Summer's Glory: Seasons of Faith Book One (Arcadia Valley Romance 2)

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  Silas took a moment to pray. Please let her understand that I don’t want to hurt her. He wondered if it would be better to leave everything in the truck. Making a big deal out of their accident might make Violet feel even more resentment toward him. Or maybe she’d see the flowers simply as a show of friendship. Except that they weren’t friends. He had no idea what she would think. Lord, please smooth the way.

  Sliding out of the truck, he took a moment to strap on his tool belt. Once he was in building mode, all of the day’s worries would melt away. At least, that was the way it usually happened. He sure hoped that would happen at Fire and Brimstone. He couldn’t imagine spending a whole week feeling like his heart was going to pound out of his chest.

  As he walked toward the door, the flowers felt bigger and more ridiculous with each step. He’d never brought a girl flowers. It wasn’t something he did. The few girls he’d dated hadn’t seemed the type to want the traditional offering of affection. Of course, Violet wasn’t exactly traditional, either. She looked like any other pretty girl, but she had Thor and a certain edge to her personality. Her level gaze, the way she didn’t giggle through her sentences, the way she took charge in the restaurant. Add in the fact she taught mouthy eighth graders instead of cute little kindergartners and Violet was clearly not an average girl. She had grit. She had spirit. She wasn’t someone to mess with and certainly wouldn’t be swayed by some old supermarket daisies.

  He reached the door of the darkened restaurant and as he looked at his reflection in the glass, he suddenly knew that the book and the flowers were a bad idea. Turning around, he started back for the truck as fast as his work boots could carry him. Stupid, stupid idea.

  “Silas?”

  He missed a step at the sound of her voice but managed to catch himself. He turned and forced a smile. “Hey, Violet.”

  She was holding open the door, confusion on her face. “Where are you going?”

  “I just… forgot something in the truck.” He watched her gaze travel from his eyes down to the flowers in his arms.

  “Oh,” she said, her voice much softer. A dark circle had formed under one eye and her nose looked slightly swollen.

  Silas cringed inwardly. She knew he was lying. She always knew when he lied.

  Walking forward, he held out the flowers. “You probably don’t like flowers.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to turn around again and this time, he’d drive home and stay there. He’d made it sound like he got her flowers because he knew she’d hate them.

  Silas waited for Violet to give him a look of disdain and refuse the daisies. Instead, she let out a soft laugh.

  “Not sure how to take that, actually,” she said.

  “Take it like I’m an idiot,” he said.

  “Oh, well, in that case…” She shyly reached out and took the flowers from him. She waved him inside and as the door closed, she flipped the main restaurant lights. Thor lay near the register. He stood and approached them, head lowered.

  Silas stayed still. “Hey, Thor.” He couldn’t imagine what Loki would do if she’d seen her owner on the ground, blood pouring from his face and another human standing over him. “You’ve got some excellent control and I wanted to say thanks for not tearing me limb from limb yesterday.”

  She smiled and called Thor over. “Shake,” she commanded.

  Thor lifted a paw obediently but his eyes were fixed on Silas in an unnerving way.

  After their tense greeting, Thor went back to stand next to Violet, as if ready to intervene if Silas tried anything else.

  “Oh, and this is also for you.” For some reason, holding out the vintage hardback was harder than giving her flowers. The dustjacket was a little tattered and the illustration was faded.

  She took it from him. “The Busman’s Honeymoon. One of my favorites. How did you know?”

  “Anybody who likes P.D. James probably likes Dorothy L. Sayers.”

  “But I can’t.” She held it out to him.

  “Why not?” He wanted to point out that she had no problem accepting flowers.

  She looked back down at it, clearly conflicted. “I mean, I can. I’m just not sure…”

  Silas waited for her to give him a reason. Of all the things a man could give a woman, a book was probably the least fraught with meaning. He didn’t understand why the daisies were okay, but the book was not.

