by Jayna Morrow
“The Lady or the Tiger.” MeMaw supplied the answer.
“That’s it. Thanks, Mom.”
Micara nodded, wiped at her nose with a tissue from the dispenser on the end table.
“Remember, the man stood in judgment because the woman he loved, the princess, saw him talking to another woman. Choosing a door, one that contained a tiger and one that contained a lady, would seal his fate. The princess knew which door held the tiger. She signaled to her love which door to choose, but the author ended the story abruptly and never revealed if the princess sent her love to death or into the arms of another woman. She didn’t even know the circumstances of the conversation between her love and the woman. Would you condemn Garrett without more information?”
Micara closed her eyes and tried to regain control of her emotions. She’d hated that story because of the ending, and she’d criticized the princess in an essay for her behavior. Her mother and grandmother weren’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, but sometimes it was hard to remember in the heat of the moment. “But I saw him give a packet of papers to Brent Berg. And there were papers laid out on a table. They were having what looked like a serious conversation. What else could it be?”
“You’re in love with him.”
Micara’s head snapped up. “What?” She was so stunned she forgot to cry for the moment.
“Lots of people have been approached by those developers and are considering selling, but I don’t see you crying over them.”
Her mother had always been almost too insightful where Micara was concerned. Still, she wasn’t ready to admit to being in love. “It’s just that we’ve spent so much time together. I’ve seen him grow so much and rediscover his faith.”
“And you thought that’s all it would take to change his mind, so everything would work out like you wanted it?” Her mother pinned her under a knowing gaze. “What about what Garrett wants?”
~*~
The next few days were a blur. Thoughts of the horrible meeting with Brent Berg and the large check from his brother burning a hole in his wallet consumed Garrett. For a man who wanted to sell his land and get outta Dodge, he sure was dragging his feet. Maybe Gabriel was right about him living in the past. He had not one but two opportunities to do what he thought would make everything better in his life, and he had yet to make a decision. Only being with Micara stood out as a real possibility right now, and she excited him as no other woman ever had.
And therein lay another problem. All this time, he’d thought selling his land and getting out of Sweet Home would solve his problems, but he’d never thought about what he would do elsewhere. He couldn’t live off the money forever. He could get set up somewhere, but then he’d have to do something. So what was he supposed to do? Whatever it was, would Micara be a part of it? She’d made it clear that Sweet Home was where she belonged, so he doubted she would follow him anywhere.
He had a lot to consider. Investigating Brent’s claims that he could take his land by force was first on the list, and Pippy Warren was the one person in town who could answer that question. Garrett pushed open the wooden door to her office in Sweet Home’s historic downtown. It was showing its age along with the rest of the building. Pieces of the brick façade had crumbled in places as the mortar decayed.
“Are you current on your taxes?” After he’d given her a recap of his meeting with Brent, Pippy shot straight to the point.
“Yes.” He nodded.
“Not violating any local resident mandates, as if we had any here?”
“Nope.”
The plump red-head leaned back in her squeaky chair and crossed her arms. A pair of reading glasses dangled from a beaded chain around neck. Another pair perched atop her head. She’d worked him in on short notice, so they kept the meeting short and sweet. “Then there’s nothing he can do. Only the federal government can take your land under the law of eminent domain. Even then, they’d have to prove it benefits the people of the community and fairly compensate you. Brent Berg is a private businessman. I doubt he’s working for the government. How about you?”
Garrett shook his head. “No, he works for himself. I’m sure of it.”
“Then you’re set.” Standing, her chair creaked. She grabbed her suit jacket off the hook behind her desk. A typical attorney, Pippy was curt, to the point, and had kept a busy schedule as long as he’d known her. She always had limited time and was ever in a hurry to get to her next destination. “My grandfather always said, 'hold onto your land as long as you can, ‘cause they ain’t making any more of it'.” She chuckled at the memory, lost for a moment in the distant past. “Welp, I gotta run, hon. I got court in an hour in Bishop. So glad I could help. Good luck.”
Garrett thanked her and stepped onto the sidewalk. Her office was located right next to the Sweet Homemade Cafe. Thank goodness. He’d called Brent’s bluff, and now his stomach was in knots. He needed something carbonated to settle it down. He reached for the door of the cafe, but it swung open a second before he made contact. Garrett stepped back to avoid getting hit.
Brent and Jayanne walked out.
“Brent. Jayanne.” He greeted them and nodded. They said nothing. So much friction sizzled between them that Garrett was pretty sure if he touched the metal-framed door right now, he’d receive a static shock. “Well, have a good one.”
He entered the restaurant, and they walked away.
~*~
Micara added a couple of gray stones to the pile of smaller ones that outlined the koi pond. Larger stones of different colors surrounded the pint-sized water feature. Along the backside, she’d planted some grasses, flowers, and ferns. The front part ended at the edge of the back porch, which provided a ledge for Joy to sit on and dangle her feet over the water.
