Lily of the Valley in May

by Clare Revell

“I’ll pay for the repairs.”

  “Too right you will. It won’t come cheap, but perhaps it will teach you to pay more attention to where you’re walking in future.” His tone was abrupt and his diction exact.

  Faith took a deep breath. “I really am very sorry. I’m staying with my sister. I’ll give you her number because I don’t have a phone.” She wrote it down, along with her first name, and offered the piece of paper.

  The stranger shoved it in his pocket without even looking at it. “I shall be sure to call you. I wish I could say bumping into you has been a pleasure. Good day.” He inclined his head a little and turned back to the car.

  Taking that as a dismissal, Faith headed over to Grace’s car, her heart very much in her boots. That would just be money she didn’t have. Why did he look so familiar? Where had she seen him before? She loaded the bags into the car.

  Nothing changes. I’m still an idiot, aren’t I?

  At least she could mail the cheque for the damage, and she would never have to ever see him again.

  ~*~

  Joel finished taping plastic over the damaged brake light and sighed. He really didn't have time for this, or he might not have been so brusque to the very apologetic-looking woman. The meeting at eleven was too important to be late for. If this artist wasn’t all she was cracked up to be, then the book would never be finished before Bradley…

  And that wasn’t an option. He needed it done and soon.

  From that meeting he had to go straight to Caroline’s funeral.

  Heading inside the house, he stripped quickly and tossed his dirty shirt in the laundry hamper. He pulled a fresh white shirt and his black suit from the wardrobe, along with his black tie. As he fastened the buttons, he wondered about the mystery woman from the car park. The paper gave her name as Faith and a number that wasn’t even hers. If he saw a penny of the repair money he’d be fortunate. Who didn’t own a phone in this day and age?

  His conscience thumped him, hard. He’d been rude, and she didn’t deserve that. It was an accident. No matter how distracted he was right now, he should have behaved like the gentleman and Christian that he was, and not like some arrogant stuck up snob who was way above everyone else. If he ever saw her again, and he hoped desperately he would, he’d apologize. Funny she should have the same name as Grace’s sister. Two Faiths in one day. Was God speaking to him?

  He closed his eyes, seeing her again in his mind’s eye. Blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail, brown eyes, jeans, and jumper that fitted her body to a tee, showing off her curves and perfect figure. Well—perfect figure in his eyes.

  Caroline had always been on one diet or another, insisting on being as thin as a stick insect, whereas he preferred women with a slightly more realistic figure. Someone he could hug without being afraid they’d break or snap in two if he held them too tightly. Not that Caroline let him hold her, even before the divorce, but that was neither here nor there.

  Joel fastened the cufflinks and pulled on his suit jacket. He picked up the sheet of paper, slid it into his inside pocket, and glanced at the clock.

  Almost eleven. It was time to go next door and meet this artist, Grace’s sister, and remember to introduce himself under his pen name, just so she’d know who he was. There would be time for proper ‘real name’ introductions later when he wasn’t so rushed for time. Although Grace would have already told her sister who he really was in which case he didn’t need to do so.

  Joel sucked in a deep breath.

  Please, Lord, let her be the one. Then the book can go ahead and Bradley can see at least a galley of it. I’ve kept him waiting long enough and now...now I owe him. Forgive me for my rudeness earlier. I could blame a lot of things, but I won’t. Please give me the chance to say I’m sorry.

  ~*~

  Faith set her folder on the lounge table. Her stomach filled with butterflies. Stupid really; she’d done this loads of times in her career. Admittedly, this was slightly different than normal. Not every author demanded to see her entire portfolio before engaging her services, but that didn’t account for why she felt so ridiculously nervous.

  It was, without a doubt, because the author in question was Paul Darrow. The Paul Darrow. Her favorite author.

  But having made a fool of herself in the car park earlier, her nerves were shot to pieces. At least Grace had seen the funny side of it and promised to lend her the money for the repairs, so when the bloke rang, she could arrange to pay him.

