Larkspur Dreams

by Anita Higman

  Lark breathed a sigh of relief.

  Everett leaned over and gave Lark a slow, lingering kiss.

  Okay, that felt very pleasant. She almost lost her footing.

  “I’ll pick you up at six. . .tomorrow evening.” Everett squeezed her arm. “Casual. Okay?”

  “I’ll be ready,” Lark said. Casual talk from a suit guy. Amazing. And he wore a green turtleneck instead of a button-down shirt. As he turned to leave, she remembered a question that had been tickling her curiosity. “Everett? May I ask what your middle name is?”

  He looked back at her and groaned. “That information is given out on a need to know basis only.”

  “That bad?” Lark winced.

  “Moss. It’s Moss. You know—”

  Lark tried to be polite and not chuckle. “You mean like the—”

  “Yeah. Like the fuzzy, green stuff you tromp underfoot.”

  She laughed.

  “But my mother liked it because Moss is a form of Moses, which means ‘saved.’ So maybe that redeems the name a bit.”

  “I believe it does.” She found herself captivated by his golden brown eyes. Without thinking, she reached up to his face. Her hand was midway in the air when she heard Everett’s cell phone come alive like a monster-sized beetle.

  He frowned down at the phone, took it off his belt clip, and opened it to look at the screen. “It’s somebody returning my call. I’m sorry, but I need to talk to him.”

  “Please, go. Take the call.” Lark shooed him away sweetly. Everett mouthed the words, “I’ll call you later.” He answered the phone as he strode toward her gate. He’d forgotten his coat, but he didn’t seem to even notice. She tugged it around herself, wanting to relive the warmth of his arms. She breathed in his scent. Mmm. His cologne is spicy but sweet. Nice.

  As Everest closed the gate, she remembered his words about the woman in his office. “But I was always honest with her.” How honorable. Had she been that straightforward with Jeremy? She hadn’t led him on, but she really hadn’t been clear about how she felt. This very evening, she vowed to make her feelings understood, even if it meant Jeremy would be disappointed. Lark had never liked confrontation, but if she expected to build a relationship with Everett then she would need to speak the truth to Jeremy.

  ❧

  When six thirty had come, Lark still hadn’t quite figured out what she’d say to Jeremy. Skelly had been busy peeling and sautéing and baking in her kitchen to prepare his specialty—baked salmon with garlic mashed potatoes. Sounds good. Too bad she might not have much of an appetite.

  Lark decided not to dress romantically for the evening since what she had to say might not seem too festive. She took one last glance at her suit and then headed into the kitchen. Delicious scents filled the house. She picked up a sprig of rosemary and took a sniff.

  “You look nice,” Skelly said. “Kind of like you’re headed to a business meeting instead of a date, though.”

  Lark noticed Skelly’s hairnet and forced herself not to chuckle. Guess he was concerned about fallout. What had he said? Oh, yeah. I look businessy. “Excuse me? And who said I shouldn’t marry Jeremy?” Lark teased.

  The doorbell rang. “Saved by the bell.” Skelly busily retied his apron and adjusted his hairnet.

  Lark sent up a quick prayer of supplication as she walked to the door and opened it.

  “Hi. You look. . .nice.” Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

  “So do you.” Once the compliment had come out of her mouth, she hoped it wasn’t a lie. Jeremy wore a wildly colored western shirt, so eye-popping in fact, it could replace caffeine. Funny, I’ve never seen him dress that way before.

  Jeremy scratched his head. “You look very. . .professional. Like you’re about to close some kind of deal.”

  She gulped the air. What did he say? Maybe he could see the word closure in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready to go?” Jeremy asked. “I parked my bike off to the side of your garage door. That way you can back out your Hummer.”

  “Well, I’ve had a change of plans.” Lark splayed her fingers in the air and faked a smile. I must look like cartoon character. “Our own Skelly from church is a gifted cook, and well, you know Skelly, don’t you?”

  The two men waved to each other from a distance. “Hey. How you doing?” Jeremy said.

  “Good to see you,” Skelly hollered back.

  “And he’s going to fix us our dinner,” Jeremy said as if he’d come up with the idea.