  “It’s amazing. It must be from the forties, at least.” She smiled shyly. “You really didn’t have to bring me anything. It wasn’t your fault. To be fair, we should be exchanging tokens of regret. I could run get you some roses if you’re a roses type of guy.”

  Relief flooded through him so swiftly that he felt weak at the knees. She was teasing him and it felt wonderful.

  “I’m a taco type of guy,” he said. He couldn’t help smiling as she laughed. He had never heard her laugh before and it was a beautiful sound, just like her. “But seriously, I wasn’t the one who got the bloody nose and landed on the hard floor.”

  She winced. “I think hitting the floor hurt more than running into that tube.”

  “Really?” Alarm shot through him. “Did you hit your head? I didn’t see very clearly. I was too busy trying to figure out what I’d run into. Do you need to get checked out? Let me feel for a bump.” He reached out, ready to examine the back of her head. Thor let out a low growl and Silas paused his movement in mid-air. “They say a slight concussion can― ”

  “No, not my head. It’s… the other end.” Her cheeks went pink.

  “Oh.” He dropped his hands. “Not much you can do for that.”

  “Right. Not like they can put a cast on it.”

  He snorted. “That would be awkward.”

  “Teaching middle schoolers in a butt cast? Recipe for epic teasing. I’d never live it down.” She was laughing but her smile started to waver as the words hung between them.

  An awkward silence followed. Silas searched for something to say. “How did the tomato harvest go yesterday?”

  “They picked everything that was ripe and are blanching it all today. She’s got some friends helping,” Violet said. “How’s the farm going?”

  “My mom planted the usual crops, but got too sick to really spend much time with it. My sister Romy took over.”

  “Well, if she ever needs help, let us know.”

  His brows went up. Surely she didn’t mean that.

  “I know how important the farm was to your mom. She brought a lot of produce to the school for kids to bring home if they wanted,” Violet said.

  “I didn’t know she did that.”

  She nodded. “Hunger is an issue in every town and she wanted reach beyond the foodbanks. A lot of kids would take apples, carrots, cucumbers or whatever they wanted. It was a good way to get healthy food to kids who might not have enough at home. You never knew who really needed it, so there was no shame attached.”

  “Sounds like her,” he said, his voice rough. “Romy is worried about disappointing our mom. I thought she meant keeping the garden alive but I can see that it’s more than that.”

  He struggled to swallow back his grief. It hadn’t been long enough since his mother had died for him to be able to talk about her without feeling overwhelming sadness. The cancer had progressed quickly and he was thankful they’d all had a chance to say goodbye, but it didn’t keep him from missing her so much it took his breath away. She’d always believed he would find his way home and back to his faith. At least she’d lived long enough to see it.

  Looking at Violet standing there, still holding the daisies, he suddenly wished he had asked his mother’s advice before she died. Maybe she would have known how to repair the damage he’d done, known the words to somehow bring peace to his past.

  Violet held his gaze and something in those beautiful dark eyes gave him hope. Maybe all was not lost. She hadn’t refused to let him in the restaurant. She’d accepted the flowers a lot more easily than he’d expected. Thor hadn’t bitten his hand of
f. Maybe all he needed was the courage to say what was in his heart. He took a breath, trying to calm his racing pulse. He’d had to apologize to a lot of people in the last few years and one more shouldn’t make a difference, but it did. She was different.

  Then, as he fought for the strength to speak honestly, she seemed to sense he was on the verge of saying something important, and turned away.

  “I’ll go put these in a vase,” she said, and seconds later had disappeared into the kitchen.

  Silas was left standing there, heart pounding, unspoken words on his tongue. Thor followed after her, but stopped for a moment to give Silas a long look.

  “Don’t worry. Not going to chase after her,” Silas said under his breath. Fine, he had work to do anyway. If God wanted them to make up, then He would have to keep Violet in the same room with him for more than five minutes. Silas had done his best and he wasn’t going to force her to listen to him, no matter how much he wanted her to.

  Chapter Seven

  “The mountains are calling and I must go.”

