Blessed Bouquets: Wed By A PrayerThe Dream ManSmall-Town Wedding

by Lyn Cote

  And the amazing part, the part that had his heart beating to a new tune, was that he’d never thought to experience this kind of feeling again. He’d never thought he’d be able to love again. But Jake’s instincts told him he’d be crazy to let this woman slip away.

  So he kissed her to seal the deal. And when he was thoroughly and completely sure that she felt the same way, as indicated by her soft sighs and her hands around his neck, he stood back to stare down at her. “Let’s negotiate,” he said, his voice husky, his heart hopeful.

  Elizabeth’s eyes looked like newly fallen leaves in autumn sunshine. “About what?” she asked, her own voice just above a whisper.

  “About the house, about us, about how we’re going to be living here together one day.”

  She brought her head up, her eyes going wide as a little gasp escaped her lips. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” Jake told her, amused by the look of surprise on her face. “I want this house, Lizzie. But only on one condition. I want you in it with me. And I won’t take no for an answer. Now, let’s go see the upstairs.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You sure are quiet.”

  Elizabeth glanced up to find Hannah, Jo and Aunt Becky staring at her with wide inquisitive eyes. She looked around the nearly empty Whistling Gofer, wondering when the lunch crowd had disappeared. Not sure which one had just spoken to her, she shook her head. “Just thinking of all the things I need to be doing. I’ve been very busy lately.”

  “With Jake Clark?” Aunt Becky asked, her smile as pleased as that on the cat that had swallowed the canary.

  “With work,” Elizabeth replied, bristling at the implications of her dear friend’s pointed question. She’d certainly tried working with Jake, but that man had other things in mind. Such as the silly notion that she would one day live in the Lockwood house with him.

  “But you’re still working with Jake, right?” Hannah asked, worry and hope clashing in her blue eyes.

  “Oh, yes.” Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table and pushed away the remains of her half-eaten cheesecake. “He’s a slow starter, but the man means business.”

  “Well, we’re all just thrilled that he’s restoring the Lockwood house,” Jo said, pushing a hand through her red curls. “That place was turning into an eyesore.”

  Hannah’s eyes met Elizabeth’s in silent encouragement and complete understanding. “It is beginning to look like a dream home,” she said.

  “It was my dream house,” Elizabeth retorted, the slow boil of her anger and frustration warring with the thrill of being able to watch the house being restored to its former beauty. And the thrill of Jake kissing her right there in the house. “Oh, well, I guess I should be glad someone can afford to overhaul the place.”

  “Jake seems to have money to burn,” Aunt Becky stated, taking a quick sip of her spiced tea. “But he is such a nice, well-mannered man. The historical society is extremely pleased about how he’s going to such pains to make sure the house is authentic in every detail.” She paused to let that soak in, then added, “And he’s always in church, each and every Sunday.”

  “He’s a real saint,” Elizabeth said, her bad mood turning to black about as fast as the wind was moving the clouds outside. “Looks like rain. Guess I’d better get back to work before that cloud burst hits.”

  “You work right next door,” Jo pointed out.

  “I might get wet,” Elizabeth replied, trying to send her friend a message to drop the subject of Jake Clark.

  “You work too hard.”

  Elizabeth glanced at Aunt Becky, but ignored the other woman’s admonishment. Then she sent one to Jo, a teasing note in her tone of voice. “So glad you could join us. I guess marriage keeps a person extremely busy.”

  “She’s very happy, but also very busy,” Aunt Becky replied before Jo could retort. “She and Bram are doing great.”

  Elizabeth stared hard at Jo. “Well, you do look good. Your skin is glowing. You’re even having a good hair day, in spite of this humidity.”

  “Love will do that,” Jo replied. Then she touched a hand to Elizabeth’s arm. “You ought to give it a try.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Elizabeth replied. But the dream of her house being remodeled by a man who just about fit the bill of good marriage material caused her to take in her breath and sigh. “Enough about my sad love life. What are you working on at the flower shop, Jo?”