  “Do you mind?” Lark asked.

  A pleased kind of smile crossed Jeremy’s face. “It’s a good move.”

  How could she not love this guy? So easy to please. But who knew the mysteries of love? One couldn’t break the rules. Even if I knew what they were.

  After Jeremy stepped inside, Lark took his leather jacket as Skelly strode over to shake his hand.

  “Something sure smells good.” Jeremy said. “Hey, you know we’re in need of a cook at the church. We could sure use you. There’s even a small salary.”

  “Really?” Skelly fiddled with his apron. “But maybe you better see how you like my cooking before you offer me a job.”

  Skelly had set up the dining room table with candles, a white tablecloth, and her best china, but the candles were left noticeably unlit. Maybe he was trying to send her a subtle reminder.

  Jeremy seated himself and then looked up at Lark. He chuckled and then rushed around to pull out Lark’s chair for her. “My momma would beat me with a sharp stick if she saw what I just did. Sorry.”

  “No problem.” Lark noticed Jeremy didn’t smell like motor oil. Much better.

  Skelly brought in the first course. Vichyssoise. After a prayer from Jeremy, Lark took a sip of the potato soup. Yumm. Creamy. Thick. Satisfying.

  Jeremy slurped up a spoonful and then set the spoon down with a loud clank.

  “Don’t you like the soup?” Lark whispered.

  Jeremy glanced behind him. “I don’t want to hurt Skelly’s feelings, but the soup is cold.”

  Okay, so what should she say? If she told Jeremy vichyssoise is normally served cold, it might hurt his feelings. If she sent the soup back for heating, it might upset Skelly. Are there prayers for this, God, or am I on my own with this one?

  “Uh-oh. I’ve made kind of a booboo, haven’t I?” Jeremy asked. “Is it supposed to be cold?”

  Lark nodded and thanked God for giving Jeremy the heads-up, but she wondered why he was acting so peculiarly. He’d never been overly sophisticated, but he’d always been well-mannered. And he was missing that smirk she liked so much.

  Jeremy gulped a few more spoonfuls and then squirmed in his chair. “Listen, before Skelly comes back in, I just have something I need to tell you.” He tapped his spoon against his bowl as if he were doing a countdown before a launch of some kind. Then he stopped and looked at her. “I think you are one of the sweetest gals God ever made. Purdy as all get out.”

  When did he start saying hick words like purdy? Lark looked at him, thinking the real Jeremy must have been sucked up by aliens.

  “And talented. And nice,” Jeremy went on to say. “And kind. And purdy. Oh, I think I already said—”

  “Jeremy, are you trying to tell me something?” Oh, wow. I never saw it coming. Jeremy just wants to be friends, too. And here I thought I had the corner on miscommunications.

  Jeremy took in so many short, fast breaths she thought he might hyperventilate. He fiddled with his napkin but looked at her intently. “I think we. . .you and I are best suited as—”

  Skelly slipped in looking sheepish as he served the plates of baked salmon, sautéed veggies, and garlic mashed potatoes.

  Jeremy’s soliloquy halted.

  Was Skelly coming in to eavesdrop? “This looks so good. I can’t believe what you’re doing.” Lark gave Skelly the evil eye and then grinned. Boy, Skelly certainly got jaunty all of a sudden. Like a buoy in a gale.

  “Thank you. I hope it all goes down well fo
r you.” Skelly’s hangdog expression changed to an all-knowing smile. “Bon appetit!” Then he disappeared.

  Lark offered the silver basket of hot rolls to Jeremy, praying he would continue his speech. Was Skelly actually listening in around the corner?

  Jeremy reached for a roll and began eating it. With a huge hunk of bread tumbling in his mouth, and while breaking every rule of etiquette imaginable, Jeremy said, “I think, Lark, we should just be good—”

  The doorbell rang, making Jeremy nearly choke on his roll. Skelly must have been shocked, too, because he dropped a metal pan on the kitchen floor. Lark just groaned.

  Sixteen

  “I am so sorry,” Lark said. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Neither can I.” Jeremy let out a puff of air from his cheeks.

