Her Hometown Heart.

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Is that what scared her off? If his memory served him right, she’d smiled and said he was sweet.

  Clicking on the reply to author button, he responded. Glad you made it back to Chicago OK, but I guess I need more of an explanation of why you suddenly decided we’re strictly business partners and nothing more. Can you at least tell me what exactly caused you to change your mind? When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.

  Tom stared at the blinking cursor on his computer screen and debated whether to ask more but settled on one question at a time. He only hoped she’d respond. Soon.

  Shutting down his computer, Tom made his way over to the Warrens’ where, after lunch and out of the girls’ earshot, he divulged the entire conversation he and Amie had on the porch last night.

  “She said I was sweet,” he relayed. “I don’t get it.”

  “Perhaps she’s a person who fears commitment,” Jake suggested.

  Tom didn’t buy it. “She agreed to our partnership readily enough.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Katie said, looking at her husband as though he possessed the answers.

  “But you know,” Tom began, “she does have a curious fear of men. I’ve seen it. She panics—at least she does until she gets to know them. But she’s not afraid of me and I don’t think I did anything last night to change her opinion.”

  “Hmm...a fear of men?” Jake inhaled deeply, then stood and strolled to the coffee pot, pouring another cup. “I hate to even speculate as to what that could mean.” He returned to the table and sat down. “We’ll keep her—and you—in our prayers.”

  Katie agreed, her soft brown eyes looking sad. “She’s a special young woman, Tom. The girls and I enjoyed her company. I’m so sorry she left.”

  He nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Maybe I could give her pastor a call tomorrow and try to get some insight from him,” Jake offered.

  “Naw, don’t bother. I’d rather hear about whatever’s bothering Amie straight from her.” Tom slid his chair back from the table. He looked at Katie. “Thanks for the lunch. I don’t know what I’d do if you decided not to feed me.”

  She waved a hand at him as though it were nothing.

  “See you guys later.”

  “Bye, Tom,” Jake called as he made his way to the front door.

  On the way to his temporary home, Tom prayed, Lord Jesus, You’re gonna have to close the door with a bang and build a cement wall so high I’ll never get over if You want me to forget about Amie. But I don’t think You do. And what would I have done if Hal hadn’t taken a chance on me? Amie’s worth the wait and I’ve got the patience.

  Tom walked into the church building and stepped into the sanctuary. He gaze fell on the large empty cross on the wall behind the altar. The words, TO GOD BE THE GLORY hung above the cross in gold letters. Oddly, he suddenly felt emboldened, as if God, Himself, approved his decision not to give up on Amie.

  He sighed. Lord, You sure will have to give me the smarts to deal with this thing—whatever it is—because I have no idea where to even begin.

  16

  After she arrived home Amie packed up her uncle’s journals and shipped them off to Tom. She didn’t think she could bear reading anymore about his life. The mere thought of Tom caused her heart to ache. She mourned the death of something which hadn’t had the chance to even be born.

  Amie managed to skirt Tom’s phone calls and refused to reply to his email messages, deleting them before she read them. His questions and words of concern would break her heart all the more and she prayed that in avoiding him altogether, he’d change his mind about falling in love with her. How much better for the both of them if Tom would lose interest in her so that by spring they could resume a platonic business partnership during the construction process. She doubted her plans to move up to Tigerton now...which meant she couldn’t sell her condo...which meant they’d most likely have to take out a mortgage on the hotel. Suddenly everything seemed highly complicated.

  New Year’s Eve came and went with Amie choosing to stay home. Friends tried to coax her to join them for a night out at church for an inspiring movie and a chili dump afterwards, but she didn’t feel up to it. Then, the following Monday, she began her new job.

  “OK, let me get this straight. All you want me to do is answer this phone.”

  “That’s it. For now.” Buzz chuckled. “Don’t want to overwhelm you on your first day.” Buzz Felton, her new boss, was a short, squat, jolly man who laughed at just about anything.

  Amie wondered if he’d been moonlighting as Santa during the holidays.

