Sweet Scent of Forgiveness

by Delia Latham

  But Marcus’ gaze held what every woman wanted to see in a man’s eyes. Respect. Honor. Unabashed admiration. He looked at her as if she were of utmost value…like a precious gem, to be guarded and treasured by whomever held the honor of saying, “This jewel is mine.”

  Norah’s breath caught in her throat, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze from Marcus’.

  “I hope I haven’t offended you, Norah. I couldn’t not tell you how beautiful you are, in case you don’t know. Thing is, I have a feeling that beauty goes far more than skin deep, and that’s what makes it unsurpassable.”

  She blinked, and found the spell broken. Thank God, she could finally say something.

  “Thank you, kind sir.” She tilted her head and gave him a smile she hoped was fun and lighthearted. “You’re not too hard on the eyes yourself.”

  He laughed. “Well, thanks. But I’m just your average Joe, blessed with eyes that fool folks into thinking I look better than I really do. But you…lady, you really are perfect.” Without pause, Marcus pointed his chin toward the rosebush on a shelf behind the counter. “Is that my Juliet?”

  “It is. Isn’t she lovely?” She retrieved the plant and placed it in his hands. Thank goodness for the change of subject—with goodness, in this case, being Marcus, of course. She suspected he’d changed the subject because she hadn’t quite hidden her discomfort with a conversation that revolved around her appearance.

  “Stunning. And there’s already a bloom. Oh, my Juliet will love these babies.”

  “Has she not seen the other one?”

  “Nope. I have it hidden away until her birthday.”

  Norah chuckled. “Didn’t you tell me she’s ten years old?”

  He nodded, curiosity lighting his green eyes. “I did. Why?”

  “Well, you and I love these rose bushes, and we should—they’re exquisite. But I’m having a hard time imagining a ten-year-old finding them very exciting.”

  “Is that so?” He lifted one shoulder and gave her a polite half-nod. “You could be right. Hey, where’s Donovan today? I guess he’s in school, huh?”

  She chuckled. “Actually, no. He had a medical appointment this morning that included a pretty hefty injection. I didn’t send him to school afterward, just in case he had a reaction to the shots. He didn’t, of course. He’s in the back room, grafting a Christmas cactus to one of my succulents. He is in his element out there with his hands in potting soil, experimenting with the plants I’m supposed to be selling.”

  “Ahhh. I see.” Marcus lifted both dark eyebrows and grinned.

  “What?” Norah managed a pretend-frown. He clearly thought he was making some kind of point.

  “What? Are you kidding me, lady? You told me my ten-year-old daughter is probably not interested in getting rosebushes for her birthday. Then you gave me a spiel about your not-quite-eight-year-old son loving to work with your inventory or…what is it, again? Plants, I believe. As in, maybe, rose bushes?”

  By the time he finished, Norah was laughing out loud. She held up both hands in surrender. “All right, all right. I apologize for my ridiculous advice, which I clearly did not think through. I’m sure your daughter will love her Juliet rosebushes.”

  “I know she will.”

  “Mom?”

  Norah whirled in response to Donovan’s uncertain query. He stood between the shop and the workroom behind it. A little frown creased his brow, and confusion filled his gaze.

  “Donovan! Come here, sweet boy. I want you to meet Mr. Conley.”

  The boy walked to her side, but it wasn’t hard to see he did so only out of obedience. Every step seemed more reluctant than the last. How had he come to be so painfully shy?

  Norah drew him close to her side and ran a hand through his hair. The gesture usually soothed him, but today he remained stiff and unmoving beneath her touch.

  She lowered herself to his eye level. “Donovan, this is Mr. Marcus Conley. He’s the man I told you about…the one who bought the two Juliet rosebushes.”

  Donovan nodded in Marcus’ direction, but clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip.

  “Hey, Donovan!” Without asking permission, Marcus stepped over the line between the customer area and the portion of the store designated “Employees Only.” He, too, made himself smaller for the child’s benefit. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

  He held out a hand, and to Norah’s surprise, Donovan slipped his much smaller one into it and gave it a little shake.