  ― John Muir

  Violet placed the daisies in the clear blue vase and plucked off dead leaves. The Sayers book was incredible. She’d never seen a copy that old. She glanced at it again, smiling. Books always made good presents, but a vintage book by a favorite author was a great present.

  She’d never been a person who needed gifts to feel valued. She’d rather have someone’s attention and time. But he’d brought her flowers. And not just any flower. He’d brought her daisies, her favorite. Of course, it was just a coincidence. He couldn’t have known it was her favorite flower. No one had ever brought her flowers. She’d dated a few guys in college and even gone out with Tom Bedford, Arcadia Valley’s handsome young electrician, a few times. But none of them had thought to give her any flowers, not even roses, which she’d always thought were horribly cliché.

  Violet straightened the flowers, admiring the bright white of the petals, the golden centers, and the impossibly green leaves. It really didn’t matter. She was modern, smart, and professional. That old idea of wooing a woman with a bunch of dead vegetation had no effect on her. None at all. But she couldn’t help smiling. She felt warmth in the center of her chest, as if something wonderful had happened. She always felt better around plants. The garden was one of her favorite places to spend time.

  Daisies were such a friendly flower. It would have been strange if he’d brought her red roses. Or even yellow roses, for friendship. They weren’t friends. Nothing close to it. Orchids would have been strangely formal. A potted plant would have looked more like a housewarming gift. But daisies were perfect, somehow. They were cheerful and unassuming. A simple peace offering. But her happiness came from the unexpected beauty, not because they were from Silas. Violet repeated the words to herself but the smile didn’t fade from her lips.

  She wondered whether to put them at the front for all the guests to enjoy, or to have them in the office. She decided to leave them on the desk while she worked on her lesson plans, and then bring them out when the lunch crowd arrived. Of course, if Jamie or her mother saw the flowers, they might ask where they’d come from and get the completely wrong idea.

  At the thought of her mother, Violet remembered what she’d forgotten yesterday. Carrying the daisies to the office, she told Thor to stay and headed for the main part of the restaurant. The sound of hammering echoed through the cavernous space. She stopped a few feet away from where Silas knelt near the window and cleared her throat. He didn’t look up.

  “Excuse me, Silas,” she said loudly, feeling formal and awkward.

  He turned, startled. “Yes?”

  “I forgot to ask you something. My mother wanted to know if you could also make some butcher block cutting stations in the kitchen. She said you might want to look at the space before deciding.”

  “Now?”

  “Whenever is easiest. I can wait.” She should have stayed in the office for a while and let him get some work done. He probably felt like he’d never finish the project with all the time he spent talking to her.

  “I can take a look right now, if you’re okay with that.” He stood up and Violet realized he was trying to be considerate of her, in case she felt uncomfortable being alone with him in an isolated part of the building. She almost laughed at the thought.

  It didn’t make any difference whether they were out in the main restaurant section with the full wall of glass windows or back in the kitchen. Violet wasn’t afraid of Silas, not in that way. She was wary of him, true. But the only physical danger apparently came from her inability to slow down around dark corners.

  She led him through the swinging double doors, hitting the bank of lights on the right. The kitchen sprang into view. Violet couldn’t help smiling with pride. Every surface gleamed, the floor shone, copper pots hung above the counters, long rows of large knives hung on magnetized metal strips, and the shelves were stocked with neatly labeled tubs. Her mother had worked for forty years as a paralegal and saved all her life for this chance. She wasn’t going to cut corners.

  Silas let out a low whistle. “Very nice.”

  “Makes you want to cook, doesn’t it?” Violet pointed at the end of the room. “She was thinking of putting in the butcher blocks down here, near the walk-in freezers. They’re using portable work stations right now, but wheeling them in and out of the storage area is a hassle.”

  He followed her across the room and when they reached the freezers, she stood back so he could examine the space. It was strange to see him so focused as he measured and took notes. An odd sensation passed over her, of seeing something from the past and something completely new, like an overlay from the projector she used at school. He was the boy who had made her life a misery, but the harder she looked at him, the less resemblance he bore to the monster she knew.

