by Jane Josephs
Nick showed her the guest room on the left of the hallway. “I’ll see you back out here in a minute.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Alison closed the door of the small guest room and turned. The room was small but charming. A double bed on her left faced a large window overlooking the veranda and the riding ring beyond. Draped with a stunning quilt in an intricate pattern of purples, blues, and burgundies, the spread was the perfect complement to the antique iron headboard and gray-blue metal bedside table. A floor lamp and a small easy chair covered in denim sat near a closet, with one of the sliding doors of the closet open to show off a small chest of drawers.
Alison opened her tote and pulled out yoga pants, a blue sleeveless tunic, socks, and her CrossFit shoes. Crossing to the window, she pulled down the shade and quickly unzipped her dress.
~ ~ ~
“You ready to hike?” Nick asked as Alison slid open the back door and came out on the veranda.
Richie eased past Alison. “I’ll see you two later. Someone volunteered me to do dishes.”
“I thought you invited me for a walk. Just how far are we . . . hiking?”
Nick grinned, slid his hands in his pockets and turned. Alison fell in step beside him as they skirted around the back of the house. “Not far. And it will be worth it. You’ll see.” Past the kitchen window, they walked toward a rustic shed full of chickens. Beyond, several rows of orange trees made a corridor. “See the woods beyond the orange trees?” He pointed toward the horizon. “On the other side of the woods there’s a crazy formation of rocks. That’s where we’re going.”
“I can see it. Why do I get the feeling that it’s farther than it looks?”
Nick laughed. “Trust me. It’s a hike, but an easy one. It’s climbing the rocks that gets tricky.”
They passed the horseshoe pit, skirted around Ginny’s raised vegetable garden, and walked the path among the orange trees, their fragrance filling the air.
“I have to confess, I’ve only been rock climbing a few times.” She grinned. “It was kind of scary, to be honest.”
“Yep, it can be. But don’t worry. This is an easy climb; I’ve been doing it since I was six. I won’t let you fall.”
At the end of the orange grove, Nick set a brisk pace on a narrow path through the woods. He held out a pack of gum. “Want a piece of gum?” Alison took the pack, noticing for the first time that he was already chewing a piece.
“Good call,” Alison said, and unwrapped a piece, popped it in her mouth and chewed. Stuffing the gum wrapper in her pocket, she handed the package back. “I wouldn’t want to have bad breath when you kiss me.”
Nick laughed. “Who said I’m going to kiss you?”
“Oh, you will. You know you want to.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?” He took her hand. “The only thing I promised to do was not let you fall.”
On the far side of the woods, the ground rose sharply. Nick threaded his way up the rocky hillside, stopping to check on Alison following behind him when the trail became more difficult. He stopped at the foot of a massive outcropping of boulders and turned.
“Where’s the ladder?” Alison joked, not seeing an easy way to scale the huge rocks.
Nick pointed to two small indentations in the face of the rock nearest them. “Just think of those as the first and second rung of the ladder.” In one smooth move, he inserted the toe of his left shoe in the first space, then his right shoe in the second, and hoisted himself up on top of the massive boulder. “Put your left foot in like I did, jump a little to get your foot in the second indentation, and I’ll grab your hand and pull you up. The rest of the way to the top is easy.”
“You look a long way up there.” She stretched up her hand. Nick got on his stomach and hung precariously over the edge of the rock.
“You conquered jumping on a horse. You can do this, too.” At her hesitancy, he added, “Or I can come down and take you back to the house. But you’ll miss the view.”
Alison gazed up at him, his smile making her heart flutter. What else would she miss if she didn’t try? “No, you’re right. I don’t want to miss anything.” Under her breath, she added, “Especially the kiss you’re going to give me at the top.”
~ ~ ~
“You weren’t kidding about the view,” Alison said, standing on a large flat section of the rock at the top of the outcropping. “This is amazing.” She sank to the ground to sit cross-legged, soaking in the beauty of the rolling countryside and mountains beyond.
