Finding His Way Home

by Mia Ross

  Except this year.

  Glancing over at the large calendar she used to keep track of her projects, her eyes went to the six-month outlook spread across the bottom. In a few days, she’d be crossing off April and ticking off the few remaining commissions that would take her through Memorial Day. Her final obligations were the chapel window and Chelsea’s shower gift. After that she’d head out to join a weeklong art show in Georgia.

  Normally, the very notion of it would fill her with excitement. This time, she was having mixed feelings, which was almost unheard of for her. Because she ran her own business, she had to be reasonable about what she took on. She couldn’t follow every whim, but on the flip side, she refused to spoil her fun by overthinking things. When there was a decision to be made, she tried to be sensible, but in the end her heart ruled the day.

  Unfortunately, today her heart was leading her in an unfamiliar—and kind of scary—direction. For the first time she could recall, she found herself seriously considering renewing her lease and staying put for another year. The more she thought about it, the better it sounded to her, and she stared out the window, trying to pinpoint what might have caused this unexpected change.

  While she was pondering, she heard a now-familiar engine out on the road and watched as Scott’s ancient truck pulled around the curve and into the circular drive in front of her studio. When he climbed from the cab, her heart did a little flip that made her sigh in resignation. He might not be the entire reason for her wanting to stay, but she couldn’t deny he was a big part of it.

  Instinct warned her he wouldn’t be at all pleased to know that, so she buried that strange feeling down deep and went to greet him at the door. “This is a nice surprise. What brings you by?”

  “Nothing in particular,” he hedged warily. “Just wanted to say hi.”

  He looked like a stray ready to bolt, and she felt her attraction to him getting stronger. Hiding behind that stoic demeanor was a great guy, and she wished he’d drop his guard long enough to let other people see that side of him. Since she didn’t want to spook him with such a personal observation, she gave him her brightest smile. “Hi.”

  Slowly, his somber look gave way to one of those knee-weakening grins. “Y’know, you’ve got the best smile. It’s like sunshine.”

  Guys complimented her all the time, and she normally took remarks such as that in stride. But coming from Scott, the comment really meant something. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am,” she admitted with a laugh. “Up to now, I had the impression you were more the grumbly-bear type.”

  “Well, you caught me on a good day.”

  “I’m glad. You haven’t had many of those since you came back.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  His weary tone suggested to Jenna that he wanted to chat, so she led him to the pair of lawn chairs and flea-market table in what she called her take-a-break corner. Opening the little fridge to get herself a bottle of water, she asked, “Do you want something?”

  He dipped his head to look inside. “Sweet tea would be nice. Thanks.”

  After handing a bottle to him, she looked up and found him studying her with a curious expression. She’d grown accustomed to his dark, intense gaze, so this lighter one threw her a little. “What?”

  “You always seem to know what I need even before I do,” he answered, lifting his drink as proof of what he was saying. “How do you manage that?”

  “After my scrape with the law, I figured it would be smart to learn how to read people better,” she explained as they sat down. “I did some research on psychology and behavior, stuff like that.”

  “Kinda like profiling?”

  “I guess.” Taking a sip of water, she continued, “The main idea is to listen more than you talk, and pay as much attention to how people act as you do to what they say. Once you learn how to interpret those clues, you can tell when someone’s for real and when they’re trying to put one over on you.”

  Clasping his bottle between his hands, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Admiration glittered in his eyes, drawing her a little closer to this handsome, bewildering man who’d intrigued her from the moment she’d met him. “So do you think I’m for real?”

  Trapped by the intensity of that stare, at first she could only nod. His gaze warmed with something she couldn’t begin to define, and she feared she was losing her battle to keep herself at a safe distance. It would be so easy to fall for this guy, with his sharp wit and quick mind. The problem was, she didn’t think either of them was ready for anything serious right now.

  In spite of that, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him anything other than the absolute truth. “You’re one of the most real people I’ve ever met. Even when you know folks won’t like what you have to say, you’re honest with them. That takes a lot of courage, and I admire that about you.”

  A smile quivered at the corner of his mouth. “That’s interesting, ’cause I feel the same way about you.”

  “Really?” Beyond flattering, it was a judgment on the kind of human being she was. Most guys didn’t look beneath the surface to discover there was any more to her than what they saw at first glance. That only made Scott more appealing than he already was, and she fought down emotions she’d never had to work all that hard to control. “That’s nice to hear.”

  For some reason that made him laugh, and she scowled at him. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Did you know when you’re uncomfortable with something you scrunch up your nose like a rabbit?”

  The urge to rub her nose was almost irresistible, but she managed to resist the impulse. “I do?”

  “Never go up against a real gambler, Rembrandt,” he cautioned as he stood and set his empty bottle on the table. “You’ll lose every time.”

  With that, he flashed her another maddening grin and sauntered back out the way he’d come in. Based on his less-than-stellar past, his advice didn’t surprise her in the least. Finding that he’d picked up on something about her behavior that no one else had ever mentioned didn’t, either.

