“Sounds wonderful. I especially love the pickled beets. Yours are even better than Auntie Ina’s.”
Mrs. Judge blushed. “Oh, pshaw!”
“But don’t you ever tell Auntie that, if you meet her. Might hurt her feelings.”
“Secret’s good with me.”
It was hard to look Mrs. Judge in the face without remembering the mess with Teo, but no sense crying over spilled milk. She laughed at herself as she lifted the pitcher of milk from the front of the refrigerator.
“What’s so funny, missy?” Mrs. Judge gazed in Barbara’s eyes and grinned the way Barbara had seen her do with Betty and Will.
“Nothing. Just remembering some of Mama’s advice about spilled milk.”
Mrs. Judge reached for the pitcher and platter of chicken, setting them on the counter. Then she took Barbara by her hands. “We all make errors. The trick is to never repeat them, just what we’ve learned from them.”
Chapter 15
Lively conversation returned to the dinner table. Everyone but Barbara and Jackson laughed and talked all at once, the family’s good nature the best seasoning for leftovers. Barbara didn’t look Jackson in the face, though she saw him from the corner of her eye; he didn’t shoot a look in her direction, either. Just dipped his head, ate his sandwich and drank his coffee.
The entire world, save Barbara and Jackson, seemed happy. She glanced up and finally caught him exchanging a stolen moment with her, but he immediately looked away, presumably to take another bite of the blackberry pound cake.
She could have been fooling herself all along. Maybe he didn’t care. She thought he had loved her and she had tried to force him into admitting the truth. But perhaps he had meant what he had said when he had confessed to her that she was nothing more than his kid sister’s best friend. Maybe the kiss had simply happened because she had surprised him in sleep.
Oh, he winks at everyone. Isn’t that what Betty had told her? And here she sat like a silly schoolgirl, reading more into the gesture.
Dabbing at her mouth, putting on her friendliest smile, she said, “If you’ll all excuse me. I’ll do the dishes. I’m going to take Will up on his offer to borrow his bike. Now the rain’s stopped, I’d love a ride while everything’s so fresh and sweet. Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mrs. Judge. I’ll go start on the kitchen.”
Mrs. Judge cocked a look from Barbara to Jackson and back to Barbara again. Her brow lifted ever so slightly. “Just run along. I’ll get the dishes.”
Later, when she opened her bedroom door to leave, she ran smack into an embarrassed Jackson loping along the hallway. “Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes focusing on the floor. “I thought you’d left.”
“N-no.” She tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate. “I—I had to change first.” The phony smile poked its head through and she felt like crawling in a hole.
The edge of his mouth lifted, just a bit, as if he, too, were trying to be congenial but failing. “If I’m to be honest, you look lovely in slacks. Better than any man I’ve known.” Strained laughter forced its way to the surface. “Maybe the look will catch on...in time.”
“Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go for that ride. The sun’s coming out and maybe I’ll see a rainbow. Everything’s sparkling with raindrops. Nice time for a bike ride.” She rambled—couldn’t quit talking. “After all this rain, there will be even more flowers blooming. Won’t that smell nice?” Her feet didn’t cooperate. She stood like a fool, legs thick and heavy.
Jackson stepped aside to let her pass. “Don’t let me keep you.”
* * *
Why don’t you ask her to stay? Better yet, borrow Dad’s bike and go with her. Do something. Stop acting like a brainless fool and follow her! You might not get another chance. The good Lord isn’t going to give you two natural disasters in one week to help you out.
He followed her down the stairs, hanging back just enough so he wouldn’t look too conspicuous. If she turned right now, he’d go along. He followed another second and then thought, if she said, “Go with me” right now, then he’d go. She didn’t do that, either.
Stopping on her way to the door, she grabbed her heavier sweater off the hall tree. “You still there?”
“Well, you see, I—”
“I need a bit of fresh air. But the sky looks overcast again.”
She tugged at a curl of hair looping near her tiny pearl earring. He longed to reach out and tuck it behind her ear so he could feel the softness one more time. “Here, let me help you with your sweater.” Tell her how you feel.
“Thank you.”
Ask her if you can go along.
No, it wouldn’t be right. Anything more would give her the wrong impression.
She turned to leave.
Who was he kidding? He loved this woman. Perhaps she’d be able to love him, too, ghosts and all.
Stop second guessing. Just ask! “Barbara?”
She whirled around too quickly and glanced up. A hopeful breath preceded her voice. “Yes?”
Then a frown deepened those beautiful blue eyes.
She held her hand out. “What, Jackson?” Her eyes narrowed on his face. His scars?
“Be careful. Looks like rain again.”
* * *
The breeze blowing fresh, balmy, aromatic air against her face beckoned Barbara to ride a short while longer despite the clouds building anew behind her. Maybe they’d pass over and she could go on riding all evening. Never have to go back. Never have to face Jackson again.
Who was she kidding? He was in her blood, surging straight to the heart each time they met; in her mind, he filled every thought with his face, his words. He threatened to unnerve her each time they were in the same room, and that was no way to live. As soon as possible, she would pack her bag and head home.
