A Time for Faith

by Busboom, Leah

  “Um, those smell good.” She nods towards the basket in my hands. I wrapped the biscuits in two towels and tucked them in the basket, hoping to keep them warm.

  “My grandmother’s biscuits,” I say as I follow Ellie into the kitchen. “We might have to warm them up for a few minutes.”

  The kitchen is a hive of activity. Noah smiles and waves from his position at the counter carving the ham. Margaret gives me a quick hug as she flits by with a bubbling casserole dish and sets it on the dining table already set with plates and silverware. Sofie’s folding festive-looking napkins and carefully placing them beside each plate.

  “Can I do anything?” I say to the room.

  “We’re almost ready,” Noah says as he lifts the platter of ham and carries it into the dining room.

  “Let’s pop those biscuits in the microwave for a few seconds,” Ellie adds.

  We heat the biscuits and Ellie finds a tub of margarine in the fridge. I should have brought real butter, but I didn’t think of it.

  Once we’re all settled at the table, Margaret instructs us to join hands, then leads us in prayer. “Lord, thank you for bringing us together as family and friends today and thank you for this glorious meal. We are grateful for this time spent in fellowship together. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  Amens echo around the table. Sofie’s high-pitched voice joins in with the adult voices. I wink at Noah and he grins back.

  Silverware clinks on the china plates, and our conversation is all about the food.

  “The ham is cooked perfectly,” I tease Noah.

  He rolls his eyes. “It better be. This is my third ham, and now I’m a pro at fixing it.”

  “Unlike turkey,” Ellie adds.

  “Are these scalloped potatoes?” I direct the question to Ellie. “They’re tasty and so cheesy.”

  Ellie laughs. “Actually, they’re called ‘Cheesy Potatoes.’ I fix them for every holiday meal.”

  “It’s the only kind she knows how to fix,” Noah adds, and Ellie sticks her tongue out at him.

  Margaret chuckles at the friendly banter as she butters her biscuit. “These are delicious, Rae. Did you make them from scratch?” she asks between bites.

  I nod. “Grandmother’s recipe.”

  Noah helps Sofie butter her biscuit, and she nibbles on it while ignoring her servings of ham, green beans, and potatoes. “Eat what’s on your plate, Sofie,” Noah says as he points his fork to the forlorn food. She wrinkles her nose but relents by taking a small bite of ham.

  We talk about various topics. I describe how the sun shone through the stained-glass window at the sunrise service and what a magnificent sight it was. Once the plates are cleared, Margaret appears with her special cake displayed artfully on a crystal cake stand. A thick layer of coconut covers the icing, and on the top of the cake, the coconut forms what looks like a bird’s nest. Three chocolate Easter eggs are nestled inside.

  Sofie claps her hands while the rest of us “ooh” and “aah” over the cake. It is quite the creation and must have taken her several hours to prepare. Margaret cuts thick slices, which we adults enjoy with coffee while Sofie has her usual glass of chocolate milk.

  “Wow Margaret, you really outdid yourself,” Noah says as he leans back in his chair, patting his full stomach. Sofie gets into the act by patting her stomach as well, making everyone chuckle.

  Noah and I clean up the kitchen, shooing Ellie and Margaret away. Sofie talks them into playing a rousing game of Candyland with her.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I say as I load the dishwasher.

  Noah’s wiping down the counters and washing a few of the larger pots and pans. He looks at me over his shoulder. “I’m glad you came, Rae.”

  Our eyes lock and we exchange goofy grins for several long beats. He looks like he’s going to kiss me, but a cheer from the dining room breaks the moment, and we return to our cleanup tasks.

  As I prepare to leave, Noah walks me to the front door. He leans in and whispers, “May 23 is only thirty-five days away.”

  “Are you counting down the days?” I tease, knowing that I’m doing the same thing.

  “Maybe?”

  We exchange grins and I walk out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Raelynn

  MY BROWS KNIT WITH CONFUSION when I see the handwritten note on my desk on Monday morning. It’s never a good thing when the principal calls you into her office.

  “Knock knock,” I say as I hover outside Principal Marshfield’s office. My palms are sweaty, and my heart is beating at a faster rate than normal.

  She looks up from her computer screen and smiles. “Come in, Rae. Close the door behind you, please.”