  “It’ll just take a moment. Please go ahead and eat.” Lark placed her napkin next to her plate. “Be right back.” She trudged to the front door and looked in the peep hole. Oh, dear. Everett. How could this be? Her date with him wasn’t until the next evening. Wasn’t it? It had never crossed her mind Everett would happen over on this scene because she wasn’t having a real date. She was busy tidying up her life. Wrapping up some loose ends so she could focus on Everett. She looked again. He wore casual attire and carried a big load of groceries with a loaf of French bread sticking out of his bag.

  Lark made the executive decision to open the door and calmly explain everything. When the bell rang again, she yanked open the door. “Everett.” Did she say his name too brightly? “Weren’t you going to pick me up tomorrow evening?”

  “Yes,” Everett said. “But I just got back from the grocery store, and I bought too much food. So I thought I’d try being spontaneous for once and surprise you by fixing you dinner.”

  “You did. You did surprise me.” Okay, I guess that settles it. The hounds of Murphy’s Law have finally caught up with me. And to think I’ve been an optimist all these years. What a waste of time.

  “Well? I make a mean macaroni and cheese. And I thaw the best cheesecake you’ve ever tasted. Have you eaten already? Lark. . .you’re looking a little pasty. Are you okay?”

  Hello. My name is Desperation. Lark finally opened her mouth to introduce everyone, but from observing the sudden downcast look on Everett’s face, he must have already seen Jeremy sitting at the dining room table.

  Everett turned around with his load of groceries and walked back down the path. The look of dejection in his eyes was enough to slay the coldest heart.

  Lark wanted to shout something like, “There is a reasonable explanation for this,” but she knew the words would come off hollow and soap operalike. Especially since she’d just made wild accusations against him which were false. Everett wouldn’t be listening to anyone right now anyway. He looked too upset. Lark just watched him go and prayed God would give her a chance to unjumble the new mess she’d just made. Well, if falling in love indeed contained euphoria and anarchy, somehow she could guess which vat she’d just been dropped into.

  It sounded as if Skelly tried to start some music on her stereo because he’d accidentally hit the French language CD instead. The teacher said, “Good-bye,” and then, “Au revoir!” How apropos.

  Slowly Lark plodded back to the dining table as if she had bricks attached to her shoes. Then she sat down in her chair with a thump. Apparently Jeremy hadn’t missed her too much. He was busy constructing a little Tower of Babel with his mashed potatoes.

  “Please go ahead,” Lark said. “Unless we have a tornado or some volcanic activity, I think you’ll be able to finish your sentence now.”

  Jeremy chuckled.

  Out of the blue, Spanish guitar music wafted in through the dining room speakers. Good. Music will soften the uncomfortable edges of the moment.

  “I know we’ve been dating on and off for a few weeks now,” Jeremy said. “But I just felt I needed to tell you. . .I see us as good friends more than anything else. I’m so sorry.”

  Lark freed a lungful of air, hoping she didn’t sound too obvious. “Thanks for saying it first. I was about to tell you the same thing, but it’s hard.”

  “Boy, you got that right. Like chewing on glass.” Jeremy looked so thankful he reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

  Funny, how she felt very little when Jeremy touched her. No stirring wonder. No electrifying euphoria. Just a soothing kind of brotherly comfort. But she still had a question gnawing at her. “Do you mind if I ask why were you acting like a redneck Neanderthal earlier?”

  Jeremy laughed and took a long sip of water. “I don’t know. I got this crazy idea if I acted like a jerk, maybe I wouldn’t hurt your feelings that way. You know, maybe you’d be glad to be rid of me. But it just made me feel like a fool. Guess I forgot the words, ‘And the truth shall set you free.’ It’s what I always tell the teens when I counsel them on dating.” He shook his head. “Lark, I’m embarrassed by what I did. It was—”

  “I know you did it with the best of intentions,” she said with an earnest smile. “And I will always be glad to be your friend, Jeremy.”

  “Good move, Lark. For making an idiot look good.”

  Lark sighed. She watched as Jeremy rolled up his sleeves and dove into his meal with startling gusto. While he dug deeply into his salmon, Lark leaned over for a peek in the kitchen. She saw Skelly doing a little celebration jig with her broom. Amazing. Well, at least all appeared well with two gentlemen in her life.

