He smiles and I steady myself against the counter.
“Sleep is overrated.” He takes a step closer.
“Sleep is necessary.” With all my strength I back up.
He moves closer. “I know you’re trying to ditch me.”
“I guess I’m not very subtle. Boundaries, remember?” I continue stepping back until there is a fair distance between us.
“I remember.” He points to the counter. “Millie may be sitting there, but I’m mentally taking pictures of you.”
“Why?”
“Everything about you is elegant. You move your arms and legs with grace. You aren’t clumsy or hesitant.”
He wouldn’t be saying those words if he could see into my jumbled mind. My crazy, mixed up thoughts regarding him would scare him away. I have to think about what’s next for me. And that doesn’t include Stephen. “I need to see if I can find a model. And a photographer. Unless you—”
“No. Wildlife only.”
“It was worth a shot.” I’m not sure whether I’m disappointed or relieved at his refusal.
“I guess Phoebe and I have caused a disturbance in your world.”
“This is your house. I’m the one doing the disturbing. I’ll just work around you.” As if that will be easy.
Stephen grabs his camera. “I’ll stay out of your way then, Cheetah.”
With those words he saunters off, leaving me standing in the kitchen alone. It’s only when I feel the urge to sink to the ground in an emotional heap do I realize how wound up I become when Stephen is around.
WATCHING THE SUN rise should be a beautiful experience. But since I haven’t slept all night, it’s kind of a foggy-state-of-mind experience. I left the confines of my bedroom about a half hour ago in search of something to drink, when the hues of brilliant orange and yellow making a perfect backdrop for the early morning clouds caught my attention.
Forgetting all about my thirst, I walked outside, entranced by the sunrise. Without thinking, I cushioned myself into a comfortable position on a love seat. For the last few minutes I’ve been looking at the sky, pushing myself out of the work mode I’d been in all night. Now I’m letting my mind wander at will.
Not worrying about my future, and not regretting my past, I rest in the moment. I’m not letting right now be scary. I’m not letting right now be uncertain and weird and unfamiliar.
I’m letting right now be good. All right. Steady.
But steady, all right and good shatter in one blink. As my eyelids open, in a sleep-deprived motion, my vision of the sunrise is replaced by Stephen.
“Morning, Cheetah.”
I smile. “More like goodnight.”
“Haven’t slept?”
“No. Not really.”
“Restless night?” His voice is husky like he might have just crawled out of bed.
And Stephen crawling out of bed is an image I can’t stay focused on.
My mind would race back to the events of last night if it weren’t so tired. Still, visions of the clothing items, the new designs I tried to create, flash through my mind. “It was.”
“I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep either. Do you mind?” He points to the small empty space next to me.
I swallow as I nod, my body bracing for his nearness.
In the same movement as he sits, he reaches over and pushes my hair away from the front of my face and tucks it behind my ear. “Beauty should never be hidden.”
I’m not beautiful anymore.
Being around Stephen tones down the mantra, but it’s still there.
He sets Millie on his lap.
I try not to envy Millie.
I can’t believe that thought entered my mind. This is why it is dangerous to be around Stephen.
Much better to have a befuddled mind from no sleep than a befuddled mind from too much Stephen. And I’m quickly learning that any Stephen qualifies as too much Stephen.
“Amazing sunrise.” Stephen puts Millie to his eye. I hear the clicking sound of the shutter as he snaps pictures.
As long as Millie is not focused on me, I’m good.
“Wanna learn?”
“Learn what?”
“How to capture beauty through a view finder.”
My first inclination is to refuse. But from nowhere comes this thought that if both he and I are behind the camera, I won’t be in front of the camera. And I do have to have those items of clothing photographed once I find someone who will wear them. It wouldn’t hurt to practice on a sunrise. “Sure, I’ll try.”
He holds Millie out in front of me. “Go ahead.”
As he hands over Millie, I can’t help but think how he’s handing over his heart.
His world.
To me.
