“I had thought to ask you if you wanted to grab a bite to eat at the food court, but this all seems too bright and flashy.”
Cora quirked an eyebrow. “After watching the Spanish hero save his true love’s family, I’m craving Mexican.”
“I know a good place for Mexican. Spence and I have made it one of our premier concerns to investigate the lesser-known eateries of our fair city.” Simon pulled her arm through his and laced his fingers through hers as he started walking toward the exit. “How does a Mexican meal prepared by an Englishman named Leland sound?” He paused. “Leland means ‘fallow ground’ in Old English.”
Cora laughed. “How did you know that?”
“Leland is my middle name.”
“What does Simon mean?”
“Simon means ‘He has heard.’ I guess my parents thought that if ‘Simon has heard’ the Word that fell on ‘fallow ground,’ I’d turn out all right.”
“That’s a Bible verse, right?”
“There’s two, but this is the one they meant: ‘For thus saith the LORD to the men of Judah and Jerusalem, Break up your fallow ground, and sow not among thorns.’ ”
“Old Testament?”
“Yes, Jeremiah 4, verse 3.”
“So what does it mean to you?”
“God has given us good resources; use them. Don’t choose the thorny or sin-laden fields because those are not meant for His people.”
Cora smiled at him. He liked her smile. He’d have to admit he even enjoyed the romantic movie, just because she had sat beside him.
The heavy traffic guaranteed they were hungry by the time they finally reached Leland’s, quite a stark difference from when he’d been here for lunch with Spence. Simon said a thank-you to God for providing the ambiance he hadn’t even considered. Leland’s provided the perfect backdrop for a date with a beautiful woman. The evening atmosphere of the place catered to romantic dinners. Candles glowed in glass snifters on each table, and the lower lights and the soft music of Spanish guitars blended well with hushed conversations.
The hostess sat them in a booth and handed out menus. Cora suddenly laughed.
“What?”
“Listen.”
Simon concentrated on the sounds around him. Then he smiled. “Would you call that ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem, Cha-cha-cha’?”
“It’s strange, but kind of catchy.”
He watched her face. Her expressions hid nothing. Her eyes said she was having fun. Simon relaxed and listened as she talked.
“I suppose many songs cross borders and take on the flavor of whatever country they land in.”
He agreed, but his mind was traveling in many different directions at once. Had he ever felt this comfortable with a woman in such a short amount of time? Had he ever let himself be this open?
They ordered, then talked about movies they’d seen, authors they admired, and places they wanted to go. The delicious meal got some of their attention, but the conversation was more important than the spicy food.
Cora pushed a small amount of Spanish rice left on her plate into a pile. “I want to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why are you so different outside the office? You have two personalities: Mr. Serious Simon Derrick and this one. I like this one, but I never would have guessed you were so much fun.”
“Focus.” Simon put his napkin down on the table. “My father had this thing about focusing. He drilled it into me and my brother. When you mowed the lawn, you focused on your job. Were there twigs in the way, stray rocks from the edging, small toys in the tall grass? Any of them could fly up and hit you if you ran over them. When we went fishing, we focused on water safety. When we did homework, we were encouraged to focus on the subject at hand. No playing the radio while we studied. And he particularly insisted that you gave your all at work, because your employer was paying your wages. If he paid you for an hour of work, don’t short him by a minute here and a minute there while your mind wanders to other things.”
“Your father sounds like a hard taskmaster.”
Simon shook his head. “Not a bit. He focused on his children, on his family, in just the same dedicated way. When I came to him with a problem, I got the undivided attention I needed. I hope to be as good a parent as he was.”
“What happened?”
“A drunk driver. Both my dad and my brother died. The other driver did as well.”
“How long ago?”
“Fifteen years.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her empathy reached like fingers into his soul and caressed that old childhood pain. A seed of contentment sprouted in Simon’s heart. He took her hand. Did he dare entrust himself to this delicate creature? She watched him, waiting for him to speak.
“I guess I’ve been rather busy living up to his expectations, trying to be the man of his house. Sandy recently pointed out that it’s time for me to be the man of my own house.”
“Is that what you want?”
He shrugged. “I’m beginning to. I’m thirty.”
“Old man.” She put on a sympathetic face.
He grinned at her. “Then Sandy informed me that when I became the man of my own house, the family would sell the old place and move in with me and my new family so I could still boss her around.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It wouldn’t bother me, but being that close with the in-laws would probably be culture shock for most women in America.”
“Not all women.”
That statement caught his attention. He wanted her to love family and enjoy nurturing as he did. In talks with Spence, he’d identified that caring for his younger sister and his older relatives helped define who he was. “I am planted in a multigenerational home.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she thought for a moment before making a comment. “That would be a hard circumstance for some people to embrace. But you’re right about it being a cultural thing. In many other societies, clans live together.” She paused. “I wonder what God thinks of the whole idea. I don’t believe there’s a verse in the Bible that says, ‘Thou shalt harbor your kin for better or worse.’ ” Her eyes dropped down to her plate, and she pulled her hand away from him.
Before Simon could investigate this sudden retreat, the waitress came to clear away the dishes and offer dessert.