  “I hear you do a great job taking care of your mom while she’s at work.”

  Donovan ducked his head, but a little smile teased at his lips. He shrugged tiny shoulders. “I guess so. I like it here.”

  “Yeah? Well, that’s good, since you’re here a lot.”

  “Naw, not so much. Mom won’t let me.” He shot a frowny glance toward Norah. “She makes me spend a whole bunch o’ time with other kids, so I won’t be a loose wreck.”

  Marcus chuckled. “A loose wreck?”

  “Yeah, but…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mommy says it backwards. Don’t tell her I told you, though, ’cause her feelin’s might get hurted.”

  “No, we don’t want that, do we?” He gave Norah a wide-eyed, “help me out, here” glance, and she bit back laughter, visualizing the wheels spinning in his head. To be honest, she was a little confused herself.

  What did she say backwards?

  She and Marcus figured it out at the same time. Norah saw the light go on in his expression.

  “You know…” He lowered his voice and leaned close to her son. “I think recluse is a pretty messed-up word too. No one should be one of those.”

  Donovan sighed. “Yeah, guess not. It’s just that most kids don’t know much about growin’ things, and that’s what I like to do, mostly. If I’m not playin’ on my tablet, and I’m not at school, I like bein’ here.” His little chest puffed out, and a tiny chin lifted a bit. “Takin’ care o’ mom.” He grinned. “And growin’ stuff.”

  Marcus stood and laid a hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder. “Well, that sounds like a fine way to spend your time, son.”

  The child looked up and straight into his eyes.

  Norah stifled a gasp. Despite her advice and demonstrations, Donovan had struggled with making eye contact from the time he was old enough to carry on a conversation.

  “It is.” He offered a rare smile. “I like you, Mr. Conley. Hope you come back again next time you want a Juliet rose bush.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Well, I have two of those now. Did your mom tell you I’m planting them outside my daughter’s window for her birthday? Her name is Juliet Rose.”

  Donovan’s eyes rounded. “For real? Wow! That’s really cool! Just like a rosebush.”

  “Exactly like these rosebushes. Hey, Donovan, I wonder if your mom might let you help me plant these for Juliet?” He jerked his chin toward Donovan’s hand. “I’m afraid my thumb won’t ever be as green as yours.”

  Donovan giggled, and then he laughed. Right out loud.

  Norah grabbed onto the counter. Who are you, and what have you done with my Donovan?

  “Can I, Mom? Can I help Mr. Conley with the Juliets?”

  “May I, Donovan,” she mumbled.

  “No, Mom. Only me, ’cause I got this green thumb. See?” He stuck out his right hand, with the digit standing straight up. Sure enough, it was green as a snow pea.

  Norah blinked and one hand flew to her mouth while she stared for an instant. She slowly lowered it so she could talk

  “What—?” But she stopped before questioning him. This back-and-forth between Donovan and Marcus was too much progress to mess with. Besides, she’d remembered that, in addition to his grafting experiment, her son had loaded quite a few cuttings from large green plants she’d pruned this morning into a wheelbarrow. One of her two apprentices from the college would take the wheelbarrow to the back of the property for composting.

  Donovan also scrubbed her clay pots on w
hich algae was growing up the sides. He loved to rub his thumbs in the algae—it gave him actual green thumbs, at least until Norah scrubbed them with her special, way-too-expensive gardening soap. She didn’t let him clean the pots often because he protested with such vehemence about wearing the paper mask she insisted he wear while handling the bacteria-laden planters. Today, he’d grumbled as always, but gave in so he’d be allowed to clean them. She should’ve remembered his penchant for turning his thumbs green.

  “Well, Mom?” Marcus raised one eyebrow and dipped the other.

  “I don’t know…” He seemed like a nice guy but…she barely knew him. She couldn’t send her son off with a stranger.

  “Mom.” Donovan patted her arm and used his most grown-up voice. “Mr. Conley’s a nice man. I trust him.”

  Her jaw dropped. How did he do that? More and more often, her child seemed capable of reading her mind—and of delving into the hearts and souls of others.

