Love Inspired June 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Patricia Johns

  “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” he asked. He wore his customary grin, one he probably practiced in the mirror.

  Mad was an understatement. He’d left town without warning, without a goodbye. He’d made promises, then left her sitting at Tilly’s Diner, waiting for him to show up.

  She studied him, looking for a hint of insecurity. Anything to tell her he might be a little unsure, a little bit sorry. Was there a hint of regret in his brown eyes? Had she seen a flash of something, maybe remorse, on his face just before he pasted on that too-flashy smile?

  If he could pretend the past didn’t matter, so could she. It might not be easy, but she could do it.

  “Why would I be mad at you, Grayson?” she said, like it was all water under the bridge.

  “Oh, no reason I can think of, darlin’.” He grinned and winked, not at her but at Laura, who stood nearby.

  “Why are you here?” Avery asked. Her heart faltered at the one answer that made sense.

  But he couldn’t know. She told herself to breathe deep and stay calm.

  He pushed away from the desk and she was reminded why he’d always been able to take her breath away. Because he was tall and powerful but he didn’t steal the room. He moved with an athletic grace. His dark brown auburn hair, combined with suntanned skin and coffee-brown eyes that took on a hint of the forest with flecks of green and gold, were a lethal combination.

  Her gaze dropped to his fancy polished leather boots. A giggle worked its way up. Mr. All Hat and No Cattle.

  “Do you have an office?” he asked in a voice that no longer teased.

  “Yes.” She pointed down the hall. “Second door on the right.”

  He led the way. She drew in a breath and followed, ignoring the questioning looks of her coworkers.

  Grayson Stone was home. Avery should have known this day would come like a thief in the night, taking her by surprise, upending everything she’d been trying to do right with her life.

  She just didn’t think it would come so soon.

  * * *

  Grayson followed Avery into her office. The sign on the door read Supervising RN. The room was barely big enough for the desk, bookcase and utilitarian gray filing cabinet. His attention shifted back to the woman he sure hadn’t thought to see again. Ever. He especially hadn’t expected to see her here, today. Her green eyes had shot daggers at him when she’d come around the corner of the hallway and spotted him.

  He smiled, thinking about that look she’d given him. With her long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing teddy bear scrubs, she had certainly looked all sweet and nurse-like. But the look she’d given him had carried a pretty specific message, and it had been anything but sweet.

  He shouldn’t have expected anything more from her. They’d been frenemies for a long time.

  Since kindergarten. He cringed at the memory of tossing a spider in her pale blond hair. Yeah, that hadn’t been his best move.

  Maybe if he apologized and told her he’d changed, she might forgive him. For the spider, for high school, for the way he’d left town years ago. He’d done a lot of people wrong, including Avery. But the decision to leave Pleasant had been made for him.

  In the tiny office she slid past him, a soft shoulder nudging his, the scent of clean soap and lavender shampoo wafting in the air between them. She didn’t appear to be in a forgiving mood. Sliding out her chair, she pushed a framed photo out of his line of sight and switched into professional mode, suddenly acting as if they didn’t share a past.

  He took the chair shoved in the corner of her office. His attention strayed to a plant on her desk. Its leaves were wilted and begging for water.

  She sat across from him. “Why?”

  He shifted his attention back to Avery. He somehow summoned up a smile even though he felt like a fifteen-year-old version of himself, sitting in the principal’s office waiting for his dad to come pick him up.

  “There are a lot of answers to that question. Where do you want me to start?” he asked without smiling, since she didn’t appear to be in the mood for humor.

  “Why are you at my place of employment? We can start with that.”

  “I might have run my car over the flower beds and brick sign before I left town.”

  “Who does that?”

  He raised his hand. “That would be me. My last night in Pleasant might not have been my best. I left a trail of destruction all the way to Springfield where they finally caught me and threw me in jail. I went before a judge who decided I needed to pay for my crimes and to have a change of scenery.”

  Change of scenery. That left out a lot of details, but what was he supposed to say to her? Should he start with an introduction, the way he had in countless meetings over the past eleven years? Perhaps show her the coin he carried in his pocket, the one he sometimes had to reach for, to remind himself that it felt good to be clean.

  “I didn’t know,” she said, the words not meaning all that much. Of course she hadn’t known.

  “My dad was pretty good at keeping family secrets.” Grayson shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

  “What was the change of scenery?” she asked.

  “They sent me to California where I eventually went to work for my uncle’s contracting business.”

  “I hope he made you work until you had blisters on your hands.”

  He held up calloused hands. “See for yourself. I’ve spent the past eleven years working hard and learning a lot of life lessons, compliments of my uncle Edward.”

  “And now you’re home?”

  “For a couple of months. I’m here to help get my dad resettled on the farm. He’s been in rehab in Springfield since his stroke in January. They sent him home at the beginning of May and I got here as quickly as I could.”

  “I wondered where he’d gone after selling the house in town.”

