Easter Promises

by Lois Richer

  “Because you’ve pestered me nonstop for three days about the sculptures I intend to use. So I’ll show you and then you’ll drop the subject. Won’t you?” Her nose wiggled again. Up went the glasses.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a long drive so sit back and enjoy the scenery. At least the desert’s in bloom.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Ben fell silent, not because he didn’t have anything to say, but because he needed time to think of a way to convince Jayne to have that eye surgery. Her glasses were always teetering precariously on the end of her nose, forcing her to peer through them. She’d push them up with a dusty hand and then she couldn’t see clearly through the smudges. Twice she’d lost the ugly things at a crucial moment until finally, as the desert heat grew more intense each day, she’d fastened a rubber band around her head to hold them on her sweaty nose.

  Ben had pressed Emma for details about the surgery because Jayne refused to talk about it. Emma said that was because of the risk.

  “Jayne’s afraid she’ll lose her sight.”

  “Would she?”

  “The doctors say that if it fails, she’ll likely be no worse off than she is now.”

  If only Ben could encourage Jayne to have a little more faith. God had given her an option. Why didn’t she take it?

  After an hour they stopped at a roadside stand for some cold lemonade. Ben stretched his protesting body and debated asking how much farther they had to go. Back in the van, Jayne took one hand off the wheel to hold out a bag.

  “Take one. They’re fresh. Best doughnuts you’ll ever taste.”

  Ben agreed. After passing hordes of yellow blooms bursting with color against the shimmering tan-brown desert hills, he took more notice of the land and found he could distinguish some variations of cactus.

  “We’re here,” Jayne announced half an hour later. She jumped out of the van and marched around a small adobe building.

  Ben followed. And stopped short. His jaw dropped as he gaped.

  “These are the kind of sculptures I want to use in your front yard,” Jayne said, then greeted the small tanned woman who emerged from the building. “This is Cass Walker, the artist.”

  “Hello. Go ahead and look around.” Cass studied him with an odd look that usually meant he’d been recognized.

  Ben turned away to study her work and found himself astounded. Most were in copper or stainless, but Cass had also forged a few wrought-iron sculptures. Her creations were novel, innovative and open to interpretation. Ben had difficulty choosing a favorite.

  “You’d better come out of the sun now.” Jayne touched his shoulder a while later, her voice soft with a ruffle of amusement. “Cass has some iced tea for us.”

  Ben joined them in the shade by the building and sipped his tea, marveling that the brush of Jayne’s hand on his shoulder had such an effect on his breathing. Gradually he was drawn into the two women’s conversation.

  They spoke as colleagues, not close friends, but there was respect in their voices. As he listened, Ben recognized Jayne’s technique of drawing the other person out. She didn’t give away much personal information, but spoke voluminously of her current job in Ben’s yard.

  “So I brought Ben to reassure him that whatever you do for us will be wonderful.”

  Cass smiled then asked, “How is Emma?”

  “She’s doing remarkably well now.” Jayne explained about the surgery.

  “And what do you do, Ben?”

  “I manage assets.” The usual noncommittal response was getting old.

  “What exactly does that entail?” Cass’s eyes bored into his.

  “A lot of dull financial stuff,” he said with a laugh and scrounged for a change of subject. “Which of these is for my place?”

  “That’s a surprise,” Jayne interrupted. “And we have to go. Thank you so much for the tea, Cass. I hope we didn’t disturb you too much.”

  “Not a problem.” Cass studied him. “Do you have a card, Ben? You never know when I might need some financial advice.”

  “Sure.” He pulled a card from his wallet.

  “Cummings Enterprises, huh?”

  “That’s me,” he said, recognizing her curiosity. He had a hunch she’d research him. Let her. He’d used his master’s degree in finance and his lawyer, Jerry, to bury his corporation in a tangle that would take ages to unravel.

  “Thanks, Cass.” Jayne grinned at her. “I’ll give you a call when we’re ready.”

