“Yep. Keep it up and you’ll be spinning circles around me.” He glanced over her shoulder. Still gawking. “Why don’t we call it a good day and quit while we’re ahead.”
She poked those pouty lips out, sending a thrill through him. “But I just got the hang of it.” Eden accelerated. “I may not even need you.”
No, she certainly didn’t.
“Go easy, Eden.” Knox admired her tenacity, but she was oblivious to the stares.
She picked up speed and passed him. “Go ahead and call it quits. I’m in for the long haul.”
“Eden…” Knox hurried toward her.
She looked back.
Oh no. She’d thrown off her balance.
Out went her arms and a shriek as she tottered.
Knox rocketed forward and swooped her up a foot from the ice. She swiveled one foot then the other until she fell into him, catching his jaw before her arms circled his neck as she clung to stand.
That’s twice she’d popped his face.
“Be still, Eden, I have you.” He tried not to laugh, but she snorted and giggled, and he lost it. “Not a very lady-like laugh.” He grasped her, still cackling, around the waist.
“How would you know? You said you didn’t know any ladies.” She hooted and righted herself as he led, skating with his back to the wind, his eyes locked on hers.
“I said I know one.” He sighed. But he didn’t have her.
***
Eden laughed and held in another snort. Knox’s arms were a powerful force around her waist. For the first time since Nathan died, she felt safe. Steady. Alive.
Watching him with Eli had stirred her insides. Keeping a conversation going with Gabriel had been a strain, as Knox and his grace on the ice had tangled up any coherent thought. He wasn’t a fish in water on the ice. He was a glorious dolphin.
His grip tightened, dragging her against him. Without the heavy coat she wore, she might feel his heartbeat against hers.“Do you miss it? Hockey?”
“Sometimes. Like now.” His warm, minty breath felt divine against her numb cheeks.
She raised her chin, peered into wildly dark eyes—eyes of a lady-killer. “So why not go back?” Would he open up? Talk to her? For once. They were friends, weren’t they? Isn’t that what friends did?
“My dad left when I was just a kid, Eden. Some days I can’t even remember his face. No brothers and sisters. Just Nathan—and he…he had you,” he murmured. “The people in that bar, they became my family. And I liked the feeling.”
Eden’s heart exploded into a million jagged fragments.
Family. No judgment, just unconditional love. That’s what Knox craved. Didn’t everyone? She clutched his black-and-gray scarf. “That’s what the people in the church are for me.”
His sight trailed over her head, then he met her gaze. “Even the gossips? It’s no secret Betsy Davis knows everything and tells everything in the name of truth.”
“But do you know that Betsy Davis gives thousands of her hard-earned dollars to help missionaries and orphans? Did you know her husband Leonard gives free legal aid to single moms who can’t get the child support they deserve?”
“Your point?”
“Knox, none of us are without sin. We’re not perfect. We’re progress. Betsy struggles with her tongue. But she loves the Lord. So we get irked,” she snickered, “and we pray and confront her in love, and we extend mercy and grace. That’s family.”
“I think you’re perfect.”
She’d have laughed in his face if he wasn’t so serious. “I am far from perfect. My struggles aren’t on public display. They’re here.” She touched her heart. “And here.” She pointed to her head.
They made their second loop around the lake in silence. Eden would give her right arm to know what he was thinking. God, please show him Your great love.
She cleared her throat. “Can I ask you a question without you getting offended?”
“I’ve got tough skin.” He smirked and glanced over her shoulder. He kept doing that. What was he searching for? A way out of answering? An escape route from her? Was she prying too deep?
“I know why you stayed, but why did you buy a bar in the first place?” The wind picked up, burning her eyes and forcing out a few tears. Knox released her waist with one hand and brushed them from her cheek. Her pulse ramped up. She never imagined Knox knowing how to be tender, soft. Gentle. Just rough and wild.
But he was.
With Eli.
With his customers.
With her, when he wasn’t trashed. But since that night, he hadn’t been sauced. At least not around her.