Nick sat down beside her, stretched out his legs and crossed his feet. He leaned toward her. “So, this is the place where we celebrate the finale of Holy Week—Easter. Today, Palm Sunday, was the beginning.” Alison glanced at him. Nick cleared his throat. “What did you think of the service?”
She grinned and bumped her shoulder against his. “I was wondering if you were going to ask me about that. You had a good time watching the kids on stage with palm branches, didn’t you?”
Nick laughed. “Yeah, I suppose I did. Especially when that one little guy on the end whacked his palm branch into the kid’s face next to him, and the kid whacked him back.”
“Seriously, that was so funny! Good thing that woman intervened before it got out of hand. And didn’t you love the little girl in the blue dress? She stole the show.”
“Yeah, no inhibitions from that one. But aside from that . . . what about the message? And the music?”
Alison swallowed. She’d been dreading having to talk about the service. It hadn’t been as scary as she thought it would be, but it had been different, too. How could she explain how it made her feel? “Well, I liked the music, even though I didn’t know any of the songs. And the band was amazing. Sounded just like a good rock band. The drummer’s sure a hottie.” She smirked at Nick. Could she make him jealous?
He shook his head and gave her a lopsided grin “Forget it. He just got married. What about the sermon?”
“The message?” She shrugged. “Well, I guess I would say it was interesting. The guy’s a good speaker, and I didn’t have a hard time understanding what he was talking about, at least. That was a relief.” Alison blew out a deep sigh. “Look, Nick. I get that he thinks people should make Jesus the king of their lives. It’s just, well, it’s the why and how part that’s tough for me to swallow. Really . . . submission? Surrender? Those are words no one likes to hear.”
Alison searched Nick’s profile, hoping she hadn’t burned all her bridges. He wanted her honest opinion, didn’t he? Relieved when he didn’t seem upset, she waited.
Nick turned to her and smiled. He scanned her face. “Yeah, those are concepts that go against everything we hear day after day. They can be tough to stomach. Unless a person is submitting or surrendering to someone they love. That makes it a whole new story, don’t you think?”
A stiff breeze lifted Alison’s hair and fanned her face. Her stomach rose to her throat and her heartrate quickened at Nick’s words. His gentle voice and compassionate eyes captivated her; a wave of desire to surrender to him crashed over her. Could he read her mind? Feel the longing in her heart? “I . . . I guess that would.”
Nick stood up and reached for the backpack he’d brought along. He unzipped it and pulled out a thermos. Sitting down, he twisted off the lid, poured steaming hot chocolate into it, and handed it to Alison. “This is one of the traditions Ma was talking about. Every Easter, she packs hot chocolate and Pop-Tarts for Richie and me, and coffee for her and Dad, and we hike up here when it’s still dark to watch the sunrise on Easter morning. I switched to coffee a couple of years ago, but I still like the Pop-Tarts.” He grinned before becoming serious again. “Last year was the first time we didn’t have Dad with us—at least physically. He was the one who always read the Easter story from the Bible to us. Not having his presence and hearing
his voice was rough on all of us, but especially Ma.”
His gentle telling of their family tradition brought tears to Alison’s eyes. She sniffed and dropped her head, her voice breaking when she spoke. “Yeah, that would have been so hard.”
Nick didn’t speak for several moments. Finally, he put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Harder still if we didn’t believe he’s with Jesus now.”
Chapter 18
Grabbing the hose, Nick turned the faucet on and filled the bucket with water and horse shampoo. “Okay, Dotty. It’s your turn, sweet mama.” Sam, Max, and Mae stood nearby, tethered to the fence in the riding ring while their coats dried in the late afternoon sun. Alison had left shortly after beating him again at horseshoes, and feeling restless, Nick had recruited Richie to groom and bathe the horses with him. He chuckled under his breath. The distraction wasn’t working.