  She nodded but remained standing in the hot sun, watching as they drove away.

  “Satisfied?” Jayne asked.

  “I’m sure whatever she does will look amazing.” Ben pretended nonchalance, but inside, his radar was on high alert. Cass Walker. The name was familiar and he didn’t know why. And that bothered him.

  He liked his privacy. He liked being known only as Ben Cummings. He liked it that most people looked at him as a regular guy and not a bank.

  And he wanted to keep it that way.

  Tonight he’d give Jerry a call and find out if he knew Cass Walker. Better safe than sorry.

  “I’m glad you called, Cass, though I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more about Ben. I haven’t known him long. Why do you want to know anyway?”

  “Just curious,” Cass answered.

  “Well, now you know as much as I do.” Jayne glanced at the clock. She was late! “I’m going to need a picture of what you’ve done and some dimensions so I can prepare the ground.” Jayne agreed a fax would work and hung up to wait for it.

  A few minutes later, fax in hand, she was ready to go back to the work site. Sidney’s voice stopped her.

  “Jayne, can we talk for a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  It took a bit of prodding, but Sidney finally admitted she was worried about business.

  “We haven’t been getting a lot of traffic lately. Did you see the totals for last week? We’re way down over last year.”

  “I know.” Jayne sighed. “I’ve been trying to work up proposals for the convention circuit in my spare time, but there’s so little of that.”

  “You missed that Chamber of Commerce meeting yesterday because you were at Ben’s. Getting publicity from them would be a real boost to our bottom line.” Sidney flipped a pencil. “Would it be wrong if I contacted them and asked if we could make a last-minute proposal?”

  “Can you get one together today? That first loan payment to Restart is coming up soon. A new contract would be nice.”

  Sidney agreed to try. Jayne’s worries deepened as she drove to Ben’s. If God truly had assisted in her getting the business, why would He allow it to falter?

  Ben would say she had to have faith.

  Jayne liked Ben, really liked him, despite his interference. Sometimes, if she worked late at the site, he’d bring her out a cold drink and insist she rest for a bit. She’d even gone swimming with him once. Those were the best times, special moments when they really clicked. But she’d begun to realize that Ben never shared much personal information. She’d garnered a tidbit here, a morsel there, but as she’d answered Cass’s questions, Jayne recognized how little she actually knew about this man who was quickly becoming more than a friend.

  She pulled into Ben’s yard and groaned. He was talking to her men again, men that were being paid but not working. Jayne climbed out of the van and sauntered over.

  “What’s the problem, Glen?”

  “Mr. Cummings thinks there should be more space between the wall and the seating area.”

  “I’ll talk to Mr. Cummings. You go back to work.” Ben would have interrupted but she sent him a glare. “Thank you, Glen. And next time there’s a question, keep working until I say otherwise. Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Glen trotted away, happy to be free of the conflict. He was a good worker, fastidious about his job. He hid it better, but he was getting as frustrated as she.

  “Okay, Ben, I’ve tried to be reasonable, but your con
stant interference is costing me a lot of money, money I didn’t budget for.” Jayne took a deep breath. “If you continue to stop work, I’m going to have to charge you for time lost. Agreed?”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” She tried another tack. “You are constantly telling me I need to have faith. The same goes for you. Have a little faith in my ability to do as I said, will you? Otherwise, I’m going to walk away from this job.”

  “What? You can’t,” he stormed.

  “I can. And I will.” She grabbed his arm and drew him into the foyer of the house, where her workers couldn’t overhear. “You bought my ideas, Ben. Now let me work them. I’m spending a lot of time arbitrating here. Time I’m not spending at work.”

  “So?” He sounded impatient.

  “I have a very large loan. A loan I do not intend to default on. So if I have to put this job on hold to dig in at Rose’s Roses, I will. I won’t want to, but I will.”

  “What’s wrong at Rose’s Roses?”

  “Sales are a pretty slow right now.”

  “Everyone has slow periods. How could your being there change that?”

