Of course, she didn’t answer. He shoved the phone back in his pocket, wondering what he was doing. Why he was dithering now. Why was his life not everything he had hoped for? Why did he still care for Tess who had changed so much?
As Jace pulled in front of the thrift store, he laughed at the irony of his high-end vehicle being parked outside. Uncertainty tugged at him. This morning, on his drive back to Sweet Creek, he argued back and forth over what to do. What to think.
But as he crossed over the river and into Sweet Creek, he had decided he’d had enough with the uncertainty. He found out from Tess’ mother that she was working at the thrift-store this morning. No, he was going inside the store and asking Tess, point-blank, what happened.
He strode down the sidewalk, pushed open the door, and let his eyes adjust from the bright sun outside.
Tess was sorting through a bag of clothes behind the counter. She looked up, and her surprised expression gave Jace a curious lift in spite of his frustration with her.
“So you stored the painting at your place?” he asked bluntly. “I waited at the office for quite a while the other night.”
Tess frowned. “I left a message with your secretary. My friend called me right after you left the coffee shop. She told me she would drop the painting off at your office this afternoon.”
“Callie said nothing before she left that day, nor did she give me any message.”
“I specifically told her to give you the message.” She gave him a quick smile which didn’t help his equilibrium and took the edge off his anger. “Didn’t want you to think I was unreliable.”
Her unconscious repetition of the very words Carson had used gave him a guilty start.
He thought of the scribbled messages his secretary had given that day, the ones Callie had said weren’t important. He hadn’t even looked at them. One had probably been from Tess.
“No problem.” Relief sluiced through him. Thank goodness he hadn’t called her or come storming in here, full of self-righteous indignation. He would have looked like a fool.
In a much better mood now, he glanced around the shop, surprised at the ambience. Clothes were sorted by kind and size, hanging neatly from circular racks. On top of each waist-high rack stood a mannequin modeling an outfit. The fanciful outfit on each mannequin made Jace guess that Tess had dressed them.
Shelves full of toys lined one wall. Another set of shelves held shoes, neatly laid out. It looked like a regular clothing store, except some of the items looked worn and a bit ragged.
“See anything you like?” Tess asked, a faint edge in her voice.
“I might, if I had time to look around.” Jace pointed at the piles of clothes. “What are you doing?”
“Triage. We get so many donations, we have to be ruthless about what we keep.” Tess held up a neon pink shirt with a rip down one sleeve and mismatched buttons. “See?” She tossed it over her shoulder in a colorful arc. “To the dump. No one would buy it.”
“People still give a lot of junk, don’t they?”
Tess shook her head. “I don’t know why people don’t stop to think about what they’re giving away.”
He leaned an elbow on the counter, moving closer to her. He was about to ask her about the movie again, and once again, they were interrupted. A young woman with two young children came into the shop. Tess hurried around the counter, as if eager to escape him.
“Hey, Linda, how are you doing? What do you need today? Something for Krissie?” Tess squatted down to the girl’s level. “Do you need a new dress? Some pants? Or does your doll need something?”
The little girl responded, shyly at first, then gaining enthusiasm and momentum as she talked about her clothes, her doll, and then the party she was invited to.
While Jace watched, Tess’s conversation shifted from the mother to the little girl and, occasionally, to the little boy in the stroller.
She was animated and friendly. And incredibly appealing.
As Tess rang up Linda’s purchases, the little girl looked up at Jace, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “Aren’t you buying anything?” she asked.
“I might,” he said. “There’s lots to pick from, isn’t there?”
“My mommy says this store is a godsend,” Krissie said, clutching her doll. “I don’t know what that means.”
Jace couldn’t help a glance at her mother’s outdated coat and worn blue jeans. He knew exactly what it meant. He, his sister, and his mother had often come to a store like this. Only then, the thrift shop was in a dingy store down a back alley, and someone like Tess wasn’t weeding out the junk.
That was the job of the shopper. It took many hours of sifting through torn and stained clothes to find something suitable—just to save a few precious dollars.
As the family left, Jace felt a rush of appreciation and gratitude that this woman didn’t have to do the same. He was glad she had a welcoming and cheerful store to shop in, and that people like Tess had done much of the legwork.
Tess may deny her faith in God, may say she didn’t believe in Him anymore, but she was doing what God required. Doing justice and performing loving kindnesses. In that moment, he allowed himself to hope she would return to her faith.
And, maybe, return to him.
He clenched his fists to keep from brushing his knuckle over her cheeks. As he looked at her lips, he too easily remembered their shared kiss.
“So, is there something else you want?” she asked, finally. “I don’t want to get in the way of your career.”
“My career is doing okay right about now,” he said with a grin. “Chuck will have to watch his back when I get back to Vancouver.”
“Chuck was always good at that,” Tess snapped.
Tess had never cared for Chuck and had always said that Carson was too easy on him. Often Jace agreed, but he didn’t want to talk about Chuck.
“Sounds like things are coming together for the fundraiser,” he said, sensing a change of topic was in order. “Only a couple of weeks now.”