  “She’s doing all the flowers for an anniversary party tonight,” Aunt Becky said in her habitual way of answering for everyone else. “The Glanvilles—they’ve been married fifty years.”

  “Imagine that,” Elizabeth responded, tears pricking her eyes in spite of her cynical words. It didn’t help that every time she was forced to meet Jake at his house, she suddenly had visions of flowers and weddings and happy times. Just visions, nothing real, she reminded herself.

  “Yes, imagine that,” Hannah said, her eyes going a dark blue that told Elizabeth she was remembering things neither one of them needed to remember.

  “At least one marriage in this town has lasted.”

  Aunt Becky shot Elizabeth a disapproving look. “You girls need to quit trying to predict which marriages around here are going to last or fail. It’s downright depressing.”

  “The truth is depressing,” Elizabeth said. “And the truth is that half of all marriages in this country, and this town, for that matter, end in divorce.” She stood up, grabbed her briefcase. “I’m going to work. It was nice having lunch with y’all.” With that, she grabbed the check and hurried to pay it before any of them could argue with her.

  “See you in church?” Aunt Becky asked, ever hopeful.

  “Maybe,” Elizabeth answered, thinking that one day dear Aunt Becky would take the hint and stop inviting her. Or maybe one day she’d just surprise them all and actually show up in church. Maybe the building wouldn’t fall down around her. Telling herself this sudden urge to go to church had nothing to do with the fact that Jake attended, she thanked their waitress and offered her a nice tip.

  “Bye, y’all.” Waving a hand, she hurried to her own office just as big, fat drops of cool rain hit the streets with sizzling precision. Then Elizabeth thought some more about the little tidbit Aunt Becky had dropped at lunch. Jake Clark went to church, apparently on a regular basis.

  Well, the man had never denied his faith in God.

  Not the way you have, a small voice said in Elizabeth’s head as she tossed her briefcase down and pulled up several of her current property listings on her computer screen.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like church. She did. Or rather, she had as a child. Back then, however, church had been part of that perfect illusion her parents had managed to cultivate. If she closed her eyes, Elizabeth could still see them there, the happy little Sinclair family, sitting in their favorite pew right up front and center.

  Right there for God and everyone to see.

  That is, until the day a few weeks after her sixteenth birthday when Milton Sinclair had come home from the office and started packing a suitcase.

  Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly together to push away the tears that threatened to splatter down her face just like the rain now splattering against the sidewalk outside. She could still remember the calm way in which her father had announced he was leaving. She could still see the disbelief and shock on her mother’s face as they’d both watched him walk down the stairs and out the door.

  He was living in Hot Springs now, with his artistic younger wife. Almost fifteen years had passed by, and the man had yet to call or come and visit. Or give his daughter an explanation.

  Elizabeth opened her eyes wide, blinking back the tears. “So you explain it to me, God. You tell me why I should believe in You and why I should even hold out any hope that Jake Clark might actually be an honorable man?”

  Elizabeth stared out at the falling rain, wishing that she could find the courage and strength to turn back to God, wishing that she
had some sort of foundation on which to build her hopes and dreams. Her father hadn’t bothered to give her any answers over the years and neither had God.

  “You both turned away,” she said, reasoning that she didn’t need anyone’s guidance or help. “I can handle it from here on out, I reckon.”

  But as she sat there in her plush office, with the dark clouds of a summer storm brewing all around her, in her secret heart Elizabeth prayed that God would turn His face back to her and give her a sign of hope.

  At that precise moment, a clap of thunder boomed outside and the office door swung open with a clashing bang, causing Elizabeth to crane her neck to see who’d just entered the other room.

  And there stood Jake Clark, big and bold, and larger than any fairy-tale prince she’d ever imagined.

  “Trying to tell me something, Lord?” she said under her breath.