  “I wouldn’t have to pay my part-time employee full-time wages, for one thing,” she said quietly. “Can’t you see the progress we’ve made here? Can’t you accept that I will do as we agreed?”

  “I don’t know.” The brown eyes held shadows of reservation.

  Jayne’s glasses slipped down her nose. She took them off, which made him a blur, but that was okay because what she had to say was better said without seeing his expression.

  “It’s not that easy for me. I want to make sure—”

  “I know you’re proud of this house. I know you want to make it as private as possible. I’m new, this is my first job and you don’t have anything but my word to go on.”

  “I trust you.”

  “Do you? You say you trust me, but your actions say otherwise. But you are going to have to back off and let me do my job. Or I’m walking. Period. Okay?”

  It took a long time for the word to slip through his lips.

  “Okay.”

  Jayne heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you. Oh, by the way, Cass and I were talking today. She was asking about you.”

  “Was she?”

  The way he said it made Jayne put her glasses back on so she could get a good look at him. He slid on his sunglasses to shield his eyes, but not before she saw fear.

  What did Ben have to be afraid of?

  “Jerry? It’s Ben.”

  “Hey! Good to hear from you.”

  “Same.” Ben exchanged pleasantries with his lawyer for a few minutes then got to the point. “There’s a woman—Cass Walker. She’s an artist. Does sculptures. Do you know her?”

  “Cass Walker? Yeah, sure. We went to a showing of hers about four years ago. Redondo Beach. Don’t you remember?”

  “No.” Ben squeezed his eyes closed, trying to remember. He came up blank.

  “That was the weekend your third novel with Marv Ziglar came out. Your fans were crazy for stories about that private detective.” Jerry chuckled and lowered his voice to a mysterious warble. “‘Who is Marv Ziglar?’ Remember how everyone kept asking about that character? The publicity they stirred up made the media jump on board. You can’t buy publicity like that. Everybody was talking about David Bentley. It’s a wonder we managed to keep your identity a secret with all the hype that was going on.”

  Like a video, images played through Ben’s mind. Yes, he remembered. That was the weekend he’d found out his biggest attraction to his longtime childhood friend was his money. That was the weekend he’d decided he needed to change his life. He’d resisted Jerry and his publisher’s request for media interviews and book signings, and decided to get some normality back into his life. Because he’d lost a lot of weight, his look had changed. He refused a new publicity shot, hoping no one would associate the new Ben with the face on the back of his books. The publishers weren’t happy, but Ben was insistent that his pseudonym was the only public face he’d put on his writing. Because David Bentley was repeatedly on the bestseller lists, they continued to publish him. Only Jerry and Ben’s editor knew that David Bentley and Ben Cummings were the same man.

  But Ben’s clearest remembrance of that weekend was the prayer request he’d set before God, a request for a woman who would love him for who he was, and not for the money that surrounded him. A woman he could marry. Ben had been in love a couple of times, but on both occasions he’d found out that his money was his biggest attraction.

  “Did you fall asleep?”

  “Sorry.” Ben jerked back to reality and Jerry’s voice. “I think Cass recognized me. Jayne introduced me as Ben Cummings. Cass has been asking Jayne questions.”

  “Well I’ve got worse news.” The vitality in Jerry’s voice died. “I got your new contract last week and ever since I’ve been fielding calls about David Bentley’s identity. I think somebody in my office is on a reporter’s take. Maybe you should move again.”

  “No.” Ben clenched his teeth. “How could this happen?”

  “Money. Some people will do anything for money. You should know that.” A grimness edged Jerry’s voice. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken several precautions. And when I find the leak, I’ll deal with it. My staff has signed privacy agreements.”

  “That won’t matter if they talk to some tabloid reporter. You’ve got to nip this before everything blows apart, Jerry.”

  “Already working on it. You just keep a low profile.”

  “As usual.” Ben hung up feeling like a caged tiger.