“I’ve got most of my stuff in.”
“And then some.” Jace released a theatrical sigh. “Bad enough you beat me, now you want to rub my nose in it by continuing to bring stuff in.”
“I’m competitive by nature.”
“I remember that from school,” he said, and laughed. “Always a fight for me to get better marks than you.”
“I liked beating you,” she said, returning his smile.
“Do you ever think of going back to school?”
She held his gaze, and it was as if her eyes pierced into his soul. “I know you saw those textbooks on my coffee table.”
He held his hand up. “Guilty as charged.”
“But to satisfy your rapacious curiosity, yes, I do think of going back to school and have been taking courses toward a degree.”
“In counseling?”
“It’s not in the same league as charging corporate clients their left eye to set up their accounts, buy up real estate, and develop it, but I feel my job is important.”
Jace ran his thumbnail along a scratch in the counter, wishing he didn’t feel so defensive. “Is that how you see what I do?”
“Sorry—that wasn’t fair. I know what you do has a place...it’s just...people had other plans for my life, and I didn’t agree with them.”
Jace’s mind ticked back to other conversations with Tess while they were in college, conversations about family expectations and personal duty. “People like your mother?”
Tess nodded. “I know she loves me and all that, but I also know that she’s had me pegged for a degree since my fourth-grade teacher recommended that I skip a grade. And when I was elected valedictorian in high school, she decided I needed bigger plans, bigger dreams.”
“Those plans didn’t include working in a thrift store or helping Claire or selling stuff at the farmer’s market?”
Tess snorted. “Most definitely not.”
Jace glanced around the store. “I have t
o confess, your current career choices are a surprise for me, too.” He thought of what they had talked about on their “date” by the river. What she said made sense, but he still felt something was missing from the equation—Tess moving so drastically from the corporate work place to a thrift store still didn’t add up.
“Confess away. It’s good for the soul,” Tess quipped.
The phone on the counter rang, and Jace felt a spark of irritation. He had better get to the point soon. He had to get back to work, but not before he asked her out again.
“I suppose I could find someone to pick them up,” Tess was saying.
Jace glanced at Tess. Her forehead was puckered in a frown as she spoke. “I could talk to Nate or Mark or any of the other ranchers around. I’m sure they could lend me a truck,” she continued. She bit her lip. “I’ll give you a call when I can find out more.” Her frown deepened after she hung up the phone.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
Tess looked distracted. “Arnie DeVries, the man who makes the chairs, wants me to pick up his donation on Sunday. He’s leaving for Arizona on Monday morning and won’t be back before the fundraiser. I need a truck.” She picked up the phone again.
“I have a truck,” Jace offered, thankful that his mother hadn’t sold his father’s truck like Jace had urged or allowed the registration and insurance to lapse.
Tess looked from him to the phone. Her indecision wasn’t encouraging. When she started dialing, Jace fought back frustration. He was about to push himself away from the counter when she put the phone back on the hook and gave him a tentative smile.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored your offer. I’ll take you up on it.”
“I’d better drive, though. The truck is dependable, but temperamental.” She nodded, and he continued, “When do you need to pick this up?”
“He asked me to come at about twelve-thirty, which means we’d have to leave my place at about eleven-thirty.” Tess hesitated. “Church is over at eleven-thirty, right?”
He nodded. “It would take me at least fifteen minutes to get from church to your place.”
“I suppose I could meet you at church,” she said.
“Or you could come to church. That way we won’t miss each other.” Jace threw out the comment with a casual air.
“I guess I could. I haven’t been in a while. Mom and Dad would be pleased.”
“See you Sunday, then?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Though her comment was affirmative, it wasn’t enthusiastic, and Jace wondered if she would follow through.
Chapter 8
Tess parked her car down the street from the church, turned off the engine, and wondered, yet again, what she was doing.
It was Jace’s fault, she thought. Jace, with his comment at their picnic about a part of her needing God.
Last night, she pulled her Bible out of the cupboard for the first time in years. She had taken it to bed and laid it on the bedside table like she used to.
She hadn’t been able to open it. Not yet.
But church, she could manage. Once in a while she attended to keep her father happy and her mother off her back.
Tess stepped out of the car and strode down the sidewalk, heading for the front doors of the building. Once inside, her gaze skimmed over the people milling in the foyer. She smiled at a friend and dodged a little girl squealing at her sister to wait up for her. If Tess could find Claire, she would sit with her.
Just as she was about to head up the stairs to the sanctuary, Jace called her name. A shiver raced down her spine as she turned around.
He wore a crisp blue shirt, with a corduroy blazer, denim jeans, and cowboy boots. Tess felt a faint thrill of attraction. Her Jace. The Jace she had fallen in love with.
“Good to see you here,” Jace said, rolling up the bulletin he’d received from the ushers.
“Good to be here.” Tess inclined her head, but as she moved up the stairs, she sensed Jace right behind her.
Tess scanned the pews from the back of the church. She saw Nadine and Clint, but there was no room beside them. There was room by her mother and father, but Tess didn’t feel like dealing with her mother’s surprise.