“I suggest fried ice cream and Mexican coffee. Both are sweet, and Leland imports the cinnamon from Mexico.”
“I’m too full,” said Cora.
Simon winked at the waitress and addressed his date. “How about having coffee, and I’ll get the ice cream? You can have a taste, and if it reawakens your appetite, I’ll share.”
He was rewarded when a smile returned to Cora’s face.
“Two Mexican coffees, one fried ice cream, and two spoons.”
“Wait.” Cora blushed. “What is Mexican coffee?”
The server laughed. “Ours has chocolate, cinnamon, vanilla, brown sugar, and whipped cream on top.”
Cora raised her eyebrows. “And coffee?”
“Yes, organic beans from Mexico.”
“It sounds delicious.”
“Oh, you’ll like it all righty.” The young waitress left to fill the order.
“You’re feeding my addiction to international cuisine,” Cora said as the waitress moved away.
Simon laughed out loud. “I’ll take that as a challenge to take you out more often and to different ethnic restaurants. Ever try Ethiopian?”
Finally. Cora leaned back against the comfortable cushions in the passenger seat, closed her eyes, and said a prayer of thanks. Finally, she’d met a man who didn’t drink, didn’t cuss, didn’t make suggestive remarks, didn’t have his hands all over her. Finally, she’d met a man who treated his family well, went to church, talked about his faith, and was kind, considerate, and courteous.
Any minute she would wake up, right?
They pulled into her apartment complex, and Simon parked near the en
trance to her building.
“I’ll walk you up,” he said as he opened his door. He came around to her side and tucked her arm in his. The maintenance man had swept the sidewalks earlier, but a new layer of snow dusted the pavement, and the walk sparkled in the lights from streetlamps along the way. They came to the door to her building, and Cora inserted her badge in the slot. The light flickered and the lock clicked. Simon pulled it open.
They both stomped on the snow pad at their feet, shaking off most of the packed snow sticking to their shoes.
“There are parts of winter I don’t like,” said Simon.
“Like what?”
“Taking my shoes off at the back door, walking through the kitchen with only socks on, and stepping on a clod of snow left by someone else who’s been outside.”
Cora made a face and shook her head. “Never happens at my place.”
A burst of laughter and the sudden onslaught of a very loud Christmas tune filled the hallway.
Cora smiled. “It sounds like the Bakers in 1A are having a party.”
“I agree. Sounds like merriment of the finest measure.” He turned her toward the stair. “Okay, what do you not like about winter?”
“Easy one. Sliding into curbs and breaking tie rods. You don’t have to come up.”
“I’ll see you to your door. Just in case someone is lurking in the halls.”
Cora harrumphed. “No one is lurking in the halls.”
“Okay, then I’m not ready to part with your company.”
She giggled. “You are such a smooth talker.”
They trudged up the steps and turned into the second-floor hallway. Cora stopped so suddenly, Simon bumped into her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
A young woman dressed in a long, elegant coat, stylish fur helmet, and high-heeled boots sat on an upturned suitcase. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
“You’re not staying here.”
Simon’s breath tickled the back of Cora’s neck. “Someone you know?”
Cora tried to subdue the bile that rose as the woman stood. The unwanted guest’s eyes narrowed, and she gazed at Simon with a come-hither look.
“I’d introduce you,” Cora said, “but I don’t know what she’s currently using for a name.”
Cora’s nemesis laughed, stepped forward, and extended her hand. “I’m Zee. Cora’s sister.”
Simon reached around to take Zee’s hand, but as he did so, he put a possessive arm around Cora’s shoulders. “I don’t believe she was expecting a visit.”
Zee grasped his hand and looked past Cora, deliberately employing her best man-snatching expression. Simon withdrew his hand, and some look on his face must have disengaged her sister’s prowling instincts. Zee’s face settled into an unattractive pout.
Cora could have hugged Simon, but instead she addressed the problem of her sister’s invasion. “How did you find my address, Zee? How did you get into the building?”
“The address was on the return label to a gift you sent to Mother. A nondescript blouse.” She shuddered. “And I walked in with guests of the party downstairs. I was just about to go down and crash the party. Who would have thought that my dowdy sister would be out on a date on Sunday evening? Isn’t that against your religion or something?”
Simon edged forward so he now stood beside Cora, and his arm moved from her shoulders to her waist. “Is there another sister I haven’t met, Cora? Who is this dowdy sister Zee refers to?”
Zee rolled her eyes. “Give me a break!” Her gaze snapped back to Cora. “I need a place to stay tonight.”
“Not here. There are plenty of hotels in town. I’ll drive you to one.”
“I don’t want to check into a hotel. Jim will find me.”
“I don’t know who Jim is, but I don’t want him finding you here. And furthermore, the last time you stayed with me, you left with my hair dryer, my new coat, a pair of boots, and my MP3 player.”
Zee’s eyes grew wide. “You were robbed?”
“Yes. And the police recovered most of my things. And the description of the woman who pawned them matched you.”
Zee shook her head slowly. “What a coincidence.”
“Yes, isn’t it?” Cora looked up at Simon. “Would you carry her bag to my car? I’ll drop her off at a hotel.”