“It’s simple. When people are sad or depressed, they drink. My mom was dying. I drank. Every night at the Frosty Mug. One afternoon I thought why not buy my own bar. Who knew how long Mom would last, and I needed income.”
And hope. And love. And community.
Nathan had tried. But Knox was stubborn.
“So people came and drank the pain away.” A gentle smile formed. “But I bet that isn’t simple at all for you, is it, Eden?”
“No.” She sighed and closed her eyes, tired of thinking about it. “I just want to skate.” She thrust her head back. “I want to feel free. For just a moment.”
“What do you want me to do, Eden?” he murmured.
“Give me a minute of simple. Knox, on this ice I trust you completely. I wanna fly. Like you did earlier.” Fast. No weight crushing her. No Pop with a drinking problem, no congregation expecting her to have all the answers, no financial burden, no ache, no loneliness. Just wind and ice.
“I’ll take whatever trust you want to offer.”
“Make me fly, Knox.”
“All right,” he whispered and cocooned her against his chest, facing him. She thrust her arms out wide as he skated, faster…faster…faster…
Eden kept her feet together, letting him pull her along, increasing speed with every thrust. Nothing but the sound of metal slipping over the ice. Her hair flew behind her, the wind’s bite burning her face. Freedom. Intoxicating. She grinned, the chill zinging through her teeth.
Faster…faster…neck-breaking speed…soaring…
She lifted her feet, arched further back over Knox’s arms, and stretched her arms wide, trusting him to keep her from falling. Like childhood dreams. Better than a tire swing. Better than jumping off a diving board. He simply carried her.
Like a merry-go-round made of strong hard muscles, powerful legs, and warm flesh. One loop after another, Knox wielded them in furious figure eights while she inhaled freedom.
He never slowed; his breath stayed even with each long stride, each fluid motion.
Eden opened her eyes to inky ones staring back. Her breath faltered. Knox slowed toward the secluded side of the lake, near the neck of a wooded area, away from the hubbub. She placed her hands on his upper arms. “Thank you,” her lip quivered, “thank you.”
Knox stopped, and Eden placed her feet on the ice.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, confusion contorting his brow.
“I—I don’t know.” It’d been so long since a man had held her. Made her feel secure. Why did it have to be Knox? Why did she want it to be?
“Did I do something wrong?” He shrank back.
Eden touched his cheek with her gloved hand. “No. You…no. We should get back or they’ll think we’ve sunk in an ice hole.”
He clasped her hand that rested against his cheek and placed it on his chest. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Eden. Ever.”
In this moment, she didn’t believe he ever would. But that’s all this was—a moment. Already it was fading. Real life loomed on the other side of the lake. “I promise you did nothing wrong. You didn’t hurt me.”
He licked his bottom lip. Turmoil brewed behind his eyes. “Okay then. Let’s get you back. I owe Eli some shoulder deking moves.”
“Thank you for that. Lord knows I can’t help him.”
“You can’t even help yourself.”
He held her hand as they skated at a leisurely pace.
She giggled. “You have a point. You know, underneath all that bravado and Don Juan debonair, I think you’re a softie and a good man.”
“Do you now?” He grunted.
“Knox?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you refuse Pop next time he comes in?” She bit the inside of her cheek.
Knox sighed. “I could. But he’d find another place to drink, and what if they didn’t take his keys, call for a ride, or call you?”
Deep down, Eden knew it was true, but she wanted him to stand up and do what was right. For her. Because of her.
He positioned himself in front of her and cupped her shoulders. “I don’t want him to get hurt, Eden. You understand that, don’t you?”
Yes and no. “You could close your bar altogether.”
“And someone else would open one up. I’m not the only bar in town.”
But his was the biggest bar. And the most frequented. She nodded. “I could use a drink.”
“Me too.”
“I was talking about hot chocolate.”
Knox popped a peppermint stick. “I wasn’t.”
She shoved him and lost her balance. He chuckled and righted her. “Jokes, Ede. Just jokes.”
