Garrett's Gift

by Jayna Morrow

  “I only know one other beautiful, brown-eyed girl. Micara Lee?”

  Her hands slid away from his eyes, and he turned to face her. She was stunning in a floral sundress and sandals, her chestnut hair loose. A hint of makeup made her eyes stand out. She was a classic beauty with simple taste.

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  Garrett placed a hand on her cheek and stroked her face with his thumb in a feathery motion. He wanted to tell her just how beautiful he thought she was, but all he could manage was a nod. Her eyes reflected the sparkling lights above and a brilliant smile lit her face.

  Without regard for who might be watching, he lowered his lips toward her hand. She didn’t pull away.

  “Well, if it isn’t Garrett Hearth!”

  The female voice startled him, and he pulled away from Micara. The other woman approached, and a chill ran through him.

  “It’s so good to see you.”

  In an instant, he was caught in a whirlwind of perfume and hair and clinking jewelry. She grabbed him around the neck, and he took a step backward to keep from falling over. His knee wasn’t ready for this kind of vigorous activity. Nor was this the greeting he expected from Jayanne Waylon-Berg. “Welcome back to Sweet Home.” He pulled her arms from his neck and stepped back to a safer distance. “Where’s Brent?”

  “Did I hear my name?” The large, muscular man stepped forward and extended a hand.

  Garrett shook it. Brent’s hand might have been a snake for all the revulsion Garrett felt.

  “My old friend, Garrett. How are ya, man?”

  The pair of them acted as though this was a high school reunion…as if nothing had happened eleven years ago. Or maybe they were just putting on a show for the other guests.

  Well, he couldn’t pretend. Theirs was a matter of three lives changing courses. “Brent.” How would he get through this? He could hardly utter Brent’s name, much less give an award presentation speech.

  The sound of metal clinking against glass drew his attention. Hank Barnes, the school’s superintendent, stood grinning like a loon. His oversized bowtie featured a blinking football in the center.

  Conversation dwindled to a stop, and people migrated toward the tables set with breakable dishes and name cards on the plates. For many, this event was the fanciest of the year.

  Hank smiled and waved to a few folks as they took their seats. The hall grew quiet. “I…uh…well, I had an entertaining opening speech to give, but it took y’all so long to find your seats, I don’t even remember why I’m here.”

  Laughter erupted. Leave it to Hank to inject humor into any situation.

  “It’s your birthday!” someone yelled from the back of the room.

  More laughter filled the room , and Hank lifted his glass. “A few more birthdays, and I may forget who I am, too.” He shaded his eyes and squinted. Then his chubby finger pointed to a table in the middle of the room. “Brent? Brent Berg? Is that you?”

  “Hook, line, and sinker.” Brent put his pointer finger in his cheek and pulled up like a hook in a fish. The crowd’s wild clapping echoed in the modest room.

  This wasn’t the setup Garrett wanted for the drab speech he’d prepared. He’d imagined the standard opening address given by the dry mayor of Sweet Home who usually played the MC role at this event. But the mayor was at home with acute bronchitis brought on by severe seasonal allergies and wasn’t able to talk without coughing. Mr. Barnes had stepped in at the last minute as host. Guess he’d have to follow through on Plan B—kill ’em with kindness. Anxious to get this over with, Garrett stood. “All right, you’ve had enough fun with Brent. Now it’s my turn. It’s my job, anyway.”

  “Take it away.” Hank raised his glass and relinquished the floor.

  Garrett made his way to the podium, his body temperature rising with each step. Tiny droplets of sweat moistened the base of his neck, and his collar pinched tighter and tighter. He reached the front of the room with great effort, so nervous his bum leg felt like the strongest part of his body. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” He turned to the audience. “I assure you I won’t be as funny. In fact, when I’m done, you may never laugh again.”

  Light laughter rippled around the room. They didn’t know whether he was serious.

