“It's Collin. I swear I can't get him out of my mind.” Issuing a frustrated sigh, Daveny started to reorganize project papers and photos, hoping the effort would help her re-center and focus.
“Dinner was fun, huh?”
“Very.”
Kiara arched a brow. Waited.
“He's amazing. Sweet and strong, and heaven knows he's attractive—to a degree that leaves me...”
“Flushed? Like you are right now?”
“I am not...” Oh, yes she was. Daveny's overly warm cheeks were a dead giveaway. “There's something about him that's remote though. Barricaded in a way.”
Kiara just shrugged. “So bust down the walls.”
“Oh, OK. Thanks. Wish I'd have thought of that myself. Have a nice day now.”
“You're prickly today. Feeling a little tense?” Kiara teased, unaffected by Daveny's half-hearted snipe. “Listen, if anyone can entice a soul to trust and openness, it's you. The quality is built into your DNA. It's how you're wired. People relate to you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I think it goes deeper than trust. Maybe I feel this weird disquiet because of his stand on God.”
“Which is?”
“He doesn't stand for God at all. That's huge for me. A deal breaker.” But then Daveny considered that statement. “He wasn't always that way. He told me he used to be a regular at Woodland.” Then his brother died. Loss and pain ensued. Daveny began to connect the puzzle pieces to form a somewhat clearer picture.
“Dav, hear me out about something before you fire me.”
Daveny narrowed her eyes for show, restraining an affectionate grin. “Go on. Carefully.”
“Well, maybe you're meant to help him...”
“Oh, no.” Daveny rebuked that conclusion, lifting both hands to ward it off. “I'm nobody's reformer. Faith comes from within.”
“Very true, but look at what's been accomplished already. Look what's come to be between the two of you. Maybe God is taking a hand in both your lives. I'm not talking about reforming him—I'm talking about continuing to be exactly who and what you are. I believe he'll come around.”
Daveny digested that summation for a moment. The point was valid. Besides, what was the rush and urgency? There were no time clocks here, nor schedules with which to adhere.
“Is he worth it?” Kiara asked in conclusion.
“Worth what?”
“Worth waiting for. Working for?”
Daveny took a deep breath before replying from the heart. “Yes. I believe he is.”
Kiara's smile dawned, slow and sure.
****
“It’s not that big a deal. Promise.”
Daveny snorted softly, twirling the phone cord around her finger as she chatted with Collin a few hours later. “Yeah. Isn’t that what the crew of Titanic said right after spotting that big ol’ chunk of ice in the middle of the ocean?”
He ignored that quip. “Here’s the drill. You come in, take your assigned position on a stool at the front of my class, and talk about the beauty to be found in nature. Describe it all—the colors, the scents, the tapestry you create. Explain how you see it evolve in your mind.”
Daveny arched a brow. “You’ve nailed it already. I nominate you to do the talk instead.”
Collin just laughed. “They hear me talk all the time. Besides, you’ll make them see the world through your eyes. I've had three other guest speakers, you're number four. My goal is to spur them into new perceptions of ordinary things. C'mon, relax. It’ll be great.”
“How long do I have to speak?”
“Not more than 20 minutes.”
She stifled a surge of energy, trying not to go taut with nervousness. “You’ll be right there, cheering me on even if I start to blather, correct?”
“Absolutely.” His low, appreciative chuckle slid through the phone line, tickled her inner ear. “Your hesitance is showing, and it's charming as all get out.”
“Trouble maker,” Daveny muttered, but the pulse beat at her throat went heavy and rapid. Collin's words had already triggered ideas about what she could say, and even a few visual aids she could bring along as enticements to help his students soak in the beauty of the world around them. In fact, she had an easel as well as a number of over-sized photographs that would help emphasize her points.
“The last week of school is week after next,” Collin continued. “Your presentation is part of a pre-finals, de-stress initiative of mine. Don't do it for me. Do it for the kids.”
Daveny sighed dramatically at his blatant manipulation, swiveling in her desk chair. “When do you want me to present?”