Nick glanced at Richie combing the tangles out of Lucy’s tail, grabbed the sponge out of the bucket, and began rubbing Dotty’s neck with the soapy water. But his thoughts were on Alison, and that last kiss they’d shared at the door of her car before she left. He hadn’t wanted her to go. Didn’t begin to be tired of being with her. Under his breath he talked to his horse. “She can’t come with me on Thursday, Dotty; she’s got other plans with a friend from college. But she said yes to Good Friday and Easter. That’s a good sign, right girl? I think she’s curious at least.” He bent to rinse the sponge, then soaped Dotty’s back, his broad strokes washing away the dust and grime from the mare’s latest roll in the paddock. Silently, he voiced his greatest concern. Please, Lord. Open Alison’s eyes and heart to your love.
Finished with washing and rinsing Dotty, Nick grabbed an old, clean towel and went to work drying the mare. Only a few more weeks until her due date, the vet had said at his last visit. “I’ll just be starting with another group of SWCC students when you have your baby,” he murmured to the horse. “I like your timing.”
Nick led Dotty to the riding ring and tied her next to Mae. “You almost done with Lucy, Richie?” He glanced at the Palomino, her coat shining in the sun. “She looks good. I think I’ll just hose her legs and call it quits. I’m getting hungry.”
“Good call,” Richie said as he walked Lucy over to the cement slab next to the barn where they washed the horses. “How about we play horseshoes after dinner? Watching Alison kick your butt makes me think I can, too.” Richie laughed and patted Lucy’s neck.
On the other side of the horse, Nick picked up the hose and pointed it at Richie. “I’d be careful if I were you.” He turned and began hosing off the Palomino’s front legs.
Richie snorted. “Last time you lost you had to go to the symphony. Lucky you!”
Nick turned the spray. Richie ducked behind the mare, but not before a spray of water brushed the top of his head. A moment later, he popped up again. “Know what I think?”
Nick moved to one of Lucy’s back legs. “No, I don’t know what you think, wise guy.”
“I think you’re in love, bro!” He turned and ran, arching his back and shouting his outrage when a blast of cold water hit him from behind.
Nick shook his head and moved to finish washing the mare’s legs, a grin tugging at his lips. “You said it, little brother. You said it.”
~ ~ ~
Nick opened the door of his bedroom, switched on the light and crossed to his dresser, annoyed that he’d lost at horseshoes for the second time that day. His concentration was off, that’s all. And why wouldn’t it be? She’s all I can think about. He slid open his top dresser drawer and took out a plain wooden box. Inside, the small see-through bag containing the emerald horseshoe heart necklace he’d bought for Alison at the Arts and Craft Fair several weeks ago sat on top of his SWCC pin and the assorted mementos he kept in the box. He lifted the bag, tugged it open and poured the necklace into his palm. In the light from his dresser lamp, the emeralds glowed a rich, verdant green. His heart rate quickened, imagining Alison’s face when he gave her the necklace. Her surprised smile; her enthusiastic hug. Her lips teasing his with sweet kisses. Would she say the words he wanted most to hear? She had to love him as much as he loved her, didn’t she?
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself, man.” Nick worked his lower lip with his teeth, questioning the pace of his relationship with Alison. Wanting to speed things along but knowing he didn’t dare. There were still too many subjects they had yet to talk about. And at best, she was a seeker, questioning what it meant to have faith in Jesus. Not a believer in Him. Without having their belief about God in common, what could they really have?
What fellowship does light have with darkness?
The thought brought him up short. After his disastrous relationship with Carrie, he had promised the Lord that he would never even consider being unequally yoked with a woman again. Yet, here he was in love. Wanting Alison. He ran his thumb over the two horseshoes, joined together in the universal symbol of love. I want to be with her, Lord, no matter what’s happened in her past. Or in mine. I love her. Maybe that’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but there it is. How can I ignore my feelings? Why should I? Don’t I deserve some happiness, especially after Carrie’s betrayal? Nick closed his fist around the emerald heart and closed his eyes. Head and heart warred in a fight with no winner. He stared at his face in the mirror over the dresser. Aloud he said, “Alison may not know you now, Lord, but you know her. You know her by name. Please help me not be afraid to know her, too. The good as well as the bad.” He hung his head, the fight draining out of him. “But above all, help me be willing to submit to your will for me, hard as that may be. Don’t let me settle for anything that doesn’t please you.”
