Rich in Hope (Richness in Faith Trilogy Book 2)

by Lindi Peterson

  I smile, shaking my head left to right. Go with me, here, I mouth.

  No, no, no.

  Not being able to help myself, I burst out laughing.

  “Jenny, huh? Do I know you? You look familiar.” Gary’s voice is loud. Like, since he can’t see me, he feels the need to shout so I can hear him.

  “No.” Knowing me and seeing my picture in a magazine or on television are two different things.

  “Oh, okay.”

  My heart can’t beat any faster, so I hope my words don’t come out sounding shaky. “But you probably will soon. I’m Stephen’s fiancée.”

  BEGINNING

  I CAN’T TELL who’s choking louder, Gary or Stephen.

  “Fiancée?” They both say the word at the same time, but I’m hoping Gary is too overwhelmed to hear Stephen’s voice.

  “Stephen.” Gary sounds triumphant. “There you go again, trying to play it cool. Why didn’t you say something? This certainly changes the situation.”

  I have no idea what the situation truly is, but it looks like I was helpful. Now, if I can only convince Stephen that having me around for a little while will be to his benefit, things should work out fine for both of us.

  “I’m speechless, Gary. I don’t know what to say.”

  Stephen may not know what to say, but if looks could kill, I’d be sprawled across the tiled floor, dead.

  “Don’t worry about it, son. You’ve held out for a long time, waiting on the right one, I assume.”

  It worked. He’s happy. Stephen watches me mouth the words then shakes his head.

  I thought my words would relieve some of his tension, but they appear to have the opposite effect.

  “Gary,” Stephen steps back into the camera’s view. “The reality is—”

  “It’s fantastic is what it is.” Gary’s voice booms over the speaker. “Alice, honey, come here. Congratulate Stephen. He’s engaged.”

  Sorry. I shrug my shoulders aware of how uncomfortable this exchange might be. Women always want to go on and on about engagements and weddings.

  “What, honey?” Gary’s voice continues. “Okay. I will. Alice is in the middle of something, but she says she’ll congratulate you tomorrow when we see you.”

  I’m sure the color is now draining from my face. My face which moments ago was the recipient of Stephen’s touch.

  “See me?” Stephen stammers.

  “Yes. Alice and I are headed north for Christmas. We were going to stop by on our way out of town. Now, with this bit of news, we’ll have a celebration.”

  “You live on the Gulf. I live on the Atlantic. I’m not exactly on your way north.”

  “What’s going a couple of hours out of the way between friends? Besides, we need to talk about the Zaunesia situation.”

  “Seriously, Gary, we aren’t, um—”

  “Aren’t what? Expecting company? I’m sure you weren’t. We won’t stay long. We’ll be there for lunch, then hit the road.”

  I absolutely don’t cook. I’m sure my fear shows in my eyes as I mouth the words.

  Stephen’s expression is one of pure revenge. “Great. Jenny loves to cook. She’ll be happy to make you guys lunch.”

  My mouth opens in disbelief.

  Gary laughs. “This will give us the perfect opportunity to manage the Zaunesia situation and firm up your itinerary for next year. Now, Alice needs my help. We’ll see you tomorrow, probably around noon. Jenny, take care of this guy. Looking forward to meeting you. Bye.”

  And with that, the funneling sound of Skype being disconnected fills the kitchen. Stephen clicks the mouse, and his screensaver, a beautiful tiger, fills the space Gary’s face just left.

  I start biting my fingernails wondering how much trouble I’ve just caused.

  A lot according to Stephen’s expression.

  “You need to give me one very good reason why you lied to my boss.”

  Lied?

  I did lie, but it didn’t feel like lying at the time. It felt like helping somebody out of a bad situation. “I was trying to help.”

  Stephen crosses his arms as if his rigid stance doesn’t exude enough irritation. “Help who?”

  My bank account balance floats in my mind. Deflates is more like it. But Stephen can’t deny he was in some sort of trouble with Gary.

  Still might be.