“How about Monday?”
“Ah…gosh…that's soon...”
“Dinner afterward, if that sweetens the deal for you.”
Indeed it did. In fact, his offer had her pushing back against fear and nodding as she replied, “OK, OK. Since it's for the kids.”
Once again his low, rich laughter tingled in her ear.
8
“Good afternoon, everyone. Let’s get seated and get focused.”
The senior level English Comp class began to assemble, complying with Collin's request.
“Welcome to the final installment of Visionaries on Parade, subtitled The Last Days of Freedom before cramming for finals.”
A chorus of groans rose up, and he smiled and lifted his hands to quell the uproar. “As you know,” he went on, recapturing the attention of the class, “the point of this exercise is to introduce you to a number of people who challenge us to see the world from a new and different point of view. Today's topic is involving yourself in the world around us very directly and powerfully. Few people I've met accomplish this goal as well as Daveny Montgomery. Daveny is a landscape architect who will talk about quite literally getting in touch with the earth and how working with the resources we're given—nature—can enlighten our view not just of nature, but of our place within it as well.”
Daveny stepped to the forefront, and Collin moved to the rear of the room, intending to enjoy unobtrusively watching her.
Daveny settled onto a stool she had positioned next to an easel where she had positioned a trio of matted photographs face down on its shelf. “Mr. Edwards asked me to talk to you about my job, but in a different context than I've ever tried to describe it before, so I have to give him a nod of appreciation for making me take a look at my work from a whole new point of view.”
They exchanged a smile. Beneath the surface, Collin experienced its ulterior sense of knowing.
“His job is teaching you how to express your thoughts and ideas—your perceptions. My job today is to help that process along by letting you know how I see the world I've chosen, landscape design and creation.” She engaged the students with eye contact and warm charm. “To start I’m going to give you two diametrically opposed ideas and then show how they’re actually woven very tightly together. I call it variety through consistence.”
Daveny paused there, giving the class time to consider the idea. She stood and lifted the top photo from the easel and turned it over. She adjusted the lapel of her dark blue blazer, which matched the slacks she wore. Professional, but not prim. So far the students responded, watching her intently.
“Point one: Variety.” She gestured toward the picture. It featured some lucky soul’s perfectly laid out and spacious backyard with a raised stone garden, sculpted shrubs that framed the edges of the ground floor windows, perfectly matched color schemes in the flowers and a thick, dark carpet of grass you could all but touch. “What does this say to you?”
Answers came fast from her audience: “Organized.” “Themed.” “Detailed.”
“Next,” she continued. “What about this?” She turned over photograph number two and set it into place. This photo revealed the rolling terrain of a golf course with wild, Scottish-style heather bushes and tufts of tallish scrub grass. Flaming orange day lilies, natural tree lines and a sparing use of organized and plotted annuals formed t
he features of this particular canvas.
Students replied: “Natural.” “Lush.” “Wild.”
“Great answers; and all of them are correct. Variety. Different settings, different textures, different requirements are needed for both. But it’s all held together by what?”
Silence followed, as did a few shrugs and puzzled looks.
Daveny smiled and Collin's heart reacted with an eager pounding.
“All of this variety is dependent upon the constant and never ending cycle of time. Years pass, seasons change one to the next. Time and the importance of each of its seasons moves through both of these environments. Frost comes in the fall, deadening the growth, winter covers the ground like a blanket, then spring brings it all to life again and summer bursts into fullness in the flowers that saturate these places with color and vitality.”
The deeper meaning of her words carried to Collin, hitting home in ways for which he was completely unprepared.
“Shoots uncoil into the soil, seeking and receiving nourishment. The plants grow, the blooms unfold in time to the cycle of creation. Consistency forms variety in a cycle that can't be rushed; it can't be bullied. Nature has to emerge and evolve. Sounds kind of like life as well, right?”
With that Daveny turned over the last photo on the easel, unveiling it at last.