Barbara stopped the bike, wrapped her arms around herself in a big hug and stared into the dusky evening. She should head back. Where was she, exactly? She’d left the town proper some time ago. The factory was on Main and she’d changed her mind and turned left, farther out of town. So, two roads down from Main. Or had she gone three? One more road over and she’d be at the school—kindergarten to high school all in one building. She should now be on one of the roads parallel to and behind the peanut factory.
Another look at the clouds convinced her, ready or not, time to head for cover.
If she shot through the field, instead of staying on the main drag, she’d end up behind the factory shaving about a mile off the return trip. A rumble of thunder made her mind up for her.
Will did say he cut through on his way home from school from time to time, especially when he was running late for work. It couldn’t be too difficult to maneuver.
A drop of rain plopped into her face. Then another and another. Just a light drizzle, but enough for a soaking if she didn’t hurry. Before she could pedal harder, lightning cracked overhead and thunder rolled.
* * *
Well, God hadn’t intervened as Jackson had asked.
They’d simply think he went to sleep and when he didn’t come to the door in the morning, they’d figure he was being obstinate. If they knocked, no one would bother until it was too late. He’d played this game for so long, nobody expected much from him other than seclusion.
Passing the restroom, he stopped, opened the huge wooden medicine chest and took out the bottle of aspirin. Turning it in his hand, he accepted that God hadn’t let him know he was still needed. So, he had the okay to go ahead like the coward he was.
Forgive me, Father. I’m sorry I’ve let You down at every turn. And I’m sorry I’ve blamed You. I have no one to blame for my failures other than myself. I’ll ask this one last thing. Give them comfort. While I’ve failed so many people, I just can’t go on like this any longer without Your help, and once again, You’ve said no.
Jackson set down the bottle of aspirin on his nightstand.
He strode to the window and watched the clouds rolling overhe
ad. A few drops of rain pelted the roof of the shed outside. Another storm. Where was she? Drat! The woman could irritate a saint. She must still be out and about and she was going to get caught in one humdinger of a storm. He started to pray. No, he didn’t have the right, but Barbara was in danger; he sensed it.
Father, I don’t even have the right to ask, but help me. Please. Give me the strength to find her. I can’t lose another person so dear to my life. Please, help me.
As lightning struck above the house, he rose and dashed down the stairs where he met his mother at the bottom step just starting up, Barbara’s coat in her hand.
“Jackson, I was just about to call up to your room. Would you mind? I’m afraid Barbara might have been caught in the storm. Poor little thing’s probably soaked through, don’t you think?” His mother’s worried expression confirmed his apprehension.
“I’ll take the car.”
As he pushed against the wind to open the car door, his mother shouted from the stoop. “Will said she headed across the road. She told him she was headed west. Start that direction, all right?”
I know when you’re near me.
What a stupid thing to have said. But would he really know if she were in trouble? Near enough for him to be able to locate her? He slammed his foot to the pedal as another streak shot across the sky. The thunder sounded, sooner this time.
His chest compressed until the breath came shallow and fast. He couldn’t feel her presence. But he had no choice other than to keep looking. She was out there—alone.
* * *
Barbara fought to push the bike through the mud. No use. She dropped it and ran for cover. A bolt of lightning hit a wire bale. She recognized the factory. Next to the loading dock, she cringed against the side of a building, her arms over her head. Horizontal rain soon filled her eyes, her mouth, every piece of her clothing. So cold, her teeth chattered, and her arms hugged her for warmth. No good. Alone and afraid, she huddled in a squat position, praying someone would come along. She pressed into the wooden wall until her feet slipped in the squishy mud. Down with a splat!
What if no one found her?
Barbara shivered. Her arms tightened. Lightning crashed right next to her and she screamed, but the wind screamed louder.
The rain chilled her inside and out, pelting her like sharp, wet needles. Lord, please help me. I’m stranded outside in this storm and I’m cold. Very cold. How long can a person stay so cold? Home was just around the corner, but she couldn’t stand against the howling wind. She crawled through the mud to get closer to the back door. Hanging onto the metal handle, she crouched beneath the overhang; still head-rattling wind pummeled her so that she couldn’t move.
* * *
Every few minutes, Jackson stopped and tried to let the car lights shine into the darkness. He drove up Pennyman, in case she’d gone to visit Aunt Jenny and Mary Anne. In front of the house, he jumped from the car, ran up the steps to the porch and pounded on the door.
“Goodness, Jackson. What is it? You’ll scare a body to death. Come in out of the storm. We heard on the radio they spotted a tornado just west of us.”
“Is Barbara here? She’s missing.”
Aunt Jenny shook her head, frowned, mirrored his concern as her own. “No. Lands, where could she have gone? Well, if she does show up,” his aunt promised, “I’ll tell her to skedaddle right home.” Worry dotted her face. “On second thought. I’ll make her come and take shelter with us ’til this passes.”
“Thanks.” He leaped from the porch and ran for the car. With the door barely closed, he revved the engine and tore away toward town.
