Betwixt Two Hearts (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Several times, Heath could have sworn her eyes were on him. Nerves tightened themselves until he feared one or more would snap, and the noise of the room bowed over them until they screamed in protest. Still, he read, marked places that needed further follow up, and forced himself to make a list of potential guests to invite to purchase tickets. He’d get on the phone in the morning.

  Vickie stopped to fill his coffee and whispered, “I think she’s texting someone. I also think she’s almost ready to go.”

  That’s all it took. Heath pulled out cash, left it on the table, and reminded himself to pull money from his furnishings account to cover the sudden drain on his entertainment budget. “Thanks. I owe you. I’ll be back.”

  “Hopefully with her,” she whispered. “Jordan’s the nicest girl. I don’t know why she’s still single.”

  “Maybe she prefers it,” he mused.

  As he passed her table again, he nodded. She hardly acknowledged it. Yes!

  There was no sight of her car on the square. A jog to the parking lot behind The Fox found it empty save the beat-up, green Charger that had been there every time he’d come. Up side streets… down again. Nothing. A last-minute thought sent him racing to the church—and in a circuitous route when he saw her just ahead of him.

  With each footfall, he tried to form a coherent thought—something that would strike the kind of cord he meant to without making him sound pathetic and desperate. He found it just as he reached the car. The sounds of clunky heels—probably boots, he imagined—barely reached his ears, but they grew closer and closer.

  Heath pulled pen and sticky note from his pocket and scribbled, I’ve never met someone so naturally lovely. A moment later, with footsteps clearly approaching and growing louder with every second, he thought of another one. His hands shook as he scrawled even faster. He’d just capped the pen when her voice called out, “Hey! What are you doing?”

  One hand slapped the sticky note to her window beside the first, and the other waved before he took off at a brisk walk. When the sounds of pounding footprints approached, he glanced back, ready to take off at a run. However, she stopped beside her car and peered at the notes.

  A moment later, her voice rang out, “Who are you?”

  Every bit of him insisted it was a bad idea, but Heath couldn’t resist. “Just someone who hopes for a chance to get to know you better… someday.”

  Only one person in her life had ever dealt with letters on a regular basis. While her “admirer” only left the briefest of notes, it was the closest she could come to anyone knowing what to think of it. So, on her way home, Jordan called. “Hey, Michal. Look, I have a situation to run by you. Do you have a minute?”

  Considering how brief each non-encounter had been, it took just about that minute to share it all. “What do you think? Sweet? Creepy? Safe? Should I have chased him? Demanded he stop and let me know who he is?”

  “I think it’s sweet, definitely. And totally romantic. Safe? I don’t know. Of course, if it isn’t safe, sweet and romantic go out the window. I’d want someone around just in case he’s not, but he seems to be pretty out there and public if he involves other people in it. That’s not like black roses on your doorstep or anything.”

  Michal had a point. In a place like Fairbury, anyone could probably tell him where she lived—or at least the name of one or more of her clients. “So, what do I do? Do I try to find him? Wait for him to be ready to reveal himself? I mean, I think—I’m pretty sure, anyway—that he was in The Diner with me the whole time. He left about ten minutes before me, but he was at my car when I got there. I don’t know what took so long.”

  “Might indicate that he didn’t know where your car was.”

  Jordan hadn’t thought of that. How would he know she’d decided to walk off the day’s heavy meals and dessert? “Good point.”

  “Look, don’t be stupid, but if you are enjoying this, then so what? Just don’t agree to meet in a creepy abandoned barn with chainsaws hanging in the doorway, okay?”

  “Well, I’d have to buy a white nightgown first, wouldn’t I?”

  “True…” Michal’s laughter—always so infectious. “And it’s too cold for that right now. Do white robes count?”

  “Not unless you’re racist idiots.”

  As Jordan pulled into her drive, Michal added one more suggestion. “Talk to your mom. She has years of dealing with all kinds of guys—both in personal relationships and at work. She might see something I’m missing, but I just want to know what happens next. So maybe I’m not the one to ask, you know?”