The vibrant bend of a rainbow split the dark blue clouds of a sky just starting to welcome sunlight after the breaking of a storm. Dewy green grass rolled on and on in a meadow carpeted by wildflowers in a myriad of colors. A small lake, banked by field stones, pine trees and ferns completed the composition. In essence, it depicted the perfect blending of the organized versus the wild.
Meanwhile, Collin stood by, stunned. In words and visuals Daveny spoke directly to every wound and pierce mark in his heart. Evolution. Change. The passing of time and perception fulfilling life's needs despite outside influence and elements. Like death—and sorrow.
He felt grateful to remain in the corner, tucked away for the moment. Meanwhile, Daveny absolutely owned the classroom. The coup de gras? At the end of her presentation, she gave each student a laminated, trading card sized copy of her concluding photograph. When the student closest to him received her copy, Collin studied the piece, noting the phrase Daveny included on its plain white back:
A season and a time to every purpose under heaven.
By the time class ended, closing out school for the day, Collin's emotions were pulled taut, trembling in a form of suspense. The room slowly emptied of students. Daveny packed up, taking her time about the task, lingering but content in the silence as he gathered up items of his own and prepared to call it a day.
Meanwhile, a ripple slid against his senses, pulling him relentlessly forward. To Daveny—and much, much more.
“Can I walk you to your car?”
Collin's offer had her looking over her shoulder with a nod as she crouched to pick up a carry-all for her props. Open toed heels afforded a peek of pink-tipped nails. Well-tailored slacks snugged and released against her body as she moved.
Daveny stowed everything except a few extras of the cards she had handed out at the end of her presentation. With a look that touched Collin intimately she stepped up and gave him one.
“For you. Keep it close.”
Collin fingered the gift, drawn to the words and image all over again. Because of Daveny and a heart he could all but feel beginning to shift and change.
God was showing up in his life, whether he wanted Him to or not. Hope built, despite Collin's most stalwart efforts to tamp it down.
But what was he supposed to do with that recognition?
Typically graceful, Daveny didn’t intrude upon his introspection. They walked to her car, one of the few left in a parking lot that tended to empty faster and faster as summer swept in and the end of the school year quirked its finger like a temptress to students and faculty alike.
She loaded her car and opened the driver’s side door. Collin stepped into the space before her and murmured, “Daveny, come here.”
He skimmed his fingers light and slow down the length of her slender throat, and then kissed and nuzzled, capturing her scent by breathing in deep. Need became a craving that battled to override restraint.
Her head tilted back in welcome; fragrant strands of her hair, tossed by a gentle breeze, slid across Collin's face as his explorations continued along her cheek, then found her waiting, trembling mouth. He kissed, provoked, enticed.
Dipping her head, she slid her fingertips along his forearm, the affection ripe with promise and longings potent enough to leave Collin's equilibrium in shambles. Reluctantly, he pulled back. “I wish you could stay,” he remarked quietly.
“Me, too. I’ve got to get back to the office though.” She looked up, eyes luminous and seeking.
“I’ll call you later about dinner.”
She nodded, and he kissed her one last time, their lips gliding together in a natural, satiny dance. They parted slowly, with reluctance. Once Daveny was in the car, Collin closed the door but leaned in through the window she opened.
“By the way—you were fantastic. Thank you.”
“Thanks for asking me to present. To be honest, I was flattered. Despite the bout of nerves, I enjoyed it, too.”
Her smile accompanied that comment; its power left him temporarily unable to draw a normal breath. A few seconds later she was gone, and Collin's mind promptly went on a timer of sorts, ticking off the minutes until he'd see her again.
9
A few days later, Collin went back to work on the Woodland project. The grounds swarmed as final plantings and polishing touches took place. Seemingly, the entire parish showed up to help and partake in a final work-a-thon and food-fest. Antonio's Brasserie catered the burgers, hot dogs and fries—the scent of which began to fill the air with appetite enticing aromas.
