Soldier of Her Heart

by Syndi Powell

The last layer of blanket pulled back, and Russ paused. “Where did you find this?”

  “I’m renovating a house on Pritchard and found it behind a wall.”

  Russ put the glasses that rested atop his head onto the bridge of his nose and peered down at the window. “Definitely Art Deco era.”

  “That’s what I figured.” She pointed to the spokes of lead that radiated from the border’s corners to the center. “These lines here confirm that assessment. As well as the color choices for the geometric border.”

  “Well, red and black are common choices in stained glass windows of any era.” He ran a hand along the frame and said, “The artist didn’t sign it.”

  She felt his disappointment as much as her own. “I noticed the same thing.”

  Beckett looked between them. “The history lesson is fine, but my question is can you fix it?”

  Russ glanced up at him and returned his glasses to the top of his head. “Of course I can.” They both gave a sigh of relief. “But I won’t.”

  Andie felt her jaw drop. “Russ... Mr. Thorpe, why won’t you?”

  “I’m getting too old to be fixing anything. As it is, I’m in the middle of selling the business, and I’m looking forward to retirement.” Russ looked down at the window and ran his fingers along the large crack on the left side. “It’s too bad because this would probably be beautiful once it’s restored.”

  She had figured that he’d be as eager to see the window restored as she was. “Is there anything we can do to change your mind?”

  Beckett took a step closer to the counter. “If it’s a matter of money, I can pay you whatever you want.”

  Russ brought his gaze up to meet Andie’s, and she could almost see the gears of his brain turning. “Well, there might be something we could work out. That is, if you’re willing to learn how to fix it yourself.”

  While the idea might thrill the artistic side of her, the practicality of the situation won out. “But this is an antique. I don’t know the first thing about repairing something of this age.”

  “Then don’t you think it’s time you learned?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe that idea has any merit. My expertise is limited to more current methods of glass artistry. To gather the information and resources required would take more time than Mr. Beckett expects.”

  The man beside her gave a shrug. “If the window can be fixed, I have all the time in the world.”

  Russ gave her a smile as if he’d won. “C’mon, Andromeda. You know your fingers are itching to work with the glass. Don’t you want to see the window restored to its former glory? And as he said, Mr. Beckett doesn’t object to the longer time it will take.”

  When had it come down to her? And why was she actually considering the suggestion? “With my job, I don’t have much free time except in the evenings. And I teach every other Saturday afternoon at the community center. And Sundays mean dinner with my family.” The excuses seemed to roll off her tongue without any hindrance. “I don’t have the hours required for this scope of a project.”

  “Then Mr. Beckett can learn, as well. Between the two of you, we should be able to make it work.” He turned to her cohort. “What do you say? Are you willing to get your hands dirty with fixing this window?”

  Beckett turned to Andie, and she was struck by the plea in his eyes. “If you’re willing, so am I. We can work out a schedule.”

  She looked deeper into those startling blue eyes and found herself nodding. Maybe learning how to fix the window would give her a chance to get to know this intriguing man a little better. “Fine. Yes. We can work this out.”

  Russ rubbed his hands together like a child anticipating the holidays. “Good. Tonight at seven, my house.”

  Andie paused. “Isn’t that awfully quick?” Both men turned to face her.

  “No better time than the present. First we have to take it apart before we can begin the repair process.” Russ peered at her. “Do you have plans?”

  Andie didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t had plans on a Saturday night for almost a year. Instead, she shook her head. “Seven is fine.” She turned to Beckett. “Will that work for you?”

  He gave a quick nod. “The sooner, the better.”

  Well, her Saturday nights looked to be booked for the foreseeable future. And part of her couldn’t wait for it to start while the other, logical part wondered what she’d gotten herself into now.

  * * *

  BECKETT SAT ON a stool in the basement of Mr. Thorpe’s house. Built similar to the one he was renovating, he noticed. Maybe he could get some ideas for his house by seeing the layout of this one. A smile formed on his lips before he realized it, and he wondered what had gotten into him. He didn’t smile. Hadn’t for a long time. Trying to figure out what was going on, he felt almost hopeful. And that hadn’t happened in an even longer time. Was working on the window going to give him a purpose that his therapist had been recommending he find?

  Footsteps on the stairs announced another arrival. It had been little more than seven hours since he’d last seen Andie, but it was as if he’d been counting down the minutes until her appearance. The woman seemed to soothe something in his troubled mind. Part of it was her beauty, and he wondered if she could be just as beautiful on the inside. She’d already proven that she was quite intelligent and well-spoken. And given the way she’d reacted to his gruff attitude that morning, she’d shown herself to be kind and compassionate, as well.

  She gave him a bright smile and walked toward him. “I was worried that I wouldn’t make it in time. My art students were a little rambunctious today.”

  “Rambunctious?”

  “Rowdy.”

  “I know what it means.” He gazed into her deep brown eyes. “You do like your big words.”

  She gave him a shrug. “I like to read, so I know a myriad of big words.”

  Her admission made him grin. “Obviously.”

