by Delia Latham
Which brought her mind back to David Myers. She sat up straighter and gave a vehement shake of her head. “No way. I am not going there.”
The doorbell buzzed, startling her. Zoe must have forgotten something. Hurrying to the door, she pulled it open with an expectant smile.
So much for her attempt at self-distraction. Mr. Hart’s nephew, in the tantalizing flesh, stood on her porch sporting his irresistible, commercial-worthy grin.
****
David maintained his smile despite the almost tangible waves of something less than welcoming that radiated off the woman in the doorway. Vaguely regretting his decision to pop in and thank Pia again for helping him out earlier, he managed to croak out a greeting. “Hey!”
No warm sparkle lit those up tilted eyes, yet they drew him in and held his gaze like a magnet. “Hi. Can I help you?”
He shook his head. “Does everyone who comes to your door want something?”
A warm blush colored her cheeks and broke the wall of reserve. “No, of course not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She hesitated. “Would you like to come in?”
“Maybe another time. I have something to share with you, and I thought I’d take you on a tour of Uncle Andy’s place.” He waved his hand in a grand flourish, indicating the clear skies and sunshine. “Are you busy?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and David’s heart smashed hard against his chest. Whoa. This will never do. Maybe she’ll say no and I can get while the gettin’s good.
But Pia finally smiled and pulled the door shut as she stepped outside. “Not that busy. I can’t resist seeing inside the big house.”
David measured his pace to hers, and they walked in silence for a moment while he mentally berated himself for being a social clod. He’d never had trouble talking to women. Why now, when he’d actually like to make a decent impression?
“You said you had something to share.” She peeked from beneath lashes long enough to shadow her cheeks.
“So I did.” Turning, he walked backwards a few steps and pointed to one of the units. “Do you know who lives in that cottage?”
She shook her head. “It’s been empty, but I saw a moving van there earlier today. Is it someone I should know?”
“Absolutely.” Now he did touch her elbow and steered her back onto the path to his uncle’s house. “He’s a minister here in Angel Falls, with a fairly recent habit of driving his car into culverts and being rescued by heroic young ladies in high-heeled shoes.”
His grin, meant to be mischievous, faded when her face went a shade paler.
“Y- You’re moving in? Here? To Heart’s Haven?”
“Well, yeah, that was the plan.” Puzzled, he shook his head. “Is it a problem?”
“No, of course not.” She smiled and touched his arm—just for a second, but long enough to burn the pressure of her fingertips into his skin for good. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”
“Well, let’s see—I had taken a pretty good blow to the head. It’s possible I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Her gaze flew to the bandage on his forehead. Between Uncle Andy and him, they’d managed a dressing of sorts, though he knew it looked anything but professional.
“I’m sorry, David. How are you feeling now?”
“Better, thanks. A night’s rest seems to have worked wonders.”
Her full lips curved upward, and he’d never been so glad to see a bit of warmth in someone’s eyes. “Good. I hope you don’t make a habit of trying to make your car fly. I refuse to pick up the pieces if you do that again.”
“You sure know how to dash a guy’s hopes.” He chuckled and slanted a look her way. “So you’re all right with my being your neighbor?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” A saucy grin tugged at her lips. “Just don’t go driving into my living room. I’m rather partial to my little cottage.”
“I promise.” He gave her a Boy Scout salute then opened the gate and waved her into his uncle’s yard. “Welcome to the historical Hart home.”
“Why, thank you, sir.” She preceded him across the lawn, eyes alive with interest, lips slightly parted as she gazed at the balcony wrapped around the upper story. Once again, David’s heart responded with inappropriate gusto, and once again, he silently read it the riot act.
If she knew how badly he wanted to kiss her in that moment, she’d run all the way back to that sweet little cottage and lock herself inside.
The front door swung open, and there stood Uncle Andy—wiry white hair pointing ten different directions, vivid blue eyes narrowed almost to slits. Not a sign of a smile eased the lines in his craggy face, but he nodded when Pia started up the porch steps, and he held the door for them to enter. “I can’t imagine what makes the parson here think there’s anythin’ worth seein’ in this place, but you’re welcome to come in and take a look.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hart.”
Was that timidity in her voice? David hadn’t thought of Pia as shy, but watching her now, he wondered. One thing for sure, there was more to this beautiful woman than met the eye.
“Well, boy, what’s keepin’ ya? Show the lady any room she wants to see.”
“Yes, sir.” He took Pia’s arm and turned her towards a door to the left of the long, central hallway, while his uncle wandered off into the yard.
“Uncle Andy’s done quite a bit of restructuring on the ground floor. All the walls were removed to make two large rooms—one on each side of this center hall. There’s a bathroom on each side, as well. He rents out these rooms. Business meetings, showers of all kinds, wedding receptions…you name it, the Hart house has most likely been host to one.”
Pia studied the highly-buffed wood floors and lustrous mahogany walls in the first room. David thought she seemed rather under-impressed, and without asking, he understood. Despite the small reading areas at each end of the long space, the room lacked warmth, and the gleaming conference table holding center sway did nothing to relieve the cool, formal atmosphere.