  “My job here tonight is to present a Sweet Home Hero Award to pro football star, Brent Berg. I wanted to just send it in the mail, but Mr. Barnes thought I ought to say a few words and hand it to the man personally. So here goes. Brent and I were best friends in high school—all the way through school. He was there for me for my academic and athletic achievements. I guess you could say that he had my back…while standing at my side.”

  His voice faltered, and a rock hard lump in his throat threatened to choke him. His words brought back memories of a once-treasured friendship. Where was this emotion coming from? “When I injured my leg, Brent was there to pick up the pieces. A torch was passed that fateful day.” His throat tightened. He’d meant for this speech to be a sappy ploy, but it had triggered the affection in his subconscious, he’d once had for his lifelong friend. Time to wrap this up and get back to his seat. “Everyone will agree that Brent took that torch, held it high, and proudly ran with it into a brilliant career.” Garrett managed a smile to acknowledge the nods and words of agreement that buzzed through the room. “So here’s to Brent Berg, our Sweet Home Hero.”

  Brent wound his way to the podium to accept his award and pose for pictures. Then both men returned to their seats while the other awards were presented.

  Garrett’s heart never settled. It beat a rapid rhythm. He glanced at Brent several times during the remainder of the awards presentation. What in the world? He’d recited words that shouldn’t have meant anything, but the act of saying them had triggered a downpour of ridiculous sentiment. This was crazy. In some ways, this reunion was like a time warp to the good old days. He and Brent were older and wiser now, but the circumstances were still there. Only the passage of time would tell if they were past what happened back then. With the exception of making contact with Brent and Jayanne—and his emotional speech—the evening had gone how he’d envisioned it. Standard conversations. The usual questions.

  Garrett tried to slip away from his assigned table. He needed to splash some cold water on his face. It worked to wake him up in the mornings, but would it be strong enough to wash away the hollowness he felt inside? Brent cornered him the second he stood up from the table.

  Just what he needed.

  “Did you mean what you said up there, man?”

  He didn’t know. Between uncontrolled words spilling out of his mouth and Micara making an appearance in his life, he was beginning to get a sense of himself. He needed time to explore that. This was like a whole new world, and he wasn’t sure of his role. “I don’t know what I said.” Might as well be honest. He didn’t intend to play games. “I know what I wrote, what I meant to say, but some higher power took control of my tongue.”

  Brent’s eyebrows lowered and his nose twitched, unsure if Garrett was insulting him.

  “I meant it though, yeah.”

  Brent nodded and smiled. “I never woulda thought you had it in you, Garrett, but it’s a good sign. I had something I wanted to say to you, too, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

  He wasn’t sure what Brent was talking about. But then, he hadn’t known what he’d been talking about in front of the half the town. This reunion was not going the way he expected.

  “Well…” He shrugged, but he was curious. “Just say it.”

  “I wanted to ask you something.”

  He nodded. “OK.”

  Brent took a deep breath. “I retired from football.”

  Garrett’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. When did this come about?”

  “It just happened. I’m not going back this season. I’m venturing out on my own as a businessman.”

  “What kind of business?” Garrett tried to wrap his mind around the idea of Brent voluntarily hanging up hi
s cleats this early in his career.

  “Real estate development. That’s what I studied in college. It’s about time I did something with my degree. Plus, my knees are shot. I want to leave the game on good terms, not because an injury forces me out.”

  Garrett nodded. He understood the pain of being forced out something when you weren’t ready.

  “Real estate development, huh? A lot of developers are circling Sweet Home right now. I’m sure you could make some connections and learn some insider secrets from them.”

  Brent squared his shoulders, indignant. “I don’t need any of those guys helping me out. I already know what to do.”

  Garrett was perplexed. “I thought you wanted me to introduce you to someone. Wasn’t that your question, you need help with your business?”

  Brent shook his head. “I need help with my business, but that wasn’t my question. I want to buy your land, Garrett. I want you to sell it to me and not to any of those other developers. I know their greedy eyes are glazed over at the thought of all the Hearth properties. It’s one of the largest land lots out there.”

