by Lois Richer
“You didn’t have to.” She gathered up her drawings and stuffed them into the portfolio she’d brought. “I have to get back. Emma isn’t feeling well today.”
“Jayne.” Ben rose, placed a hand on her arm. “I don’t mean…” He stopped, at a loss for words. How did you tell someone their ideas were boring, old-school stuff and you’d expected innovative, groundbreaking, modern ideas?
“It’s fine. Really. Thanks for the opportunity. I have to go.” Jayne scurried out of his house and off his property as if he’d threatened her. She never noticed when one of her design sheets fluttered to the floor.
Ben picked it up, but she was gone before he could call out. He shoved it in his pocket while watching the cloud of red-brown dust follow her van through his gates. He returned inside, made himself a cup of coffee and carried it out to his back deck. There he sat down on a rusty chair and surveyed his favorite part of the yard. The pool was the first thing he’d had repaired and cleaned. It had become his solace.
He pulled out Jayne’s sketch.
Only this wasn’t Jayne’s work. The boring use of space around the pool didn’t match the excitement on her face as she’d trailed around his grounds that Sunday afternoon. Ben could reconcile nothing about the presentation he’d just seen with the vibrant quick thinker who’d scrawled idea after idea across her notepad, blissfully lost in possibilities. This design was—he hunted for the right word—safe.
In a flash Ben knew what had happened. Jayne needed money for her grandmother’s operation, therefore she needed this job. And she wasn’t willing to risk losing it on atypical ideas she probably thought he’d reject. But, the thing was, Ben wanted the unusual, the unexpected. He wanted her innovations.
He’d only caught a glance at Jayne’s sketches that Sunday afternoon, but Ben was almost positive she had originally planned something quite different for his yard. He’d seen from her floral work that she was inventive. Nothing at Rose’s Roses looked ordinary, not the way this sketch did. This was a waste of her talents.
Ben had to find a way to get Jayne to let go of the fear and take a risk. But how?
“She’s gifted, Lord. She’s got vision, if she’d only let herself believe in it, in You.” As he so often had in the past, Ben prayed for a way to help another whose faith needed bolstering.
Half an hour later he had an idea. Time to visit Emma.
Jayne couldn’t believe what she was reading.
Your loan has been approved. A representative from Restart will contact you within the next two days to complete the paperwork and initiate the transaction.
“Granny! Granny, listen to this!”
Emma was delighted, of course, but her excitement was tempered by her weakened state. Because she’d felt too ill to leave her bed today, Jayne had used her lunch hour to run home and warm some soup for her beloved grandmother’s lunch. This news made the trip across town even more worthwhile.
“I’m going to call the doctor’s office and find out when we can schedule the operation.”
“You don’t have the money yet, dear,” Granny Em’s weak voice chastised.
“Aren’t you the lady who’s always telling me to have some faith?” Jayne chided. “Pray, Granny.” If Emma asked, surely God would answer.
Jayne waited till her grandmother had whispered a short prayer for guidance before calling the doctor’s office. She was stunned when the operation was set for three days later.
“What is it?” Granny Em asked.
Jayne knelt by her grandmother’s bed and relayed the news as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“So why are you weeping, my dear?” The small gnarled fingers lovingly threaded through Jayne’s hair in a delicate caress. “This is what we’ve been waiting for.”
“I know.” Jayne buried her face in the bedclothes. “But I’m afraid, Granny Em. Open-heart surgery…” She gulped. “It’s so dangerous. I can’t lose you. You’re the only one I have left.”
“You always have God, Jayne,” Emma reminded. “I can’t be here forever, but He can. Don’t you remember our reading from the Psalms this morning? ‘Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will know no fear.’ There are so many scriptures telling us not to be afraid.”
“I know. But sometimes—” Jayne bit her lip. Why burden Emma when she must be having her own doubts? “I’ll try to remember, Granny.” She kissed the pale cheek and stood. “I guess I’d better get back to work.”