  Maybe he should give up his writing career. Ben certainly didn’t need the money, although it did a lot of good for several charities. Writing also did him good. It was the one outlet where he felt totally free to express his faith. The public didn’t seem to mind that Marv Ziglar, his fictional P.I., had strong moral standards, believed in God and wouldn’t give up on his troubled marriage. If fact, fans wrote letters of admiration for his character.

  “It’s the one ministry I have,” Ben murmured, talking to God as if He was right there. “You gave it to me. Am I supposed to give it up now?”

  Finding no answers, Ben did what he always did when a problem knotted up his mind. He pulled on his swimming trunks and hit the pool.

  But no matter how many laps he swam, a little voice in the back of his mind would not be silenced.

  You tell Jayne to trust. You push her to face her fears. But though you push her for her secrets, you don’t trust her with yours. Can she trust you?

  Ben wasn’t playing fair, and he knew it. But he couldn’t forget about the past, couldn’t forget he’d once made a colossal mistake by mistaking greed for love. He couldn’t forget that he’d almost proposed to a woman who only saw dollar signs when she looked at him.

  He wasn’t going to make that mistake again, even if he had to keep his secrets a little longer.

  Ben pulled himself up on the deck of the pool and stared into the night sky while he poured out his heart to the only One he could trust.

  “I’m counting on You to send me the woman of Your choice, Lord. And I’m wondering. Is that woman Jayne Rose?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Where’s Jayne? She hasn’t shown up for the past three days.”

  Jayne recognized Ben’s voice. She almost groaned, but that would have defeated her whole purpose of hiding in the back office at Rose’s Roses, pretending she was working out a bid for flowers for an award presentation while she nursed her wounds.

  “She’ll be back at your place tomorrow,” Sidney said. “No need to worry.”

  “But she missed our Easter meeting last night. That’s the second time. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Concern laced his voice. “Is it Emma?”

  “Emma’s fine.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “Jayne will be back at your site tomorrow.”

  “Where is she? You might as well tell me, Sid
ney, because I’m not leaving until I know what’s going on.”

  Bother the man! Jayne rose, limped out from her hiding place.

  “Is there something you need, Ben? I’m tied up here today.”

  “Tied being the operative word,” he said, his lips thinning as he saw her arm in the sling. His glower grew. “What happened to your glasses?”

  “A small accident.” Jayne fingered the rims, knowing the big wad of adhesive tape must look ridiculous. The set of Ben’s chin told her he wouldn’t give up without more information. “I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

  “Because your glasses were dirty.”

  “No. Well, partly,” she admitted. “I was carrying some roses and didn’t pay attention to where I was going.”

  His steady scrutiny bothered her.

  “I tripped over an auger and fell into a hole.” Admitting her clumsiness was embarrassing.

  “So you hurt your leg, too.” Ben’s eyes softened sympathetically as he slid his finger along her jaw, tenderly tracing the black-and-blue bruising. “Oh, Jayne, why won’t you have that operation on yours eyes and make your life simpler?”

  “There’s no guarantee it would do that,” she muttered, easing away from his touch. Not that she didn’t like him touching her, because she did. But it made her stomach feel all bubbly and effervescent. She’d never felt like that before and it was scary.

  “Life doesn’t come with guarantees,” he said softly. “Once in a while you have to take a risk and trust God to work it out.”

  “Is that what you do?” She studied him.

  “I try.”

  She pulled some yellowish leaves off a plant.

  “Those flowers smell lovely,” he said.

  “Gardenias usually do.” Jayne studied him. “Cass says she met you somewhere before. Any idea how and where you two would have crossed paths?”

  “I was living in Los Angeles. I could have met her anywhere.”

  “Right.” Jayne wasn’t sure why, but she felt Ben was holding something back. “So what do you need? I’m a little busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I told you Rose’s Roses needs more income. I’m working on some new bids.” A group of customers walked through the door. As Sidney hurried forward to help them, Jayne grabbed Ben’s arm and tugged. “We can talk in the back,” she murmured.