  Garrett almost stumbled backward. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. He’d escaped expressing the wretchedness dwelling within his heart by divine power alone, but now he was in the grip of temptation. He’d been willing to sell his land if a developer offered, but that was before he’d met Micara. She’d made such an impression on his life in such a short time…now he second-guessed himself.

  “Well?” Brent prodded.

  Garrett blew out a breath. “Well…I am in the market to sell my land, and you’re the first one to make an offer. I won’t make any concrete plans on the spot, but I will sit down with you and discuss the possibility. That’s the best I can offer you at the moment.”

  They shook hands.

  Jayanne appeared, all perfume and smiles. “Well...how’d it go?”

  So she already knew what they had been discussing.

  Brent puffed up like a peacock at the sight of his wife. “Garrett and I just had a nice talk, and I think we’ll make a deal.”

  Jayanne’s eyes lit up like two diamonds. “I’m so glad, Garrett. We’re going to make a lot of money. Not to mention breathing some life into this dusty old town. Just wait and see.”

  A lot of money. He could quit teaching and coaching, not forever, but for a while. Take a sabbatical and write. Tempting. Very tempting. “I haven’t said yes yet. We didn’t—”

  Micara’s smile as she made her way through the crowd stole his breath along with his ability to speak.

  “Just like old times, isn’t it?” Hank Barnes wedged his large body between the two men and put an arm around each of them.

  “Something like that.” Garrett wavered a bit under the weight of Hank’s arm.

  “Y’all gettin’ caught up?”

  “Yep.” He kept it short. He didn’t want to go into detail about what they were really discussing. Not here. Not now.

  “OK, then. I’ll leave y’all to it.” Hank wandered off in the direction of the refreshment table.

  Micara made it to his side. She warmed his heart like no one else ever had, reached down deep, and made him appreciate life again. For the first time, he was focused on all the blessings life offered other than his leg and what he had lost. He attributed that progress to her. But having her here with Brent and Jayanne was not a good idea. She was too close for him to duck away, but maybe he could introduce her and move across the room before his old friend—or his old flame—let her know what they were trying to do.

  He finished off the last of his soda and set the paper cup on a nearby table. Micara’s smile widened. She stood next to him, so close their shoulders touched. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He needed to possess her in some way, stake his claim for all to see. But the gesture was protective, as well. His heart skipped a beat. This little conversation with Brent could ruin his chances with her.

  “Brent, Jayanne, I'd like you to meet Micara Lee. Micara, this is Brent and Jayanne Berg. I told you about how we graduated together, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember. It’s nice to meet y’all.” She shook hands with both of them then raised her beautiful gaze to his. “Garrett, there’s an attorney here I’d like you to meet…Pippy Warren. She can help with the property situation.”

  “We were just talking about that property situation.” Jayanne’s sugary voice had never been so unwelcome.

  Garrett felt the blood drain from his face. Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t. He’d managed so far to steer Micara away from the topic of the imminent sale of the land. She had assumed his position matched hers and he’d never let on they were on opposite sides.

  “Oh, are those developers trying to get their hands on your family land, too?” A flicker of outrage lit Micara’s brown eyes. “They’ve led some people to believe they have to sell, but you do have a choice.”

  Jayanne and Brent exchanged a look. “Actually, Jayanne and I are the developers. And we were just about to strike a deal with Garrett here.”

  The truth was out.

  Micara took a shaky step backward, pulling away from his embrace. Her face paled beneath the light coating of makeup. The look she gave him said she was about to cry. Her lips opened and closed. She made several attempts to speak before she whirled away and fled the hall.

  Garrett watched her go. His heart stole away with her. In its place, a giant, gaping emptiness quickly filled with grief. Had his stupid decision to talk to Brent about the property just killed any hope of a relationship with Micara?

