Chapter Eight
Raelynn
IT’S SUCH TERRIBLE LUCK TO have the first guy I’m attracted to in a long time be the father of one of my students. Big-time bummer.
I feel better after talking to Principal Marshfield, getting everything out in the open. No misunderstanding that might cause me to lose my job. But speaking with Noah about the school’s “no dating” rule was more difficult than I thought. While he was understanding, I saw the disappointment on his face. The one bright spot is his call this evening, and I can’t wait.
Eating dinner and puttering around the house, I kill time until the phone dings with a FaceTime request around eight o’clock. My heart does a summersault in my chest worthy of an Olympic gymnast.
“Hello,” I say in a breathless voice, taking a few calming breaths.
“Well, hello to you, too. Sounds like you’ve been running,” he says with a chuckle.
I blush like a schoolgirl. “Oh, I had to run upstairs to get my phone.” Just a little fib.
He laughs. “I just tucked Sofie in. She started singing Frozen songs on the way home, so guess what movie we had to watch this evening?”
I laugh. “Um, let me guess . . . Frozen?”
He grunts. “Yeah. For the hundred and third time.”
“You probably also know every song, then.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I may lose my man card.”
I snicker. “Well, I’m on pins and needles. What’s the good news?”
“Are you sitting down?”
My brows draw together. “Is it that good or is it that shocking that I need to sit?”
“A little of both.”
I flop down on the sofa. “Okay, I’m sitting now. Let me have it.”
He barks out a laugh. “First off, I got an offer on the house and accepted it.”
Sitting up straighter, I say, “Noah, that’s great news! It must be such a relief.”
“Yes and no. I’m glad to get rid of that financial burden, but now I’ve got to find somewhere for Sofie and I to live. Ellie’s going to move in over Twice Again where she works.”
Wasn’t one of the parents just talking about renting out a little cottage they own? I rack my brain to think of who said that. A light bulb goes on. “Mr. Peterson just mentioned to the other kindergarten teacher that he wants to rent a little cottage he owns. His renter just moved out. I’ll tell Cassie to have him call you.”
“Please do! I can’t believe you remembered that.”
I chuckle. “Mom always says I have a mind like a steel trap. You said this was the first piece of good news. What else happened?”
He clears his throat. “Uh, well . . . I sort of took your advice . . . I’m opening my own business to assist small businesses with all their finances. Ellie mentioned that Margaret who runs Twice Again is over her head with the financial side of the business. I met with her and she immediately signed on to my new venture. Plus, she gave me leads for more people to talk to.” Noah’s voice rises with excitement the more he talks. My heart warms for him. “Just a few months ago I wouldn’t have considered starting a new business on my own.”
“What did I tell you?”
“Um, what?” he sounds puzzled.
“God will guide you and everything will work out.”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to take your advice and listen to Him more. I guess it’s working.”
We talk for a few more minutes about all the exciting things that happened at school during my day. An urgent bathroom run, spilled paint, an altercation over a ball on the playground. All the usual stuff.
When I look at the clock, I realize we’ve been talking for almost an hour. “I better sign off and get to bed. Us kindergarten teachers have to get up at the crack of dawn.”
Noah chuckles. “Sweet dreams.”
I snuggle under the covers with a goofy smile on my face. I’ll be dreaming about him for sure.
~*~
Saturday dawns, and it’s raining cats and dogs (a cliché I recently taught my kindergarteners, and I can still hear their giggles). I look out the window and sigh, wishing I could spend all day inside, puttering around the house, baking cookies, and reading a book. The appointment with Frank, Noah, and June is in an hour, so I better get ready. I need to find my stained-glass supplies because they’re still packed in a box in the basement—I haven’t used them since I moved.
I’m already dreading working with June Clemson on the stained-glass windows if Noah’s reaction was correct about her. But I trust God to guide me to joyfully accept June onto the team. There’s no doubt I’m going to need His help on this one.