Stationed at the pond, Daveny saw to the final placement of trees and shrubs. Collin knelt at the flowerbeds, his usual spot, digging holes for a batch of multi-colored snap dragons set to be placed.
“Hey, Col—just to give you warning—Sandy's back in town.”
Collin's brother Marty stepped up and spoke the jarring words. Collin was so focused on Daveny that hearing Sandy's name was, in a way, like trying to work through a foreign translation.
“She's back, meaning?”
“She's back…meaning heads up, bro, your ex-fiancée is standing right over there, with Pastor Ken, by that WWJ News van.”
Collin turned to verify; the spade he held fell from his grasp.
“What the...”
“Also meaning she's back in Detroit permanently. Stephanie and I ran into her at a friend's house this past weekend at a barbecue. She's working at WWJ radio now.”
Collin's heart raced, not out of pleasure or anticipation, but anxiety. “And WWJ is interested in Woodland because we're so incredibly newsworthy?”
We. He had said we. Where exactly had that inclusive statement come from?
Fortunately, Marty didn't comment on that but instead replied, “Sandy's started attending services here again. So, she's gotten wind of the fact that all of this improvement comes as the result of a parishioner leaving the bulk of his estate to the benefit of his church. She took that story back to the station, and the rest is apparently history. Now WWJ is doing a story on Woodland for their Community Focus program. Sandy's its director now.”
At present, Sandy was hidden from view by a production crew and Pastor Ken who led her away, taking her on a walk around the grounds. While Collin watched in trepidation, Marty squatted next to him in front of the brick lined edge of the flowerbeds that lined the church entry. In an assembly line of sorts Marty tilled, Collin dug holes, and the following team planted flowers.
Taller perennials were placed to the back, shorter, sturdy annuals to the front. Collin didn't know phlox from rocks, but the end result transformed barren grounds into a riot of perfume and color. Another group filled large brown terracot
ta tubs at each side of the church entrance with petunias in all sorts of pastel shades interspersed with white.
Every once in a while Collin hazarded a glance over his shoulder, but Sandy's back remained to him. Despite two years apart he easily recognized the gentle wave of red hair. She still wore it shoulder length. Slim, jean clad, of average build but dynamic, appealing features, Sandy turned to profile as she and Pastor Ken began to walk in tandem. Nope. She hadn't changed much at all.
They were headed straight to Daveny, which made perfect sense, but Collin's pulse went haywire.
When they stepped up, Daveny concluded a conversation with the head of the team commissioned to complete the wood engravings now that the bridge was in place over the pond. Introductions were exchanged and Collin's panic index went off the charts.
Returning his efforts to the job at hand, Collin did his best not to overreact, but the effort was futile. The final group of helpers in his group gently laid and smoothed a layer of protective wood chips.
Marty continued the thread of their conversation. “Apparently, Mom saw her at services this past weekend.”
Sandy and Collin had attended church here before...well, before.
Inwardly he sighed. “Really? Well, I'm sure she's glad to be back home.” Collin hoped the finality of his tone would guide Marty toward a new topic of conversation.
No such luck.
“Col, you should at least talk to her. Mom said Sandy seems kinda lost. No, unsettled. Yeah, that was the word she used. Unsettled.”
Perfect. Just what Collin needed. Guilt with a side of well-intended, conscience-provoking motherly influence.
Jeremy, the family's second-to–the-youngest, stepped up. He looked over Collin's shoulder and checked his progress. “Marty, stop gossip-mongering. Sheesh.”
Collin grinned to himself, grateful beyond measure for Jeremy's timely arrival and interruption. “Hey, JB. The lilac tree looks great.”
Freshly planted with his help, it resided just to the right of the bridge. It would take a year or so for the fragrant blooms to burst free, but it would be a perfect augment to the gently arched structure. The pine bore that fresh, bright sheen of un-scarred wood, light and glowing beneath the midday sun. That was the trouble with wood, and life, however. Sooner or later chips, creases and wear marks would develop. An overall dimming.
Hearts Crossing (Woodland) Page 5