Could she really sit by herself?
“Can I sit with you?” Jace asked. “I hardly know anyone here, and I hate sitting alone.”
Tess shrugged, knowing it would be ungracious to say no and, if she were honest, she was a bit thrilled at the idea. “Sure. Why not?” She led the way to a spot not too close to the front, but far enough from the back that it did not look like she was trying to hide.
They settled into the pew. Tess buried herself in the bulletin, catching up on the news of the coming week. A notice for the fundraiser was on the front. Helen Lennox’s name was printed in bold letters.
I am a part of this, Tess thought with a sense of pride. The rest of the bulletin was filled with information about other regular events—youth group, Bible study groups for every age, and a fun night was scheduled for girls seven to twelve. Another notice gave progress on some of the people in the congregation who were ill.
So familiar, Tess thought as she glanced around the church that she had attended since she was a baby. She had seen classmates leave for other places, then return, get married, and settle down. Three of her high school classmates now lived here, all three of them married, all three with children. Panic flickered through her at the idea that she was getting left behind. In a couple of weeks, she would turn thirty. What had she accomplished in her life?
She couldn’t help a sidelong glance at Jace, sitting beside her. He was reading the bulletin, a light frown puckering his brow. He always did that when he was reading, the memory like a gentle ache. She turned her attention back to the bulletin, frustrated with the emotions that flittered through her soul.
You made your own choices, the annoying inner voice reminded her.
Choices forced upon me, she told herself. I didn’t ask to have my sense of self-worth stripped away from me.
Tess slammed the door on the wayward thoughts. She couldn’t indulge in any sense of self-pity. She was on her own and simply had to deal with it, like she had for the past six years.
The music started, signaling the beginning of the worship service. Tess looked up at the overhead, recognizing the song as an old favorite of hers that she hadn’t heard in a long time.
She fell into the rhythm of the service after the pastor’s welcome and the responses.
She was glad she came, she thought as she sat down, getting ready for the sermon. This was comfortingly familiar. And it would make her parents happy. A smile played at her lips. Anything that made her parents happy kept her mother off her back.
“I’d like us all to turn to Psalm 16.” A rustling of pages followed the pastor’s announcement. Out of the corner of her eye, Tess saw Jace pull the Bible out of the holder in the pew. He turned to the passage and, just like when they were dating, held it open so both of them could read it.
Tess could have looked aside, and Jace would not have been the wiser, but a gentle yearning drew her eyes to the passage.
“Keep me safe, O God, for in you I take refuge. I said to the Lord, You are my Lord; apart from You, I have no good thing.”
The familiar cadence and rhythm called back memories of herself as a young girl. At one time, she had tried to memorize all the Psalms, thinking that the Lord would be pleased with her devotion.
Now, as the pastor’s voice spoke aloud words that were at one time imprinted on her mind, she heard them as if for the first time. “Apart from you I have no good thing.”
She had tried to stay apart from God and keep Him at arm’s length. But, the emptiness percolating into her life seemed to be harder to stave off. Now, she sat in church with Jace beside her—just like she used to six years ago.
Six years. The words clutched at her heart, and she drew a shuddering breath as the intervening years of loneliness and heartache seeped into her
mind. For years, she had kept God at arm’s length. The God she used to take comfort from, strength and peace from.
He had let her down.
What had her life become since she had pushed God away? Had her life been joyful? Had she found contentment? The Psalm seemed to mock that spiritual independence, seemed to declare that her life had become void of the faith that gave her meaning.
“We yearn for justice,” the pastor was saying. “We yearn for the good things God gives us. Augustine says our hearts are restless until they find our rest in God.”
The pastor’s sermon dove deep into Tess’s soul. He spoke her thoughts, raising them from the dark places she had assigned them to after that life-altering night.
This was why you stay away from church. To keep God out of your life. The God who didn’t protect you. The God who didn’t keep you safe.
She closed her eyes against waves of old pain and anger and shame. She didn’t know if she was ready to let God into her life. Ready to make herself vulnerable again. Ready to face, fully, what had happened to her—and to let the people who meant so much to her find out.
She didn’t know if she could confront the shame and, yes, the guilt. No matter how much self-talk she had indulged in, always lurking in the back of her mind was the notion that she had asked for what had happened to her.
As her attacker had said.
“Are you okay?”
Jace’s whispered question sifted into her sorrow, and as she glanced up at his familiar face, better memories rose to the surface: how his arm felt over her shoulder, the feel of her hand twined in his, how Claire would tease her about how close she sat to Jace. She studied him again, seeing the changes wrought by the intervening years.
Unfamiliar lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. His face had grown an unfamiliar hardness around his mouth. The suits he wore spoke of money spent, money that had become important to Jace.
He was moving down a different path than they had planned. The Jace sitting beside her wanted bigger things, more money and success. Yet he was still Jace. When his eyes met hers, she realized that he could still resurrect the same feelings in her.
Close to His Heart Page 10