Overall, it had been an easy project. The hole was already there, left behind when a cluster of trees had been cut down. Joy had said Hank Barnes did the hard labor on that job. When the roots came out, deep indentations remained—perfect for a modest pond. With the help of natural materials and a pond kit, the final product was breathtaking. Sitting on the edge of the porch and looking out over the water at the bright orange and white fish that would soon occupy the space, it would be tough for Joy not to lose herself in the tranquility poised only feet from her back door.
Micara added the last of the stones to the pond’s edge and then dusted off her hands on her jeans. A bead of sweat traveled down her forehead with a tickle. She caught it with the back of her hand and wiped that on her jeans, too. In her line of business, a job well done showed in the dirt on her clothes and the sweat on her brow.
The sliding door opened. Joy stepped out, holding two bottles of water.
“Come see what you have to look forward to.” Micara joined the woman on the porch.
She accepted the water Joy offered and guzzled down half the bottle. Her mouth leaked, and a stream of cold water trailed down her neck. She laughed at her spill and wiped it away.
Joy was looking at her beautiful pond and didn’t notice her folly. Bright sunlight sparkled on the water’s surface and reflected back into her green eyes. Her broad smile told Micara everything she needed to know.
“I love it!” Joy hugged Micara. “You’ve done a beautiful job. Thank you.”
“Awww, you’re welcome, Joy.”
Joy descended the stairs at the side of the porch and rounded the pond, checking out the plants and nooks and crannies Micara had built into the design. Micara gave her a minute to explore and drank down the last of her water.
“Before I start loading everything up, let me show you how to work the pump. We should go over a few maintenance things, too. The kit came with a booklet in case you forget.”
“Hank can help me with that, too.” She winked.
That’s the second time she’s mentioned Hank Barnes helping her around the house. Am I missing something?
Micara made her way to a ceramic tree stump that hid the pump and provided a pond-side seat. Setting
her empty water bottle down, she opened the back latch.
“Oh, wait, sweetie.” Joy held out the second bottle of water. “I brought this one for you too. You need a lot of water while working in this heat.”
Temperatures had cooled quite a bit in the past month, but Micara still wasn’t turning down that water. “Thank you.”
She progressed through the second bottle of water more slowly while she explained how everything worked. She also told Joy how to maintain the landscaping around the pond and gave her the books that came with the kit. The woman would bombard her with questions every Sunday in church for a while, but she was glad to help.
Micara loaded the trailer with her equipment and tools. She was the only landscape designer around who pulled a trailer with a car. Most had trucks or vans, but she had to make do with what she had. She didn’t catch many jobs in this area. Still, she loved what she did. She placed her rake on the trailer and snapped it into its holder.
Behind her, a car parked near the curb and Hank Barnes exited the vehicle wearing khaki slacks, a short-sleeved button-up, and tie that looked like a slice of caramelized bacon.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes.”
“Miss Lee. I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Oh, I was just leaving. The koi pond looks beautiful. You should see it.”
“On my way right now.”
She smiled and nodded. “See you in church.”
“You betcha.”
He returned the quick nod and smile and headed toward Joy’s front door.
Micara wondered a bit about Joy and Hank’s relationship, if there was one. She was sure to find out. Joy was a dear friend.
Micara put the car in gear and headed home. On the way, she passed by the school.
Garrett and his team were on the field and working hard. Right now, they were broken up into groups and doing different exercises. The other coaches seemed engrossed in their work, but Garrett seemed frozen in place. His hands, always in motion while he demonstrated something, stopped in midair, and his head turned in her direction. He’d spotted her as she passed. His arms dropped, and his body was in motion again, running toward her.
The school zone speed limit kept her from taking off to get away from him.
He raced across the football field with a slight hitch in his step, while the group of players stared after him. When he reached the chain link fence, he put a foot up and gripped the rail along the top. She expected him to hop up and over, but he didn’t. He stopped and then headed in the direction of the gate.
Why didn’t he just climb over? His knee. He can’t climb over and risk re-injuring his leg. Watching him struggle wasn’t easy, but she didn’t want to face him right now.
Garrett approached from her window, but the driver of a vehicle behind her blared his car’s horn. This was a two-lane street with no passing zone, so she had no choice but to drive on.
“Micara!” Garrett’s voice echoed across the low-lying field.
He reached the gate as she rounded the corner. If he called her name again, she didn’t hear it. The rush of air under her car and the crackle and pop of the tires on the paved road drowned out any sound. She reached the stop sign but didn’t look back. She could turn left, round to the other side of the field where the parking lot was, and rush into Garrett’s arms. But she still didn’t know what to conclude about his visit with the developers.
Mom and MeMaw’s words of wisdom also needed to be considered. They’d urged her to consider what Garrett wanted. She had to back off and let him sort out the details without her interference. No matter what her feelings were for him, she had to allow God to work in his heart. Plus, she’d been working all day and was dirty and sweaty. She drove the way that took her home.