  She watched him work, her mind and her heart at odds. Grown up Silas was careful, competent, and kind. He made toys for children and sat with old ladies in church. He brought daisies to girls who didn’t even like him. But the boy Silas had always been charming like that. He’d used his good looks and that easy grace to convince people he was the good guy. A little dangerous, but all in good fun. Violet had been the only one who could see through his lies. Maybe he hadn’t really changed. Maybe Violet’s talent to see through him had faded away. What if she was now as gullible as the rest of the world?

  Silas looked up at that moment and their gaze met. His expression was guarded, his eyes held a question. He waited for her to speak. When she said nothing, he didn’t move. She was aware of the moment stretching between them and she knew that she should say something, anything. It was her chance to confront him about everything he had done.

  She didn’t want an apology. She wanted an explanation.

  Violet clenched her fists and tried to organize her thoughts. Silas straightened up and stood before her, hands at his sides, clearly waiting for her to give voice to her anger. He seemed sad, but resigned.

  Seconds passed.

  She opened her mouth but didn’t know where to start. Maybe with the fortune cookies he used throw at her in the hallway. Maybe with the way he laughed when she changed direction to avoid him. A memory flashed in her head of the months he sat behind her in eight grade history class, kicking the back of her chair and whispering fake Chinese words under his breath.

  “I’m Korean, not Chinese,” she blurted.

  “I know.”

  He swallowed hard and that small movement broke her resolve. She had waited years to confront him and now she felt pity for the man before her.

  Anger and frustration flooded through her. Silas had just lost his mother to cancer and was doing the best he could to live an honorable life. She had so much to say to him, so many questions she needed answered. And now she couldn’t speak the words to the man standing before her, his head slightly bent as if in preparation for her tirade.

  Turning on her heel, Violet strode out of the kitchen, back down the hall
way, and into the office. Slamming the door behind her, she threw herself into the office chair, then bolted upright, crying out in pain. Clenching her teeth against the throbbing in her backside, she started to cry. Thor pushed his head into her lap and stared up at her with large brown eyes.

  “I’m fine,” she said to Thor, then sobbed harder at how big a lie it was. Silas was making her miserable now, just as he always had been. He may not have said or done anything to her, but it was clear there was too much bad history for her to be anything close to professional. A bunch of daisies couldn’t fix their problems. Her heart felt bruised and her nerves were ragged.

  Violet cried hot tears into Thor’s coat. Her nose was running and she absent-mindedly reached for Silas’s handkerchief, which she had cleaned and left neatly folded on the desk. She wiped her tears and blew her nose, then realized what she was holding. Tossing it onto the desk, she reached for some tissues instead. The Dorothy L. Sayers book seemed to smirk at her, mocking her for putting so much importance on something so silly.

  All of her talk about being cold and detached was just that― talk. She would never be indifferent to Silas Black. He would always have control over her emotions. Nothing she could do would protect her from that. Her only defense was to avoid him completely.

  ***

  Silas forced himself to finish measuring the end of the work space. His palms were sweaty and his heart was pounding in his chest. As Violet faced him, that expression of fear and anger on her face, he had remembered all of the times he had bullied her. Giving Violet a bloody nose hadn’t been as shocking as that expression on her face. Acid rose in his throat and he closed his eyes for a moment. He was forgiven, made new, complete in Him.

  It didn’t mean he wouldn’t suffer the consequences of his actions, but God had forgiven him, even if Violet had not.

  He wrote down the final numbers and winced at the shakiness of the notes. Since arriving in Arcadia Falls, he’d thought about her often but he hadn’t really been aware of how desperately he’d wanted her forgiveness. For the first time, he had to face the fact that he had been holding onto that hope. More than hope. He’d imagined they could put it all behind them, maybe even be friends. He could convince her he was different now, not the jerk she’d known in school, and they’d find peace. But nothing he could do would make a difference.