“I’ll read a bit more before I do those dishes.”
“What are you reading?”
“A novel by David Bentley. You said Ben had a lot of them in his office. I thought I’d find out what the attraction is.”
“Oh. Well, enjoy.” It was futile to tell her grandmother to leave the dishes for her, so Jayne didn’t bother. Half an hour later she was back at Rose’s Roses, where Sidney couldn’t contain her relief at the news of the loan.
“So you’ll be my boss,” she said and giggled. “As if you aren’t already. I’m so glad for Emma. What changes will you make here, Jayne?”
“Not many. We’ll keep doing what we’ve been doing, trying to grow the business.”
“Yes.” Moments later Sidney left on her own lunch break.
Jayne reworked the window display, her spirit uplifted as it hadn’t been for weeks. She finished just as Sidney returned. Together they loaded the day’s deliveries and Sidney left again. Between customers, Jayne updated her ledgers then reshelved the giftware section. The dream of landscaping Ben’s yard repeatedly fluttered through her brain, but she shoved it away. He’d had days to decide. She knew she’d lost the contract. If only she’d risked—
Jayne blinked, startled by the sight of Ben strolling into the shop, as if she’d somehow conjured him with her frequent thoughts.
“Hi,” he greeted her, his manner as friendly as usual. “Is Emma around?”
“She’s at home today,” Jayne told him, fiddling with a fern she’d already watered. “Can I help?”
“Nothing important. I was just going to chat. About Easter.” He watched her arrange place settings on a glass table. “The cat teapot you had in the window is gone.”
Ben seemed to have a fascination with window displays.
“Yes. A tourist bought it this morning.” Jayne couldn’t keep the news to herself any longer. “I got the loan,” she said.
“Great!” A wide grin displayed his perfect teeth. Did he have to look so good all the time? “I knew you would.”
“You did?” She studied him curiously. “How?”
“Well, you’re so talented. I can understand why they’d want to loan you that money, because you certainly know what you’re doing here. At Rose’s Roses, I mean.” Ben blinked, opened his mouth and then quickly closed it.
“Thank you.” He was acting oddly, Jayne decided.
“Do you have time to celebrate? There’s a new coffee place around the corner. They have a picture in the window of these mile-high cinnamon buns—”
Jayne started laughing.
“You and your window-shopping.” She shook her head. “Thanks anyway, but I’ve got too much to do.”
“How about dinner tonight?” Ben frowned. “Oh, you said Emma’s not well. Okay, what if I brought something over? You could both relax.”
“It’s nice of you, but…” Jayne didn’t want Emma around when Ben told her she hadn’t received the contract. But she couldn’t say that because a group of ladies arrived to seek her advice on table centerpieces for their annual luncheon fundraiser.
Ben hung around for a while, but when no solution was easily achieved with her customers, he raised a hand in farewell and left.
“What a handsome man,” Mrs. Bartle said. “I feel like I should know him.”
“He just moved here,” Jayne offered, wishing they’d make a decision so she could finish and maybe get home early.
“I’m sure I should know who he is.”
“His name is Ben Cummings.”
&n
bsp; “Never heard that name before. I guess I was wrong.” But for the rest of their time together, Mrs. Bartle kept glancing toward the door.
The women left as Sidney returned.
“You look a little frazzled, Jayne. What did those five sweet ladies do to make you look like that?” she teased.
“Only asked to see about every flower known to man. And guess what they selected for their midsummer luncheon? Daisies,” she said in disgust. “I answered a thousand questions about orchids and they chose daisies.” She sighed. “I’m beat.”
“Why don’t you go home? I’ll close up here. With all those golf masters in town, everyone’s pretty much on the course anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rich and famous.”
“You don’t mind?” Relieved, Jayne left ten minutes later. She stopped by the grocery store on her way and chose a ready-made supper. She was too tired to cook.