  The man’s face haunted her. Where had she seen him before? Was he one of Damien’s cohorts and therefore on the phone to him right now, telling Damien where she was? Or had he been the guy in front of her in Asda? Should she ring Rick?

  And say what? ‘I smashed this bloke’s taillight, and I know I’ve seen him before but I can’t remember where?’ He’ll laugh at me, hang up the phone, and never take me seriously again.

  The doorbell rang. That would be Mr. Darrow. Wishing she’d asked Grace to be here for moral support, she went to answer it. The dark haired man stood with his back to her. “Hello?”

  He turned, his hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Paul—” His smile froze and then faded. His chiseled face and bright blue eyes took in her figure, glinting in recognition. But then he would know who she was, wouldn’t he?

  Her stomach plummeted to the tips of her toes. She stood there in horror, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow her. Now she knew why he was so familiar. She’d only gone and damaged the car belonging to her favorite author and the bloke who wanted to offer her a job.

  2

  The photo on the back of the novel jackets didn’t do him justice. He was far more handsome than they made him look. But this interview would be over before she’d even shown him one picture. There was no way he’d hire her now.

  Faith swallowed hard. “Hello again.” She shook his hand before he had a chance to drop it. “Faith Chadwick. Grace’s sister.”

  His touch was warm and firm, nothing like she expected. “Paul Darrow.”

  “Do come in. I’ve read all your books,” she gushed, desperate to say something to make him think better of her. “I can’t wait for the next one.”

  He studied her. “I owe you an apology for earlier. I was rude, and I shouldn’t have been.”

  “No, you had every right to be angry.” Faith looked at him, her cheeks burning. “It was my fault. You were right. I wasn’t looking where I was going. I was thinking about this interview.”

  “Even so, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I’m sorry.”

  Faith looked at him, seeing the sincerity of his words echoed in his eyes. “Apology accepted.” She shut the door. “Come through to the lounge. Grace said that she told you I was an artist, and you wanted to see all my work.”

  She pointed to the portfolio. “So here it is. All of it.”

  Mr. Darrow stood at the table, picking up her drawings one by one. “How long have you been doing this?”

  “I’ve always loved drawing, but I’ve been doing this professionally for just over six years now.”

  “I see.” His tone was dry, his stance giving away nothing. “Grace said you were one of the best, but I’d expected her to be biased.” His gaze caught hers, and she found herself held by it as his eyes bore straight into her making her uncomfortable. “This isn’t simply a cover. It’s an illustrated children’s book. Have you ever done anything like this before?”

  “Not exactly.” She stood there as he perused through her drawings. If they were giving out Oscars for the ‘best deadpan expression’ this guy would win hands down. His intent gaze took in every line and color she’d placed on the paper. Did it matter if he didn’t like it? There would be other work.

  Yes, the small voice inside her whispered. It matters because of who he is.

  “Have you got a sketchpad and pencil?” As she picked it up and showed him, he continued. “Then please draw me the illustration for the following excerpt.”

  Faith sat down. He was tho
rough, she’d give him that. Some authors looked at your work and said yes or not on that alone. This was a proper interview. “Sure.” She looked at him, pencil in her left hand. “Go ahead.”

  Mr. Darrow pulled out a carefully folded sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and read from it. “Two large black eyes blinked at him from under a tartan hat. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Nessie. Who are you?’ Nessie’s hat slid down over her eyes for a moment before she flicked it back up.

  Angus smiled at her. ‘I’m Angus. I’m an airship.’

  Nessie looked at him. ‘I’ve never seen an airship before.’

  Angus winked. ‘I’ve never seen the Loch Ness Monster before.’”

  Faith closed her eyes as he read, letting the words come to life in her mind’s eye.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she allowed the pencil to transfer what she could see to the paper.

  His breath was warm on her neck as he leaned over her. Did he have to stand so close?

  She tried not to flinch. He wasn’t Damien. Shaking her head slightly, she prayed for peace. Opening her eyes she looked down at the picture and then up at the man standing next to her. What was he thinking behind those fathomless eyes?