  It suddenly feels like a swarm of angry bees are attacking my stomach. I plaster a neutral expression on my face and take a seat across from the principal’s desk.

  She folds her hands on the top of the desk and looks me directly in the eye. I squirm internally at her fixed gaze. “Rae, I’m so pleased with your teaching. This being only your first year here, you are gelling with your colleagues, plus the kids and parents rave about you.”

  When she pauses for a few seconds, I feel there’s a “but” coming. Concern and trepidation draw my eyebrows together and I pull in a big breath.

  “Unfortunately, a parent has complained that you’re seeing Noah Sullivan. The parent brought to my attention that you attended church service with Noah yesterday and that you two looked very ‘cozy.’ They’re concerned that’s a conflict of interest and that you will give his daughter preferential treatment. And, of course, you’re already familiar with our school’s ‘no dating’ policy.” Principal Marshfield continues to stare intently at me, waiting for my response.

  Nervously clearing my throat, I say, “Noah and his daughter attended church yesterday and they sat with me. He’s going through a rough patch and I thought church would help him.” The principal’s expression doesn’t change, so I continue. “Honestly, Mrs. Marshfield, I don’t see how that breaks the rules. We’re at church along with at least sixty other people.”

  She sits up straighter in her chair. “Rae, I’m sure that seems innocent to you, but I can’t have my teachers giving any inappropriate impressions to other parents. Until the end of the school year I ask that you have no interactions with Mr. Sullivan outside of school when he drops off or picks up his child. I won’t put you on probation, but this is a warning.”

  I furiously blink back tears, never intending to put my teaching career at stake. Unable to speak because of the emotion jamming my throat, I nod and stand.

  Mrs. Marshfield puts up her hand, halting me from leaving. She gives me an encouraging smile. “I’m a firm believer that the best way to avoid gossip is to avoid any situation that can be misconstrued. It’s really that simple.”

  “Thank you for the advice,” I say stiffly, then walk out the door. My heart feels heavy as I make my way back to my classroom. I knew that Noah and I were stretching the rules a bit. Now, we have to the toe the line for thirty-four more days.

  When my students start arriving, they lift my somber mood with their excited, happy voices. This is why I’m a teacher—molding and shaping these young lives. Purpose fills my heart, and I feel God gently guiding me. Noah and I can wait a month for our happily ever after.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Noah

  RAE CALLED ME IN TEARS because the principal gave her a warning about her relationship with me. A straitlaced parent saw us in church and complained. We’ve been mindful of that darn “no dating” rule the whole time, and I don’t feel like we’ve broken it. But Rae said that her actions are under the microscope and that we can’t do anything that could be “misconstrued” (Principal Marshfield’s words, not mine).

  For the first time, I wish that Sofie was in the other kindergarten class, but then would I ever have met Rae? I blow out a frustrated breath knowing that the next thirty-three days are going to be lonely. Rae says we can’t have our ni
ghtly phone chats anymore either.

  Maybe I need to take up a hobby to keep my mind off the beautiful teacher. Ellie’s been bugging me to take Frankie to obedience classes. The dog can be naughty and hard of hearing at times. I investigate the schedule at the community center and sign up for an upcoming class.

  Today’s my day to visit all my clients. I make my rounds once a month and discuss any questions or changes in their business with them. It’s an exhausting day, but I’m thankful for all my customers and this new job that allows me flexibility in my schedule. It has made a world of difference with meshing my schedule to Sofie’s. A small frown crosses my face when I realize that the only time I’m going to see Rae in the next month is school drop off and pick up. We probably shouldn’t even attend the same church service anymore—although I really need to continue attending because Pastor Tim’s sermons are always uplifting.

  Putting thoughts of Rae aside, I stride into Sacred Grounds for my meeting with Margaret. She’s always the first client on my schedule because she insists on meeting me at the coffee shop so we can indulge in a sweet treat and a cup of coffee. Truth be told, me and my sweet tooth look forward to this meeting as much as she does.

  Margaret’s sitting at our usual booth in the corner. A carafe of coffee, two mugs, and a plate of blueberry scones sit on the tabletop. “Noah! Come sit down. I already ordered your favorite brew.” Margaret holds up the carafe and waves it back and forth.

  “You are sure chipper this morning, Margaret,” I say as I slide into the booth while trying to stifle a yawn. “Sofie kept me up later than usual with an art project that was due today,” I add as way of explanation for my sleepy state.