  “Go ahead. Have a seat,” he told her. “Just answer the phone and the other girls will take care of your questions.”

  Amie made herself comfortable at the end of a large U-shaped desk. It was part of what the company called The Information Center and two other secretaries worked side-by-side as they greeted customers and answered calls.

  The phone began to ring, and Amie soon discovered her job consisted largely of taking messages and listening to customers’ complaints. Her only reprieve came at noon when her father approached her for lunch.

  “You’ll love working here, Princess.” Dad forked in a bite of mac and cheese as they dined in the company’s cafeteria.

  “I can’t afford to love working here.” Amie poked at the salad she’d ordered, pushing the lettuce around her plate. “I’ll have to find a job that pays as much as MBMD did.” She glanced up in time to see Dad’s whitened brows arch in surprise. “What about your hotel?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know...”

  “Hmm...” He munched hungrily on his hamburger.

  Dad’s ambivalent attitude caused Amie to chafe, although she told herself she ought to be used to it. While he was the only one in the family who encouraged her, she sometimes wondered if he only did so to escape dealing with her emotions, not to mention her “religion.” Even so, she made an attempt. “Tom and I...well, our relationship started to develop beyond a mere partnership.”

  “Really?” He took a drink of his coffee. “Pass me the ketchup, will you?”

  Amie nodded and handed him the bottle.

  “Well, you know the old saying,” he said, pouring the condiment onto his burger, “don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  “Yeah, I know. I kinda wish I hadn’t.”

  Dad’s blue-eyed gaze met hers and she hoped he’d inquire further. She needed to talk so badly. However, her hopes were soon dashed when her father changed the subject.

  “Say, would you like some dessert? The cheesecake here is out of this world. But don’t tell your mother. She thinks her cheesecake is the best...and it’s close. Real close.”

  Amie had long since lost her appetite. “No...no, thanks, Dad.”

  ~*~

  Tom’s business management and accounting courses began in mid-January. After a few weeks, he found a job at a motel in Shawano, working a split shift, six o’clock in the evening until two a.m. He didn’t plan on keeping the position long but determined to learn everything possible about running the place. And even with his busy schedule, he faithfully emailed Amie once, sometimes, twice a day. He wasn’t sure if she read his messages, even though he tried to keep them light and friendly.

  She never wrote back.

  Tom closed the lid of his laptop and ambled to his bed in the church’s basement apartment. Lord, he prayed as his head hit the pillow, only You know Amie’s mind, that’s for sure! But I’m not giving up...

  ~*~

  Valentine’s Day decorations cluttered The Information Center where Amie worked, causing her to hate the job all the more. She’d sent out at least a dozen resumes—why wasn’t she getting a single response?

  “Say, Amie, are you doing anything special this weekend?” Nora Craig, another secretary, asked. “I mean, Valentine’s Day is Sunday.”

  “How could I forget?” She lifted her gaze to the cardboard stupid cupid dangling from the ceiling close to her head and s
ighed. “No, I’m not doing anything special.”

  Seemingly against her will, Tom’s image popped into her mind and she wished she had plans with him— If only she could erase her past and be the pure woman he’d saved himself for.

  A frown crinkled Nora’s forehead, causing her penciled eyebrows to dip at an odd angle. “Your boyfriend isn’t taking you someplace romantic? Why, my Ronald is taking me away for the weekend, except he won’t tell me where.” She giggled like a teenager. “He’s such a romantic—even after twelve years of marriage.”

  “That’s really special.” Amie tried to force enthusiasm into her tone but failed. She glanced at her wrist watch. Two more hours to go. Could she last until five o’clock?

  The afternoon dragged on until she couldn’t stand this place anymore. No way was she coming back Monday. Not a chance. Her father and Buzz could beg her blue, but she’d refuse to step a foot into this office again.

  A delivery man, walked into the building carrying a large bouquet of red roses.

  Romance strikes again.

  “Ooh! Who are these for?” Chrissy, the main receptionist, stood to assist the deliveryman.

