“Oh.” She really had no choice but to let Jared fix her car, unless she wanted to have the car towed to a garage in Ticonderoga. That might cost as much as the repair. “Okay. I’ll pay, of course.”
“Of course. I think a home-cooked meal would be a fair price, parts included.”
His offer was tempting. She’d need to pay him cash. Tom accepted credit cards, so if the repair was expensive, she could pay it off over a couple of months. But she had the money she was putting away to fill the oil tank at the house in the fall before winter set in.
“I wouldn’t feel right.” Which was true. She’d feel indebted to him. An uneasy thought passed through her mind. Was that his point? To make her feel indebted so she’d be more inclined to vote for his racing project?
“It’s no big deal.” A trace of impatience laced his words. “You need your car running. I need some good cooking. I think I’m close to wearing out my welcome at Grandma’s.”
“I doubt Edna would ever get tired of having you stop in for dinner.” The thought of the love and admiration Becca knew Edna had for her grandson blotted out any idea she may have had earlier that Jared was trying to buy her vote. “Besides, how do you know my cooking is good?”
“Anything is better than what Connor and I have been making.”
Becca laughed. “Should we start a fund to send Pastor to culinary arts classes at North Country Community College in Saranac?”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea. Neither would taking me up on my offer.”
“You’re persistent, if nothing else.”
“I’m lots of other things.”
Had his voice dropped or was it her imagination? “All right. I accept your offer to fix my car. But I pay for the parts. The dinner is for your labor.”
“Deal, for my fixing your car and giving you and the kids a lift home tonight.” He looked around as if he’d just noticed Ari and Brendon weren’t there. “Are they inside? I’ll go get my truck.”
Becca ignored that Jared thought she’d leave a five-and nine-year-old inside by themselves. He wasn’t a parent. His father may have left him alone, or even alone watching his brothers when he was Brendon’s age. That could be part of the reason he didn’t understand her opposition to having the racing school include young kids. In high school, Jared had seemed old for his age to her. Maybe he always had been—and responsible. A lot of kids weren’t.
“No, Brendon spent the day at the Hazards’ with Ian, and when Anne Hazard picked up her daughter Sophia from swimming lessons at the lake, she invited Ari to come and stay for dinner.”
“So you’re free to pay me for the car work in advance.”
Becca’s heart flip-flopped. She and Jared alone at her house tonight. “Sorry, not if you want something home cooked. I already called the deli at the Paradox General Store and ordered a sub to pick up on my way home.” Part of her was glad for the excuse. She needed to prepare for having him over. The other part shouted, You could have the sub for lunch tomorrow.
“What about tomorrow, when I bring your car back?”
Tomorrow was Saturday. The kids would be there. She’d have time to make a nice dinner for all of them. “Tomorrow’s good.”
“Great. I’ll get you home, then.”
She eyed his motorcycle. It had a second helmet fastened on the back.
“I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.” Her heart rate picked up and her hands went clammy.
“I can get my truck.”
She didn’t want Jared to know she was afraid. Becca breathed a cleansing breath. She could do this. “No.” She cleared her throat. “There has to be a first time for everything.”
“That’s the spirit.” He unfastened the helmet and handed it to her.
She pulled it on and fastened the chin strap.
Jared reached over, his forefinger gently stroking her chin as he checked the fit of the strap. She steeled herself against reacting, but her shiver gave her away. His eyes darkened.
“The fit’s good.” He put on his helmet and positioned himself on the bike. “Climb on behind me.”
She took a moment to decide whether she could do that without touching him. No way. She placed her hands on his forearm and swung her leg over, uncertain what to do with her hands now that she was seated.
His helmet shook with what might have been a laugh. He flipped up the face guard and turned around. “Sorry, I don’t have grip bars. You’re going to have to put your arms around me.”
He didn’t sound sorry to her at all. Becca reached around.
“Ready?” He started the motor.
As ready as she could be.
He drove slowly across the parking lot, his clean masculine scent filling her breathing space. Her fingertips gripped his rock-hard abs, sending a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the wind whipping them. As he sped up on the highway, she leaned against him and gave in to the free feeling of throwing her fears and cares to that wind—if only for a moment.
She’d worry later about how she was going to keep a level mind and not let her awakening feelings for Jared color her decision when his racing-school project came up for vote before the Zoning Board.
Chapter Seven
“Mom, it’s not fair.” Brendon slammed into the kitchen ahead of Ari.
Becca crumpled the wrapping from her sub and tossed it in the kitchen trash can. “What’s not fair?”
Her son shoved the smart hone her ex-husband had given him—against her wishes—at her.
“This,” he spat, pointing at a text from his father.
“Watch your tone.” Whatever she might think or feel about Matt, he was Brendon’s father.
“But Dad says we have to come to his house this weekend. His work is having a picnic or something that he wants to take us to.”
To show off what a good family man he is. Becca regretted the thought, but it was the way she saw things.