  ❧

  Lark was obviously still dating the biker. Everett slammed the front door, making the window glass rattle. The door had already been shut, but he had a sudden need to open it and slam it again. In fact, he’d done more door-slamming in the last week than he’d done in his entire life.

  He appeared to have been right all those years. Spontaneity wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. People caused pain. Numbers didn’t. What could be plainer or easier to grasp? He just needed to get back to the basics. Work. But even his job had taken a nosedive. How could his tightly woven way of life come unraveled so quickly? Everything had been going so well—a sterling example, in fact, of the good old American work ethic paying off. Until, of course, he’d moved next door to Larkspur. Now he’d lost his biggest client. And a big chunk of my income.

  The reality of it hit him full force. Maybe the time had come to have a serious talk with God. So easy to give advice to other people about the power of prayer, but now when the going got tough, what was he really made of spiritually?

  But perhaps all of the problems could have been avoided if Lark hadn’t brought over my newspaper. Then Zeta wouldn’t have invited her to the company Christmas party, which means Sylvester wouldn’t have had the chance to be disgusting. But playing with the endless scenarios felt useless. Somebody had to stand up to the lout eventually. He just hoped God would reward him for doing the right thing.

  But in spite of everything, Everett longed for the delight of Lark again. He shook his head. When had he ever needed delight before? He’d banned the word from his daily schedule years ago.

  Delight. He opened a dictionary he kept in a kitchen drawer and read the exact meaning. Something that brings enjoyment. Hey, I can get enjoyment out of my combat simulation game and a double espresso. And then he noticed the word joy listed next. He had to admit that emotion was harder to come by.

  Everett slapped the dictionary shut and started putting his groceries away in the refrigerator. Milk. Juice. Bread. The essentials. But then he dug out other items from the bag he’d never purchased before. Caramel cheesecake. Vegetarian sushi. Maple-covered walnuts. All because he thought the items would please Lark.

  But what nagged Everett the most was the guilty expression Lark had while he stood there with questions all over his face. And right after Lark had pelted him with queries of the same nature. She must be going out with a number of different men at the same time with equal earnestness. Or perhaps she was just dating that one youth minister with the rebel hair and kamikaze jacket. But
his intellect told him to let go of Lark. Now.

  Everett opened the freezer door and let the air cool his face. But who was he kidding? He wasn’t about to let go of Lark that easily. Just because some beefy guy kept showing up with a ponytail and a macho vehicle as if he’d just driven off the set of a “B” movie? He’d simply wait for the biker to exit, and then he’d fire a few questions at Lark. Perhaps he could utilize some of the same queries she’d bombarded him with earlier.

  Everett closed the freezer door and sat down at the kitchen table to look over his list of contacts. Concentration would be difficult if he checked his watch every five minutes, but what else could he do? After he’d heard the rumbling of the bike next door, he waited another half hour.

  Hoping Lark was finally alone, Everett changed into a green shirt and khakis and stomped over to her front door. As he reached up, the door magically opened. She stood there smiling at him guilt free. “I thought you’d never come.”

  “Well, I’m not coming in until I’ve had my say.” He had practiced his spiel, and he felt determined to get it out.

  “Okay,” Lark said.

  “I don’t know the rules of dating very well, but I’m just going to say it straight out.” He took in a little extra oxygen for support. “Yesterday evening felt unique. Memorable. I’m not talking about what happened with Ozark Consulting. I’m talking about us. Anyway, I’m not going to be dating anyone else. I thought you felt the same way. I’m hoping we can see where our. . .as you called them. . .our ‘sentiments’ are leading us. Do we have an understanding here? Are we clear?” Everett wondered if his words were coming off too robotic.

  “Yes, sir. We’re clear, captain, sir.” She saluted and tugged on his coat, laughing.

  Guess that answered my question. Everett frowned.

  “Now will you please come in out of the cold?” Lark asked. “I promise what I have to say will make all things well between us.”

  “Is anybody here?” Everett looked over her shoulder. He couldn’t believe in a matter of a few days he had gotten so possessive.