Out of the Blue Bouquet (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Heaving a sigh, she slung her backpack over one shoulder by a single strap then picked up her duffle bag and walked out of the room, back through the common area, and out onto the porch. She expected to see Emmanuel Danos chatting with his Hettie about their upcoming Christmas wedding as they unloaded supplies he’d picked up at the mainland. She did not expect to see Ian Jones lifting a fifty-pound bag of cornmeal out of the back of the truck.

  She resisted the urge to duck back inside the building. Instead, she set her bags down like she originally intended to do and walked over to the truck to help unload.

  “Hi, Ian,” she greeted as he turned, slinging the heavy bag up onto his shoulder.

  He stopped moving and stared at her, from her braided hair to her leather sandals. “Sounds like I almost missed you,” he said by way of greeting, banishing any thought that he didn’t know about her presence here for the last several months.

  “A day later and you would have.” She felt nerves, familiar nerves, like the kind that had assaulted her the first time she cooked dinner for him.

  They unloaded the truck in silence with Hettie and Emmanuel. A million things she wanted to say to him ran through her mind, but she couldn’t find the right opening, so she just lifted, carried, and stacked bags and boxes in the storeroom. Once they had emptied the truck, Ian collected her bags from the porch and put her tote bag into the bed and her backpack into the cab of the truck. Calla hugged Hettie, tight. “I can’t wait until next time,” she said.

  “Looking forward to it. Next time I’m in Atlanta, I hope to be able to experience what you do with your own ingredients in a modern kitchen. You’ve been an amazing help here, and we will miss you like you can’t even know.”

  She turned toward Ian and extended her hand. “I’d love to stay and spend time with you, but I can’t.”

  He smiled a half smile and shook her hand perfunctorily. “I know.” He turned to Emmanuel and said something in Creole. The men shook hands warmly, and Emmanuel tossed Ian the keys. Emmanuel waved at Calla and put his arm over Hettie’s shoulders, leading her into the building.

  Calla frowned as Ian turned to her. “Ready?”

  “For?”

  “To leave.” He walked to the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. Calla began to understand that he would drive her to the ferry. It took her several minutes to get to the truck, though, because as she walked forward, the children surrounded her. She took the time to speak to each one, hug everyone, and make a personal connection with every child. By the time she disengaged from them, she had tears pouring down her face. How could she leave?

  Knowing she must, she slipped into the passenger’s seat. Ian started the truck, and she shifted her backpack to rest behind the seat as she snapped her seatbelt into place. “This is harder than I thought.”

  “Every time.” He slowly drove down the dirt lane, carefully avoiding potholes. “I spent a year here in between high school and college. I’m still not sure how I managed to leave willingly.”

  The truck bounced over a rut, so he slowed down even more. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said. “It’s July.”

  He spared her a quick but serious glance. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I had no idea you’d leave so soon.”

  He wanted to see her? Her heart started pounding, and she licked dry lips. “I…” She looked out the window and watched the island jungle crawl slowly by as Ian navigated over the lava rock path.

  “You wish I’d never come.” The truck jostled roughly, and he hit the brakes, stopping it entirely. He turned his body toward her. “If you didn’t want to have anything at all to do with me, you would have found another place to work, another orphanage, another mission, another country even. The fact is, you needed the connection with my family.”

  “Leaving engineering behind to become a shrink?” She crossed her arms over her chest. Not because she wanted to shield herself from him, but because she knew he spoke the truth and it made her feel defensive. “I’m here because I spent the last five months paying Mary Ann back for her brilliant legal services. That was our deal. She represented me and will continue to fight collection agencies and credit reporting agencies, and I cook for Hettie and Emmanuel. So what?”

  “So what is I’m here. That’s what,” He lay his arm over the steering wheel and his other arm over the back of the seat, boxing her in. She wanted to reach forward and touch him, but kept her arms tight around her chest. “And I’ve missed you. This month is the eight-month anniversary of the day you sent me flowers – the day I began the journey of falling in love with you.” Her breath hitched, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He’d mentioned love twice now. “Don’t you tell me that wasn’t God’s providence. You and I both know otherwise.”

  She unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned back against the door, pulling her legs up. Her forehead fell forward and rested on her knees. “I know,” she whispered. “I needed to come here. I needed to get close to God and work my way through the years since my father died. I had to come to a place of forgiveness for Becky, or whatever her real name is, and I had to mean it. I didn’t want it to be a hollow promise because God would know the difference.”

  Several seconds went by in silence. She raised her head and found him staring at her, his hazel eyes serious and searching. Finally, he said, “And me?”

  “Ian, I don’t know about you, or us. I wanted to talk to you when I got home, but I didn’t even think you’d want to see me. I need to get home and figure things out.”

  He started the truck again and slowly inched forward. She straightened in the seat and latched her seatbelt. After a few seconds, he said, “I appreciate that, but I feel like that’s what you’ve been doing, here. I took off work and made a two-day trip to see you. I’ve given you space, and I’ve given you time. I honestly don’t know how much more space and time I’m willing to give you.”

