Easter Promises

by Lois Richer

  “No. I’m leaving them. The exterior could use a bit of green.” Jayne adjusted the candles on the altar before pulling out her camera and snapping pictures. “I keep an album so future brides can see what’s possible.”

  “Very smart. I agree with your friend. It would be a pity if Rose’s Roses had to close.”

  “Thanks.” The deflation that always fell after delivering a bridal order hit Jayne as they walked to the car. Would she ever get to be a bride?

  Who would want to marry a clumsy, half-blind woman with scars?

  “Thank you for pitching in the way you did. I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”

  “My pleasure.” Ben began explaining about his recent arrival in Palm Springs. It seemed moments later that they pulled up in front of the shop. “Have you time for a coffee?”

  In that moment, Jayne realized she wanted to know more about Ben Cummings. About his job. His life. It would be wonderful to sit in the sun and share conversation with a handsome man. But there was always work.

  Besides, Jayne had no idea how to go on a date.

  “I—I can’t. Thank you for asking, but I’ve got a convention booked for tomorrow. There’s a banquet in the evening and I need to do the table centerpieces.” Jayne grasped the door handle, paused before opening it. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help. Will you allow me to send a bouquet to your friend at no charge?”

  “Certainly not.” Ben seemed annoyed by the suggestion. “You need to learn to accept a gift, Jayne Rose, when it’s a gesture of friendliness.”

  “I only wanted to return the favor you did,” she murmured quietly. She slid her fingers over the door panel, searching for the handle. “Thanks again. Goodbye.”

  “Wait.”

  Jayne froze. Ever since the accident that had turned her life upside down, she’d felt like an odd man out. Changing schools, listening to other girls talk about boys, dates and fashion when she was still learning how to walk without a limp, when the scars on her arms were still ugly and rippled and everyone gawked. Jayne had tried to join in, but no one saw her, only her injuries. Now the wretched feelings of being an oddball came rushing back.

  Ben had seemed interested in talking to her. But maybe he was simply being polite. Jayne knew she wasn’t like other girls. Since she’d changed schools, she’d never belonged to the “in” group. She’d never achieved the kind of easy camaraderie she’d had before the accident, certainly never with a man.

  And yet with Ben she’d felt comfortable.

  “Jayne?”

  “Yes?” Where was the door handle?

  “I’m sorry. I was rude.” He grasped her chin, coaxed her to look at him. “As a matter of fact, there is a favor I need.”

  “Oh.” Suspicion raised its head. Jayne frowned, jerking her chin away. “What?”

  “I bought a house here in Palm Springs. A fixer-upper they called it.” He smiled as if that was funny. “The inside work is finally done. That’s not the problem.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s the yard. I want to landscape it, but clearly I have no idea how to do that in this climate. I’ve killed everything I’ve brought home,” he said mournfully.

  “And the favor?”

  “Do you know anyone who could help me? Preferably someone who knows desert plants, tolerances and such.”

  Jayne’s heart thudded an extra beat. “I know someone,” she replied.

  “Who?”

  “Me. Landscaping is where I’d hoped to go next with Rose’s Roses. If I could get a loan, I’d expand into that field.” She got caught up in her dreams and began talking about her favorite subject until muffled laughter finally stopped her. She grimaced. “Sorry. Sometimes I get carried away.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.” His smile raised butterflies in her stomach.

  “I guess,” Jayne murmured, averting her eyes. “What kind of landscape?”

  “Something unusual.”

  “I can do unusual.” She bit her lip and decided to take a risk. “I’d appreciate a chance to bid on the job.”

  “Don’t say that until you see the scope of it,” Ben warned.

  “When?” she asked eagerly.

  “Tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Great. What’s the address?” Jayne scribbled it down with the pen he handed her. “One-thirty? I go to church in the morning with Emma. The one we just decorated, actually.”

  “One-thirty is fine. Thanks, Jayne.”