  “Springfield. He and my mother moved to Springfield. After she passed away, he moved into a retirement community. But now, because he’s sixty-five and had a pretty serious stroke, he wants to be here, in the town he considered his home for most of his life. Since they sold our house in town, he’s moving to his old family farm.”

  She shuffled papers on her desk, ignoring him. That gave him a moment to study her, to study the cubbyhole she called her office, and to wonder about the photograph she clearly didn’t want him to see.

  “What am I supposed to do with you?” she finally asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ll be here five hours a day, two days a week for the next month.”

  “I’d rather you not be here at all. Why don’t we call it good and you leave?”

  “You want me gone?” He winked as he said it.

  “California, you said? I’m sure it’s nice there in the spring.”

  “Yes, central coast. Perfect weather every day. Unfortunately, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll leave in July at the earliest. And thanks to you, I’m more determined than ever to repay my debt to society,” he said with a grin, then winked at her, enjoying the way a flush of pink crept into her cheeks.

  He couldn’t remember a time that he hadn’t loved that blush of hers. Even as a kid he’d been smitten by the flush of pink that had swept through her cheeks at the slightest hint of bashfulness.

  This new adult version of Avery was a bit more confident than when Grayson knew her, and seemed to compose herself in a matter of seconds. “Fine, I’m sure we can find something for you to do around here. You can report in the morning...”

  “Mornings won’t work. I’m at the old homestead and there are livestock to feed.” He used the term livestock loosely. She didn’t need the whole truth. “I also have to make sure my dad eats breakfast before I head out.”

  “Could you at least be here by ten?” she asked.

  “I can be here at ten.”

  She n
odded and walked out of the office, leaving him to follow behind. He stood, giving the room one last look, trying to learn something about the woman she’d become. The wilted plant, a bookcase of medical books, a metal filing cabinet circa 1980, didn’t tell him much. He wondered if she’d ever married. He hadn’t looked at her ring finger.

  He reached for the photo she’d pushed aside when she’d sat down at her desk.

  “Put that down. You have no business going through my personal belongings.” She stood in the doorway, her face pale, her brilliant green eyes a stark contrast.

  Moving quickly, she grabbed the framed picture before he could even touch it.

  “What are you hiding, Avery?”

  “I’m not hiding anything,” she said with a tremor.

  His gaze dropped to her hands, still clutching the photograph. No rings. Maybe she’d been widowed? Divorced? If he’d kept in contact with old friends, maybe he’d know more about her life.

  The frozen expression on her face told him she wouldn’t give him any answers, not today. And he didn’t deserve any. He didn’t deserve secrets or confidences, either.

  As a kid he’d been entitled and spoiled, never understanding the differences in their lives. She’d been a pretty loner in hand-me-down clothes who had spent her time studying. That last summer in Pleasant, he’d come home from his first year of college and he’d taken a good look at his childhood nemesis and he’d seen her, really seen her.

  Even then she’d been too good for him. She was too smart, too studious and too kind. He would have broken her heart. Looking back, he realized he probably had broken her heart. He’d sure broken her trust.

  “Stop thinking about the past,” she told him as she moved away from her desk and pointed to the door.

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “You always have been,” she said simply. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He walked away, more unsure of himself than he’d ever been in his life. As he turned the corner, he glanced back in time to see her smile soften slightly as she glanced at the photo she held in her hands. A photo that, a moment later, she slid behind a framed certificate on top of her bookcase.

  Okay, she had her secrets and he had his. They were even. The thought should have kept him from wondering. He should have been able to walk out the door of the center into the warmth of late spring, believing what he’d told himself—that her story didn’t matter.

  Except it did matter. A lot. He didn’t fully understand why, but he needed to know her secrets. He needed to know what she was hiding from him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Avery woke up early the next morning. Early enough to make pancakes for breakfast, to kiss her daughter as she headed out the door to catch the bus. Early enough to go in search of Nan, because for fifteen years, when life got messy or she didn’t know how to handle a situation, she’d gone to Nan. Avery knew where to find her foster mother. She would be in her workshop.

  Nan Guthrie would turn seventy at the end of July but she had more energy than many people half her age. At least that was Avery’s opinion of the woman who had taken her in when Avery had been a lost and wounded fourteen-year-old, fresh in state custody after her stepfather was arrested for intent to distribute drugs, and her mother had slipped out the back door and never returned. Every now and then Avery wondered what had happened to her mother, Jima Hammons. But she hadn’t lost sleep over her mother’s skipping out. It was what Jima had always done.

  Which was why she shouldn’t have been surprised eleven years ago when Grayson didn’t show up for their date. He’d made such a big deal out of it. That night, eleven years ago, he’d told her the whole world was going to know that he thought she was beautiful and he wanted everyone to know they were dating.

  She’d been foolish enough at eighteen to believe him. She’d let her guard down, let him into her life, and he’d left her sitting alone at Tilly’s. He’d left town and never returned.

  She’d gone to his parents and they’d informed her that she shouldn’t have set her sights on someone like Grayson. A girl like her? From the wrong side of the tracks? How ridiculous.