But were they?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I’m not saying it’s true, Eden. I’m just saying that’s what’s being said.” Audrey sipped her mocha from The Bean Emporium while Eden examined the church renovations. Sawdust, pine, and burnt wood did a number on her senses. The sanctuary had been gutted. New pews ordered, though if Eden had time she could have made them herself. But Christmas was coming soon and she, along with the congregation, wanted the Midnight Christmas Eve service to be in the church.
Pop’s crew had been making good headway for a week and a half.
Eden sighed. “I’m not dating or on the verge of dating Knox.” So they skated together. So they may have had a moment—or Eden had a moment. Was it any of the town’s business? Frustration set in and she growled. “I need some air.”
Audrey followed her outside, and they sat on the church steps. “Do you have feelings for him, Ede?”
The cold seeped through her jeans, freezing her backside, and she shivered inside her coat. “Honestly. I don’t know what my feelings mean.” Knox was casual about women. She frowned as the perky blonde popped in her head.
Audrey offered her a sip of her mocha. She accepted and licked the whipped cream from her upper lip.
“He’s hot, Eden. And he’s a player and a half. I don’t want his charm to fool you into anything. Not to mention, he has no faith or regard for the church, and he runs a bar. I’m not judging because I can’t judge someone who doesn’t hold the same standards. So don’t lump me in with the Betsy Davis crowd. But I am stating relevant facts.”
Eden leaned on her friend. “I know all of these things. But underneath the wild streak, I see a broken little boy who needs forgiveness and peace with God.”
“And you know better than anyone you can’t change someone. Only God can, and that’s if they want to be changed. Does he?” Audrey’s golden hair fluttered in Eden’s face, tickling her nose. She swiped it away.
No. Knox liked who he was and wasn’t ready for change, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t plant her faith by actions into his heart. But what was it doing to hers?
“I know you had a crush on him that summer Nathan went to college. Has he brought it up?”
Eden’s cheeks filled with heat. Yes, but telling Audrey about Knox’s drunken display was out of the question. “I never told him. I—I was scared of him.”
“Scared of him hurting you?”
“Scared of going further than a good girl ought to.”
Audrey tossed her head back and crowed. “So you weren’t immune.”
Eden covered her mouth with her gloved hand and held back a fit of laughter. “He could curl my toes with a look, but Nathan enraptured me with his love for Jesus and others, and he was so handsome in a different way. Not to mention he knew the definition of honor and loyalty. That meant more than some heat in my belly and curiosity of what it might be like to let Knox Everhart kiss me senseless.”
Eden’s guilt had eaten at her for a good long time after that summer, but she’d never confessed to Nathan that she’d had moon eyes over his best friend. Instead, she encouraged Nathan to take his visits with Knox elsewhere if he wasn’t going to pull away all together. Eden didn’t trust Knox, but she didn’t trust herself either.
After they married, things were different, but she made a solid effort to guard her heart. Their marriage was pure and would have stayed that way. Had Nathan not died.
“…Cause I bet he would have. Kissed you senseless.” Audrey nudged Eden. “If my mother hadn’t threatened to put a chastity belt around my waist for the rest of my life, I might have toyed with the idea of making out with him too.”
Eden sighed. “I’ve never cared about gossip, but I don’t need the town thinking I’m sleeping with Knox. What do you think of Gabe?”
Audrey stood and rubbed her behind. “I think he’s too attractive to be a pastor. Pastors are supposed to be bald and paunchy with sweat popping on their forehead while they tote their Bible around.”
“Nathan was none of the above.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think he was ever a real preacher—I mean he was more than a face behind a pulpit. I admired that.” Audrey handed Eden the rest of her coffee. “I think Gabriel is a good man. And he’s funny too. You have feelings for him?”
Eden picked at her gloves. “I don’t know. I think I’m…I’m a little lonely here at Christmas time.”
Audrey took her hand. “It’s okay to admit it. That you’re lonely. You can’t do everything, Eden. You know it and you try anyway. Take your own advice and let God carry the load. But I’ve said that before.” She gave a good squeeze. “I have to get back to the greenhouse. Delivering nine-hundred and seventy-eight poinsettias today.”
“Are you really?”