  “Thank you. Bye.” She wiggled out of his vehicle, slammed the door shut and hurried into the shop, ignoring the twinge of pain in her bad knee.

  Finally, a job she could sink her teeth into. Maybe the only landscaping job she would ever have if she didn’t soon find someone to buy the business.

  Gran’s not getting any better, God.

  Dreaming of being a bride? Jayne had no time for that. She needed to concentrate on the issue at hand and get the money for Emma’s operation.

  And she needed to get it soon.

  Chapter Two

  The little brown church stood proudly in the sunlight on Sunday morning, the two trees, now bare of their wedding tulle, guarding its front doors.

  Ben stepped under the porticoed entrance, hoping the church was big enough to hold one more. Judging by the number of cars in the lot, this church was popular.

  “Hi.” A tiny woman in lilac handed him a bulletin. “I’m Emma Rose,” she said softly, her breathing uneven. “Welcome to First Avenue Church. The service is just about to start.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured. Jayne’s grandmother. They shared the same amazing turquoise eyes. Ben took the seat the usher led him to and scanned the congregation.

  Jayne sat near the front, her beautiful auburn curls bunched on top of her head, glasses teetering precariously on the end of her nose as she leaned over to hug a young girl seated beside her. In fact, there was a whole row of young girls. Was Jayne a Sunday school teacher?

  His curiosity about this woman bordered on the ridiculous. Ben thought about her constantly, about how hard she’d worked to make that wedding just right. He thought about the confident way she moved around the shop, snatching up this and that and forming them into something beautiful, only stumbling when she became self-conscious. He thought about how her hair had glistened a deep ruby when the sun caught it, about the scars he’d glimpsed on her forearms, and about the way she sometimes nibbled on her full bottom lip.

  The chords of the old organ startled Ben into attention as the congregation rose for prayer. The service began with Jayne’s group of girls playing a handbell selection that echoed to the rafters like some wordless heavenly choir. The rest of the service wasn’t overly long, but there was a lot packed into it. Prayers for members who were missing due to illness, hymns sung with gusto and joy, words of encouragement and teaching to remind that God truly cared about even the smallest details. By the time the last chord died and people rose to leave, Ben’s heart had been refreshed. He decided he’d come here again. He’d make this church his home, for now.

  He turned to leave.

  “What are you doing here?” Jayne blocked his way out of the pew, turquoise eyes swirling with confusion. “I thought I was to meet you at your place, at one-thirty.” She peered at her watch.

  “You are. But I’m new in town and I wanted to attend services. I thought this might be a good church to visit. I was right.” He smiled at her, surprised by how young she looked with her gorgeous hair pulled back off her face. “Have you attended here for a long time, Jayne?”

  “Since I came to live with Granny.” She blinked at her grandmother, who had moved near. “Emma, this is Ben Cummings. He helped me with the wedding yesterday. This is my grandmother, Ben. Emma Rose.”

  “I’m glad to meet you.” Her delicate hand felt frail against his and she seemed to sway slightly. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  “I’m fine.” The tiny woman wheezed breathily. “Though you are handsome enou
gh to make a lady swoon. Ben, did you say?” she said as she studied him.

  “Ben Cummings, Miss Emma.” He bowed in his most gallant manner, hoping to impress, though he had a hunch Emma was as sharp as a tack and wouldn’t be easily fooled. “At your service.”

  “Are you indeed?” A hint of something edged her words, but a moment later, Emma’s smile returned. “Did you enjoy our service, Ben?”

  “Very much. Would you two ladies join me for lunch?” The words emerged of their own accord, but Ben wasn’t taking them back. It would be fun to shed his solitary status for a while and share a meal.

  “I don’t—”

  “What a lovely idea!” Emma said, cutting off her granddaughter’s protest. “Jayne and I would enjoy it very much.”

  Jayne didn’t look delighted, but Ben ignored that. He’d spent most of last evening thinking about Jayne Rose instead of working on his novel. Today he intended to find some answers to his many questions about her.