  He took the picture and glanced at the clock. “Thank you. I have to run, I’m afraid. I have another meeting. Can you do a watercolor of the same picture?”

  Faith didn’t need to be asked twice. “Sure.”

  “Thank you. I’ll pick it up tomorrow if that’s all right.”

  “Of course.” She saw him out and closed the front door, leaning against it. She rubbed her hands over her face.

  If I have blown this job, so be it. There will be other opportunities, not like this, but opportunities nonetheless. Your will be done concerning this job.

  ~*~

  Joel sat in the car and looked again at the picture in his hand. “Wow.”

  His first thought became his second, third, fourth, and fifth. Just wow.

  Faith may have accidently damaged his car, but she was the best artist he had come across in a long time.

  Is it coincidence that it’s the same woman, Lord? And that she’s Grace’s sister or just happenstance? Surely You don’t want me to work with someone who doesn’t look where she’s going and then gushes all over me like a twelve-year-old girl. I have enough on my plate as it is. I just want to find an artist who can bring Bradley’s stories to life before it’s too late.

  Joel broke off. He couldn’t afford to think like that. Where there was life there was hope, right? He pulled off the drive, all thoughts of car repairs and artists fleeing his mind. He had a funeral to go to.

  ~*~

  Arriving at the prayer meeting, Faith sat at the back with Grace. Having spent the entire day painting, she wasn’t going to argue when Grace suggested coming to church. After the day she’d had, she needed to recharge her spiritual batteries.

  She wanted to take her mind off the images of airships and monsters in tartan hats. Not to mention the tall author who seemed to have the cares of the world on his shoulders. Maybe she came across as a gushing fan and therefore his worst nightmare, with the broken light being the final straw. In any case she’d probably blown any chance at getting the contract, but she was doing the picture anyway. Maybe her talent would outshine her clumsiness. And if not, it was one more for her portfolio.

  A tall figure, with a faint hint of musk and spearmint slid into the seat next to her and she glanced up. Surprise filled her, swiftly followed by butterflies and a rush of girlish admiration for a famous person. What was he doing here? Was he stalking her now? Of course not, just because I’m sat thinking of him, and he appears doesn’t mean he’s stalking me. This is probably where Grace knows him from.

  She stuck out a hand. “Mr. Darrow. Hello. This is a surprise.”

  He turned, surprise in his eyes. Or was it shock? “Miss Chadwick. I wasn’t expecting to see you here either.” He shook her hand.

  Her heart raced as he touched her. Was that electricity that passed between them, or just her overactive imagination? “Grace suggested I come with her, so here I am.”

  “Hey, Joel.” Grace leaned across her to greet him. “Did Elliott come with you, or is he still working?”

  “He’s just parking the car. As it’s raining, we figured we’d better use his for now.”

  Faith shot her sister a confused look.

  Grace grinned. “I did tell you, but from the look on your face you’ve forgotten. Paul Darrow is Joel’s pen name. He’s Elliott’s twin. That’s how I know him.”

  Faith looked at her, hoping the shock filling her wasn’t etched on her face. He lives next door? “Oh.”

  Joel smiled sheepishly. “I should have said earlier. I’m sorry. Please, call me Joel. After all, we’re going to be family once my brother marries your sister. And I hope we’ll be friends.”

  “Only if you call me Faith.”

  Joel smiled, and that reassured her a little.

  “Faith it is.”

  Another man, virtually identical, slid into the seat next to Grace. “Hello, love.” He kissed her cheek. Then, he leant across her and held out a hand. “You must be Faith, future sister-in-law and artist extraordinaire.”

  “I don’t know about that last part.” Faith shook his hand. How much else had Grace told her about these two men that she didn’t remember? If only she could ask her, but with the two men either side of them, now definitely wasn’t the time to do so.