Pulling into the FaithBridge parking lot, I see three cars already parked near the door. I grab my umbrella, supplies, and laptop bag, sprinting to the door. Woosh! A burst of wind and rain accompanies me inside. Three pairs of eyes greet me as I make my hasty entrance.
Shaking the water from the umbrella, I approach the small group. Frank looks the same as he did the last time we saw him—in his overalls, with a beat-up ball cap on his head. A battered toolbox sits at his feet, and the big ladder is set up beside the stained-glass window. The way he keeps taking sneaky glances over at June makes me wonder if he’s interested in her. Frank and June? My inner matchmaker flares to life.
Noah’s hair still has droplets of rain on it, and his shirt is wet, causing it to cling to all his very fine muscles. Rae, keep your mind on the project and not the handsome single dad.
June is dressed as if she’s going to church, in a flowery dress and high-heeled shoes. Her white hair is in a style reminiscent of how my mom used to fix her hair, complete with copious amounts of hairspray to hold it firmly in place.
I look down at myself. With me in my old khakis and a worn-out Henley shirt, we make quite the motley crew.
“Welcome, Rae! June was just telling us about her extensive knowledge of stained glass,” Noah says with a slight twitch in his lips.
Relieved that I missed that, I smile and say, “Her experience will come in handy, I’m sure.”
Noah stifles a laugh under a cough.
“It’s too wet to take down a section today, but I’ll inspect each one,” Frank says, cutting off any more chitchat.
Noah assists Frank to position the ladder, and they converse about each section and how difficult or easy it will be to remove it. Some of the wood frame between sections has weathered badly, giving cause for concern.
June sits beside me as I attempt to type notes of the men’s conversation into my laptop. Her snippets of conversation are distracting.
“You’re the lady who sits in the last pew. I’ve seen you a couple of times at the Sunday service.”
I feel remiss at my lack of introduction earlier, so I extend my hand. “Raelynn Dailey. Everyone calls me Rae.”
She shakes my hand while looking me over from head to toe, making me feel like a gnat under a microscope. “That’s such a lovely name, dear. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone named Raelynn before.”
Smiling at her compliment, I say, “My grandfather’s name is Ray and Mom’s best friend is named Lynn. So, Mom combined the two.”
June puts her hand on her heart. “How wonderful! My mother wasn’t quite as original—I’m named after the month I was born in.”
We both laugh.
“Would you like to join the FaithBridge Women’s Auxiliary? We meet once a month and help out serving for funerals and weddings.”
My eyes widen at the unexpected invitation. “Um, well, I teach kindergarten full time, so it might be difficult for me to help.” June looks disappointed with my reply and I feel a twinge of guilt. “Could I be on a back-up list in case you get in a pinch?”
Her face immediately brightens. “I’ll add you as a sub.” She doesn’t write anything down, so I wonder whether she’ll remember. June tilts her chin towards the men. “That Noah sure is a nice-looking young man,” she says.
I give her a sideways glance, wondering if she’s t
rying to play matchmaker too, but her expression looks innocent enough. I reply with a non-committal grunt.
“It sure was nice of you to volunteer for this project,” June continues.
I smile at this much safer topic. “I wanted to help and meet some new people at the same time.”
June beams. “Well, it’s nice to meet you as well, dear.” That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but I’m warming up to June despite her nosiness.
After several minutes, Noah and Frank join us, sitting in the pew behind where June and I are seated. “Frank has offered to take down the first section on the next dry day. I’ll give him Pastor Tim’s phone number so someone can meet him here if the rest of us are busy,” Noah says.
I jot that down in the notes I’ve been taking.
“Someone needs to provide a tarp so I can button up the hole after I take out that section,” Frank adds.
I nod and add a reminder in the notes to locate a tarp.
Now that the mundane stuff is done, June rises and claps her hands. “Who would like to join me at Sacred Grounds? They just added a line of sandwiches that I’m dying to try.”
Frank clears his throat. “I’d love to join you.”
Noah and I exchange a look, and I think we’re both thinking the same thing. Is there a romance brewing between these two?