“No.” Audrey gave her a pointed look. “But it sure feels like it.”
Eden gazed on the nativity scene she’d set up next to the outdoor sign. “Hey, where’s baby Jesus?”
“He grew up, Eden, and He’s in Heaven. Knox messing with your theology too?” She giggled and followed Eden’s gaze to the manger. “Ooooh.”
Eden bounded toward the nativity. “Who would steal Jesus?”
“Yeah, especially when you can have Him for free if you ask.” Audrey stifled another giggle. “Sorry. You walked into that one.”
“It’s not Christmas without Jesus in the manger!” Eden tossed her arms up. One more thing taken away. One more thing to go wrong. She groaned and kicked at the snow.
“Hey.” Audrey rested her hand on Eden’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not, Aud. It’s not!” She stormed off and jumped into her truck. Nothing was going right. Her father was stealing her sleep, the burned down church stole her joy, living in the parsonage was stealing her mind, a dumb teenager probably stole baby Jesus, and playboy Knox Everhart might be stealing her heart! Which meant he was living up to his reputation: Knox could sneak into ‘ever’ girl’s ‘hart’ and break it.
She’d already had it shredded. If Eden moved forward, it would have to be with a man she trusted one hundred percent, and she wouldn’t trust a man who didn’t make God the center of his life.
Nothing in Eden’s world was right.
Not. One. Thing.
***
Knox dried a few glasses, twisted his lips then untwisted them. Wednesday night and Dean wasn’t here. Every Tuesday through Friday he sat on the second stool closest to the front door drinking gin and tonics.
“I think it’s pretty.” Cassie shoved a couple of receipts in the till.
“What’s pretty?” Knox stacked the tumblers and wiped down the bar. Attendance was down. Some due to the church bein
g so close—as in the back room—and the weather had been downright rotten the last two days. Guess it was keeping regulars indoors after all. Wind at twenty miles an hour and tonight it was going to ice. Yet the back room was packed.
“The music. You deaf?” Cassie quietly sang the lyrics. Three weeks and she must have memorized the words.
Knox paused and listened as the congregation sang of peace that flowed like a river and joy unspeakable. They sang of redemption and holiness. A place of refuge and strength. It stirred Knox’s emotions every time they sang it, but he pretended not to hear. “Guess I am.”
“It’s slow. You—you don’t mind if I go in do you?” Cassie rubbed her lips together and motioned toward the back room with her thumb. “I went to Sunday service and…I don’t know, it does something to me. Makes me feel less stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Cassie. It shouldn’t take church to tell you that.” Knox slung his towel on the bar and rubbed knotted neck muscles. “But by all means, go in. I don’t mind.”
Cassie grinned. “You could come too, ya know.”
“I have customers.”
Cassie scanned the room. “Yeah, all three. Dean is back there, and Georgia and Leon, and I think Holly.”
Knox pursed his lips. Dean? They’d gotten to Dean? No tracts or Bible thumping. Then what?
The answer slid like a whisper to his soul.
Worship. Love. And they offered the one thing the bar couldn’t.
Hope.
Knox and his regulars could drink together, drown their hurts and slur their way through their problems, but Eden was right. It wouldn’t make the emptiness or the pain go away. Wouldn’t do any of the things their worship songs talked about.
Cassie slipped into the back room, leaving the door cracked. Knox poured Henry Bliston another draft and peeked inside. Some had their eyes closed and hands raised. Some bowed heads with hands at their sides. Didn’t seem to matter how they worshiped. But they all were, even Betsy Davis, the biggest mouth around, sang and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Knox scanned the room until he found who he was searching for.
Eden.
Tears trailed her cheeks, a smile contradicted them. Her soprano voice rose over the others, and her hand lifted to the heavens. Whatever had troubled Eden and made her want to fly on the ice that day was gone. Knox would move heaven and earth for a taste of the peace that smoothed her brow. Cassie said church made her feel like she wasn’t stupid. Would church make him feel worthy? Accepted?
Hope Under Mistletoe (Seasons of Hope Book 1) Page 6