  “I’ve been trying to call you,” Jake said, taking off his Stetson so he could shake the rain off the soft felt.

  “I’ve been out,” Elizabeth said, getting up to walk out into the outer office. “And Brandy is home sick with a nasty summer cold.”

  Jake took in her smart navy-blue dress and matching pumps, and he also noticed that her eyes looked red-rimmed and full of worry and confusion. “Well, don’t you ever check your cell phone messages or your office answering machine?”

  Fingering the double strand of pearls at her neck, she gave him a smoldering look. “I said, I’ve been out. And last time I checked, I don’t have to answer to you if I don’t want to do so.”

  “What’s got you in such a pickle?” he asked, genuine concern causing him to stare at her across the room.

  “It’s just been one of those days,” she said, shrugging as she sent him a sheepish look. “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to show you something at the house,” he said, grinning. “Something we found in the attic.”

  “I don’t have time to go traipsing through the Lockwood house with you.”

  “It’s the Clark house now, sugar. Get used to it.”

  He could tell he’d struck a nerve. She bristled like a cornered bobcat.

  “Oh, I’m well aware of that. Everybody in town is talking about how you’re just so precious and precise, trying to renovate it to suit the historical society, the church women and everyone else from the town council to the governor up in Little Rock. Yes, we’re all very much aware that Jake Clark is in Prescott, and here to stay a while.” Running a hand through her curls, she laughed. “I declare, I’ve never seen anything like it. You just ride in on that big old black horse of a truck and take over.”

  “I’m not taking over, Lizzie. I’m just trying to start over.”

  “And why are you starting over here, Jake? Why is it that you left the good life in Fort Worth to come to a small, out-of-the-way town like Prescott?”

  He advanced toward her then, his own anger matching hers. “One day, I’ll be glad to tell you the whole story, but right now, I think you need to tell me something instead.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?”

  “Why do you resent me so much? Why do you hate me being here, Lizzie? And why are you so all-fire mad because I bought that old house?” Before she could answer, he tugged her close. “I think I can figure it out for myself. You resent me because I am a contented, happy person, and you’re so miserable you can’t stand to see anybody else happy. That’s number one. And you don’t like the fact that I bought that house right out from under you, because you were sitting on it, hoping one day to claim it for your own.” He stopped, saw the flare of pain in her eyes, but decided he’d gone this far. “That’s number two. But you never got up the nerve to buy that house, because you’re so afraid you might actually be able to live there and be happy, only you can’t be happy because you’re still so caught up in the mistakes and sins of your parents that you can’t think straight. That’s number three, and I think I just answered all my questions. Am I right?”

  He watched as her expression changed from boiling mad to quietly resigned, and then, he watched as she pulled away from him and burst into tears.

  Chapter Eight

  Jake didn’t know how to react to her tears. Elizabeth Sinclair wasn’t the sort of woman to give in to tears on a whim. Something was terribly wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he came to her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Lizzie.”

  She hiccuped and pushed him away. “Don’t be silly. I’m certainly not crying over you.”

  “That’s the Lizzie I know,” he said, almost grateful for her flippant attitude. “Why are you crying, then?”

  Elizabeth shrugged, hugged herself with her arms, as if to ward off a chill. “I’m just in a blue mood. Summer rain always makes me sad.”

  Jake didn’t want to be nosy, so he didn’t try to pry anything out of her. Women were hard to figure out on a normal day, let along a rainy, dreary afternoon. Instead of asking more questions, he turned her toward the front window of the office. “Look at the rain, Elizabeth. It’s exactly what we needed today. It’s bringing water to the crops, to the flowers and trees, it’s cleansing the streets and cooling down the heat.”

  “It’s making a mess of everything,” she said, sniffing. But she did look out the window, her eyes big and misty, her expression changing from dismay to acceptance. “It’s not just the rain. It’s everything. I guess I just don’t like change and now I’ve had so much of it this summer.”