  “Yeah, Mom, I really am a nice guy. I promise.”

  She narrowed her eyes in warning, but had a hard time not laughing at Marcus’ oh-so-innocent expression.

  “I’ll think about it.” She shot him a warning glance. “If you two will leave it alone for now.”

  Donovan gave Marcus a glum face. “Better leave it alone, Mr. Conley. When her voice sounds like someone sprayed it with that shellac stuff, she’s huffin.”

  “Huffin’?”

  Had the man even tried to bite back that grin? He was having way too much fun with this conversation.

  “Yeah. Mean’s she’s a little mad at me. Huffin’.”

  In a huff. Norah sighed. She had to watch the words she used around her son a little more closely. The kid picked up on everything.

  “Oh, I see.” Marcus’ dead-serious expression was perfect, almost too convincing. “Well, let’s not make her huff, or she might decide you can’t help with my rosebushes, and I sure ’nuff need that green thumb of yours.”

  Donovan blinked. “Oh, yeah,” he whispered. “Good idea.”

  Marcus stood and took the rosebush. “I need to get this home and tucked away before Juliet gets out of school.”

  “Well, thank you. Come by anytime. Who knows? There may be other things around here that you’ll find you can’t live without.”

  He nodded slowly. When he answered, not a hint of humor remained in his voice. Norah found herself unable to look away from his emerald gaze.

  “You know, I’m thinking that may be very, very true.” He winked at Donovan as he turned to go. “See ya later, sport.”

  “Later, Mr. Conley.”

  As soon as the door shut behind their customer, Donovan turned to Norah. “I heard a man’s voice out here and it made me scared—for you, Mom, ’cause sometimes men aren’t nice. But soon as Mr. Conley said hello, I knew.” He shrugged and headed for the back room.

  “Wait.” Norah chuckled. “You knew what, Donovan?”

  “That he’s good.” He shrugged tiny shoulders. “We don’t need to be afraid of him, ’cause he don’t hurt people.”

  He disappeared through the vinyl flaps.

  She stared after him. Sometimes his ability to see and understand things so well and so quickly gave her shivers. This time, she skipped over the shivers in favor of being thrilled that her son intuited the same goodness in Marcus that she’d thought she felt in him.

  Norah wanted him to be “one of the good guys,” as Shay would say. She wanted it so much her bones ached with the wanting. Trouble was, despite Donovan’s assurance otherwise, she had no doubt whatsoever that Marcus could hurt her, deeply and irrevocably…without ever striking a physical blow.

  ~ Chapter 12 ~

  S

  HE FOUND ANOTHER NOTE AFTER work. Written on the back of a white napkin, it contained three words: Hangout with me.

  For half a second, her blood froze. The first note came the same day Marcus came into the nursery and purchased her Juliet. He’d been here today, as well. Was it possible…?

  No. She refused to accept that he might have anything to do with the frightening, block-letter notes. Donovan said he was “good.” Her son rarely offered opinions about people. When he did, they inevitably proved spot-on. Besides, even without Donovan’s input, she knew in her own heart that Marcus was incapable of this type of behavior. Besides, what reason could he possibly have?

  She half-expected him to call later that day, if only to convince her Donovan should be allowed to visit his home. And she was inclined to agree. Being around ten-year-old Juliet might be good for her son—but only if he allowed the girl into his world. Few people were permitted there.

  Maybe it was a non-issue, since Marcus didn’t call. Not that day and not on Friday.

  “Oh, well.” Norah told herself whether he called or didn’t made no difference. Still, by Saturday night, she vacillated between am-I-blue and hit-the-road-Jack.

  Donovan laid down his iPad around dinner time. “I’m hungry, Mommy.” His tummy gave a loud rumble, as if to corroborate the statement.

  “You are, huh?” Norah bent to kiss his cheek. “What sounds good?”

  “Mac ’n cheese?”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I can deal with your favorite orange stuff again tonight. How about pizza?”

  A mile-wide grin lit her son’s sweet face. “You mean at Jack’s, right? I like Jack’s, but I don’t like those ones from the store. Yuck!”