  “How about we meet at…” Ben named a restaurant he’d eaten at before. “Or I could drive you both there, if that’s easier.”

  “We’ll meet you.” Jayne avoided looking at him.

  “Great. I’ll go get a table. Do you have a preference?”

  “No.” Jayne moved to speak to someone else. Ben wondered if she was annoyed.

  “My granddaughter tells me you need a landscaper.” Emma sat down. Her lack of color frightened him.

  “Yes.” He debated a moment. “Are you truly all right, Miss Emma?”

  “I just need a minute to catch my breath.” She tilted her head back, closed her eyes and began a deep breathing routine.

  Ben caught Jayne studying them. She disappeared. A few moments later she returned and touched Emma’s arm.

  “The van’s at the door, Grandmother. Are you sure you want to go out for lunch?” she asked, her voice soft.

  “Perhaps not today.” Emma struggled to rise.

  Ben assisted her and kept his arm under her hand as they left the church.

  “May we make it another time, Ben?”

  “We must.” He helped her into the van. “I hope you feel better soon.”

  “Thank you, Ben.” Emma waggled her fingers goodbye.

  “I’ll be at your house at one-thirty, as agreed,” Jayne said before she pulled away.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Ben murmured.

  And he was.

  Jayne pressed the button at the security gates and waited for an answer. Ben Cummings lived here? The place resembled a 1950s hideaway for some legendary movie star. Palm Springs was certainly known for that.

  Once she’d been buzzed in, Jayne felt her fears rising. The yard was huge. She didn’t have a crew. There was a lot of work to be done. Doubt escalated.

  “Are you staying in your car?” Ben, with those delicious brown eyes, stood waiting.

  “No.” Reluctantly she opened the car door and stepped out carefully, favoring her knee. Then she leaned back in for her sketch pad and pencil.

  “Welcome to my home,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  Ben kept talking, but Jayne didn’t hear. She surveyed the yard. As she did, a low buzz of creativity in her brain began building to a crescendo.

  “Boundless possibilities,” she murmured as she sketched.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need a few minutes.” She wandered away, trying not to limp. If only she hadn’t worn heels this morning. Her knee always rebelled against heels, but her soul loved the elegant feel of them. She didn’t often feel elegant.

  Jayne paused here and there for perspective before continuing around the site. A boulder nested against a shady bit of fence. She sat down to rest her leg, her fingers rippling ideas across page after page. Sometime later Ben’s voice penetrated.

  “Care for some lemonade?”

  “Thank you.” She sipped thirstily. A soft wind blew off the desert, tousled her hair and rustled a nearby palm. “It’s warm for February.”

  “By the time Easter gets here it’ll be gorgeous.” Ben leaned against a palm tree, watching her with those dark brooding eyes.

  “Can I ask you some questions?”

  He frowned, but finally nodded.

  “Do you intend to use this space for entertaining?”

  “No. The more privacy the better.” Blunt but definite.

  “Do you want flowers?” She studied him closely. “Will you have a gardener?”

  “No gardener. Just me.”

  So he didn’t have a wife?

  “I want whatever is carefree and drought tolerant.”

  “May I see inside the house?”

  “Why?” His brows lowered darkly.

  “I’m not prying,” she assured him. “I need to see the vistas from inside and get a feel for the transition. You don’t want visitors to be jolted when they step inside.”

  “I don’t have visitors.” But after a moment Ben led the way to the front door and pushed it open.

  Her curiosity growing, Jayne stepped through the doorway and stopped, surprised by the decor. It was homey and relaxing. Luxurious, yet not overdone. She kept walking, but each room read the same—comfortable anonymity. Who was Ben Cummings?

  The study overlooked the front yard. Here she found a bit of his personality in the masses of books filling mahogany shelves, many of them by the same author—David Bentley. Ben had more than one copy of the same titles.

  “You must be a fan of this Bentley fellow,” she mused.