  “First Jo getting married and now me buying the Lockwood house,” Jake said, suddenly understanding.

  “Yes,” she admitted, her gaze dismayed and ashamed. “Jake, I should be glad you’re taking over that house. I’ve dreamed of doing the same thing. I don’t want to resent you or be jealous, but I just—”

  “You just wanted to do it yourself.”

  She nodded and held up a finger. “And don’t go telling me that someday soon, I’ll be occupying that house with you. That can’t happen.”

  “And why not?”

  She gave him a look full of disbelief and anger. “Because I won’t be railroaded into falling in love with a man who doesn’t take life seriously. You have this attitude that everything’s going to be all right in God’s own time. You never rush things or get in a hurry. I can’t be that way, Jake. I’ve learned to depend on my time, not God’s time. And I certainly can’t sit around waiting for divine intervention.”

  He shook his head. “Sometimes, divine intervention happens pretty fast, Lizzie. I can see that each time I look at you.”

  “Now there you go again,” she said, whirling around the room. “You have to stop assuming that you and I are going to be together. We have a working relationship, but nothing more.”

  “There could be more if you’d quit being so sanctimonious and stubborn.”

  “Me, sanctimonious?” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “You’re the one who thinks God is in control, Jake. You’re the one who thinks everything will just fall into place around you. You’re the one who has all the platitudes and prayers.” She stopped, out of breath and apparently out of sarcastic things to throw in his face. “You have all the answers.”

  Jake had enough pain and hurt to last him a lifetime, but he refused to tell her that. “You don’t know one thing about me, that’s for sure,” he said as he turned for the door. “But you will one day, Lizzie.”

  “Good. You’re leaving. Maybe I’ll find some peace,” she said, though she didn’t sound very convincing.

  “You can’t find peace if you don’t give God a chance to give it to you.” He stood with his hand on the door, watching the water washing over the streets outside. “If you want to see what I found at the house, come by later. I’ll be there, waiting for you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Jake left, steeling himself against the chill of her words. She was a tough one. Too tough to understand that she could be healed if she’d just turn to God and ask for that healing.


  He should know. He’d had to do the very same thing not so long ago.

  “Why did y’all call me here?”

  Elizabeth stared at the four women sitting in the kitchen at Mimosa Manor. Surprised to find her mother amongst her friends, she shook her head. “This must be pretty serious if Mom’s here.”

  Phyllis Sinclair looked at Elizabeth with wide eyes. “We’re worried about you, darling.”

  “Why?” Elizabeth asked, suddenly feeling as if she’d been set up.

  Hannah and Jo pulled her to a chair, then set a cup of hot tea in front of her. “You need to listen, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth looked from her two friends to Aunt Becky, then back to her mother. “Oh, no. Mama, are you sick?”

  “No, honey,” Phyllis said, her smile bittersweet. “But I have been going through a healing process.”

  Elizabeth fidgeted, drumming her fingers on the table as the others sat down. “What’s going on?”

  “An intervention,” Jo said, her eyes big underneath the bangs of her spiky red hair. “You need to understand something, Elizabeth.”

  Hannah took Elizabeth’s hand. “It’s okay to fall in love, Elizabeth. Jo and I want you to be happy.”

  “Fall in love? What are you-all talking about?”

  Aunt Becky took a sip of tea, then cleared her throat. “I’ve been praying for you—for all you girls. I was so thrilled when Jo fell in love with Bram. And now you have this wonderful man in your life—”

  “You mean Jake Clark?”

  They all nodded. Aunt Becky cleared her throat again. “He’s perfect for you, honey. A dream man.”

  Oh, my, Elizabeth thought. Jake had said divine intervention could happen quickly. He’d really get a kick out of friendly intervention. Or how about misguided intervention?

  “He’s a nice man, true,” Elizabeth said, pushing her chair back. “But I don’t need you four telling me who to fall in love with. I don’t love him. We have a working relationship.”