  “Is that so?” She hiked a brow and touched her finger to the tip of his nose. “Well, then, I suppose we’ll go to Jack’s, King Donovan.”

  The child’s arms encircled her waist. “I’m not a king, Mommy. I’m just your kid.” He looked straight up into her face. “And I like Jack’s better’n freezed pizza.”

  Norah’s heart melted and her throat closed around a rush of emotion. She snuggled him close until she could speak. “That you are, sweetie. My one and only kid, and I’m so glad Jesus gave you to me.”

  “Me too.” He gave her one last, quick squeeze. “Can we go to Jack’s now? My tummy’s makin’ lots o’ noises.”

  “Yeah? Well, let’s go put something in that hungry-bear tummy.”

  Upon arriving at Jack’s Pizza Place, Norah kept Donovan from running ahead only by taking a firm grip on his hand. He loved Jack’s arcade as much as he loved the pizza—maybe more. Once inside, she scanned the play area for anyone who looked suspicious or out of place before releasing her son’s squirming hand. Only then did she order their pizza—Canadian bacon with jalapenos on half, plain cheese on the other. That done, she seated herself at a table within easy sight of the arcade.

  Lost in thought—various versions of telling herself she didn’t care that her strong attraction to Marcus Conley was clearly one-sided—she gasped when a deep, male voice startled her from the mental vacation.

  “So…I could sit alone at that table right over there…” Marcus jerked his chin across the aisle. “Or we could share yours while our kids get to know each other.”

  Norah’s gaze flew to the play area and zoned in on her son. He stood next to an adorable little girl a head taller than himself. Donovan was doing the talking, and judging by his animated facial expression, shyness was not an issue with his new friend.

  The girl’s hair cascaded down her back like rich brown silk, ending six inches or so beneath her tiny waist. As Norah watched, she laid a hand briefly on Donovan’s shoulder and pointed toward the skeeball machines. He nodded, and they hurried to the popular game.

  Norah shook her head, keeping her jaw in place through pure determination. “Did you introduce them?” she asked Marcus.

  “Nope. I simply stood and watched them find each other, like two little magnets.”

  She pulled in a breath, let it out, and smiled. “I think you’d better sit down and tell me what that means.”

  Marcus grinned as if he’d won a major victory. He slid into the booth and raised both hands, as if in surrender. “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’. I handed Juliet her tokens
and told her to go on out there and have fun while I ordered.” He paused, and a pensive expression played across the chiseled planes of his face. “Norah, she looked so lost for a moment. I came this close…” His index finger moved so near his thumb that Norah couldn’t see a space between. “…to going out on the play floor with her, like an over-protective dad who can’t let his little girl out of his sight. And then I saw Donovan, standing not three feet from where Juliet hovered like she was about to spread a pair of invisible wings and fly away. Your son had that same little-kid-lost expression.”

  He raised a hand, palm out—only one hand this time. “Now listen up, ’cause this is unbelievable. Our children made eye contact and then moved together as if drawn by some powerful magnetic force.”

  Norah chuckled and hiked an eyebrow. “Oh, come on.”

  He shrugged. “I’m telling you the truth. It was like watching one of those corny old movies where two people see each other across a crowded room and kind of glide toward one another. Donovan spoke first, and then they were chatting like life-long friends.” He drew a deep breath and blew it out. “It was the strangest, most mind-boggling and beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in real life. That’s when I came looking for you. I mean, Donovan’s here, so it was pretty much a given that you weren’t far away, and maybe alone…possibly waiting for some single dad to come along and beg to sit at your table. I figured, why couldn’t that single dad be me?”

  He laughed, but something in his green gaze seemed a little uncertain.

  Norah laughed softly. “Well, I wouldn’t say I was waiting for anyone to…you know. What you said.” Although, what she’d been thinking probably wasn’t far from that. “But it’s nice to have company. Donovan isn’t usually lost out there. He plays alone, as a rule, but he loves this place, and enjoys the games. I wonder why he looked lost tonight?”