“About eight months. I like it, but—” He stopped his flow of words, aware he nearly let something slip that was a barely formed idea in his mind.
Carrie came to a halt and looked up at him, squinting against the sun. “But?”
Rocky chewed his upper lip. His hand found the testament in his back pocket, and he ran his thumb along the top edge of the book. Carrie’s compliments, Eileen’s comment, and the verse from John seemed to point him toward accepting the idea as one he should pursue. Yet there were stumbling blocks. Big ones.
Instead of addressing Carrie’s question, he asked bluntly, “Are you a Christian?”
Those blue eyes snapped open. She tucked her hair behind her ears and nodded. “Yes. I accepted Christ about a year and a half ago, at a college crusade meeting.”
College. Rocky swallowed hard. “Then can I ask you to do something?”
She waited, her expression expectant.
“Would you pray for something? I–I have this idea. A dream, I guess, of what I’d like to do. But it’ll be tough. It’ll take some minor miracles, I think, to make it happen.”
Her soft laughter made him want to smile, too. She held her hands outward in a gesture of inquiry. “Well, what is it?”
Rocky pointed to a bench along the pathway and guided her there. They sat, and eagerness built in his chest as he finally gave voice to his thoughts. “I really like landscaping. Eileen says I have a knack, and—well, I’ve never been quite sure what I wanted to do with myself.” He scratched his head again, somewhat embarrassed. “I guess it’s not too good to finally be deciding that when I left high school behind eleven years ago, but. . . .”
Carrie’s gaze never wavered from his face. Her genuine interest gave him the confidence to continue.
“But I’ve been thinking maybe I could open my own landscaping business. Contract myself out to plan the grounds for homes and businesses.”
Carrie tipped her head. “Why do you think that will take a minor miracle to make happen?”
Rocky stretched his legs out straight and crossed his ankles. “Well, I’m sure not rolling in dough, if you know what I mean. Schooling takes money.”
Carrie seemed to stiffen suddenly, her gaze narrowing.
Rocky went on. “And I’m sure not smart enough to get those scholarships and things some people do—besides that, I’m probably too old to apply. It also takes money to get a business up and running. Advertising, tools, employees. So somehow God’s gonna have to come up with the funds. So there’s my prayer request. Would you mind praying with me, that if this is what I’m supposed to do God will make the money available?”
❧
Carrie stared hard into Rocky’s face. She felt as though a boulder had dropped into her stomach when he’d said he wasn’t “rolling in dough.” Did he know she was? Did he expect her to offer him the money? She didn’t want to think ill of Rocky—his simple prayer in the tool shed had touched her. He’d admitted to being afraid of spending time with her. She had assumed it was nervousness, but now she wondered. Did his fear stem from knowing she had the financial backing to make his dream a reality?
Oh, how she wished she could escape the Steinwood legacy of wealth! She was so tired of second-guessing people’s motives. Just once she’d like to relax, to know without any doubt the person wanted to be with her for herself, not for what she could give them.
Rocky sat silently, waiting for her response. She had to say something. “How—how much have you researched this idea?”
He grimaced. “Not a lot, I admit. It’s really a new idea. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve even talked to about it.”
“Oh, really?” Her heart constricted. Why would he choose her?
“Yeah. Maybe you can help me out some. You must be friends with the owners of Elmwood Towers since you’re filling in for the manager. Do you know whether they’d recommend me for other jobs if I started a landscaping business?”
Friends with the owner? Didn’t he know she was the owner’s stepdaughter? Or was he playing dumb, hoping to convince her to use some of Mac’s money to give him what he wanted? Confusion raced through Carrie’s head. She didn’t want to play games with Rocky. She wanted him to be honest with her. And she needed to be honest with him, so she took a big breath and confessed, “I guess you could say I’m friends with the owners. Mac Steinwood is my stepfather.”
He jerked backward so sharply he nearly fell off the bench. “You’re Caroline Steinwood?”