“I’ll have to pass, I have an errand I need to run,” I quickly reply. Just stretching the truth a little since my errand is going home to do laundry. I give Noah a pointed look that says he shouldn’t crash Frank and June’s date. Since Frank and June are in an animated conversation about cheddar versus Swiss cheese, I add a couple eye rolls and an elbow in the ribs until he finally catches on.
“Um, I have to pick Sofie up from a playdate,” he says rather unconvincingly.
Frank collects his toolbox and escorts June out of the sanctuary. She flips open a blue flowered umbrella and they walk out underneath it.
“Well, that was a surprise,” Noah comments as we prepare to leave.
“What was?”
He laughs. “Frank blushing like a teenager and June giggling at his lame jokes. He distracted June so much she didn’t try to take over the project.”
“I think it’s sweet. They make a perfect pair. But didn’t they both work last year on the entry windows?”
“Funny thing, I don’t think they were ever at the church at the same time for that project.”
I giggle. “Too bad, their romance could have started sooner.”
The sides of Noah’s eyes crinkle with laugh lines. “True! You know, we could have gone to lunch with them. Going out as a group doesn’t break Principal Marshfield’s rules, does it?”
I kick myself for not thinking of that sooner. “Maybe not. But let’s give them time to get to know each other better first.”
Noah senses my reluctance to any off-hours socializing with him, even with a group. “I respect your wishes, Rae. But just know that once the school bell rings on May 23, I’ll be calling you for a date. That’s only six months away.”
He’s looked up the date for the last day of school? I’m impressed. “I’ll be waiting,” I say with a grin.
We walk outside, and I share my umbrella with Noah, keeping him dry on the way to his car. He waves once I’m safely in my vehicle and follows me out of the lot.
My unexpected crush on Noah Sullivan grows bigger every time I see him. What am I going to do to keep him at arm’s length?
Chapter Nine
Noah
THANKSGIVING SNUCK UP ON ME. My six new clients are keeping me busy, and I just today realized that Turkey Day is only three days away. I have so much to be thankful for this year. If you’d asked me a month ago, I would have been hard pressed to point to anything to be thankful for, but my life has changed. Do I even miss my old life anymore?
The house is almost packed, and we’re moving on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Pastor Tim insists that he can round up enough “strong bodies” to help move our stuff, so I rented a small moving van and trust that people will show up to help.
Ellie’s already moved to the apartment over the store. Sofie and I miss her, but we’re slowly adjusting to not having her around. I didn’t know how much I depended on my sister for all kinds of things like: how much soap to put in the washer and where to put it, how to make a grilled cheese sandwich without charring it, how to braid hair so it stays in the braid for more than five minutes. I sigh. My dad skills are being tested, but I’m learning.
I’ve planned a little get together for the last Thanksgiving in my house. Ellie, along with her boss and my new client, Margaret, are both coming over for the big dinner. Since I’ve never fixed a turkey before, let’s hope it doesn’t turn out like the one in Christmas Vacation.
“Sofie! Time to go to the store. Get your shoes on.” In my head, I hear Ellie teasing me that I left this chore to the last minute. Hope they still have a good selection of turkeys.
When we get to the grocery store, Sofie bounces beside me as we make our way through the aisles. The giant cart is over half full only a few aisles in. I swear they make the carts oversized, hoping you buy more stuff just to fill it up. Since I’ve never fixed Thanksgiving dinner before, I created a list on the grocery app on my cell and it’s clutched in my hand so I can reference it often.
“Which one should we pick, Daddy?” Sofie says while we’re standing beside the grocery cooler filled with frozen birds. I lean over and search through the case, picking the frozen birds up one at a time, reading the weight on the tag. Fifteen pounds. Twenty pounds. Twenty-three pounds. How big of a bird do I need?
“Trouble deciding, dear?”
Turning around, I see a diminutive white-haired lady standing beside me. Her cart is almost as full as mine.
I chuckle. “Is it that obvious?”