But she couldn’t resist a peek in the rearview mirror. With hands planted on his hips, Garrett shook his head, probably disappointed that he’d failed to flag her down. After a moment, he rejoined the group. Then she was out of sight range. She cranked up the radio and tried to put him out of her head.
Entering the house a few minutes later, she was determined to wash him right out of her hair, too. Tired and grimy after a long, hard day, a soothing, hot shower ought to do the trick. An hour later, she emerged from the steamy bathroom and stepped into the hall in her lounge pants and T-shirt, a habit she’d picked up from her mother.
Mom and MeMaw chattered away in the living room.
Smiling, she headed for her bedroom but didn’t make it three steps before a man’s voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
Garrett? What’s he doing here?
She didn’t have on a stitch of makeup, but she didn’t care. She did a one-eighty and barefooted it to the living room. Garrett sat on one end of the couch, her mother next to him. MeMaw nestled into her reclining chair sheathed with a crocheted slipcover. Was it the humidity during her lengthy bathroom visit, or the sight of Garrett sitting in her living room and visiting with her family that made her head spin?
“Hey!” Louder than she’d intended.
Garrett popped up off the couch and crossed the living room toward her. His long legs made the distance in no time, but then, it wasn’t a sizable house. A fine layer of sweat covered his skin, along with bits of dirt and grass. He still wore the same athletic clothes he’d worn when she saw him earlier. He must have come straight from practice. A grin spread across his handsome face.
When she didn’t return his smile, he adjusted the baseball cap on his head several times. What did he want from her? Either he didn’t know that she saw what she saw and knew what she knew…or he did.
“Come on, Mother. Let’s take a little walk.” Mom tried to give Micara and Garrett some privacy.
MeMaw understood the message and put away her cross-stitch.
“Garrett?” Mom paused to address him.
“Ma’am?”
“Remember what I told you.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Then her little family disappeared outside, leaving her alone with Garrett. She didn’t know how many seconds of silence ticked by before she decided to speak first.
“Garrett, why are you here? Don’t you have a hefty deposit to make at the bank?”
His eyes darkened with some deep emotion. He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers in a way that took hold of her heart. And when he brought her hand to his face, he lifted her heart also. No matter how upset she was with him, she couldn’t pull away from his touch. God, this is so hard.
“I knew it was you that day.”
Her eyebrows scrunched up in question.
“I don’t have a fat check to take to the bank.”
“But I saw you with…”
“It looked bad, I know. Brent Berg’s wanted to own this town since we were in high school. And I have to be honest; I did tell him that I would consider selling. That’s the reason there’s been tension between Gabriel and me. When I met with Brent, I told him that I’d changed my mind. He was angry and took off right after you did.”
Micara couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes. Her watery gaze locked with his, and she saw deep into his soul. His once-hollow eyes now held a broad spectrum of emotion. Garrett was on the path to healing.
“What made you change your mind?” She wiped at a few tears that managed to escape.
“You, Micara. You changed my heart, my mind, and my soul. You helped me find the faith that I’d put on the back burner years ago. I’m not saying that I liked it. This has been painful for me. But I’m a lot like that tree my parents carved their initials into. I was growing in a dangerous spot and at risk of being cut off from everyone I cared about and who cared about me. All I needed was the right person to come along, build a fence around me, and fight for me. I came here to thank you, Micara, for everything. And I want you to know that my intentions toward you are true. You’ve shown me that Sweet Home is my true home.”
Micara smiled and nodded. More tears fell and, as always, she d
idn’t have a tissue. She was a mess.
A happy mess.
13
A little more than a week had passed since he’d confessed his love to Micara, and still Garrett was riding on top of the world. He’d mowed the field and thought about Micara all afternoon. Even the noisy construction on the Browns’ property across the street paled in comparison to his excitement over their growing relationship.
Whatever they built right across from his football stadium would no doubt have an effect on his program. A busier street meant the kids would have to be more careful when they came to practice. He was grateful that Micara had opened his eyes to her unwavering vision. Before her, he hadn’t seen past his nose. The developers and their ploys to take over Sweet Home didn’t affect him, so he hadn’t been concerned. Now he understood the big picture. Micara’s vision included everyone. She’d opened his eyes, but was it too late? He was almost finished with the field when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. He pressed the button and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Coach Hearth, this is Matthew.” His voice was shaky.
Matthew’s number was programmed into his phone, along with the rest of the team and their parents. Why was the kid calling from a different number? Something had to be wrong.
“Matthew, you missed practice. Is everything OK?”
The boy sniffed as if he was crying or had been crying. “My dad’s been put on hospice. We’re at the house, and it’s only a matter of time now.”
Garrett climbed off the mower and headed toward his car. “I’m so sorry, Matthew. I’ll be right there.” He disconnected the call and hurried to his truck.