His shock did not seem contrived, but a part of Carrie still wondered. “You honestly didn’t know that?”
“No. I mean. . .” He shook his head then ran his hand through his hair. “We never gave our last names. Caroline Steinwood.”
“Actually Mays,” she corrected. “I go by my father’s name. Mac never adopted me.” His genuine surprise convinced her he hadn’t deliberately set out to use her influence. A sense of relief came with the realization.
“Still. . .” Rocky scooted over a few inches, putting some space between them. His breath huffed out. “Wow, I would’ve never imagined spending time with Caroline Steinwood.”
He sounded impressed. Carrie lowered her head. Now things wouldn’t be the same. Dollar signs. All he’d see would be dollar signs from here on out. She stood. “I’d probably better head for home. My folks will be expecting me.”
Rocky stood, too. He pushed his hands into his pockets. “Okay. Let’s go back to the office then.” They continued along the walking path, neither speaking, until they were nearly to the Towers. Suddenly Rocky touched her arm, bringing her to a halt. “Carrie, I really would appreciate it if you’d pray for God to make my idea happen. If it’s meant to be, I mean.”
She looked into his brown eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she could see none. She licked her lips and nodded. “I will pray for you, Rocky.”
The smile that broke across his face set her heart to thumpity-thumping. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She stepped away from his warm hand. “Maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow. I could give you some ideas on classes that would be helpful to a landscaper.”
“I knew you were the one to ask!” He socked the air, the same way he had the day he’d sprayed her with water. “Sure. Let’s have lunch in the courtyard. It’s shady there.”
Oh, how she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. Before retrieving her purse from the office, she asked, “Rocky, what’s your last name?”
“It’s Wilder. Rocky Wilder.”
Did she imagine it, or did he hesitate? She forced a smile. “Rocky Wilder.” She’d heard that name somewhere before. “Okay. Lunch in the courtyard tomorrow. But leave the watering system off, okay?”
He laughed, showing his white teeth. “You got it, Carrie. See you tomorrow.” He turned and trotted in the opposite direction across the neatly trimmed grass.
She stood for long moments, watching him, conflicting emotions at war. How her heart wanted to trust him. But her head maintained some doubt. “Lord, don’t let me be used again, please,” she begged as she finally moved toward the office. “I don’t think I could handle it this time.”
Five
Rocky stopped beside a camellia bush and used his pocket knife to slice through a stem, releasing one red bloom. He’d gotten a glimpse of Carrie through the window this morning, so he knew the flower would match the red and white pantsuit she was wearing.
He whistled as he headed for the office. Each day for the past eight days he’d delivered some sort of flowers to Carrie to put in the little vase she’d brought from home; then they had eaten lunch together in the courtyard. After today Jim would be back, which would bring an end to his daily contact with Carrie. He would miss her. His whistle faded, and he released a sad huff of breath, his shoulders slumping. He would miss her a lot.
But, he reminded himself, picking up his pace, there was still today. One more lunch. One more conversation. That was somet
hing to enjoy. He opened the door to the office and stepped through. “Hey, ready for lunch?”
Carrie rose from the desk with a smile, holding out her hand to take the blossom he offered. “Yes, I am. And thank you for the flower. It’s lovely.” She rolled the stem of the camellia between her fingers while she talked. “I brought some brownies today. They have white chocolate chunks and macadamia nuts in them, and Myrna says they’re famous at her son’s school.”
“That sounds great,” he said.
She leaned toward the vase, ready to place the camellia with yesterday’s Michaelmas daisies.
“Wait!” He took the bloom back and stepped beside her. “Here.” She’d pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail, held with a silver barrette at the base of her skull. He carefully slipped the stem of the flower into the hair behind her left ear then moved back and smiled. “Yes, that’s perfect.” The flower sat directly above her ear, bringing out the sparkle of her blue eyes. “Although I have to say, as pretty as that flower is, it pales when compared to you.”
To his delight a blush stole across her cheeks. “Rocky, really, you are such a flatterer.”