  She sat in silence for several minutes and finally said, “I respect that. Thanks for your honesty.”

  They didn’t speak again until they finished the descent down the mountain and pulled onto the coastal road. Too soon, he pulled into the parking lot for the ferry.

  “Pastor Jeremy Banks will meet you at the ferry,” he said, opening the driver’s door. She slipped out of the truck and reached back into the cab to get her backpack. “He’s made arrangements for you to stay at the mission in Port-au-Prince overnight, and he’ll give you a ride to the airport tomorrow.”

  He handed her the tote bag. She set it on the ground and stepped closer to him, putting her arms around him. She could feel his hesitation before he hugged her back. “I miss you,” she said quietly. “Thank you for the ride.”

  “Bye, Calla.” She picked up her tote and walked to the ferry, unwilling to look behind her.

  Calla heard her alarm going off, but tried to bury under the covers and ignore it. No luck. Ignoring it didn’t make it stop.

  As she sat up, she grabbed her phone and turned the alarm off. 5:32. Had she seriously managed to ignore it for two whole minutes?

  It didn’t take long to throw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She went into the bathroom and washed her face, leaning close to the mirror to stare into her own eyes as she dried her skin. She’d stayed up late studying and her red-rimmed eyes showed it. This fatigue, though, compared to the fatigue she’d felt a year ago, felt good, productive, like she could look forward to a good end after all of her hard work.

  She braided her hair into a tight plait, then walked back through her bedroom, scooping her glasses off of the dresser and slipping them on her face. In the living room, she went to her desk and pulled the stack of papers off her printer, then punched holes in them to put them in her binder. Today, she had an exam, and she knew that the chef would check the binders to make sure that they contained all of the recipes, properly written, neatly typed with clear instructions.

  While she sat on the couch to tie her s
hoes, she mentally went through the lessons the day before and the recipes she’d typed up. They’d served a venison medallion with three different purees: chestnut, carrot, and celery root. She’d fallen in love with the chestnut puree, and so very much wanted to take the time to perfect it in her home kitchen. Maybe she could do something at Thanksgiving with it.

  Thoughts of Thanksgiving immediately brought Ian to mind. She thought about how relaxed and happy he’d been, sitting at Annabelle’s table while she got to know his family. Her stomach fluttered with nerves at the thought of him. She’d wanted to call him for weeks now. Why did she keep hesitating? Fear of rejection?

  She sat back against the cushions and closed her eyes, leaning her head back until it rested on the back of the couch. She had regretted leaving Ian in Haiti the moment she stepped onto the deck of the ferry. It had taken all of her will to not turn around and go back to the island and beg his forgiveness for doubting herself for even a moment. Yet, despite regrets, she constantly felt like she truly had needed to leave. She needed to discover the true Calla Vaughn.

  She’d worn the hats of an adored child of a single parent, a despised step-daughter, an exhausted culinary student working her way through her first year as an independent adult, a grieving orphan, and a victim of a con artist who currently faced charges in three states. She’d never had an opportunity to live, on her own, without suffocating under grief or fear. It felt like God-given wisdom to allow herself to take time alone, back in familiar surroundings, older and much wiser.

  It didn’t take long for her to realize that the Calla she knew still existed – only this Calla had much more confidence and faith. She should have called Ian right away, but had just not. Why?

  Had God kept her from reaching out? How many times had she walked past his church on a Sunday morning, wanting to go in and slide into the chair next to him? How often had she considered just ringing his doorbell? Despite this constant wanting to contact him, she had always pulled back.

  This morning, though, more than ever, she felt a pull to call him. “God,” she said softly, “this is the part where I need to hear Your voice. I need to know what to do next.”

  Her phone vibrated and she saw the notice for her daily Bible thought that came at 5:45 every day. Today’s verse said:

  And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; or else the new wine will burst the wineskins and be spilled, and the wineskins will be ruined. But new wine must be put into new wineskins, and both are preserved. Luke 5:37-38

  Pursing her lips, she considered the words. An answer to prayer, or was she reading into it?

  As she gathered her knife bag and put her binder and clean uniform into her backpack, she thought about the verse. What did it mean? What could it mean to her in this present circumstance?

  She lived just a few blocks from the school, so she walked in the predawn darkness along the quiet street, meditating about Ian. The few weeks they spent as a couple, they received constant affirmation from people around them – Christians and non-Christians alike. Despite age differences, background differences, and other things, they had made a good couple, a strong couple, a mission-minded couple with a love for people and God. How could anyone consider that a bad thing?

  But she’d waited so long. Should she have stayed in Haiti with him, or begged him to come back with her?

  No. No time for regrets. Right now, she faced a new start. She had long considered this school year the beginning of the beginning.

  “In the beginning, Calla shed her insecurities and fear and stepped boldly forward to accomplish her goals and dreams.” She’d said that out loud as she walked out of the Atlanta airport in late July, fresh from her time in Haiti. And, she’d meant it. She said it again this morning to remind herself of her forward motion.

  No insecurities or fears.