  “I’ll call her now. Thanks, Mickey. And let’s hang out soon. I miss you.”

  “Carol agrees—insists we get together after Valentine’s Day.”

  “Deal. Hey, do you want tickets to that Whitgate Valentine’s Ball? I won some, but my clients can’t go.”

  “Sorry… already have plans.” Michal threw out a few other names and retrieved them just as quickly. “Nope. I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t already have plans.”

  Except me. The thought startled her into an abrupt disconnect. “Since when do I even care about Valentine’s Day? It’s just a guilt-producing…” Nope. For the first time in her life, Jordan couldn’t convince herself that she didn’t care about being alone on the romance holiday of the year.

  Shower, teeth, cozy PJs… Jordan waited until she’d snuggled into bed and had the lights out, ready to go to sleep, before ordering Siri to call her mother. For once, Mom picked up on the first ring. “Did he strike again?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “It’s Wednesday. He knows you go to church. He did it last week, so…”

  It made sense. Wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, Jordan closed her eyes and related the events of the night. “So, on the first note—I think it was part of a carry-out box from The Diner. It had the logo and everything. Anyway, it said, ‘It took some doing, but I found out you enjoy cherry pie from The Diner. There’s a piece and coffee waiting for you whenever you feel like it. I hope you’ll enjoy it tonight, though.’ I went in case it meant he’d say hi.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  Something in her mother’s tone sent panic waves through her. “How do you know this stuff?”

  “Because if he did, you would have led off with, “I met the guy!”

  Mom had a point. “Anyway, I am pretty sure I saw him. He looked my way a couple of times. I wasn’t suspicious because he didn’t look away. Just nodded and went back to work on some papers he had with him. But he had a beard. So did the guy at The Grind. Actually, there’s something familiar about him.”

  “Familiar how?” Her mother answered the question before Jordan could respond. “Oh, well You’d know him. At least a little. I mean, he knows enough about you to know your name and where to find you. Do you think he’s a local?”

  Jordan admitted that she assumed as much. “He has to know me or someone who does. When I got done and walked back to the church, he was at my car.”

  “At your car!”

  “You think that’s creepy?”

  In the darkness of her room, with only faint moonlight peeking in through the window, her mother’s voice sounded extra loud over the speakerphone. “Probably not, no. He’s letting you see him. That makes sense. I just didn’t think he’d do it this soon. So why was he there if he didn’t introduce himself.”

  “He left two notes. One said I’m, and I quote, ‘lovely.’ The other said that one of the most wonderful things about freckles is that compared to the general population, it’s rare to have them, so that makes them beautiful and valuable. This guy likes freckles.”

  Her mother recommended keeping her car in a more public place in the future. “I doubt it matters in a place like Fairbury, but you can’t be too careful.”

  “I thought that, too, but I doubt he’d have stood there writing notes if it hadn’t been. Since it all turned out, I’m glad I didn’t.” She swallowed hard and added, “So… would it be cra
zy to leave him a note next week? ‘Dear Freckle Freak—’”

  “Don’t call him a freak!”

  “Joke, Mom. Deep breath… ‘Dear Freckle Freak. Thanks for keeping my sweet tooth fed and my veins flowing with caffeine. Can you leave a longer note next time? Tell me a little more about you?’”

  Silence. Somewhere, a cat yowled. Jordan threw back the covers and cursed that cat with chasing dogs for getting her out of bed. Still, all the way to the back door to see if she could convince it to come in, her mother still didn’t say a word. “Mom?”

  “I’m thinking. Do it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Oh, and do you want to be my plus one at the gala? Ron can’t go. Business trip. On Valentines’ week. Yay for our marriage.”

  Her mother might complain, but Jordan heard it. Relief. Ann Weik loved her husband, but Ron was just rough enough around the edges to make important social occasions awkward for her. “You’ll survive. Do something special for him when he gets back. And if I don’t have a date, I’ll go. But I’ll have to borrow one of your dresses. I can’t afford something appropriate for that thing.”