  The gray-headed man read the name on attached envelope. “Amie Potter.”

  Her two associates gasped with pleasure.

  “She’s right here!” Nora grabbed the plastic covered blossoms in a cut glass vase and brought them to Amie.

  “They’re probably from my dad,” she said facetiously, as her face warmed with embarrassment.

  The ladies “oohed” and “ahhed” as they took charge of removing the plastic covering the delicate flowers. With a roll of her eyes, Amie opened the card. Liquid numbness spread through her veins as she read the words: I love you, Amie. Tom.

  For several moments, she stared at the note in her hand, feeling as though she couldn’t breathe. How could he still claim to love her? She’d given him the cold shoulder for nearly two months.

  “Well, now, honey,” Nora crooned, “are you sure you’re not doing something special this weekend?”

  Amie finally conceded a smile. It was either that or burst into tears.

  ~*~

  The last couple of hours passed more quickly and Amie actually enjoyed the conversation between herself and her coworkers. Since her first day on the job, she’d been cool to the ladies, ignoring their attempts at friendship. But it seemed her icy facade had cracked, and it wasn’t long before she told them about her hotel “adventure” in Tigerton, Wisconsin, and gave them a vague rundown on Tom.

  “Marry him quick, Amie,” Chrissy advised, her eyes a too-bright shade of green from their colored contact lenses. Shaking her bottle-blonde head, she continued, “There’s not many of those kind of guys left these days. And I should know. I think I’ve dated every eligible bachelor in the Chicago area under fifty years old.”

  “Well, try frequenting the senior citizen centers.” Nora snorted a laugh. “You’re no spring chicken anymore.”

  The ladies, both twenty-plus years older than Amie, cackled and teased each other, making her giggle until her sides ached.

  That night, as she made her way through the front door of her condo, her arms filled with fragrant roses, she wondered what to do about Tom. She supposed she could be blatantly honest with him regarding her past, so he’d change his mind about her once and for all. Get it over with. Quickly. Or she could break his heart and lie by telling him she didn’t love him and that she never would...

  With her winter coat hung up and the flowers on the coffee table, Amie walked to her office and booted up her computer. She sat down in front of the monitor and decided she couldn’t hurt Tom for the world. She’d rather hurt herself. But if he rejected her, once he knew the truth, could she ever face him again? And, yet, what did she have to lose? Could she really feel any more miserable? Oh, Lord, I’m so scared.

  Perfect love casts out fear.

  The Bible verse popped into her mind. 1 John 4:18. Her Savior, Jesus Christ, loved her. He wanted the best for her, and in these past several weeks, she’d felt as though she’d grown closer to Him. It was Jesus’s love that kept getting her out of bed every morning and His love that gave her hope for the future—with or without Tom.

  “Perfect love...all right, Lord,” she murmured aloud. “With Your help, I’ll tell Tom about what happened with Jasper.”

  She shivered and hugged herself. She didn’t know how or when, but she’d share her past with Tom. She’d trust God to orchestrate it all and prepare Tom’s heart and she wouldn’t fear his reaction anymore. She’d keep her thoughts on Jesus and remember that if Tom rejected her, Jesus never would. That still, small Voice replied to her soul, causing tears to form.

  One day at a time, Beloved. One day at a time.

  Taking a deep breath, Amie logged into her email. Two messages were flagged, both of the them from Tom.

  Just in case you misplaced it, here’s my cell phone number.

  Amie rolled her eyes. She knew Tom’s cell number by heart.

  And here’s my work number.

  Amie paused. Work number? Where was he working?

  She read the second message.

  And just in case you forgot, I don’t get to work until six o’clock. Dinner break is at eight. Call then.

  She fought a grin. No doubt Tom figured that she hadn’t read any of his emails for the last seven weeks. He obviously hoped she’d read these because he’d sent her the roses and such a simple, yet poignant Valentine’s Day card. He knows me too well. Amie’s heart swelled with affection. At last someone had taken the time to care about the things she cared about. Finally, someone learned her likes and dislikes and could read her body language. Never in her life had Amie met someone like Tom, but she’d always dreamed that Mister Right would have those character traits.