Yes, I’m probably overdramatizing this exchange, but being awake almost twenty-four straight hours has its drawbacks.
I put the viewfinder to my eye. My left hand wraps around the lens, and I turn it left and then back a little right, trying to focus. Satisfied with the view, I click the button.
The familiar it’s-how-I-make-my-living sound reverberates through my being.
But in a totally different vein.
It’s like my insides have burst to life. Like the blood in my veins is no longer a small stream, trickling its way to the mouth of a lazy river. No, it’s like waves surging to the shore, drenching the sand, soaking into every corner of life they can find, thriving on what they’re meant to do. Shape the sand.
Change the shoreline.
Yeah, that’s how I’m feeling inside.
My hands tremble at the intensity of this recognition.
“Did you get a good shot?”
“I’m not sure.” The three words are all I can muster.
“Let me look.”
As he takes the camera, his hand covers mine, his warmth only serving to fuel this raging storm within me. He has no idea what he has unleashed, and I’m not going to tell him.
“Wow.” His voice holds a hint of excitement. “This is brilliant. I think you have a natural eye.”
His compliment wants to embed itself into my being, but I brush it away with a note that it’s flattery, plain and simple. “Thanks.”
“Seriously. What stands out to you about this?”
He nestles close to me, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. His hair touches mine as he invades my space with the most casual air about him, oblivious to the tornado of feelings he stirs in me.
With shallow breathing, lest I breathe in too much Stephen, I look at the screen.
I see a sunrise. And since that’s what I took a picture of I think it’s a good thing. I see nothing brilliant about it except its own brilliance. Nothing I caused. “It’s a sunrise. Um, that’s all I see.”
“I know the screen is small, but look close. Toward the top. The super-intensified golden color at the top of those clouds. It’s gone now, but you captured that moment in time forever.”
His tone has ramped up my excitement a notch, and I didn’t think that was possible.
I peer closer, blinking rapidly to focus.
“Here.” He pushes some buttons zooming in toward the top of the picture.
A small gasp escapes as I see what he’s talking about. I lift my gaze and look to the sky and see clouds void of the golden icing I captured in the photo. “I think it was luck.”
“Cheetah, I think I have severe control issues when I’m around you.”
I turn my head to look at him and quickly realize what a mistake I’ve made. His lips are right there, magnets drawing me in. As his lips touch mine, it comes to my attention that I don’t remember what life was like before his kisses.
Before I knew lips could be so soft, their touch so demanding yet gentle in a please-don’t-break kind of way. Boldly, I run my hand through his hair. It feels silky, like I thought it would. I’m amazed at how right and unreal his kiss feels.
“Mr. Stephen, are you kissing Miss Jenny?”
BLESSED
AS STEPHEN ABRUPTLY ends our kiss, my mind registers Phoebe’s voice. Her insight once again amazes me. That child sees more than anyone I know.
I ditch her question. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“Sure. Was Mr. Stephen kissing you?”
Might as well answer, although she already knows. But she’s not going to let this go. “Yes. A short kiss and it’s over now.”
Stephen nods his head as he stands, taking Millie with him. “I need to get ready for church. Roger and Celine will be here shortly.”
My insides groan. How likely is it that I’ll be able to crawl in my bed and sleep while all the church people are here?
“Do you need to get ready too, Miss Jenny?”
Not likely.
But I knew that. Really I did. The minute Stephen mentioned the church here, deep in my gut I knew I would be attending. The deep in my gut feeling wasn’t a bad feeling, it was a strong feeling.
And that feeling doesn’t dissipate as I walk with Phoebe into the house to fix her breakfast. As in cereal. Stephen follows, but heads down the hall.
“You two really like each other, don’t you, Miss Jenny?”
I know I have to answer her. “He’s okay. Do you want Fruit Loops?”
“Yes. I’m glad you think he’s okay. My mommy says he’s really nice and he’s thoughtful of others. I think Prince Jonah is thoughtful of others, too, don’t you think?”
