

  His jaw tightened. “I have no idea. Pray, maybe.”

  “Hang on.” Moving to his side, Vara quickly rearranged the apples. “There,” she said a minute later. “Prayer in action. I think you should be safe now. Slowly and steadily, try to move away from the case.”

  Thornton did as she suggested and then blew out a sigh of relief. “You’re my hero. Heroine. Thanks for your help.”

  “Glad to be of service.” She grinned. “Holy buckets?”

  “Five years in Minneapolis, and you’ve never heard that one before?”

  “I don’t think so. Is it a curse?”

  “Not according to most people, and not compared to the words I used to say with regularity that would make you cringe. These days, that expression’s about as crass as I get, and it only comes out in extreme circumstances.” He grinned. “Like during an apple avalanche.”

  She sniffed. “You don’t need to justify anything to me, potty mouth.”

  After picking up the
spinach and a pint of heavy cream, they waited in the checkout line. The cashier—a pretty young brunette with big blue eyes who looked about 17—darted glances at him every other second while ringing up another customer’s purchases.

  Vara elbowed him. “Do you know her?” What a ridiculous question. He knew everyone. Or maybe it was more like everyone knew Thornton Fielding.

  “That’s Frankie,” he said. “She goes to Cherish Community Church, and she’s the younger sister of one of the guys in the singles class.”

  “She certainly seems enamored with you.” Vara began to sing “I’ve Got a Crush on You” under her breath, stressing the words sweetie pie.

  Instead of smiling, Thornton’s jaw clenched.

  She stopped her singing.

  Removing his glasses, he folded and tucked them in his jacket pocket. “I suppose you’re wondering about my weekly order from the florist.”

  “Not really. It’s none of my business why you have a weekly order with a floral shop.” She might need to do some confessing to Jesus about that not really. Her curiosity was killing her.

  “They’re for Charlotte. Have you noticed the white roses in the entranceway at the house?”

  “Of course. They’re gorgeous and kind of hard to miss.”

  “Sounds like a woman I’ve gotten to know recently.”

  Vara shook her head, not that she didn’t appreciate the compliment. She just hadn’t expected it since he also seemed somewhat disgruntled. “There must be what, two dozen?”

  He nodded. “The flowers are delivered like clockwork every Monday afternoon. They’re delivered long-stemmed, and then Rose cuts and arranges them in the vase. I think it’s somehow cathartic for her, and she also works in the garden at the house. When we have one to tend, that is.”

  They inched closer to the checkout. Vara remained silent, knowing Thornton would continue.

  “My grandfather started the tradition. Always white roses because they’re Charlotte’s favorite. Always in that same vase. It was a gift from Charlotte’s father. He’d brought it back to her from a trip to Paris.”

  “It’s beautiful, and I can understand why Charlotte cherishes it.” Vara smiled when she realized what she’d said. “There are so many puns for this town.” That made Thornton smile, but it was good to see.

  “My dad carried on the tradition from my grandfather. Then after he died, I took it over.”

  They began to add their items to the checkout conveyor belt.

  “In a way, that makes it even more of a romantic family tradition. I’m glad you’re carrying it on,” Vara whispered, staying close to Thornton’s shoulder so as not to be overheard. The townspeople seemed to like watching them, and she didn’t want to be responsible for spilling any of his secrets. As it was, Frankie’s eyes were shooting arrows of blue fire her way.

  “The vase is rare, valuable, and heavily insured,” he said in a low tone. “Rose keeps trying to persuade me to put it under lock and key or donate it to a museum. But every time she brings up the idea, I shoot it down. If we did something like that, the vase wouldn’t serve its purpose.”

  Thornton added the fresh spinach to their other items and then stored the basket beneath the counter. “You do things for family. Plus, I like to make Charlotte smile.”

  “You’re very good at it.” After she nudged his arm, they shared a look. Not a smile, but a look. Something passed between them, another one of those special moments she’d always remember. In spite of his flippantness and frequent teasing, Thornton was one of the most sentimental and family-oriented men she’d ever met. She doubted he even realized that about himself. Family meant something to him. Granted, his family consisted of two people. But even if he was part of a bigger family, Thornton possessed the qualities to be the protector, the leader. He was just that kind of man.

  That thought made Vara smile.

  “Hi, Thornton.” With a flirty smile, the cashier rang up his order.

  “Hey, Frances.”

  “Call me Frankie. Everybody else does. Your tan looks so great, all-natural and not fake like those spray-on tans. Have you been working in Florida?”

  “California.”

  “Really? That’s exciting! Did you see any movie stars?” The girl’s gaze brazenly flickered over him, making Vara want to roll her eyes. “You look hot. Like a movie star. I’ll bet you have women hitting on you all the time, huh?”

  “Frances!” Gertie called from somewhere in the store. “Keep the line moving!”

  A frown passed over Frankie’s pretty face. “Yes, Mrs. Lisowski.” She lowered her voice. “I swear that woman has spies or eyes in the back of her head like my grandma talks about.”