“Hey, whatever works,” he quipped with a grin. Then he shrugged. “I heard some movie hero say that to his girl, and I’ve waited for the right girl to repeat it to.”
Her blush deepened, and she pointed to the door. “Let’s go get started on lunch, huh?” She gave his shoulder a playful push, and they headed for their bench.
Once settled, Rocky said grace, feeling a little nervous about praying out loud in front of Carrie, yet good, too. They ate their sandwiches—Carrie had her favorite, tuna salad with raw spinach, and Rocky had his typical bologna and American cheese—and they shared the brownies, all the while chatting easily about anything that came to mind.
When Rocky finished the last bite of brownie, he let out a sigh of pleasure and admitted, “I’m gonna miss seeing you every day, you know? You’ve become a pretty good friend, for a girl.”
Carrie laughed. “Well, I’m not sure whether I should be insulted by that or not.”
He grinned. “You know what I mean. Doesn’t happen too often that guys and girls become friends. Usually you start talking to a girl, and she either decides she doesn’t like you and runs in the opposite direction, or she decides she likes you too much and runs after you. It’s kind of nice just to ease into things, you know? Comfortable.”
Carrie nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. It has been comfortable. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, too.”
“So.” His lips suddenly felt dry, and he rubbed them together as he gathered his courage. “What do we do now? I mean, obviously you won’t be back since Jim’s vacation is over. But—can we maybe still continue the friendship? See each other away from Elmwood Towers?” He thought his heart might pound right out of his chest while he waited for her to answer.
“Well. . .” She looked across the courtyard, as if deep in thought. “I’ll be back in school again in another few days. My course schedule is pretty taxing, Rocky, and my days are full.”
She was letting him down. His chest felt tight. She’d had her summer fling, but now it was over. He steeled himself for the rejection.
“But weekends? I work hard during the week to keep my weekends free. Maybe we could get together on a Friday or Saturday evening sometime.”
He tried not to sound too eager. “That would be great.”
She turned a smile in his direction. “I think so, too. How about a week from today? That will be my first Friday evening after starting classes. I’ll be ready for a break.”
He supposed he could last a week without seeing her. “Okay, sure.” Suddenly he scowled. “By the way, Carrie, what are you working toward—in college, I mean? You don’t talk much about yourself.”
“I have a degree in business administration and am working toward one in computer programming.” Her nonchalant tone nearly cut Rocky to the quick. “It will take me another year, probably, to finish everything up, but it will qualify me for many executive positions. My parents strongly encouraged me to be marketable.”
Did he hear some resentment in her tone? He couldn’t be sure. But he knew this—her words made him feel inadequate. Business administration. Computer programming. Executive position. Marketable. And here he sat, with his biggest dream being able to plunk plants in the ground for the rest of his life. He shouldn’t even be sitting on this bench with her, let alone pursuing a relationship beyond the confines of Elmwood Towers. Who did he think he was?
❧
Carrie watched Rocky’s demeanor change. He’d been attentive and open only a moment ago, but now he closed off. She saw his withdrawal in the way he pulled his arms inward, pressing his palms together and forcing them between his knees. She hoped he wasn’t upset that she wouldn’t be available every day. As much as she had enjoyed meeting him for lunch and chatting each day, she had to be honest with him—her college course work took up most of her week. Spending time with him on weekends seemed ideal to her, but it didn’t seem to please him. How she hoped he wouldn’t turn possessive now. She simply did not have the energy to deal with that and concentrate on her studies.
She glanced at her wristwatch. “I guess it’s almost one, isn’t it? I’d better get back to the office. I want to make sure everything is well organized so Jim won’t have any question about what I did in his absence.”
Rocky stood, crumpling his lunch sack. “I’ve got things to do, too. Eileen and I are going to bury her tulip bulbs this afternoon when the boys return.” But his voice lacked the usual enthusiasm.
Carrie swallowed hard. “Well, then—will I see you next Friday?”
“You really want to?”