  Having such a private man share his impressions of her, however, was downright astounding. While she watched his truck drive away, she was fairly certain something very important had just taken place between them.

  But she couldn’t figure out what on earth it was.

  * * *

  Later that night, Scott lay awake, listening to the rain and staring at the ceiling. At first, he told himself he was just making sure the patch he’d installed on the roof was holding up. But as the hands on the old manual alarm clock on his bed stand moved past midnight, he finally had to admit the truth.

  Jenna Reed had gotten to him.

  The more time he spent with the free-spirited artist, the more he liked her. She was fun and engaging, with a caring heart to balance out her amazing looks. God knew what He was doing when He put her together, Scott acknowledged with a grin. And maneuvering them onto intersecting paths? Divine genius.

  So what was he going to do about it? Dropping by her studio today had proven to him that how he felt about her when she wasn’t around only intensified when they were together. Even his sharp memory couldn’t do her justice, and he kept catching himself inventing reasons to be with her. She wouldn’t be around much longer, and if he wanted her to leave town with a lasting memory of him, he’d have to do something soon.

  Maybe, if things went well between them, she’d swing back through the Blue Ridge Mountains on her summer tour. The trouble was, with his track record it was entirely possible he’d go out on that limb and make a complete fool of himself. The idea of such a personal failure didn’t bother him all that much. Every relationship he’d ever gone into had ended badly—none worse than the last one. But he’d survived all that and had com
e out the other side wiser than he’d gone in.

  While his brain wasn’t sure he was ready to take that plunge again, Jenna had managed to find a way into parts of him he’d closed off years ago. It was his heart that was keeping him awake tonight, he realized. Pummeling him with images of her until he couldn’t do anything other than accept that they were real and weren’t likely to fade anytime soon.

  He’d seen the same sentiment reflected in her eyes earlier when she looked at him with admiration and declared him to be an honest person. The incredible thing was when she said it he believed her. Not only that she meant it, but that it was true. Knowing her history and how hard she’d worked to avoid making the same dangerous mistakes again, he trusted her judgment about him.

  More than that, he realized, she had confidence in him. In his ability to make a new life here, to reconnect with the faith he’d lost. Most of all, she believed he could be happy again. Everything she’d done since their unexpected meeting—from offering to help with the chapel to running interference at the hardware store—had been aimed at helping him overcome his faulty past and take on a brighter, more promising outlook.

  Closing his eyes, he listened to raindrops drumming on the roof, sifting through the leafy branches outside his window to splash down in puddles on the ground. The sounds had a hypnotizing effect, and as he began to drift off his last thought of the day made him smile.

  Despite the obvious challenges, he wanted his future to include Jenna. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was a Barrett. Somehow he’d figure out a way to make it happen.

  * * *

  Jenna was touching up the frosted sign on the glass door of Arabesque when Amy, the shop’s owner, appeared on the other side. She held up a mug with a questioning look, and Jenna motioned for her to wait a second. When she’d finished the points on the ballet dancer’s toe shoes, she nodded and Amy pushed the door open to join her out front. A former ballerina herself, the town’s dance teacher was tiny but a force to be reckoned with. Something her lumberjack husband would be the first to admit.

  “Oh, that’s much better,” Amy approved heartily. “The sunlight really does a number on that poor dancer.”

  “I tried a different paint formula this time,” Jenna replied, taking a sip of a rich, aromatic blend of caffeine and vanilla. “Hopefully, that’ll help the design last longer.”

  Her friend’s cheerful look disintegrated. “So you’re really not coming back in the fall?”

  “Backtracking is never part of my plan, Amy,” Jenna reminded her as gently as she could. “You know that.”

  “Plans change sometimes. I never thought I’d find someone like Jason and settle down anywhere other than New York City, but it ended up working out perfectly for me.”

  “I wish I had whatever gene makes people happy to be rooted in one place for years at a time,” Jenna confided with a sigh. “For some reason, God made me a wanderer.”

  “You could live here,” Amy suggested hopefully, “and travel to the different shows over the summer. There are plenty of them around where you could sell your pieces.”

  “That’s not how I do things.” Even to her own ears, it sounded like a lame excuse, and she tried to explain her reasoning more clearly. “I’ve learned it’s better to leave a month too soon than stick around a month too long. I know it’s hard to understand, but you have to trust me on this one. It’s best for everyone.”

  “What about Scott?” Amy sipped her fragrant tea with a casual air, but when she looked up, Jenna got the distinct impression there was something devious spinning around in Amy’s mind.

  Figuring two could play that game, she shrugged. “What about him?”

  “It seems to me like you two are getting along really well. Everyone else thinks so, too.”

  So that was it, Jenna realized with a grin. The Barrett’s Mill gossip mavens had declared Scott and her an item. Much as she hated having people stick their noses into her personal business, she had to admit this particular intrusion was kind of sweet. The ladies around town thought the Barretts’ prodigal son needed a special woman in his life, and they’d chosen her.