“Daddy’s baking a turkey!” Sofie shouts as she dances around the lady and me. Heads turn as nearby shoppers laugh at my daughter’s exuberance.
She bobs her white head. “You look a little like a deer caught in the headlights. How can I help?” My five-foot-one rescuer gives me a sweet smile while I corral Sofie, so she doesn’t knock over the King’s Hawaiian bread display.
“I’m not sure how many pounds to get,” I say with a sheepish grin.
She laughs. “How many guests are you feeding? And do they all like turkey?”
My brows draw together. “Ellie likes turkey, but maybe Margaret prefers ham? Should I also get a ham?” I vocalize my thoughts.
“Margaret Thompson? Are you that nice Noah fellow she raves about?”
Surprise lights up my face at the compliment. “Yes, I’m Noah Sullivan.” I extend my shake and we shake. “How do you know Margaret?”
“I own the quilt shop two stores down from Twice Again. I’m Grace McCallister. Do you think you could help me with my business finances? I hear you’re a real whiz.”
I pull out my wallet and hand her my business card. “I’d be happy to meet with you after Thanksgiving. Just give me a call.”
Grace beams at the card like I handed her something precious. She carefully puts it in her purse. “Now, back to those turkeys. If you don’t want a lot of leftovers, an eight- or ten-pound bird should suffice.”
We dig through the case together, looking for a smaller bird. I finally find an eleven-pounder hidden near the bottom and quickly put it in my cart so no one else snatches it up.
“Thank you for your help, Grace. Don’t forget to call me,” I say as Sofie and I proceed with our shopping.
She waves. “I’ll call next week.”
“Is she a grandma?” Sofie asks once we’re out of earshot. “I like her. Can she be my grandma?”
A stab of sadness hits me. Wish Mom were still here so she could watch her beautiful granddaughter grow up. “She’s got her own family, but you still have Aunt Ellie.”
Sofie’s face lights up. “And Miss Dailey.”
I smile and nod. May 23 can’t come fast enough.
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br /> “Let’s go figure out the difference between yams and sweet potatoes,” I say as we approach the produce section. My extensive research said either would be appropriate for our meal.
~*~
My alarm goes off bright and early on Thanksgiving morning. I’m leaving myself plenty of time to get the turkey in the oven since I’m a rookie at this.
I get out the tin foil roaster pan that Grace instructed me to purchase—I’m so glad she did because I don’t have any pans large enough to accommodate the eleven-pound bird.
Sofie joins me as I start preparing the turkey to put in the pan. My Google research said to look for the neck and a bag of giblets in the bird’s cavities. I naively thought you just removed the wrapper and put the bird in the oven.
I wrestle to pull out the neck because the inside of the bird is still frozen. Sofie watches closely with inquisitive eyes. She scrunches up her little nose when I pull the horrid-looking thing out. Her eyes are big as saucers and she looks like she’s going to cry. “What’s that? Icky!” she squeals.
I almost blurt out “it’s the neck” before I remember I’m speaking to a five-year-old. No need to have her cry for three hours over the reality of the turkey’s demise. I quickly shove the ugly thing back into the cavity. “Just some spices to make the turkey taste yummy,” I say.
Sofie looks skeptical, like she’s going to ask more questions, so I quickly come up with a diversion. “Would you like to watch cartoons in the living room?” I usually don’t allow my child to mindlessly watch TV, but this situation calls for a distraction and Ellie isn’t here to help me.
“Yes!” Sofie jumps up and down at the unexpected offer, quickly forgetting the icky sight. “Peppa Pig, Peppa Pig,” she sings as I find the show and leave her to watch it.
“We’ll have some honey nut O’s in a little bit,” I say. She nods, already absorbed in the show.
Back in the kitchen, I work quickly to remove the neck and giblets, putting them in a white plastic bag and into the garbage. The bird’s skin is much slipperier than I expected, so I hold on tight as I carefully place it in the pan. I can just imagine me dropping the turkey on the kitchen floor like that rerun episode from the TV show Raymond I saw just last week.
A Time for Faith Page 5