  “Help you. And it would have been fine except your boss is actually coming here. That was unexpected.”

  “You blurting out the words ‘I’m his fiancée,’ now that was unexpected. I can’t believe this.”

  The warmness of the room is unbearable. My hand becomes a makeshift fan, but doesn’t cool my face. The more I think about Stephen’s touch, the warmer it becomes. “Your boss seemed to like it.”

  He shakes his head. “Gary’s old-school. He’s been married thirty-years and counting.” He downs the rest of his coffee before placing the cup in the stainless-steel sink. “Follow me.”

  I follow him to the foyer, where he lifts my suitcases once again. One in each hand. Nice. Looking at his muscles will never become old.

  I’m right behind him as he walks down the hall, then maneuvers my luggage through the doorway directly across from the room he’s staying in.

  I step into the room which is nicely decorated in a combination of white and earthy colors. I try not to focus on the huge mirror hanging above the dresser, and try to focus on the fact that it appears he’s letting me stay.

  “You never called a cab, did you?” He places my luggage on the bed.

  I’ve already lied once today, so I shouldn’t lie again.

  “No. I didn’t—”

  “Skip it. It’s really not important anymore, is it?”

  I set my sweater and purse next to my luggage. “Maybe not to you. But for me, yes. Coming here was supposed to be the beginning of a new life.”

  Life in uncharted territory.

  “You’ve started a new life, all right. You’ve started one for me as well. One I don’t particularly want. But since Gary is coming here tomorrow, you can stay tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And when he gets here you can tell him the truth.”

  I swallow hard, the full impact of my words hitting home. The flip side? I have a little over twenty-four hours to convince Stephen I need to stay until the first of the year.

  “And this room is void of all men’s underwear, I promise.”

  His attempt at humor almost makes me forget about the huge mirror on the wall. The piece of reflective glass that screams “you’re not beautiful anymore.”

  I may be pushing my luck, but right now I don’t care. “Can you take the mirror down, please?”

  He turns, looks at the mirror, then turns back to me. “That mirror?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you’re trying to give me a workout, I’ve already run five miles and your suitcases weren’t exactly light.”

  As much as I like looking at his well-muscled arms, I wish that’s all my request had to do with. I point to my face. “I don’t like mirrors right now. Okay?”

  My hopelessness regarding my situation hasn’t struck him yet. How can body-face beautiful relate to what I’m feeling? He has no idea what it took to climb where I was only to now have it taken away.

  He closes his eyes for a moment. A strange expression comes over his face as a strange sensation runs through me. This moment is like nothing I have experienced before.

  At the same time his eyes open, my sensation slowly flutters away. Stephen, not taking his eyes off me, steps backwards until he reaches the dresser. With a look of resignation he turns and lifts the mirror off the wall like I would lift a strand of hair off my shirt.

  Effortlessly.

  “Welcome to your new life, soon-to-be Mrs. Day.” His words are whispered as he walks by me, leaving me standing in the wake of all his masculinity and the mess I’ve created.

  ONE THING STEPHEN Day has done for me is given me something else to focus on. M
y thoughts haven’t been away from my scarred cheek for this long since it all went down.

  I’m not sure if this is a good or bad thing.

  After Stephen left the room this morning, I slept for awhile. I feel much more rested this afternoon, and incredibly amazed at the stunt I pulled this morning. As fun and innocent as it seemed at the time, I, now the possessor of coherent thoughts, cringe at what might take place tomorrow when Gary and Alice arrive.

  Dealing with that will take some thought, and I can’t lose sight of why I came here.

  Yet, my sight doesn’t want to veer from the rogue photographer who managed to get booted from a foreign country, which made his boss unhappy, which caused me to try and make the situation better.

  It’s the middle of the afternoon, and I’m lying on a chaise lounge in shorts and a tank top. The lounge chair sits under the covered part of the terrace, which suits me just fine. No sun on this body. I’m really proud of my pearly-white complexion. Along with my amber-colored eyes, it’s my trademark.