  Knowing now that he’d been sent away didn’t dissolve the years of hurt. Deep down, she’d expected him to show up, to call, to reappear. He hadn’t done any of those things. Even a person in trouble can make phone calls. He could have at least told his parents.

  Her foster mother, Nan, had been there to pick up the pieces, just as she’d done when Avery first came to live with her. Nan had been there for a dozen girls over the years. She’d loved them through the hard times. She’d been the one to hold them when they cried. She’d given them reasons to believe in themselves.

  Nan was a force of nature. She had never married, claiming she’d loved and lost, and it wasn’t in her to make another man feel like he came second. She had supported herself over the years by farming and by making wooden riverboats that sold nationwide.

  Avery walked across the dew-dampened grass in the direction of the metal building that had become Nan’s workshop when she’d finally outgrown the barn. Vaguely, it registered that it was a beautiful morning in mid-May. The kind of morning she loved, when the birds were singing and a soft mist hovered over the James River in the valley.

  As she walked, Nan’s collie, Sugar, joined her. The dog was damp from running through the fields and probably swimming in the pond. Avery caught a whiff of something unpleasant.

  She frowned at the dog. “You found something to roll in, didn’t you?”

  Sugar gave a happy woof.

  The dog tried to move closer to her side but Avery shooed her away. “I don’t think so, Sug.”

  The whir of a saw echoed from the workshop, slicing into the early-morning silence. Sugar took off in search of more adventures. Avery entered the building, cringing at the loud whine of a saw cutting through wood. Nan, her face distorted by the large, protective goggles she wore, gave her a quick glance and a smile. She finished cutting a section of wood and shut the saw off and pushed the googles to the top of her head.

  “Quinn off to school?” Nan asked as she set the saw on a worktable.

  “She is.”

  Nan headed for the coffeepot in the small kitchen she’d built in the corner of the work area. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’ve had mine, but thank you.”

  Nan gave her a sideways look as she stirred sugar into her cup. Avery ignored the questioning look and ran her hand down the sides of the boat. The marine-grade plywood would soon be sealed and painted. Sometimes the boats were merely stained so that the wood grain was visible; others were painted in deep greens or earthy browns. What set Nan’s boats apart from others was the craftsmanship. The special woodwork around the top of the boat, the dry storage, the seats. She was a master builder.

  “What happened?” Nan sat her cup down on the counter and went back to measuring the wood. She was working on the bottom of the boat. The plywood would be cut so that the front of the boat angled in just slightly. Her silence as she worked was a clear invitation for Avery to talk.

  “What do you mean?” Avery asked as she perused the equipment at the side of the room. She knew how to run every bit of it. If she’d wanted to, she could have joined Nan in the business. But it hadn’t been her calling.

  “You’ve been cross-eyed and sideways since yesterday. Is there something you need to tell me?”

  Nan already knew. It was there in the sharp glint of her pale blue eyes, in the arch of her silvery brow.

  “How did you know?”

  “Patsy at the café.” Nan didn’t smile. Her bottom lip was held between her teeth as she got her measurements down and drew the arching line, then went to the opposite side to do the exact same measurements.

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Nan knew. Half the town probably knew that Grayson Stone was back in Pleasant.
All of the good gossip didn’t come from the local paper, The Pleasant Gazette. The good stuff always came from Tilly’s Diner. Tilly was the best cook around and also the biggest source of news and information. Patsy was the worst waitress in town but Nan’s best friend.

  Avery reminded herself that the entire time she’d been living in Kansas City she had missed this small town and the people she’d known her entire life. She’d grown to miss her small country church, the gossip at Tilly’s and the slow-moving tractors on the roads that sometimes held up traffic. She had to remind herself because at moments like this, she wished she were back in Kansas City, hidden in the anonymity of the city.

  “What did she say?” Avery asked when Nan looked up from measuring, an expectant look on her face.

  “Grayson Stone is back in town to deal with that miserable old coot of a father. You’d think a man who had been a lawyer and a county judge would have a measure of decency.”

  “Water under the bridge. The here and now are my concern,” Avery said as she gave a quick glance at the clock that hung on the wall of the small kitchen. The clock was a 1970s masterpiece, Nan had said. It was brass and looked something like the sun. And yet, nothing like the sun.

  “You’re going to have to tell him,” Nan said with customary patience. “He deserves to know.”

  “Does he?”

  “You know he does. And you also know that secrets fester. Like an untreated infection.”

  “Thanks for putting it in terms I understand,” Avery said drily.

  “They get septic and turn...” Nan continued.

  “I get the point.”

  “Eventually, they spread.” Nan gave her a wry grin. “They even infect the heart.”

  “I have to go to work.” Avery glanced at the clock a second time. “He’ll be there today. He’s doing community service.”

  Nan shoved her pencil behind her ear. “Avery, I’ve lived a long time and I’ve come to realize that God has a way of bringing things about for a reason. It might hurt, but perhaps it has to hurt in order to heal.”