“I’m all signed up to go to the fishing derby on Sunday with Ian and Mr. Hazard. Remember, last year, I almost won. Ian and I have been practicing our technique.”
Becca closed her eyes for a moment. She knew how much Brendon had been looking forward to the derby and wished she could say no to Matt. But he was supposed to have the kids two weekends a month and hadn’t had them in a couple of months. He’d been “too busy with work.”
“Can’t you call Dad and tell him we’ll come next weekend?” Brendon begged.
She wished she could. Matt had a reason for them coming this weekend, although he should have given them more than a day’s notice. Who knew when he would want them to come again? She wavered, remembering how much she’d hated the disruption of going to Albany to stay with her mother when her parents had separated temporarily. She’d never felt comfortable in the city or in the apartment her mother had shared with a friend from high school. And her parents had argued about it constantly, with her dad trying to explain to Mom how upsetting the visits had been for her. She’d often wondered how her parents had overcome their differences and put their marriage back together. But she’d never asked, even when her own marriage had been falling apart. She hadn’t wanted to revisit that part of her childhood.
“No. It’ll be fun. You like picnics. There’ll probably be games and prizes. Maybe you’ll win one.”
“It wouldn’t be the same as winning the fishing derby.”
“Maybe not, but your father wants you to come. He hasn’t seen you and Ari in a while.”
“Fine. Dad said Grandma and Grandpa will pick us up at nine tomorrow morning.” Brendon stomped off to his room.
“Mommy,” Ari said. “Can I ride with you tomorrow, instead of Grandma and Grandpa?”
Becca squatted to Ari’s level. “What do you mean, honey?”
“I don’t like ridi
ng with Grandpa. He puts the radio on too loud. Grandma says he needs to get a hearing aid.”
“I’m not going,” Becca said, Ari’s subdued tone pulling at her heartstrings. Since Matt had left before her daughter had been born, Ari had never had the opportunity to form a real relationship with her father.
“But Brendon’s text says it’s a family picnic. You’re family.”
“I’m your family, but not Daddy and Crystal’s family. It’s Daddy’s family picnic.”
Ari shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Becca wrapped her arms around her daughter. She didn’t understand, either. She’d always tried to do everything right. How had her life turned out so unsettled? More than that, how could she make it more stable? The rev of a motorcycle on the highway sounded in the distance. Certainly not by inviting Jared Donnelly into their lives.
* * *
Jared wiped his hands on his jeans. Becca’s car had had a whole lot more wrong with it than the faulty alternator. He let the hood drop shut. She’d been putting her and her kids’ lives in danger driving it. But no longer. He’d taken care of all of it, including four new all-weather tires. Given his bad memories of the heaps his mother had had to drive because there’d been no money to repair them or buy anything better, his conscience would let him do no less.
“All fixed?” Connor joined him in the parsonage garage.
“Yep, all fixed, tuned and ready to go. Becca shouldn’t have any more problems with it for a while.”
“You did more than replace the alternator.”
“Some.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed.
“Okay, a lot more.”
“What are you going to tell Becca?”
“Nothing, except for the tires. I’m sure she’s going to notice them.”
“And, if I know Becca, which I do, she’s going to insist on paying for them with money she may not have.”
Jared didn’t know if he was more irritated with Connor’s familiarity with Becca or with himself for wanting to hide the work he’d done on her car from her.
“Tom Hill will notice, too, the next time she takes her car in for maintenance.”
He could have slapped himself in the head. He hadn’t thought of that. All he’d thought of was how dangerous her car was for her to be driving and how he could fix it. “I could talk with Tom.”
“Talk with Tom Hill, the chairperson of the Zoning Board, about doing how many hundreds of dollars of repairs free for another member of the board the week before the public hearing on your racing-school project.”
“I’ve really dug myself in.”
“That you have, not to mention the lying factor if you don’t tell her.”
“I wasn’t planning to lie, just not tell her. What she doesn’t see doesn’t hurt. The car was a mechanical wreck.”
“Semantics. A lie of omission is still a lie in the eyes of our Lord.”
Connor’s pointed response set off his already uneasy conscience. “Okay, so I don’t tell her and talk with Tom and it looks like I’m bribing a board member, or I do tell her and it looks like I’m bribing a board member.”
“You’ve got it.” Connor slapped him on the back. “Better start saying some prayers.”
“Knock it off. You know as well as I do, receiving God’s forgiveness is going to be lot easier than getting Becca to forgive me.”
“I have no doubts about that. Enjoy your dinner.”
Jared chucked an oily rag at his brother’s retreating figure.
Half an hour later Jared had showered, dressed and was ready to face Becca. He’d put on his “feel good” shirt, a blue polo his mother had given him several years ago that had been washed to a comfortable softness. Mom had said she’d bought it on impulse because it was the same color as his eyes and reminded her of a shirt he’d loved when he was little. He didn’t remember that shirt but, for whatever reason, he’d always felt he could handle anything he ran up against when he wore the one his mother had given him.