  “Mmm.” Noncommittal.

  “This is where you work?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you do?” The space was lovely, but quite impersonal. Jayne needed something of Ben’s taste to go on.

  “I manage assets,” Ben answered after an overlong silence.

  “Oh.” Jayne wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know much about that.” She saw more books lined up next to the window. “You really like reading.”

  “Yes.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other. Clearly he didn’t like her being here. Jayne moved to the window. A fountain perhaps? Cactus certainly.

  “Are you finished?”

  She blinked back to awareness. “What? Oh. Yes. Thanks.”

  “How long will it take you to come up with an idea?” He followed her to the front door.

  “I already have ideas, but I need time to put them together.” And figure out how to get a crew and a way to pay them. “A week?”

  “Fine.” Ben walked beside her to her car. “Anything else?”

  “Budget?” She blinked at the amount. “And are there specific materials or plants, furniture, you want?”

  “I want to be able to comfortably sit out here and watch the sunsets without someone watching me. Beyond that…” He shrugged.

  Ben’s repeated request for privacy puzzled Jayne, but one didn’t question a would-be client. She closed her notebook.

  “Okay, I’ll get to work. Oh.” She whirled around, found him too near and backed up a step, wobbling just a bit. “I left my glass—”

  “Your glasses are on your nose.” He grinned.

  “I meant my lemonade glass.” Her cheeks burned.

  “I’ll get it later.” He moved slightly closer. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “I guess.”

  “Those glasses look very cumbersome. Why don’t you wear contacts?”

  “I told you my parents died?” Jayne waited for his nod. “It was a car accident. I was in the car. One of my injuries was to my head—optic nerve injuries. Contacts aren’t an option.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  “It’s okay.” She debated how much to explain. “For years the doctors said there was nothing they could do.”

  “And now?”

  “My ophthalmologist says there’s a new operation I could have.”

  “But?”

  “It’s incredibly risky,” she murmured. “There aren’t any guarantees.”

&nbs
p; “There never are in life.”

  “I manage.” Indignant, Jayne stood taller. “I also have scars on my arms. And I hurt my knee, too, so I’m clumsy sometimes and bump into things. But I’ve learned to cope.”

  Ben said nothing.

  “Anyway…” She paused awkwardly.

  “You’re looking for an investor for Rose’s Roses.”

  “Or a partner. Ideally, I’d love to buy it, but…” She shrugged.

  “The money issue.”

  “Yeah.” Jayne wondered if he was worried about her ability to complete his job. “Any work I took on here would be finished regardless of what happens with Rose’s Roses.”

  “I’m sure it would, Jayne. I never thought otherwise.” His smile made those espresso eyes melt. “I recall a friend who started his business with help from a not-for-profit group called Restart that lends money. You could apply to them. Wait a minute. I think I have some information in my office.” Ben left and returned to hand her some papers. “Maybe Restart would help you, too.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “Someone had faith in me once. I’d like to pass it on.”

  “Well, thank you.” Jayne studied the loan papers while trying to ignore her heart’s bump of hope. No point in dreaming. She still didn’t have the down payment she’d need for a loan.

  “My card’s attached. Call me when you your bid is ready.”

  “I will. Thanks for the opportunity.” There was nothing else to say. As Jayne left, she glanced in her rearview mirror. Ben remained in place, staring at her car, eyes narrowed.

  Was that because of the sun or was it something else, something he wasn’t telling her?

  She glanced at his card.

  Cummings Enterprises. Hardly a descriptive business name.

  “The work on that house wasn’t cheap,” she mused. “Whatever he does, he surely must have funds to pay for landscaping. I could ask for a big deposit.”

  Ben Cummings was an enigma.

  For the first time in her life Jayne was intrigued by a man. Funny how that made her heart skip a beat. Of course, it wasn’t just Ben who had her worked up. There was that loan company, Restart, to consider, too—but it was silly to waste time dreaming about them. She probably wouldn’t get a loan.