No sleep combined with Stephen’s kisses equal a not-so-swift-thinking me. But after a couple of moments, our imaginary prince rears his head in my mind. “Yes. I’m sure of it.”
“Good. Because I think he’s going to be thoughtful toward Princess Bea.”
“Yes, he will.”
I slide the bowl of cereal in front of Phoebe who sits on the stool at the island. The stool I was sitting in when I blurted out the untruth about Stephen and I being engaged, which I have to admit has landed me in a mess.
A beautiful mess if I think on Stephen’s kisses. But a total mess in all other aspects.
Church. Seriously?
Don’t get me wrong. God’s okay, even though I’m not sure about the role He had in my surgery. I have nothing against church, but this is going to be a small group of people who all know each other. I’ll be the “new” person.
It’s going to be awkward.
Never mind I haven’t been to church in quite a while. I remember books of the Bible, but other than the names of some of them, I can’t remember too much content.
“You’ll be okay if I go get ready, right?” I ask Phoebe.
“Sure. I’ll be fine. Get all prettied up for Mr. Stephen.”
Prettied up? She has no idea how impossible that is.
AS I HEAD DOWN the hall to the entrance to the former garage-now church, I hear the buzz of conversation. My heels sound off my steps on the tiled floor as I timidly approach the door.
I’ve pulled my hair back in a ponytail, something I haven’t done since the surgery. I have no idea where this confidence came from.
Taking a step inside the room, I square my shoulders and smile.
A smile which I forcefully keep plastered upward as all conversation ceases. Seriously, it’s like a B movie come to life.
Why didn’t I at least bring a purse? Something to latch onto, hold, anything that I could focus my attention on besides the faces staring back at me.
Faces that belong to bodies clad in jeans, T-shirt, shorts. Nobody, but nobody, is wearing a dress.
Even Phoebe has on her jeans and pink pullover she wore this morning.
Why didn’t I ask about the dress code? Don’t people dress up for church anymore?
“Jenny.” Stephen walks to me. “You look amazing. Especially the shoes.”
In a horribly failed attempt at humor, I had slipped on my cheetah-patterned platform pumps. In my defense, they do match my dress. The definitive word here being dress. I feel like I’m on the runway. And I feel more naked than if I were wearing only my underwear.
“Thank you. It appears I’m a little overdressed.”
“Nonsense. God loves us however we dress. Come with me. I want to introduce you to my uncle and his wife.”
He nods his head toward a small group of people. Then, in an unexpected move, he takes my hand in his.
He makes some introductions as we approach people. Then we are standing in front of a man almost as handsome as Stephen, but not quite. The woman standing next to him is stunning in her skinny jeans, silver and white striped top, and black flat boots.
“This is my Uncle Roger and his wife Celine. This is Jenny Harris. My house guest.”
Roger smiles and gives me a hug. Celine follows. They seem extra happy or something. They can’t quit smiling, and I’m wondering about this God thing. Does He really give people this much joy?
“It’s nice to meet you, Jenny. We’re glad you could join us today.” Roger’s voice is strong like Stephen’s. And he’s tilting his head a little, like he wants to say more, but doesn’t.
“I’m glad I can be here.” And right now, I am glad. I’m still exhausted and my brain still feels fogged, but the atmosphere of this room and these people has lifted some of my tiredness. Maybe some of their joy is contagious and by simply breathing it will come to me.
Roger points to the entrance. “Stephen. There’s Brett Hamilton. He and his gal, Ann, are getting married next weekend. In the gazebo. I have the honor of marrying them.”
Stephen nods. “I saw an invitation when I went through my mail. I haven’t seen Brett in a while and I’ve never met Ann, so I’m going to go say hello. Jenny?” He tilts his head, indicating he wants me to accompany him.
“Nice meeting you two.”
Roger starts shuffling some papers. “Likewise.”
Stephen doesn’t take my hand this time, but he does place his hand on my shoulder, as if I need guidance to maneuver across the room. We have to slip by a few people, as the space is tight, and the people are many.