  Sleep consumed Jordan almost before she said goodnight. Dreams swept her in the arms of one of the guests at the gala… arms that belonged to a semi-faceless man with a beard… and freckles.

  Heath's text message came through minutes before Selby stepped into the library.

  Heath: Got a minute? You’re going to want to hear this one.

  Fifteen minutes later, Selby sat in her cozy nook, laptop resting on crisscrossed knees and fingers dancing across the keys. Guilt plagued her until her sense of humor overrode it. Might as well make it as funny as it was. Heath was laughing.

  She started with Hannah.

  Bailey,

  Heath has plowed through three dates in as many days. It all began with Hannah from the second list. They met for lunch yesterday, and he said it started off reasonably well. Hannah is the talkative sort. So, with her tongue flapping a mile a minute, he didn’t have a chance to get an offensive word in edgewise. Unfortunately, someone taught her that it isn’t nice to dominate the conversation.

  She began to ask questions.

  According to Heath, it went something like this.

  Hannah: So, you’re a zoologist? What does a zoologist do?

  Heath: Actually, I’m mammologist. I’m in charge of the mammals at the zoo. Did you know mammals aren’t the only animals that produce milk? Pigeons, flamingos, and emperor penguins do, too. Actually, it’s the male penguin that produces the milk.

  Hannah: (butting in). Do you have to know all those kinds of things to do your job? Are you like a docent at a museum?

  Heath: No—

  Hannah: So what else does your job entail?

  Heath: Well, right now I have to finalize the park fundraising gala. It’s a big deal. Fortunately, my propensity to spout random animal facts works to my advantage at a time like that.

  Hannah: Well, at least you have a use for them. What do you do in your spare time?

  Heath: (he says at this point he was grateful for someone who would take charge and badger him with questions so that he didn’t chatter like a magpie). I hang out with friends and my sister, go hiking when I get the chance, and serve in my church.

  At this point, Hannah made the mistake of taking a drink and leaving things quiet for too long.

  Heath: Did you know magpies do not like shiny things? They’re scared of them. They do, however, recognize themselves in mirrors. And a group of magpies is called a parliament.

  Mistake number two commenced. She asked if he knew anything about “koala bears”—being her favorite animal.

  Heath: Well, they aren’t bears, actually. (Here is where he did the best dating move he’s ever done! He added…) But you’d think they should be with all the “Koala-fications” they have. (I giggled. So did she. Alas, he kept talking. Big mistake. Huge.) They also have fingerprints so similar to human ones that they have created problems in criminal investigations. Oh, and up to ninety percent of female koalas have chlamydia. It helps keep the population down when necessary.

  Hannah decided that perhaps koalas weren’t her favorite animal after all, and she decided for certain that Heath knew just a little too much about creatures for her comfort. She did, however, finish her sandwich to the steady drone of Heath explaining the types of eucalyptus leaves that koalas do like versus the ones they don’t.

  Then came Ziva last night. They met at Crumpets—Ziva’s choice and treat since she invited him. Yes, that’s how it began. Heath almost didn’t go. I told him to practice. He went.

  Ziva grilled him with the speed and efficiency of a military interrogator, decided he was not the man for her, and took her order to go inside five minutes of sitting down. Heath didn’t spill one single random fact. We’re calling it a win.

  This morning was Amanda. I just got Heath’s text begging me to let him out of his promise to do this. Amanda asked to meet for breakfast when she got off her shift at an all-night diner. In a familiar place, she felt safe.

  And he liked her. Their server commented that if Amanda didn’t want him, she’d be happy to step in. Amanda acted a little jealous of her coworker’s carefree interaction. Heath noticed, and it reminded him of the coppery titi monkey. They’ve been documented as exhibiting jealous tendencies and are monogamous animals. This is important.