  Or was, rather.

  Now I have a whole new trademark.

  Stephen is a few feet away from me, pulling stray leaves, apparently dead ones, off potted plants sitting on the terrace. The water from the lap pool ripples as a breeze kicks up, causing everything on the terrace to come to some sort of life.

  I fight to keep my hair off my face.

  Maybe I should further explain to him why I came here. I’m not sure it will diffuse the tension, but it might smooth things over a little.

  Somehow I know if I try to be anything but honest, Stephen will know. He’s not the kind of guy you blow smoke at. I won’t be able to string clever words together to form an explanation simply to pacify him.

  So I don’t.

  “My plan was to hide out here for Christmas.” I look at him as I speak wondering what his reaction will be.

  He stops pruning to look at me. “Hide out? From who? Family? Boyfriend?”

  Talk about sore subjects. “Family is in Scotland for the holidays. Boyfriend is dumped.”

  There are more plants at the other end of the terrace surrounding a pergola, but he works his way toward me. “So you’re basically hiding from yourself?”

  “As much as I’d like to, I can’t hide from myself.” He’s so focused, I can’t help but watch him.

  His intense gaze as he peruses the plants.

  His gentle touch as he parts the stems.

  His preciseness as he plucks the dead leaves.

  He walks over to me, his fist full of the brittle, brown leaves. “See these?”

  “Yes.”

  He points to the plant. “The plant is alive. Almost everything about it is healthy, able to withstand disease, full of life. Just a few pesky leaves weren’t as hearty.”

  “And we’re going over Biology 101 because?”

  “Observing. Sometimes I feel the need to pluck unhealthy leaves from my life.”

  I wonder if one of his unhealthy leaves is a beautiful daughter of an unhappy king half way across the world. Or are his unhealthy leaves more internal.

  I guess if they are internal they wouldn’t be called leaves. They’d be called seeds.

  At least his gaze is focused on the leaves in his hand and not on me. His intensity reminds me of work. When a photographer became that intense, it became extremely hard to please them. I need to stay away from intense right now. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with glossing over the harsh truth of reality until you are fully ready to face the facts, is there?

  The sound of a door opening causes me to look up. Teresa walks out.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Stephen shakes his head. “I’m good.”

  “Me, too. But thanks for asking.”

  She nods. “Okay. But let me know if you change your mind.”

  “Thank you.”

  I watch her walk away, her nurse white shoes not making a sound.

  So formal for a man like Stephen Day.

  Not that I’d expect his housekeeper to be running around in short cut-offs and spaghetti-strapped tops, but initially Stephen seemed much more laid back than mandating the standard housekeeping attire.

  Now watching and listening to him I feel somewhat enlightened regarding the renegade photographer.

  I have more insight into the brother of my best friend.

  Former best friend.

  Somehow I think my peaceful holiday getaway isn’t going to be peaceful at all.

  Of course, part of that is my doing.

  “What are your interests?” Stephen asks. “What are you passionate about?”

  “When I became laid up because of the scar fiasco, I started designing clothing. I’ve always had a passion for designing but have been too busy modeling over the last few years to pursue it.”

  “So, Jenny is a designer as well?”

  “Not yet. I drew some sketches and had a friend make some samples.”

  “Nice.” He sits on the chair next to me with a serious I’m-not-messing-around kind of look about him. His sandaled foot digs at a discolored spot on the pool deck. Like he can scuff it away with a few swipes of his sandal.

  I have to stay in my lounging position. To sit up like Stephen would make for an awkward situation as our knees would be touching, or I’d have to maneuver the chaise a couple of feet, which I’m not doing. “It is nice, except now I have this line of clothing, SunKissed!, sitting in the suitcase. They’re not helping me in there. I need my line photographed and my portfolio in the hands of Dominick Redding before the end of the year. Now that Katherine has ditched me, I need a new plan.”

  “I’m glad to hear you know you need a plan. A plan more aspiring than being my wife, as flattering as that is.”