  The scary thing was, the more she rolled the idea around in her head, the more it appealed to her. Scott was definitely more pragmatic than she was, but the cynicism he’d worn like a shield had gradually faded as he’d gotten accustomed to being home. It had left behind a sharp wit she enjoyed immensely. Because he had a creative bent of his own, he understood her passion for art, listening intently whenever she talked about her latest project.

  Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, their friendship had started growing into something more. His impromptu visit the other evening popped into her mind, and she wondered if there had been more to it than mere boredom.

  “Earth to Jenna,” Amy said with a quiet laugh. “Did I lose you?”

  “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I was asking about the mural you’re doing for my future godchild. How’s it coming along?”

  “Fine. I think,” she added with a grimace. Then inspiration struck, and she said, “Actually, if you’ve got time, I could use your help.”

  “Me?” Amy laughed, quieting when she seemed to realize Jenna was serious. “What on earth for?”

  “I’ve got some dancing animals in the forest, and the sketches just don’t look right to me. I was hoping you could go over to the nursery with me and give me some motion perspective so I can picture the scene better.”

  “Umm...okay.” Clearly hesitant, she went on. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

  “It’s hard to describe. It might make more sense when you see it.”

  “I’ll give it a shot,” she agreed, taking Jenna’s empty mug from her. “I’m done with classes for today, so we can do it now if you want.”

  “Perfect. Thanks.”

  After a quick call to make sure Chelsea was up for company, Amy went inside for her key and flipped the window sign to read Back Soon. Jenna grabbed her rolled-up sketch from the van, and they walked down the sidewalk toward the center of town. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, with a warm breeze swirling in one moment and retreating the next. The effect was almost playful, and by the smiles and laughter she heard from shoppers and diners on Main Street, the effect was contagious.

  Such a pretty town, she thought for the countless time. From its centuries-old oaks to the solemn granite war memorial in the park, Barrett’s Mill had a timeless quality to it. The charming old buildings and quaint churches only added to the image, and she knew that no matter where else she traveled in her life, this town would always have a special place in her memories.

  When they arrived at Paul and Chelsea’s, Jenna was surprised to see three familiar pickups lined up in the turnaround next to Chelsea’s classy silver convertible. Even before she knocked, she heard male voices inside debating something so important it was worth shouting about.

  “They can’t hear us knocking,” Amy suggested with a smirk. “You think they’ll notice us if we just walk in?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Pushing open the heavy oak-paneled door, she strode in to find three of the infamous Barrett brothers mired in a standoff in the center of the dining room. Chelsea stood near a window, arms folded, apparently waiting for them to run out of air. When she saw Amy and Jenna, her dour expression brightened immediately, and she waved them over.

  “Ridiculous, aren’t they?” she asked, shaking her head.

  “What on earth are they arguing about?” Amy demanded with a scowl.

  “Wainscoting.”

  Chelsea had a great sense of humor, and Jenna waited for her to laugh and fill them in on the real issue, but she didn’t.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jenna scoffed. “Doing wainscoting means you panel half the wall and trim it out, right?”
<
br />   “Right.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “How big the squares are supposed to be,” Chelsea explained in an exasperated tone. “It seems there are different ways to do it, and they all have their own idea on which is best.”

  After about ten seconds of listening to them spit and bluster at each other, Jenna had had enough. They were much taller and stronger than she was, but that had never stopped her before. Wading into the thick of things, she pushed them apart and glowered at each of them in turn.

  “Problem, boys?” When they all started to answer, she stopped them with her hands in the air. “One at a time. Paul?”

  “Oh, sure,” Jason sulked. “Ask the oldest.”

  “Since it’s his house, I’m starting with him. You’ll get a turn. As long as you don’t make me any madder,” she added sternly.

  He rolled his eyes but clamped his big mouth shut. Figuring that was the best she’d get from him, she eyed Scott for his reaction.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said defensively. “I don’t care how big the panels are, as long as I only have to cut ’em once. This reclaimed oak’s over a hundred years old, and I don’t wanna waste any of it.”

  Leave it to Scott to view the situation from its most practical angle. Finally, she was making some progress. When Paul gave pretty much the same explanation Chelsea had, Jenna took a moment to assess the large room. Anyone with eyes could see the walls weren’t true, and it wouldn’t surprise her a bit to learn that the measurements differed from one section to the next. A solution popped into her head, and she sent up a silent prayer of gratitude.

  “Okay, I see what’s going on here. You guys need some perspective.”

  “I’ll say,” Amy muttered, glaring at her husband.

  “Not that kind,” Jenna corrected her with a laugh. “I mean you’ve got an oddly shaped room with lots of windows and this huge arched doorway. If you try to measure it and then split the wall space up evenly, it might be correct, but it’ll look weird.”