As he drove Becca’s car by the Paradox Lake General store, he tapped the brake and thought about pulling in to see if they had any cut flowers today. He could get her a bouquet. Or something for the kids. A book or kite or some treat. He lifted his foot from the brake. She’d probably see the flowers as him spending even more money on her and anything for the kids as a not-so-subtle bribe to soften her up so she wouldn’t be too mad about the car. The kids. It struck him that she couldn’t get too angry at him about the car if the kids were around. The weight on his chest crumbled. He pushed the On button and the car radio came to life with Resurrection Light, a Christian rock band with roots in Ticonderoga, singing one of their early songs about conquering mountains. Jared joined in. He’d handle it. Tonight would be fine.
* * *
Becca touched up her makeup and changed out of the T-shirt she’d worn while she’d cooked. She pulled on a brilliant blue cotton top with a scoop neckline and cap sleeves and smoothed it over her rolled-cuff denim shorts. Standing in front of the mirror, she released her hair from the band that held it knotted on top of her head and watched it tumble down around her shoulders.
“Not bad,” she said to her reflection. “Not bad at all for a thirty-four-year-old history teacher and mother of two.”
After running a brush through her hair, she went downstairs to the kitchen. The pot roast and veggies simmering in the cast-iron pan in the oven filled the room with a mouth-watering aroma. She could only hope it would taste as good as it smelled. Cooking wasn’t something she spent much time doing. She and the kids ate simple and healthy. But Jared seemed like a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. She checked the clock over the sink and scanned the room. He’d be here in fifteen minutes. The strawberry-rhubarb pie she’d baked this afternoon was cooling on the counter. Edna Stowe had given her the recipe after she’d complimented her on her pie at a church dinner. Mint iced tea was cooling in the refrigerator, and she’d picked up a variety pack of one-cup coffees in case Jared preferred coffee.
Nothing to do but wait. She sat in one of the tall-back kitchen chairs and crossed and uncrossed her legs until the sound of a car pulling in her driveway saved her. She jumped up and opened the oven door so it wouldn’t look as if she’d just been sitting there waiting for him. At his firm knock she closed the oven, turned to the door with a smile and waved at the window for him to come in.
He pushed open the door. “Hi. Something smells good.”
“Pot roast with potatoes, onions, carrots and green peppers.”
“One of my favorites.”
“Good,” she said, pleased that she’d pegged him right. “Everything should be done. Do you want something to drink while I get the food on the table? I have mint iced tea or coffee.”
“I’ll take tea.”
She got the pitcher from the refrigerator, filled the glasses on the table and motioned him to sit.
He eyed the table and pointed at the two settings. “The kids aren’t eating with us?”
Becca lifted the roast from the oven and placed it on the top of the stove. Something in his voice made it sound as though he’d prefer they were here.
“They’ve gone to their father’s for the weekend.” She moved the roast to a serving platter, sliced it and arranged the vegetables around the meat.
Jared ran his finger down and up the condensation on the side of his tea glass as she carried the platter to the table.
Did he think she’d purposely arranged for them to be alone? This dinner had been his idea. “When we talked yesterday, I didn’t know Matt wanted the kids this weekend.”
“He didn’t give you much notice.”
“No. He texted Brendon late yesterday afternoon when Brendon was at Ian’s.”
She placed the platter in the center of the table and took t
he seat across from him, her hands crossed in her lap and head bowed for her silent grace.
“Dear Lord.”
His deep voice startled her.
“Thank You for this food and for the dinner company. Amen.”
“Amen.” Becca’s surprise turned to pleasure. Pleasure in knowing he still practiced his faith. She’d gotten mixed signals from him. He’d come to the Bible trivia but hadn’t been to services at Hazardtown Community Church since he’d returned. It seemed unlikely he’d attend services at a church other than his brother’s. But as Leanne had said, what did they know about him?
“Guests first.” She pushed the serving platter a couple of inches closer to Jared and watched him take a healthy helping. “Leave some room for the strawberry-rhubarb pie I made for dessert.” The minute the words were out she wanted to take them back. That was something she’d say to the kids. She really needed to get out and socialize without them more. Maybe she could if Matt continued to take them on his weekends. Guilt pricked her. She hadn’t noticed any lack of adult time until Jared had returned to town.
“Strawberry-rhubarb pie. No way would I miss out on that.” He rotated the platter so she could reach the serving fork.
“It’s your grandmother’s recipe.”
“You certainly know the way to a man’s heart.”
She caught a faint glaze of pink on Jared’s cheeks before he bowed his head and gave his dinner one hundred percent of his concentration. The mouthful of food Becca had just swallowed stuck in her throat. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one blurting first thoughts.
After an interminably long moment of silence, Jared spoke. “Everything is delicious. With the pie thrown in, I might have to do some more work on your car so I’m not overcharging you.”
“Let’s not go overboard,” she said, kind of wishing he’d skipped the explanation and wondering about the shadow that crossed his face.
They talked until it was time for dessert, carefully ignoring any mention of Jared’s racing project.
Love Inspired May 2015 #2 Page 29