When she opened the door to her grandmother’s condo, Ben was in the kitchen, humming as he lifted lids that allowed delicious aromas to tease her nose.
“Hi,” he greeted her with a grin.
“Hi, yourself. What are you doing?”
“Cooking dinner. It’s a hobby of mine.”
“Cooking is?” She frowned. “You never mentioned it before.”
“It’s a new one.” He turned off a timer. “Your grandmother is reading in her room. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Does that give you enough time?”
To do what? But Jayne never asked. She was too bemused by the sight of big, tall Ben wrapped in one of her grandmother’s pale pink aprons, holding a darker pink pot mitt in one hand. He had a feather-brush of flour on one cheek and a stain of tomato sauce below his right eye. He looked adorable.
“Here.” He lifted the grocery bags from her arms. “I’ll put these away while you freshen up.”
“Thanks.” Jayne went to check on her grandmother. “What’s going on?”
“Ben wanted to celebrate you getting the loan. He offered to make dinner and I accepted. Are you upset?” Emma asked, a worried furrow pleating her forehead.
“Of course not.” She looked around. “Did you finish your book?’
“Yes. It was very insightful. Wear that pretty green sundress that brings out your eyes,” Emma suggested. “You always look so lovely in it.”
“It’s rather fancy for dinner at home, isn’t it?” Jayne gave her grandmother a speculative glance. “You’re not matchmaking, are you, Granny?”
“Ben’s a nice man who’s making us dinner. I simply thought we could make it an occasion.” Emma began primping. “Don’t be too long, dear.”
“No.” Bemused, Jayne entered her own room and sank onto the bed. She’d lived with Emma a long time, learned to read her unspoken signals. And right now Jayne’s radar told her Emma was up to something. Maybe not matchmaking, but something.
Jayne would be on her guard during this meal, for some sign that would explain Emma’s unusual attitude.
But as they shared Ben’s excellent cooking on Emma’s balcony, Jayne was hard-pressed to identify her grandmother’s motives as she asked question after question. Ben fielded most of them without giving away much.
“Are you worried I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing?” he finally teased.
“Maybe.” Emma sipped her tea. “It was a lovely dinner, Ben, thank you. But I think I’ll retire now. I’m quite tired.” She rose, kissed Jayne’s cheek, gave Ben another of her thoughtful gazes, and then left them alone together.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. I’m sure she wasn’t prying,” Jayne apologized.
“Of course she was.” Ben laughed. “She’s protecting her baby. You. I can’t fault her on that.”
Because she didn’t know how to respond, Jayne began clearing the table.
“I made this mess,” Ben protested, “so I’m washing. But I’ll gladly accept help drying.”
“It does seem as if you’ve used every dish we own,” Jayne mused, stunned by the mess in the kitchen.
“You have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet,” he said cheerily as he began scrubbing. “That’s what my new cookbook said. I saw it in—”
“The window of the bookstore,” she finished, laughing.
Since Ben didn’t mention his landscaping job, neither did Jayne. She knew he hadn’t been thrilled with her plans. Neither was she. Maybe…
“You must be concerned about the operation,” he said when they were again seated on the balcony, sipping lemon-mint iced tea. His brown eyes studied her. “But you don’t have to be. Emma will be fine.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I believe that,” he said. He reached out and covered her fingers with his, holding them for just a moment, then squeezing and letting go. “I trust God.”
“You make it sound so easy.” That sniggle of fear in her stomach winched a fraction tighter.
“It gets easier the more you do it, Jayne.” His beautiful smile blazed. “But you have to start, take a stand, insist to your doubting brain that God is who He says He is, that He always keeps His word.”
“How do I do that?” she asked, embarrassed that she had to ask after all these many years of calling herself a Christian.
“Whenever the doubts start creeping in, you push them back with a Scripture verse. ‘When I am afraid, I will put my confidence in You. I will trust the promises of God.’ Or, ‘Oh God, my strength! I will sing Your praises, for You are my place of safety.’” He leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “After you’ve repeated them long enough, your head will accept what your mouth is saying and the fear will lose its power.”