  “My impulsive, now somewhat regrettable actions were not meant to flatter. They were meant to help.”

  His jaw is set like he means business, and I’m sure he does. He reaches toward a chair and grabs a camera. He places the strap around his neck and now the big, black professional-looking camera rests against his chest.

  The camera.

  My friend or foe?

  “What else is there to know about the woman I’m supposed to have given up all other women for?”

  “That I could use a break right now.”

  “I know the feeling.” Stephen fiddles with a couple of buttons on the camera.

  His tone sounds dejected. Maybe I can help him out. “We could just hang out, you know. I could tell Gary I jumped the gun on the engagement, but we can appear united.”

  “United?” His expression is doubtful.

  “It might give you that break you need with Gary. And we won’t be lying.”

  He cocks his head like he’s considering my solution. “We are hanging out, I guess.”

  I look away and shrug my shoulders, like this isn’t thrilling me. But it’s thrilling me.

  “Truce, Cheetah?”

  I shiver at his use of the nickname. Somehow it doesn’t irritate like it did a few hours ago. I close my eyes and smile. “Truce.”

  Click.

  The familiar sound of a camera clicks. The sound that previously brought cash into the bank is now foreign.

  Invasive.

  Scary.

  I’m praying that Stephen Day did not take my picture.

  BLIND

  DARE I ASK?

  Every nerve in my body tenses. Chills run down my arms as I open my eyes.

  I need to make a stand here and now. “Please tell me you didn’t take a picture of me. I’m off limits as far as your camera is concerned. Understand?”

  He looks at me, his expression bold. “I’m naturally attracted to beauty that can make some people uncomfortable. I see beyond the surface of an image. It’s how I make my living.”

  Furious, I sit up, facing away from Stephen. I had started to think he was kind of cool, but now he’s just plain cold. I look around for my flip-flops. I’d like to think I’m irritated because my lounging ti
me is cut short, but I know Stephen’s lack of compassion is the real reason for my irritation.

  “I didn’t take your picture.”

  I give up my search, my mind swirling in many directions. Am I so caught up in myself that I automatically jump to conclusions? “Thank you.”

  Now it’s awkward. I’m sitting here, my back to him, half-ready to bolt. Bolt to nowhere, I might add.

  And it appears I’ve lost my shoes.

  “Want to see what captured my attention?”

  Nudging away the part of me that wants to wonder but truly knows why I didn’t capture his attention, the grateful part of me responds. “Sure.”

  In one fluid, graceful movement, he literally steps over the lounge chair to sit next to me.

  Pulling the camera strap over his head, he pushes some buttons on the camera. When he finally shows me the screen, all I see is a long, green creature. My skin starts to feel prickly, and I look around, pulling my feet off the tiled terrace for a moment. “Where is that thing?”

  “That thing is an anole and it was climbing that tree on the other side of the pool.”

  “I don’t like bugs.”

  “An anole is not a bug. It’s a reptile.”

  His tone says I should know this. His wink says it’s okay that I don’t.

  “Yeah. Those too. I’m not a fan. At all. It crawls, and it’s ugly.”

  “Remember, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Don’t judge so quickly.”

  Easy for someone who looks like he does to say.

  After the realization that the crawly thing is not a threat, I settle my feet back onto the patio.

  I’m also extremely aware of Stephen’s proximity.

  His arm brushes mine briefly as he holds the camera up again for me to see the screen.

  “Look.” He zooms in on the green face. “Look at his eye. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

  “His? How do you know it’s a guy nole?”

  “Anole. The colors and the markings differ between males and females.”

  “Oh. There is nothing about a lizard that will ever be considered fascinating to me.”

  Stephen frowns. “There’s a bigger picture here. It’s more than a lizard.”

  More than a lizard?

  A stirring inside compels me, almost against my will, to look at his camera screen once again. I find myself mesmerized by the intricate green scales. The five-toed webbed foot looks like it effortlessly holds its position on the limb.