  She entered the side door of the school and nodded to fellow culinary students. In the locker room, she put on her uniform and wrapped a hot-pink bandana around her head. She spent the next hour and a half prepping the chef’s mis en place for the coming lesson, peeling head after head of garlic, chopping shallots, and gathering supplies and equipment from the commissary. The entire time she worked, she kept saying that Bible verse over and over again in her head. But new wine must be put into new wineskins, and both are preserved.

  Hours later, after serving the head of the school a medallion of lamb served with roasted Brussels sprouts and a potato dish called pommes roesti, she joined the other students outside at the picnic tables. Despite the hot sun, the wind picked up and blew cool air. Calla quickly moved her plate out of the shade and into full sun, taking another small bite and analyzing the sauce she’d put on the lamb. An oak leaf floated past her plate, reminding her again of Ian, of autumn, of the time they’d spent through Christmas.

  She’d kept in touch with Mary Ann, hoping that the attorney would pass along her new address and her new phone number. She knew he knew she was at school right there in Atlanta. However, she’d heard nothing from him. She’d hoped that he might reach out to her just one more time. even though the two prior times he had, she’d turned him away. While she hadn’t flat out rejected him, she had asked him to wait until she was ready. He’d told her very point blank that he didn’t know how long he could wait. Now she worried too much time had gone by, and what stretched between them now was a chasm that she didn’t know if she had the strength or the tools to cross.

  A chasm that he may not want her to cross.

  She had to consider that he might have closed his mind and heart to her forever. She also had to consider that he might have found someone else by now. If it was true, then she only had herself to blame. Accepting that didn’t make the thought any easier to bear, didn’t make the ache in her heart at the thought lessen in any way. But, the idea of him fully rejecting her hurt worse with a pain that seared through her heart and deep into her soul.

  That was what kept her from reaching out. However, the longer she gave into that hesitation, that insecurity, the more likely an outcome that ended in Ian turning her away. Every minute she held herself back was a minute lost to them together. She could see that and hated the reluctance born of an insecure persona she purposefully shed months ago. Stepping forward boldly – she intentionally used those words to strengthen her resolve in everything in life. So why hesitate now?

  She mulled that question over as she pushed her plate away. She only hesitated out of fear. She would not stand for that. Time to span that chasm.

  Knowing full well that she must contact him, she thought about how to go about doing just that. If she called, would he answer the phone? If she rang his doorbell, would he open the door to her? She thought about the first time he came to her home for dinner, about the administrative mistake at a flower shop that brought them together – that they both believed that God used to bring them together. What would he do if a bouquet of flowers walked through his doorway with a note on them asking him to dinner?

  She gasped out loud, then looked around to see if anyone noticed. Should she? What if –

  What if she sent him flowers and he ignored her? What if he didn’t, though? What if he felt a nostalgic pull to the idea of her stepping boldly out in faith and restarting their relationship, or even the possibility of restarting their relationship?

  Doing something so fantastically crazy might be exactly what he needed her to do. It would give him time alone to process the idea of her invitation, without the pressure of her standing in front of him or waiting for a word form him on the other end of the telephone. He could think about it, pray about it, and determine if he had the desire in his heart to accept the hand she reached out to him letting him know that she wanted to be with him, that she wanted a reset.

  He could choose to toss the flowers into the trash and ignore the invite, but he could also choose to accept at the invitation and show up with their future in his hands.

  Giving in to the impulse, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and loo
ked up the number for Crossroads Florists. Calling the toll-free number, she turned so that her back was to her fellow students.

  “Out of the Blue Bouquet,” a woman with a very happy and pleasant voice said, “this is Brooke. How may I help you?”

  Calla’s stomach nervously twisted. “Hi. Didn’t I call Crossroads?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You sure did. How can I help you?”

  Calla cleared her throat, “I, uh, sent flowers a year ago today. Could, um, could you maybe look them up and re-send the same bouquet?”

  She could hear the clicking of keys on the keyboard as Brooke answered her. “Absolutely. Let’s see if we can find you. What phone number would those have been ordered under?”

  Ian tossed the pencil down and closed his eyes, rolling his head on his neck. He couldn’t concentrate, and he grew steadily impatient with it all. Before Calla, he could always shut out the world and just work. Not anymore. For months now, he had to battle thoughts of dark brown eyes.

  Last week, the long Georgia summer had finally released the reins of sunshine and the air reluctantly started cooling down. With a cold wind, the leaves began falling from trees. Immediately, he thought of Calla Vaughn and her mustard-colored scarf and earth brown boots.

  He wondered if she’d settled back into the student routine at the culinary school. He wondered what her days looked like and what her heart felt like and whether she had worked her way through all the stuff going on in her brain that kept her from just allowing something good to happen in her life. He felt impatient, and a little bit angry, but mostly just done with waiting.

  No one would ever know how often he drove past the school, hoping for a chance meeting. He’d watched with rapt attention at a bid that Dixon Brothers put in to build a new building for the college. When they didn’t get it, he felt personally affected. Now, he stared down the unsatisfying time of the coming week before Thanksgiving and realized that he had a season full of memories to experience and get past so he could hopefully start to get over her.