She vaguely remembered the same advice from high school days when she’d briefly joined a youth group. She’d let bad memories of her high school troubles crowd out the group leader’s teaching. She should have been stronger.
“I have one favorite verse I repeat to myself when things get really bad. Want to hear it?”
“Yes.” Since Ben was strong and confident, Jayne was willing to emulate what was clearly successful.
“It’s from the sixtieth Psalm when King David reminded himself that he wasn’t alone. He said, ‘God has promised to help us. He has vowed it by His holiness!’ Those are strong words. A powerful promise, one you can depend on, Jayne.”
“Thank you.” The usual awkwardness rushed in. Jayne kept her head bent.
“The day of Emma’s operation,” Ben said softly. “Do you mind if I’m there? Maybe there’s something I could do, or—”
“You don’t need a reason,” Jayne told him, squeezing all her courage together to meet his gaze. “We’d love to have you there. Emma has to go in tomorrow night for prep.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “She has a lot of friends and they’ll be praying.” But I could use a friend, too.
“Then I’ll pick you up the next morning and we’ll see her before she goes in. Okay?”
“Thank you,” Jayne said, and meant it.
“It’s getting late. I’d better go.”
Jayne walked Ben to the door. When he paused before opening it, she rushed into speech to prevent an awkward moment.
“I appreciate the dinner. And the advice,” she murmured. “So does Emma.”
“Friends help friends,” he said quietly. Then he bent and brushed her cheek with his lips. “Good night, friend.”
He was gone before she could say a word.
Jayne closed the door and leaned against it, her mind fluttering from one bit of conversation to another, but always returning to that kiss. She wasn’t a romantic kind of person, but Ben made her think about possibilities.
After a moment, Jayne shook herself free of the fantasies and returned to the patio, this time with her Bible. She paged through it until she found the verses Ben quoted. She underlined and highlighted each one, even copied two on small notepaper that she taped to her bedroom mirror. And then she found a verse of her own.
My protection and success come from God alone
.
Jayne repeated the words until a gentle whisper of peace crept into her heart and nestled there. If only she could find that same peace whenever she thought about her grandmother’s surgery.
At least Ben would be there with her.
Chapter Five
“Come back to me, Granny,” Jayne whispered. She kissed her grandmother’s cheek, stepped back and let go of the frail white fingers. She watched, heart in her mouth, as the nurses wheeled away the only family she had left.
“Emma’s in God’s hands now.” Ben wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and steered her to the waiting room. When Jayne was seated, he handed her a small book.
“Window-shopping, again?” she asked, struggling to smile.
“I thought it might be of some help to you.”
The way he said it made Jayne glance at the cover. Questions about God.
“I don’t know if I can concentrate on this today,” she said. “Maybe you should have brought me one of your David Bentley books. Emma was reading one the other day.”
“Oh.” Ben shuffled through the available magazines, his face averted from her. “Did she like it?”
“She said it was enlightening.” Jayne waited until he was seated. “You obviously like him,” she said. “You have enough of his books.”
“I’m kind of a book collector.” He began reading as if to indicate that he didn’t want to talk.
Jayne flipped open the cover of her book and pretended to peruse it, but the truth was, she was too nervous to concentrate. A flock of butterflies performed a nervous dance inside her stomach, making it impossible to even sip the coffee Ben brought. And it didn’t seem to matter how often she repeated the verses she’d memorized; doubts pushed their way into her brain. She watched the minutes tick past on the big silver clock and felt a cloak of worry enshroud her.
“What’s taking so long?” she fussed. Two hours had passed and she could no longer stay seated. Or think about anything but Emma and how much she loved her.
“The doctor said three hours minimum.” Ben’s fingers threaded through hers. “Let’s go for a little walk around the grounds.”