  Russ joined them at the worktable which was covered in what looked like a carpet remnant. With Beckett’s help, they placed the window on the tabletop, and all three stepped back for a moment to gaze at it. Beckett couldn’t help but again be struck by the beauty of something that was also broken and cracked. And yet its brokenness somehow added to its magnificence. How was that possible?

  Russ pointed to several stools. “Go ahead and take a seat, and we’ll start your first lesson.”

  Beckett hadn’t been in a classroom for more than a decade and had no real desire to go back. But if this would get him closer to having the window fixed, he’d sit wherever he was told. He chose the stool next to Andie and wondered if they should take notes.

  Russ pulled out a tied leather roll and loosened it before laying it out on the edge of the table. “These are the tools that we’re going to use. You’re welcome to borrow mine, but I can always give you recommendations on where to buy your own if you choose to pursue this further.”

  To be honest, Beckett was here for this window, and then the knowledge would be relegated to a memory. However, Andie might be interested. She stood and leaned over the table, running her fingers along the handles of each tool. “These are exquisite. Where did you get them?”

  “Most of them came from the glazier who sold me the business. They were handed down to him by his father and his father before him. Others I purchased over the years from various artists or tradespeople.” Russ picked up what looked like a pencil with a roller instead of a lead point. He wedged it between his fingers with the pointer finger resting along the top of the handle. “This is my favorite glass cutter. I’ve tried others, but hands down it’s the one I use most.”

  He passed it to Andie, who inspected it carefully, then returned it to him. “Mine don’t look nearly as professional. I bought what was on sale.”

  Russ made a noise as if she got what she paid for. “If you get serious
and want a future in this, then you’ll need better tools.”

  She glanced up at him, then returned to the stool. “We’ll see. I’m only committed to this window for the time being.”

  Russ ran a hand along the surface of the glass. “Because of the age of this window, the lead has become oxidized and brittle. That means we’ll be taking the window apart and replacing the broken pieces of glass and putting it back together with new lead.” He brought out a large roll of brown butcher paper. “So first we’re going to make two rubbings of the original window. One will be for the design where we lay the glass pieces as we remove them. The second to be cut later as a pattern for the new glass.”

  Beckett and Andie both helped him place the paper over the window. Leaning over it, Russ used a piece of graphite to make rubbings of the pattern. And slowly, the design started to take shape. Seeing it reduced to paper and pencil took some of the magic away, but still, it appeared stunning.

  Once both rubbings had been made, Russ put them aside, then explained how he would keep the window in a tub of water to avoid exposure to the lead and even more oxidization. Then they would use cutters to start taking apart the lead from each piece of glass. They would dry each piece of glass and match it with the appropriate spot on the pattern until the entire window had been taken apart and re-created.

  Russ rubbed his hands at this point. “That’s when the real work starts. Putting it back together.”

  Beckett felt overwhelmed already, and they hadn’t even started working on the window. “How long will this take?” He knew he’d said he’d take as much time as required, but he could feel a huge chunk of his life being filled with this project. That could be good since it would keep him occupied in the evenings so that Rob wouldn’t nag him to take time off from the house renovation.

  Russ looked at them both, then put a hand on the window frame. “Tonight, I’d like to get the border taken off, and then we’ll continue one evening next week.”

  Mrs. Thorpe appeared at the foot of the steps with two mugs. She handed one to Andie and the other to Russ, kissing his cheek before addressing Beckett. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

  He gave a short nod. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  She patted Russ’s arm before heading off upstairs. “Thanks, love,” Russ told her before he shifted back to Andie and Beckett. “Now let’s get down to business.”

  Working side by side with Andie, Beckett followed Russ’s instructions on how to remove the lead from each piece of glass. He was aware of the woman beside him, a scent of lavender and something else floral wafting from the back of her neck as she bent over the tub. He stared at the nape of her neck where dark wisps of hair marked her hairline, a few strands escaping from the silver clip holding her hair in place. Russ cleared his throat and Beckett returned his eyes to the section of the border he held.

  But moments later, his gaze drifted back to the elegant line of Andie’s neck. When had he ever found such a sight to be so enticing? He couldn’t look away. When Andie straightened with a piece of glass in her hands, he reluctantly returned his focus to his task.

  After two hours, the border of the window had been removed, and the pieces of glass lay on the paper pattern. Russ took the window out of the long plastic tub and dried it with one towel before wrapping it in a second one. “Good. We’ll work on the next section when we meet next Wednesday.”

  Once they had their tools put away for the time being, Beckett followed Andie up the stairs to the kitchen. He needed to get his mind off the woman and on to this project. He definitely didn’t need her to be a distraction.

  Mrs. Thorpe had set out plates and forks on the kitchen table alongside a homemade apple pie. “I hope you’re hungry. It would be a shame to waste this pie.”

  Pie sounded good to Beckett. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a pie made from scratch. He agreed heartily and took a seat at the table.

  Stained glass windows and homemade pie. He could feel his tension lessening between his shoulder blades as he took a bite.