  Amie replied to Tom’s second message hoping he’d get it before he left for work. Thanks for the roses, Tom. I’ll call you around eight.

  17

  Tom glanced at the wall clock stationed behind the registration desk. Seven fifty-five. Before coming to work, he’d checked his email just to see if Amie had sent him a message. Much to his immense elation, she had. She said she’d phone—would she keep her word? At eight, Tom turned to his coworker, Rosa. “I’m going on my break. Will you watch the desk?”

  She bobbed her graying curls and added an easy smile.

  “Oh, and I’m expecting a phone call. I’m pretty sure she’ll call my cell phone, but—”

  “I’ll transfer it to the lunchroom.” Rosa waved off his concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  Tom’s palms began to moisten. All for a phone call…good grief! He ran his hands against the back pockets of his slacks and then headed for the lunchroom. A few long strides down the darkened hallway, and Tom entered the converted hotel room. It possessed a kitchen sink and adjoining counter on which a microwave oven sat. A slim refrigerator stood against the adjacent wall. Taking out the sack with the supper Katie graciously prepared for him, he moved to the round veneer-topped table and plunked down in a swivel chair. Physically, he felt exhausted. Emotionally, he could run the Olympic mile. He glanced at his wrist watch. Eight-o-three.

  Anytime now, Amie.

  He reminded himself that she always ran late. Ten minutes ticked by. Filled with a huge sense of disappointment, he started picking at his sandwich, ham and cheese on a hard roll. He popped the top off a soda can and took a swig. His cell jangled, and he nearly choked in his haste to answer it. Amie’s picture appeared on his smart phone’s screen.

  “Hey, Amie.”

  “Hi.”

  Tom’s heart sped up in the most peculiar way. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”

  He heard her soft exhalation. “I guess it’s been a long time coming, huh? I’m sorry, Tom, for being so...so...”

  “Forget it. I’m just glad you’re OK.” He paused, feeling a twinge of concern. “You are OK, aren’t you?”

  “Ac
tually, no. I’ve been miserable. I hate my job because I’m not exactly multi-task oriented. But who in their right mind can answer five incoming phone calls at once? I’m not secretary material.”

  Tom recognized her nervous babble. Still, he wasn’t about to dismiss matters away. He’d waited too long for some answers. “Is that all you’ve been miserable about?” he queried gently. “A job that you never intended to stay at anyway?”

  “No.” She took a ragged breath. “I guess you and I need to talk, Tom. But not tonight. Not over the phone.”

  “All right.” That meant they would see each other and it gave Tom a large measure of encouragement. She could officially break off their personal relationship in an email or now, over the phone, but she chose not to. That meant something.

  “Thank you for the roses.” Amie’s soft tone embraced him like a warm hug. “And the card. Actually, it was the card that touched my heart. You’re really sweet.”

  “Last time you told me I was sweet you didn’t talk to me for two months.”

  Silence. “I’m sorry, Tom. It’s me—”

  “What does that mean, Amie? It’s you?” He fought to control his mounting frustration. “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t share my feelings? Is that it? You know, I think I could handle point-blank honesty better than the cold shoulder treatment.”

  “No...no, in fact...” She paused, her voice wavering slightly.

  Tom instantly regretted his impatience with her.

  “In fact,” she began again, “I feel very much the same way you do, Tom. But, see, that’s why this whole thing started.”

  “I don’t get it,” he stated flatly, sipping his soda. “I love you. You share my feelings. Shouldn’t we be...rejoicing?”

  “Yes.” There was a smile in her voice now. “And I hope we will be...soon.”

  “You hope?”

  “Uh-huh. That’s why we’ve got to talk. Except until today, I haven’t been ready to discuss anything. Maybe I’ve been feeling sorry for myself on top of battling this horrible anxiety.”