Zee stepped aside for Simon to get her suitcase, but she placed two hands on Cora’s sleeve to make her plea. “I’ve changed, Cora. I really have. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I had to leave J—” Her voice broke, and she looked down for a moment. She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. “Jim. I want to know more about your Jesus.”
“Good.” Cora detached herself and started down the stairs. “There will be a Bible in the hotel. You can start reading tonight. I suggest the book of Ecclesiastes.”
Zee alternated between a whine and a grumble all the way out to the parking lot. With one sentence, she claimed she was misunderstood. With the next, Zee accused Cora of having a judgmental attitude that would send her to hell.
Cora wasn’t sure if her sister meant that Cora was destined to hell or if Cora’s attitude would send Zee to hell. She didn’t bother to interrupt her sister’s tirade to ask.
As they walked to Cora’s car, Zee turned her persuasive skills on Simon. “Surely you’re a real Christian. My sister has never shared anything with me. Not one thing. Isn’t that what Christians are supposed to do? She always thinks the worst of me. That’s not what Christians are supposed to do, is it? Love your sister as yourself. I know I’ve heard that. Maybe it was brother.”
“Neighbor.” Cora unlocked her trunk. “ ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ ” Oh, for pity’s sake, she got me to respond. Watch it, Cora. You’re not as practiced as you used to be. Ignoring her is your best defense.
Zee brought out her lost-little-girl voice. She batted her eyelashes at Simon. “Why would God tell Cora to love her neighbor and not her sister? It just doesn’t seem fair.”
Cora looked up to see Simon smile kindly down at her conniving sister.
“Cora,” he said, “perhaps we should spend some time with your sister. We could go to a diner and have coffee and explain some of the things she’s confused about.”
Cora marched around to the passenger side, unlocked the door, and held it open. “Get in, Zebra, before your stripes change to spots like the cat of prey that you are. Simon, you better go now. Thank you for the movie and dinner and carrying the Lost Wretch’s suitcase, but you better let me deal with this snake in the grass. I know when she’s about to sink her fangs in, and she’s eyeing your jugular.”
Zee laughed as she settled herself in the front seat. “Isn’t Cora funny when she’s mad?” She turned a smiling face to Simon and gave him a wave that consisted of three fingers wiggling.
Cora slammed the door shut and walked back toward Simon to go around the car.
He took her arm as she passed. “Don’t you think we should give her the benefit of the doubt? It wouldn’t hurt to get her something to eat and share the gospel with her before you drop her off at a hotel.”
“Simon, I could probably produce a string of witnesses who could testify to the fact that it does hurt to give her the benefit of the doubt. The latest one would be this Jim, the J-Jim whose name she stumbled over because she wasn’t quite sure what name she had given us.”
“She’s your sister.”
“In our family tree, a lot of misplaced grafts came in the back door.”
“Wouldn’t Jesus say that Zee is one of the least of these and deserves to be loved and cared for?”
“Let go of my arm, Simon. I can’t talk about this right now.”
Simon’s low, sincere voice scraped across her nerves. “Because you’re afraid I’ll persuade you to listen to your compassionate side?”
“No, because I’m about to use a karate punch on you. Let go!”
Simon dropped her arm, and she charged around to the driver’s side. “Good night, S
imon.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll talk.”
Cora ducked into the car and muttered, “Maybe,” as she clicked her seat belt in place.
Zee chuckled. “Now that was fun. Swing through a drive-through. I’m starved.”
Cora switched on the ignition and backed out. Simon still stood on the sidewalk.
“Did you hear me?”
“Sure.” Cora put the car in drive. “I’ll even treat you. But that’s it. You can stay in town if you want to, but you are not welcome in my life. Got it?”
“Sure,” Zee purred.
Cora glanced at her sister’s contented smile and felt her stomach twist into a knot.
13
Cora sat at her desk and did her best to clear off the Monday morning clutter. She refrained from turning completely around in her rolling office chair to get a good look at Mr. Serious Simon Derrick. For five years he’d walked past her desk with his day planner open and never looked her way. Last night he captured the attention of her heart. Today he blithely ignored her existence. He would be coming to dinner at her apartment tonight with Sandy. Would he be warm or distant?
A hand on her shoulder made her jump.
“Oh my goodness,” said Mrs. Hudson. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“It’s all right. I’m afraid you caught me woolgathering.”
“I’m not surprised, dear.” Mrs. Hudson pulled up another rolling chair and sat beside Cora. “You’re going to have a real Christmas this year. I’m so excited.”
“I have a real Christmas every year.”
“But as far as I can tell, you don’t have a celebration.”
“I celebrate.”
“How?” Her supervisor leaned forward.
Cora leaned back. “I go to church, and … well, I have something special I do every year.”
Mrs. Hudson scrutinized her through narrowed lids. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”
Cora laughed. “No, I’m not.”
The older woman straightened with a smile on her lips. “All right. But I do know you’re going to the ball with Mr. Derrick and his sister.” Mrs. Hudson winked. “So that’s why you’re woolgathering. And being slightly distracted by such a thing is perfectly natural. Simon Derrick is a handsome, kind man.” She winked again.
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