  Elliott looked at his brother. “I saw Holly Stevens in the car park, Joel. She said if you take the car in tomorrow about eleven, she’ll have a look at the light. If she’s got the part in stock, she can do it there and then. Otherwise, she can order it in and do it in a couple of days. Until then you can borrow mine if it rains.”

  “Thank you.” A slight smile touched his lips and a hint of sadness shone in his eyes before the mask came back down. He pushed a hand through his hair.

  For a moment Faith glimpsed a tortured soul within the man beside her. Maybe everyone was running from someone. She definitely was, so why not him? She leaned back into her seat. “Does everyone know about the broken taillight?” she whispered to Grace.

  Grace squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about it. Joel doesn’t bear grudges. It’ll be forgotten by morning.” She nodded to the auburn-haired man at the front. “That’s Pastor Jack, one of our ministers. We have two.”

  “Two?”

  “It’s a big church.”

  Faith leaned back in her chair, trying to blot out the nearness of the man sitting next to her. She really did need to get over this “fangirlness.” And the sooner the better.

  ~*~

  The Bible said, ‘For where two or three gather in My name, there am I with them,’ and Faith knew without a doubt God had been present tonight. She sat still letting the feeling of refreshment and exhilaration wash over her. Thank you for bringing me here tonight, Lord. I needed it. Be with that small child that Pastor Jack mentioned. Give the doctors wisdom in his treatment, and the courage his parents need to make the right decisions. It doesn't sound like there is much hope, but with You there is always hope. Work this situation for good and bring Your light to a very dark situation, so that through it You and Your light may be seen.

  A buzz of conversation started up around her, and Faith bent to pick up her bag.

  “Do you want coffee? You could meet Elliott properly.”

  She looked at her sister. “I really should go home and finish that picture, but a few more minutes won't hurt.” Getting up, she followed Grace through the crowded hall.

  Just as she reached the doorway, her heel became stuck in the grating. Faith yanked her foot upwards hard. She flew forwards, leaving her shoe behind her.

  A strong hand caught her arm. “Oops-a-daisy,” came a very familiar voice.

  Not again. Color rushed to her cheeks. The last thing she needed was to bump into him for the second time that day.

  ~*~


  Joel’s quick reactions prevented Faith from landing in a heap at his feet. He gazed into what was rapidly becoming a familiar pair of eyes. “You know, Faith, we must stop running into each other like this.”

  “Yeah, we probably should.” Faith’s face glowed an attractive shade of red.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, just embarrassed. Again. At least I’m not the one named Grace.” Something other than mortification flickered in her eyes as she struggled to control the timbre of her voice.

  “Don’t be.” He bent down, freed her shoe from the grating, and offered it to her.

  Faith slid it back on. “Thank you.”

  Concern filled him. Behind the embarrassment, he could tell she was terrified. But what was she so frightened of? Was he that scary? His reaction hadn’t been that bad earlier, had it?

  “So tell me, is bumping into people a form of greeting from the east coast?”

  His conscience tapped him again as his misplaced humor caused the color to drain from Faith’s face as she looked at him horrorstruck. Was that panic in her eyes? “E-east coast? But I didn’t…how—how do you…?” Her voice wavered and broke off.

  “You’re Grace’s sister, therefore come from the Fens like she does.”

  Faith shivered, the panic in her eyes becoming fear.

  Worry filled Joel. What had he done? “Did I say something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “No.” She cleared her throat. “No, you didn’t.”

  He inclined his head a little, not sure what was going on, but knowing something was.

  Faith slid her shaking hands into her pockets. “Your picture is almost done. You’ll have it tomorrow, no problem.”

  “I’m really looking forward to seeing it.” The mere thought of that sent a warm feeling through him. He had no idea why. He wanted nothing more to do with women. They stole your heart and betrayed you the first chance they got. But the idea of working with Faith appealed more with each passing moment. If anyone could bring his stories to life, it was her. He just hoped she’d accept his offer.

  He was used to people being either tongue tied or gushing around him, but this was something different altogether. “Am I that intimidating?” he asked, keeping his voice as non-threatening as he could.