  “How’s school this year?” Thornton grabbed a couple of brown bags and began to bag his groceries. Good for him. This was a prime opportunity for the man to wield his powers of distraction, although with Frankie, he could probably accomplish that without uttering a single word.

  “Okay, but it’s kid stuff. I’m ready for the real world.” Frankie did a little hip-tilt, stomach sucking-in, chest out, hair flip move.

  Oh, dear goodness. Vara chewed the corner of her lip. This girl must watch those reality modeling shows.

  “You know what, kiddo?” Thornton finished bagging. “The real world might not be ready for you.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and handed over a few bills.

  “What do you mean?” After she punched a few keys on the old-fashioned cash register, a ding sounded, and the drawer slid open. Vara figured she might as well be invisible. Frankie didn’t glance her way except for a quick once-over to assess her worthiness to be keeping company with the Thornton Fielding.

  “Stay sweet and don’t be in a big hurry to grow up. The world will get real soon enough.”

  “Thanks and hope to see you again real soon.” Frankie handed Thornton his change. Vara noted he dropped it—bills and all—into the collection jar on the counter for the Children’s Wing at Mercy Grace Hospital, of all things.

  Stopping just inside the door, they put on their hats and gloves before walking out of the market together.

  “That was good advice you gave Frankie,” Vara said. “Seems Gertie’s got her hands full with smoochers and flirty cashiers.”

  “Kids watch too much trash these days and have too much time on their hands,” Thornton muttered. “They’d be better off to read books.”

  “I hate to tell you, but—unless they’re in the Christian or inspirational section—most fiction for teenagers would shock you with their content. I’m talking about a lot more explicit than holy buckets.”

  “That girl sits with her parents on a pew in church every Sunday, the picture of innocence.” Thornton adjusted his knit cap with a scowl. “It’s disheartening as much as anything else. Frankie can’t wait to grow up, but she knows nothing. Not that I’m jaded, but she has no idea what’s out there in the world. What kind of people there are and the types of things that go on.”

  She frowned. “Unfortunately, the world’s not going to change. Where’s the optimistic Thornton today?”

  “I’m here. Sometimes reality smacks me in the face.”

  “Well, you won’t get a smackdown from me today,” Vara said. “I guess it was inevitable that real life had to hit this sweet little town someday. I’ll meet you back at the house.” Maybe that sounded silly, but they’d had a fun time at the market, and she hated to see Thornton’s mood spoiled.

  “Yep. I’ll be the one in the kitchen trying his best not to massively bungle this meal.”

  “You’re not really worried about it, are you?” A surge of compassion ran through her. In spite of his teasing, cooking this meal was important to him. “You’re trying, and that’s all anyone could ask. I have one question.”

  “Sure, but make it quick.” He squinted. “The snowflakes are stinging my eyes.”

  Vara lightly brushed aside a flake that landed on his nose. She didn’t even think about the gesture. It was nice to
share the small moments, and her resistance seemed to be melting as quickly as that snowflake on his warm skin. “There’s something wonderful about snow, isn’t there? It’s so lovely, pure, and white.”

  “Until it falls and joins with other flakes on the ground and isn’t so pure anymore.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Seriously. What happened to positive and poetic Thornton? Has he gone missing?”

  “No, he’s just very cold at the moment. I’m beginning to think the girl from Florida likes these temperatures more than the native Minnesotan.”

  “Only because you’ve been in warmer climates recently. Thornton, you mentioned that if you put the vase under lock and key, it wouldn’t serve its purpose. What is its purpose?”

  Thornton’s dark lashes swept over his flushed cheeks, and he closed his eyes. “You ask the tough questions, don’t you?” His eyes fluttered open. “Is your middle name Oprah?”

  “Marie. Yours?”

  “James.” He puffed his cheeks with air then let it out slowly. “It’s sort of hard to explain, but since you’re the one asking, I’ll try. I want to show my grandmother that I have hope for an eternity in heaven, and more importantly, that she can have that same hope. She doesn’t know Jesus, Vara. The white roses remind her of a great love she misses desperately, but the joy they give outweighs her sadness. When my grandfather died, and then after my dad died, she closed the doors and withdrew into herself. She used to be much brighter, more youthful, more alive.” He sighed. “I wish you could have known her then.”

  Glancing into the distance, Thornton shifted the brown grocery bag in his arms. “I want her to understand that Jesus wants to be the ultimate lover of her soul. And if I can somehow bring Charlotte closer to a relationship with Him by showing her Christ through me, then that’s what I need to do. It’s not even a question in my mind. That’s what we’re supposed to do, but it’s what you do especially for the people you love most in the world. Or it should be that way.”

  Vara rested her hand on the side of his face. In a move as natural as breathing, she brushed a soft, quick kiss on his lips. Thornton leaned into the kiss before pulling back. A hint of his customary grin curved his mouth. “What was that for?”