“Let me guess. This is the room where meetings take place.”
“Beauty and brains.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Uncle calls this the ‘meetin’ room.’ More relaxed events are held across the hall in the ‘livin’ room.’”
She preceded him into the other half of the lower floor, and he flipped the switch that turned on the overhead chandeliers.
Pia gasped. “Oh, my goodness. David, it’s beautiful.”
The floors and walls matched those in the first room, but a homey, welcoming ambiance radiated from this one. Large, comfortable sofas and easy chairs piled with bright cushions formed three separate conversation areas. A central fireplace dominated that portion of the room, with a floor-to-ceiling hearth and a mantel of shiny, time-worn river rocks. Scattered rugs, antique tables, and lamps with gracefully shaped shades whispered an invitation to make oneself at home.
Pia’s eyes shone like amber lights. She touched a table here, stroked a sculpture there, stopped now and then to study a photo or a painting. Watching her, David decided he’d have no problem waiting right where he stood if it took her three days to get her fill of this room.
“I would never have figured Mr. Hart for the type to call in a decorator.” Pia spoke in a low tone, although the older man had not returned to the house.
“He didn’t…well, not really.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re not saying he did this himself.”
The disbelieving look on her face made him laugh out loud. “No. I’m afraid Uncle Andy’s idea of homey is a wooden rocking chair and a packing crate for a footstool.”
“Then who—” She gasped, and fixed those huge eyes on him, much to the unsettling of his heart and mind. “You did this?”
4
Apparently she’d said something humorous.
David threw his head back and bellowed out a hearty laugh. “Afraid not. My taste isn’t much better than Uncle’s.”
They started
up the curving staircase, and she trailed a hand along the banister, admiring the rich patina of the carved wood. “So who, then?”
“A local lady who once operated a famous interior decorating business in Dallas. She and Uncle—”
Pia stopped in her tracks, and David slammed into her from behind. She would have fallen up the stairs if he hadn’t flashed one arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Her body zinged from the contact, and she quickly extricated herself.
“You’re talking about Vivian Mallory, aren’t you?” Eager to get past the awkward moment, she sprang onto the next step, breathing a little easier with the distance between them.
“Uncle Andy and Viv’s late husband were childhood friends. After Vance was diagnosed with cancer and it became clear he wouldn’t live, Viv sold her business in Dallas to bring him here and let him live out his last days in his hometown.”
They reached the upper floor, and Pia stopped and turned toward him. “But Mr. Mallory’s been gone several years. She didn’t want to go back home?”
He shrugged. “Apparently not. And Uncle felt responsible for her after his friend died. Here she was in a new town where she didn’t know a soul—” He broke off when Pia presented him with what she hoped was her best disbelieving stare. She couldn’t help laughing. One of her most loyal customers, Vivian Mallory never met a stranger.
“Not that the lady has trouble making friends,” he said.
“She knows more people in Angel Falls than I do, and I’ve lived here all my life.”
“Well, Uncle Andy doesn’t make friends easily, but he definitely counts Viv as one of them.”
He pushed open a swinging door, revealing a well-appointed kitchen. “This room was added when Uncle moved his living quarters upstairs. The one on the ground floor is for the guests when their functions require a place to cook or heat food.”
Pia let her gaze travel over the bright room. “I don’t suppose Mrs. Mallory had anything to do with decorating the upper floor, did she?”
“She did in here.”
She eyed the cheery kitchen through a narrowed gaze. “Black and white polka dots with red accents. Great combination.” Her gaze danced over the inviting space. “I just—” She shot him a wry glance and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m having a hard time imagining Mr. Hart in this room.”
He took a couple bottles of water from the refrigerator and offered her one. “Want a glass?”
“No, this is fine.” She removed the lid and took a healthy swallow.
“And as for Uncle and this room…” He strode across it and pushed open another door in the opposite wall. “This is where he eats. He dines in the ‘fancy dinin’ room’ only when Viv is here.”
The tiny breakfast nook boasted a single piece of furniture, an antique, chrome-legged table with a bright red, marbled top. One black, Shaker-style chair graced each end, but someone had softened the look with polka-dot cushions. Pia chuckled. It wasn’t hard to spot Mrs. Mallory’s touch.
On their way downstairs, David indicated a tapestry hanging in the hallway. “Granny Hart’s creation.”
Pia stepped close and studied the piece, which someone—probably Viv Mallory—had hung from a polished wood mounting rod. A border of vines and roses formed the outer edge, and the colors—deep burgundies and forest greens—still remained true. Because her mother had taught her to embroider, Pia was able to recognize the fine stitchery in the scrolling gold letters that spelled out the familiar quote: May Love Find All Who Enter Here.
“This is incredible. I can’t believe the colors are still so vibrant.” She narrowed her eyes, examining the exquisite piece. “Are you sure this is the original tapestry created by Mr. Hart’s grandmother?”