She shook her head, smiling. “Rocky, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to.” The safest course, to stave off any possessiveness, would be to keep things casual. Before he could ask if he should pick her up, she suggested, “There’s a pizza place—the Ironstone—on the corner of Main and Baker Avenue. Should we meet there at seven? We can share a stone-baked pizza and a pitcher of pop.”
He offered a slow nod, and his lips tugged into a smile although his eyes remained dim. “Sure, Carrie. That sounds good.”
What should they do now? Shake hands? Hug? Carrie found herself floundering. The one thing she hadn’t felt around Rocky was awkward; yet the moment was rife with discomfort as they tried to say good-bye. Finally, in Rocky’s silence, Carrie just blurted out, “Well, I’ll see you in a week then. ’Bye, Rocky.”
His good-bye came out softly, tinged with a regret she didn’t understand. It echoed in her mind the remainder of the afternoon and tormented her on the drive home. Men! Would she ever understand them? Once home she headed to her bedroom and removed the camellia from her hair. She laid the flower on her bedside table, changed into a pair of khaki shorts and a silk tank top then flopped across her bed with her telephone in her hand. If anyone could help her make sense of Rocky’s behavior, it would be Angela Fisher.
Angela was the most well-dated friend in Carrie’s circle. She openly admitted she enjoyed the company of men, and she flitted from one to another without ever making a serious commitment. Sometimes Carrie thought Angela was an airhead, and she certainly disapproved of some of her choices, but in this case perhaps Angela could offer some advice on how to proceed with Rocky.
Angela answered her phone on the second ring with a chirpy “Hello!”
“Hi, Angela. This is Carrie.”
“Carrie!” The word nearly squealed out. “Does this mean you’re done with that job? Are you free tonight? We’re having a major gathering at my pool house—an end-of-summer bash. Want to join us?”
Carrie rolled to her back. “Probably not, although I appreciate the invitation. I’ve got some things to catch up on here at home since school is just around the corner.”
“Oh, girl, you’re too serious.” Angela’s chiding voice carried clearly t
hrough the lines. Carrie could picture the other girl’s face pinched in displeasure.
“Besides,” Carrie inserted gently, “your parties always seem to include alcohol, and I’m not comfortable with that.”
“As I said, too serious.” Angela never took anything seriously. “Okay. Don’t come. There will be plenty of action without you. So. . .what did you need?”
“Actually, some advice.” Carrie suddenly wondered at the sense of asking advice from Angela. Her opinion would surely be tainted by her own lack of Christian morals. Yet she wasn’t sure who else would have the experience Angela did when it came to dating. She proceeded cautiously. “You see, I’ve gotten acquainted with someone the past couple of weeks.”
“Ooooh, do tell!”
Carrie cringed at the undertone. “It’s nothing like that.” She stroked the petals of the camellia with her finger. “Just a friendship, really, but I’m not sure whether I should continue it.”
“So what does he do for a living?”
Of course. The roundabout way of finding out if he was rich. Carrie sucked in her breath. “He’s a gardener.” The laughter at the other end of the phone made Carrie mad. “Quit it, Angela. He’s a really nice guy.”
“Okay, okay, sorry.” The laughter stopped, but humor was still evident in her voice. “Does this gardener have a name?”
Carrie considered hanging up, but she forged onward. “Yes, he does. It’s Rocky Wilder.”
There was a shocked silence, followed by an explosion. “Rocky Wilder! Carrie, you have got to be kidding!”
Carrie frowned. What was that all about? “No, I’m not kidding. Why do you say it like that?”
“Carrie, Rocky Wilder was in my sister Audrey’s class in school.” Angela babbled so fast Carrie had a hard time catching all the words. “He was a mess with a capital M! Always creating a ruckus, picking on people, stealing things, arguing with teachers. He set the record for in-school suspensions. Honestly, Audrey was scared to death of him! He got into some real serious trouble when he was, like, thirteen or fourteen and even got sent to reform school for awhile.
That Wilder Boy Page 4