“Brett.” Stephen shakes Brett’s hand. “Long time.”
“Hey, there. It’s been a while. Are you home for the holidays?”
Stephen laughs. “Sort of.”
Brett places his hand on the shoulder of the woman standing next to him. “This is my fiancée, Ann. Ann, Stephen Day, Roger’s nephew, and I’m afraid I don’t know the lady.”
“Nice to meet you, Ann. This is Jenny Harris.” Stephen speaks my name like he’s proud to introduce me.
We all kind of say hi at the same time. Ann is looking at me in a strange way. Not bad strange, more like puzzled strange. Handsome, well built Brett, only has eyes for Ann, his gaze rarely leaving her.
I can see why Brett keeps his focus on Ann. She’s beautiful with her red hair and green eyes. Her smile is warm.
The fog begins to lift as I take Ann in from her feet to the top of her head. Her build, her look. It says SunKissed! My tired brain springs to life and energy buzzes through me.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but don’t you model for Simply Midnight?” Ann’s voice is hesitant.
I might as well get used to this question. I’m sure it’s not the last time I’ll be asked. “I used to.” Even though I keep my answer short, I feel compelled to divulge more. But I squelch that urge as I’m overtired and most assuredly becoming more dramatic by the minute. Especially since I found my model.
Seriously.
“Well, I’m a fan. It’s very nice to meet you.” Ann nestles in closer to Brett, and I mentally frame a photograph.
I find myself smiling. “Thank you.”
“Cheetah, you’ll always have fans.”
Stephen’s arm has slid off my shoulder and now nestles on my lower back. His hand cups my hip in a possessive way. I find myself comfortable with these people thinking I’m his.
But I can’t keep from thinking about Ann and my clothing line.
Brett looks at Stephen. “Since you’re in town, I hope you can make it to our wedding next week
end. Especially since it’s practically in your front yard.”
“Yeah. I’ll be there. And I’ll be bringing a guest.”
“Jenny Harris is going to be at my wedding?” Ann asks, in a whispered tone.
That’s the question I was ready to ask.
“Jenny Harris will be at your wedding.” Stephen moves closer to me.
Thinking about how I can convince her to model my clothing, I agree. Then I remember Phoebe. “I will, as long as we can bring Phoebe. We can’t leave her alone.”
“Phoebe is more than welcome.” Brett’s gaze scans the room. “Where’s Teresa?”
Stephen quickly explains the situation regarding the accident in Mexico.
“That’s terrible news. We’ll be praying for her family.”
“Thanks.” Stephen looks toward Roger. “It looks like we’re about to get started. We better find a seat.”
People have started toward the folding chairs that are leaning against a wall. Stephen grabs one for each of us. There appears to be no rhyme or reason to where anyone is sitting. Except that everyone is facing Stephen’s uncle.
Stephen motions for me to sit, our chairs close together. The soft cushions make them more comfortable than I had imagined.
I look around for Phoebe. She’s sitting with a group of girls who look to be teenagers.
And she told me she didn’t have any friends.
Even though the girls are older than she is, they seem to have taken her under their wing.
Like Stephen has taken me under his.
Like I want to take Ann under mine.
Brett and Ann are sitting on the other side of Stephen. I have to stop myself from staring at them. Everything about them shouts “we’re in love.” Thinking back on my life and relationships, I’m not sure anyone would have ever looked at me and any of my boyfriends and thought those words.
Roger has strapped on a guitar, and Celine and another woman, whose name I can’t remember, stand up by Roger. A teenaged boy sits behind a single drum. Words appear on the wall to the right of them, and Roger starts playing. The trio starts singing and everyone, including me, stands. A young guy manages the computer, keeping the words moving on the wall.
These people sing loud, and I find my toes starting to wiggle in my cheetah-print shoes. A couple of people put their hands in the air. The drumbeat of the music has a cool sound to it, and I can see why people are so moved.
Rich in Hope (Richness in Faith Trilogy Book 2) Page 9