Once he’d covered the entire downtown area, he left for a search of the back roads. His headlights reflected in all directions. No sign of Barbara. People don’t simply disappear. She had to know Mother and Father would be worried sick. Unable to see through the rain and darkness any longer, he pulled the car to the side of the road, stopped the engine and listened. All he could hear was the shrieking storm, like thousands of demons. Where was she? Any person with an ounce of common sense was home out of the storm.
His vision might be hindered, but his instincts told him that he should be somewhere near the huge loading port behind the peanut factory. Could she have tried to ride out the weather there? Jackson jumped out of the car and ran in that general direction. A loud explosion, and the tree in front of him split from a lightning strike. He had to find her.
Praying as he ran, Jackson struggled against the wind.
Father, did you bring me out here? Is this how You’re answering my prayer? I know I haven’t exactly been the star pupil in Your class, but I’m not asking for myself. Please, keep Barbara safe. I have no idea where she is, but You do. Forgive me for being such a jerk, for even thinking of taking my life. But if You’ll give me another chance, I promise this, I will serve You all the remaining days of my life. And I will keep that promise no matter what happens to me, to my family, or even to Barbara. She’s Yours, Lord. I trust You with her. Now, please, help me to find her.
He stopped, gazed in all directions. Where was he? He couldn’t see a thing.
He had to find the factory in this blinding storm. It was the only logical place for her to take shelter. That, or she could be home already slipping into dry clothes, Mother hovering with a cup of hot tea and plenty of towels. He pictured her there in front of the fireplace. Please let her be home.
Wiping rain from his eyes as he ran, Jackson smelled the rain, hoping for a scent of the factory. Anything to tell him where he was. Barbara, where on earth are you?
* * *
Barbara clawed at the door. Pounded for someone to let her in. Pieces of metal and scraps of wood from the loading area spun in the air. She drew closer to the building. A thud next to her head dropped her flat to the ground. A large sign had broken off the back of the storage shack and just missed her head. She scrambled toward the back of the shed. Would the door open?
Her fingers dug at the handle, but a lock kept her from safety.
Father, I need help. You can calm seas, please calm this storm. Send someone to get me out of here. Protect me, Lord.
Her next push on the door popped the lock. She crept in, out of the rain, out of the cold, but before she could get comfortable, the door broke free of its hinges. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she gazed upward. Tools, all sorts of tools and shipping crates wobbled over her head. Now what? If she went out, she risked being hit by flying debris; if she stayed in, she might be battered with the tools.
Arms over her head, she fell against her knees. Sobs poured from her throat, raw from crying. Why had she been such a fool? She’d been raised to be sensible and somehow, once she had arrived in New Hope, all that training had been set aside. And here she was caught between the danger inside and the danger outside.
Hearing a loud pop, she looked up. The window above her splintered into hundreds of pieces and showered down on her. A stack of wood crates teetered to the side, then fell, blocking the door. A scream ripped from her throat.
* * *
Jackson cocked his head. A woman’s scream. He forced his legs forward, his back burning with each step. He could see it now. The factory was just ahead.
Wooden pallets had loosened from their moorings; now broken slats littered the loading dock. The awning, jerked from the building at one end, swayed back and forth in front of the back door.
Too exhausted to walk any farther in the mud and debris, his strength zapped by fighting the wind, too, Jackson tried to keep his footing, but slipped in the mud and cracked his head on the shack.
“Help! Is someone there? I’m trapped in here! Help me!”
He hauled himself up. Barbara! Thank God.
In no time at all, he crawled around the building and found her stuck behind a few hundred pounds of wood and metal crates. He cleared them one at a time until he saw her face. Instead of fear, a faint smile tipped her lips. Not waiting for her to move, he tugged her into his arms.
Chapter 16
After a hot bath, Barbara, her legs covered in a warm, woolly shawl, sipped tea by the fire next to Mrs. Judge who hovered. “Really, I’m fine. Thank you so much for your concern. If I hadn’t been so foolish in the first place—”
“Shush. You’re safe. That’s all that matters, dear.” Mrs. Judge offered another shortbread cookie. “Here, you need to keep up your strength.”
She smiled. Just like her own mother would do.
Jackson helped his father put more wood on the fire, turned and smiled at her. “Feeling better?”
She lifted the shawl over her arms and snuggled under the softness. “A little. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life.”
“I’m thankful I had the key to the factory on me. We would never have made it home.”
Her eyes grew heavy in the light of the fire. Jackson’s voice comforted her until she felt stronger. Warm, at last. Then she thought of Jackson slipping in the mud, hitting his head on the side of the building. No wonder he found her tedious. She seemed to be the cause of so much trouble for him.
She pulled the shawl from around her and rose from the sofa. As she walked over to Jackson, she drew a hankie from the pocket of her slacks. “Here. Maybe we should see to your cuts.”
Mrs. Judge started to her feet, looked Barbara in the eyes and nodded. She reached for the cups. “I’ll clean up.”
* * *
Barbara could be a little more careful. If she wanted to. Jackson sat on the kitchen chair as quietly as possible so the cleaning and bandaging wouldn’t hurt so much. “Ouch.”
“Oh, don’t be such a big baby.” She sponged the area under his eye and then tackled the dried blood as he reached up and touched his upper lip.
With Eyes of Love (Heartsong Presents) Page 14