  He managed to convince her that his factoids were proof of his own nerves because he found her interesting and not because she was so socially messed up that he’d chosen to mock her. That got her asking questions. He answered honestly—about every single date he’d messed up with his particular social disability. From dung beetles to monogamous monkeys, he shared them all—right until he looked up and found her asleep.

  In the booth.

  Her fork in hand.

  And every employee in the place staring at him in dumbfounded amazement.

  Still, to his credit, he did not give all the individual creatures’ details. Just which ones he’d shared and how the woman reacted.

  Oh, and when she woke up, she apologized and asked if he would record himself telling her all of it all over again. “I don’t sleep well, but I was out. I feel better than I have in weeks,” I believe were her words.

  This takes us through six names. Onto the next four. I hope to knock three out this weekend so he’ll pay for the next ten. I think the momentum thing is working.

  Next up, and in order, are Selena, Daphne, Kendyll, and Alyssa. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Selby

  One glance at the website was all she needed. Jordan ignored the ticking clock that meant Arnie would be calling any minute and zipped Floyd Brighton a text.

  Jordan: When do you want to set up a meeting. Tests came through. An unsurprising 99.937%

  Before starting the car, she clicked back to the results page and tossed the phone on the seat. Halfway to Arnie’s, the first notification came. “Why’d I ever teach you how to text?”

  By the time she reached his street, the third pinged. A fourth hit just after she turned into his driveway. It would say, “Ignore those text messages.” A glance at her phone before she pulled her coat back on and opened the door proved her right. Arnie stood in the middle of the living room, his tablet-sized phone in hand. He gave a sheepish wave.

  Jordan slipped as she stepped out of the car. If she hadn’t grabbed the door, her head would have made contact first with it and then the icy asphalt. Instead, her phone flew from her hand. Please land in snow. Please land…

  It did. Jordan grabbed her roof rack with one hand and shoved the door shut with the other. By the time she’d navigated to the edge of the drive, Arnie had made it to the bottom of his porch steps.

  “You all right, Jordie?”

  “Fine… fine. Better salt the drive, though.”

  “I’ll get the Cox boy over right away.”

  She retrieved her phone, wiped it down with her sleeve, and powered
it on. Unscathed. Thank you, Jesus—no flippancy intended. But wait. You knew that. Whatever. Thanks.

  They’d barely made it indoors before she thrust the phone into his hands. “Take a look at that.”

  “Results?”

  “Yep.”

  He didn’t even look. “I won’t know how to read them.”

  “They read them for you, Arnie. It’s very clear.”

  Arnie must have heard what he needed to in her tone because he didn’t wait another second to look. “Ninety-nine-point… that’s pretty positive. You said over eighty…”

  “That’s what I told Floyd, too.”

  “He’s seen this?”

  Her phone dinged. “I suspect that’s him with a plan for a meeting.” One look at her messages confirmed it. “He’s eager—wants to knock off early from work and come see you. He’ll bring dinner. He wants to know if I’ll stay.”

  “Will you? Can we make something so he doesn’t have to bring anything? I could order—”

  “We’ll make dessert.”

  Arnie protested. “He’s a guest—my son…”

  Seeing a man weep had never been easy for her. Watching Arnie sob like a little boy whose mother died—heart and gut wrenching. She helped him to the couch, put her arms around him, and held him as sobs wracked his body.

  One handed, she pecked out a reply.

  Jordan: Yes

  After talking to Amanda for an indeterminate length of time without even realizing she’d fallen asleep, Heath had zero confidence in his ability to ever capture a woman’s attention, much less keep it. He’d drafted half a dozen text messages to Selby. He deleted all but one requesting to talk.

  Two hours later, he had a date with Selena—who wanted to meet him at The Grind. Heath refused. He suggested Espresso Yourself in Brant’s Corners or Starbucks. Selena countered with “The Confectionery”—which told him she wasn’t a Fairbury resident. Fairbury-ites misspelled the name…just as the owner had.

  Despite knowing it would make her assume he lived there, Heath sent back a simple but hopefully not too terse reply.