  ~*~

  Flashes of conversation filtered through Micara’s awareness as she hurried through the crowd. Mostly trivial issues—someone had the sniffles, someone’s child moved up to a higher reading level, someone else’s crops were struggling this year, another person spent a fortune at the pharmacy, and some farmer’s cow outsmarted the fence again. She heard it, but she couldn’t make sense of any of it for the ringing in her ears.

  Garrett Hearth was striking a deal with the enemy? And the whole time he knew how Micara felt about Sweet Home?

  She was aware of her body pushing on the door that led out to the parking lot. Her thoughts caught up a moment later and confusion rose like heat off asphalt. She reached for her keys before remembering she’d walked the short distance so she wouldn’t have to keep up with a purse.

  Everyone partied away inside, enjoying each other’s company. Gatherings like this always turned out to be family reunions of some sort. There was so much to catch up on. It didn’t matter if a few hours had passed or a few days or a few months, these people cared and were always so happy to see one another. Sure, they had their share of drama, but it worked out in the end. How could anyone put a price tag on family? How could she have let her feelings get in the way of her mission to save this town?

  But she knew how. She’d fallen for Garrett Hearth. Fallen hard.

  The stark truth panicked her, pushed her legs faster and faster until she was all but flying down the dirt road that led to her grandmother’s wood frame house. The floral skirt of her dress swished back and forth like a white flag of surrender blowing in the wind. She ran until she reached her property line, then slipped through the barbed wire fence and crumpled to the ground. Maybe it was time to raise the white flag on this whole situation.

  Surrender.

  She needed to pray. Prayer always calmed her. She laid her head on a patch of moss, and allowed the dark sky freckled with faint stars clear her mind. A full moon rose in the distance, providing enough light to see. Micara focused on that while she prayed and cried.

  When the crickets and cicadas began their night songs, she dusted off her clothes and hair and headed home. Her quiet time with God had proved fruitful. She could give up and waste a lot of anger on Garrett, but with God’s help, she’d decided to show him the magic of Sweet Home. She wanted to open his eyes and help him learn to live in the moment instead of dwelling on the past. Only then woul
d he be able to see what a gift he had. Maybe she could help him restore his faith. He was a believer, but he’d lost hope. They’d have to work on that so they could be together.

  “I had a good reason for wanting to sell my land to Brent Berg.”

  Micara froze.

  She turned to face Garrett and crossed her arms. The stark porch light shone on his handsome face, and revealed the worry lines on his forehead. He’d untucked his dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Somewhere along the way, he’d ditched his tie.

  “Oh, really? And why’s that?”

  Deep pain lurked in his eyes as if he might crumble right before her eyes. In her head, Micara rejoiced that God had tempered her anger and filled her with a desire to heal this man’s heart. Garrett needed to move on with his life.

  “I had one dream, one goal in life, and I failed.” He held her gaze, though it wasn’t difficult to see how hard that was for him. “When my parents died, I inherited a patch of dirt that reminded me of my loss and the fact that my bum leg would never let me work it like it needs to be worked. I could let Gabriel take it over, run it like he runs all the family plots. But I can’t leave like my brothers did. There’s nothing for me anywhere else now. And there’s nothing here. Brent Berg took over it all, so I figured he might as well have the land, too.” Garrett’s eyes glistened like morning dew.

  What must it cost him to reveal such pain to her? She was grateful for his trust.

  Faith was something Christians had to work on continually. Lately, her own faith had been tested to the extreme. This new problem with Garrett tested it more. His faith, though brittle at the moment, could solidify and strengthen given the right conditions. Creating those conditions was up to her. Then her faith and his would benefit from the change. “Garrett…there’s some people I’d like you to meet. Come in for a few minutes?”

  He stared at the house, reluctant. Like the eaves that extended beyond the roofline to channel rain away, his eyelids were lowered, guarded against the downpour of reality. But was it enough to withstand the storms of life?

  “Come in and meet my mother and grandmother. I promise they won’t bite.”