  * * *

  AFTER EATING DESSERT, Andie noticed the time. She hadn’t meant to stay so late, but the pie and conversation had been more enjoyable than she’d expected. While Beckett hadn’t said much, Russ was a born storyteller. Who knew the glass business was full of so many characters? She stood and sighed. “I hate to break up the party, but I need to get home. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

  “I’ll get your coat,” Beckett said as he followed Mrs. Thorpe to the living room.

  Andie turned to Russ. “Thank you, Russ. I haven’t had an evening like this in a long time.”

  “You mean boring because of us old fuddy-duddies?”

  “I mean quiet, yet enjoyable.” She placed a finger on her fork. “Or a pie so delicious. My mother is a fine cook, but she’s not much for baking.”

  “I’m sure my Pattie would be more than happy to make another dessert for our next lesson.” Russ turned to his wife with a look of hopeful expectation as she walked into the kitchen.

  She patted his shoulder and returned his gaze. “Indeed, I would. Perhaps a strudel. Or I have a recipe for a galette that I’ve been meaning to try.”

  Russ turned back to Andie and rubbed his hands together. “She’s got that gleam in her eye. Be prepared to be spoiled.”

  “Oh, Russ.” Mrs. Thorpe slapped the same shoulder she’d been caressing, but Andie could see the affection behind the gesture. Had her parents ever acted like this? She tried to think of a time that she’d seen them show any sign of warmth toward each other, but only recalled a faint memory of her father caressing her mother’s cheek. Stronger memories of her father’s absence from family activities overshadowed it.

  Swallowing away the bitter thoughts, she accepted help from Beckett to put on her coat and pulled her long hair free that had gotten trapped. He gave her a nod when she thanked him. “Ms. Lowman, my pleasure.”

  “It’s Andie. Please.”

  He nodded again before shrugging into his own jacket.

  The Thorpes followed them to the front door. Andie turned back and smiled at them both. “Thank you again for such a lovely evening.”

  “We’ll see you on Wednesday, then. Say about seven?”

  Once all the details were agreed upon, Andie and Beckett stepped out the front door. Shivering, Andie pulled her coat tighter around herself as a frigid wind blew up the street and seemed to infiltrate the wool lining. Had the temperature dropped since they’d been inside working on the window? She glanced at her car and frowned. Not only had the temperature dropped, but snow had fallen. Almost an inch covered her car.

  She started to take a step off the front porch when Beckett took a hold of her elbow. Why did his touch fluster her?

  “Careful. The steps might be icy.”

  “I’m sure I can make it down the three steps without aid, but I appreciate the gesture.”

  Beckett kept his hold on her as they descended the stairs and followed the sidewalk to the driveway. Fishing her keys from her coat pocket, Andie unlocked the car doors and retrieved the snow brush from the backseat. When she straightened, she saw that Beckett had retrieved his own snow brush and was helping to clean off her car. Together, it only took a minute to remove the snow. She looked at him over the top of her car. “Thank you.”

  He gave her a nod. “My pleasure.”

  When he turned to leave, she found that she didn’t want their time together to end and asked, “Would you like to go somewhere and get a drink?”

  Beckett blinked at her, reminding her of an owl with big frightened eyes. “A drink? With you?”

  Who did he think she meant? She gave him a smile. “Unless you’re already sick of my company.”

  He stayed silent for a moment, then shook his head. Those big eyes shuttered quickly. “No, I don’t think so.”

  His refusal
stung a little, so Andie sighed and nodded. “Have a good night, then.”

  She started to get in her car when he appeared at her side. “It’s not you.”

  “You’re giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech? I wasn’t suggesting anything more than continuing a pleasant evening.” She cocked her head to the side and peered at him. “If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. I’ll see you next week.”

  Beckett dropped his gaze to the ground. “I’m not into going out much, Ms. Lowman. With anyone.”

  “I thought you were going to start calling me Andie.”

  He raised his head and took a step closer to her, and her breath caught in her throat. But then he took a few steps back and gave her another nod. “I’ll see you next week. Andie.”

  The man baffled her. Intrigued her. And she found herself looking forward to their next lesson.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANDIE TOSSED THE greens with vinaigrette and then took the salad bowl to the dining room where her sister, Cassie, set down a platter with pot roast surrounded by potatoes and carrots. Her mother lit the candles while Aunt Sylvie filled the crystal goblets with water and gave a nod to them all. “Good job, girls. Dinner looks lovely.”

  They took their seats albeit in their new location. Last year, after her father had turned himself in to the police for embezzling from his own company, her mother sold the family home to pay back what he’d stolen and had moved in with her sister Sylvie for the time being. Sunday dinners were now held at her aunt’s condo.

  Conversation paused while the women passed the dishes and filled their plates with her mother’s good cooking. Andie wondered how much of her adventure the day before she should share with her family. Cassie knew Beckett after all, but part of her didn’t want to reveal too much too soon. It had only been one evening with the man, even if it had felt more like she’d known him for weeks.

  “Andromeda, you’re mooning after some man, aren’t you?” her aunt asked. She turned to the other two at the table. “I know the look when a woman can’t get her mind off the opposite sex.”