“This is it.” David shook his head and shrugged. “It’s been painstakingly preserved throughout the years. Apparently every family member who took possession of the house genuinely valued this tapestry and saw to its maintenance. Uncle continues the practice. It goes out once every year or so for professional cleaning and repair of any weak or broken stitches.”
Soon they were leaving the big house behind and returning to the complex in the dying light of day. As they rounded the back corner of Hart’s yard, Pia heard the landlord’s dry voice from across the lawn, where he stood alone, attacking the shrubbery with a pair of pruning shears.
“Yes, yes, I know she’s a good girl, but that don’t mean diddly. David’s not—” He paused, and the snip-snip of his shears filled the air, while Pia closed her eyes in abject humiliation. It wasn’t hard to figure out exactly which “good girl” Mr. Hart referred to. “Just because you know more about it than I do doesn’t mean I don’t know anythin’! Well, go ahead, then. Have your say. You always do.”
David’s hand on the small of her back urged her on, past the big house and out of earshot. When she finally found the courage to look at him, merriment gleamed from those captivating mismatched eyes, while his ultra-white teeth clamped down on a full bottom lip.
Pia stopped in her tracks, both hands planted on her hips. “Exactly what do you find so amusing, David Myers?”
He bent at the waist and guffawed in an uncontrollable torrent while Pia glared.
After a moment, her own lips twitched. She bit down hard, wanting to stay at least a little bit outraged, but it was impossible in the face of his hilarity, and soon they were both out of control. Tears dripped off her chin, and she couldn’t catch her breath. David slipped an arm around her waist to support her and left it there as they continued toward her cottage.
So much for keeping a healthy distance from the new minister.
He said goodbye at her gate, and she watched him until he entered his own and turned to wave—as if he knew she’d be gazing after him like a love-struck teenager. Mortified, Pia hurried up the walkway and into the privacy of her cottage.
After a simple dinner and a long shower, she stood over her worktable, studying the items spread over its surface. She wanted to give each of her neighbors a gift from JK. Susanna and Zoe already had their necklaces. The one remaining female neighbor was Kaci James, a pretty strawberry-blonde who’d lived at Heart’s Haven longer than most of the current tenants. Though she had met Kaci only once, Pia knew the one necklace left in the assortment of gifts belonged to the young teacher. She fingered the gold cross pendant—a Peretti Original she called ‘Hearts at the Cross.’ A tiny heart glittered from the end of each arm, sparkling with red, amber, and aurora borealis crystals. What message did it hold for her neighbor?
That left the men. The quiet, bookish tenant in the unit immediately to the east of David’s was Zack Manning. Pia had known him on a casual, distant basis for several years, due to his college friendship with her brother, Gabe, who would soon be moving into one of the Heart’s Haven cottages on a sabbatical from his job as a policeman.
The other male tenant bore an unusual name. Not Ryan, but something close…Ryne. Ryne Calvert. Pia had met him the day she moved in, when he stopped outside her gate and offered a quiet welcome to Heart’s Haven. She’d spotted him walking the greenway alongside the forest with Kaci a time or two. Were they friends, or was there something more between them? Thanks to David, the Heart’s Haven legend had her imagination working overtime, seeing romantic connections where there probably were none.
Which brought her right back around to David…he of the blue and green eyes and the heart-stopping smile. Pia grabbed her little bottle of anointing oil. Time to pray for guidance on these gifts. Anything to get the handsome new minister off her mind.
She shook a drop of oil onto her finger and touched it to six antique gold key rings, all shaped like old-fashioned keys, each with a different design. These would go to the men. The stem of each piece was engraved with the attribute it symbolized: faith, success, love, peace, friendship, and happiness.
Except…as she looked closer, Pia realized “success” was missing. Instead, “faith” appeared on two of the rings. A little tingle of electricity zipped fr
om the top of her spine right down to her toes. A shipping error…or a God-thing?
A couple of other accessories lay scattered around the table. On a whim, she anointed those, as well, then bowed her head and prayed for direction in distributing the gifts.
Finished, she settled into her old-but-oh-so-comfy recliner, closed her eyes and allowed her worn Bible to fall open on her lap, trusting God to lead her to whatever passage she most needed.
The pages parted, and Pia touched her finger to one of them, her eyes still closed. This solitary ritual was not a game to her, and she opened her eyes, eager to see where the Father had led her today.
Ephesians. Her finger rested on the tenth verse of the sixth chapter. Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.
Familiar, much-loved words. She read on: Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
A low vibration began in her fingertip, where it still rested on the page. Puzzled, she lifted her hand and rubbed her thumb and index finger together. The sensation stopped.
Weird.
Returning her gaze to the Bible, she rested her hand on the opposite page as she read.
Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; and your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace.
The tingle returned—suddenly and with increased strength, traveling the length of her arm. Pia jerked it off the Bible. What in the world?
As the strange electric vibe once again abated, she managed a shaky smile. “I’ve read these scriptures at least a hundred times, Lord,” she whispered. “Am I missing something?”