A few minutes later, seated in his favorite arm chair, with his legs propped on the ottoman, Nick opened his laptop and powered up his computer. Determined to stop running away from what he didn’t know, he logged onto Alison’s website, the Love Dock. He’d forced himself to stay away from reading her blog all these weeks, telling himself that he wanted to get to know her face-to-face instead of from what she wrote on a screen. But he couldn’t put it off any longer. His feelings for her were strong and getting stronger. He snorted, angry, feeling helpless. He knew what she wrote about in her blog could be bad. Had accepted the very real possibility that she wrote steamy, erotic fantasies. Words that were intended to arouse the flesh without speaking to the need for love and commitment. Nick rubbed his forehead. Alison had written a fantasy about him weeks ago. Her words still stirred and aroused him at times. Especially now that he’d spent more time with her and held her in his arms. Had her post about them been suggestive? Yes. Salacious? No. Thank God.
Her site appeared on his computer screen, professional and tasteful, with an idyllic scene of the ocean, a gorgeous sunset, and a sailboat moored at a dock. Pictured on the sail boat in a strapless sundress, Alison looked carefree and alluring, her long, dark hair blowing in the breeze. In the “About Me” section, below a close-up shot of her on the sailboat, she’d written a fun, witty bio. Pictures filled her website, especially her blog page. Many of the pictures had been taken in and around San Diego: The Hotel Del, Fiesta Island, Balboa Park, the Gaslamp District and more. But it was a grouping of pictures she’d used in a blog post several weeks ago that startled him. She had just started coming out to the ranch for lessons, and the pictures were close-ups of his father’s saddle, one revealing the rose on the back flap, the other a close-up of the stitching. He scanned the accompanying blog, curious. Nervous, then relieved to find she hadn’t referenced the owner of the saddle or the Reid’s ranch. Instead, she had written a philosophical piece about the intricacies of love, using the pictures to emphasize her point: Love takes two uniquely different threads, she had written, and weaves them together over time to make one beautiful tapestry.
Nick read the story, and re-read it, touched by Alison’s vulnerabil
ity. Her longing for love. Taken one way, she could very well have been writing about her relationship with her grandmother, whose life often provided inspiration and direction for Alison’s own. But Nick sensed something more, an elemental longing for love. The kind a woman desires from a man.
Had she been writing about him? Probably not, since they had barely known each other at that point.
Drawing a deep breath, Nick forced himself to continue his search of her blog posts, landing finally on a series of stories that Alison had written two years ago. He began to read silently. In minutes, he was immersed in a story that made him ache to hold Alison in his arms. But not because her story was scandalous. No, this story revealed the heart of a woman who only wanted to be cherished. And the man who left her because he didn’t know how.
Fiction or fact? Nick wanted to know, wanted to ask her, and knew he wouldn’t. Not yet, at least. And maybe never. The failed relationship she wrote about had happened over two years ago, if it had happened at all. Nick ran his hand through his hair. Did he dare hope it had all been a fantasy, made up to keep her readers coming back? After all, she’d written a blog about him that ended with a kiss that never happened.
At least not then.
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Nick shook his head, remembering how angry he’d been at Alison for using him to feed her blog popularity; the fight they’d had at her condo. Had it only been a few weeks ago? Thank God she hadn’t given up her pursuit of riding lessons. How else would he have seen her again? Crazy as the last few weeks had been, he wouldn’t trade them. He wanted time and proximity with her; had enjoyed the time they’d had together most recently. The easy companionship, her spontaneity. But he needed an answer: Was she the woman God wanted him to spend his life with? And, more to the point, how could he know for sure?