  My client laughs. “What was it this time? A caterpillar made from an egg carton?”

  “No, she already did that one,” I say with a chuckle. “We were tracing and cutting out flowers on different colors of construction paper. The actual assembly of the project happens today at school. Frankly, I don’t really know what the endgame is on this project.”

  A belly laugh floats across our section of the small café. “That’s priceless, Noah,” Margaret says as she wipes a few tears of laughter from the sides of her eyes.

  I flip over one of the mugs and pour out a brimming cup, then grab a scone, letting the caffeine and sugar hit my system. We enjoy our food and drink in companionable silence until we polish off several scones and the carafe is empty. Margaret signals a waitress to come refill the carafe. “We can’t have too much coffee,” she says with a wink.

  “What’s new at Twice Again that I need to know about? Since we got you on QuickBooks, things have been running smoothly, right?”

  Margaret agrees and then proceeds to tell me about a new section of the store that will sell handmade pieces made by local artists. We discuss how to set up a consignment arrangement with the artisans and what the profit splits should be. Ellie already told me about this new venture, and she’s as excited about it as Margaret is.

  Several minutes later, Margaret says, “Okay, Noah. No more shoptalk. Tell me what you have planned for that lovely teacher on May 23. How are you going to romance her?”

  My eyes widen because I haven’t talked to anyone about this except Ellie, who obviously told Margaret. When will I learn that my sister can’t keep her mouth shut? “Um, well, I haven’t thought about it too much yet.”

  A loud snort accompanies my words. “You have to plan ahead, Noah. I know a romantic restaurant in the foothills that’s getting rave reviews. You should check it out online and make a reservation. I’ll text you the name once I think of it.”

  I chuckle. “Thanks for the help, Margaret.”

  “Anytime, anytime.” The glint in her eye tells me that she enjoys offering dating advice.

  We wrap up the meeting and I feel a lightness in my step just thinking about how I’m going to “romance the beautiful kindergarten teacher” on May 23. Getting Margaret’s help makes it easier; I just have to look up that place and get a reservation.

  I walk three doors down from the café to the quilt store, which is quiet this early in the morning. Classes don’t start until after noon, so I find Grace manning the register while working on a quilt.

  “Good morning, Grace,” I say to announce my presence since she’s so absorbed in her work.

  “Oh, Noah! I lost track of time. Let’s go in the office for our meeting; I’ll be able to watch for anyone who comes in.”

  I nod and follow her to the tiny office. “The quilt you were working on is beautiful. Are you going to sell it?”

  She laughs. “No, I make every grandkid a quilt for their tenth birthday. This is my fifth one to make and I still have two to go.”

  “They must love them. Such a special gift.”

  She smiles. “It’s my legacy to them. They can pass it down to their kids.”

  Nodding at Grace’s loving gesture to her grandkids, I think about the feeling of family that permeates this small town. It makes me want even more to build a lasting relationship with Rae here in Paradise Springs. Marry her and have a couple more kids.

  Grace and I review a couple of invoices from her vendors that had unexpectedly gone up this month. I make a note to contact the supplier to understand why. After I answer a few of her QuickBooks questions, Grace says, “Now tell me about your little romance with the kindergarten teacher.”

  My neck heats and my ears turn red. Does everyone in this town know about Rae and me? “Ah, well, there’s not much to tell. We can’t officially date until school is out since Sofie’s in her class.”

  Grace shakes her gray head. “Principal Marshfield is so strict.” She makes a tsk tsk sound and I don’t know if that’s approval or disapproval of the principal. “So, what’s your big plan after the last day of school? Flowers? A romantic dinner?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but Grace cuts me off. “Oh! I just heard about a wonderful new restaurant. They do that farm to table thing. I’ll call my daughter and ask her for the name. You should definitely try it.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate the help, Grace.”

  She gives me a beaming smile. When a customer enters the store, I wrap up our meeting and let myself out. My shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. I’m two for two in terms of clients giving me dating advice. I wonder who’s next?

  After several more client meetings, I wrap up my day at Evans Garage. Fortunately, none of my other clients had dating advice, and I don’t expect any from the taciturn garage owner either.

  I walk into the busy service area looking for my client. He does a thriving business, that’s for sure. Every bay is filled with a variety of vehicles, and mechanics scurry about wielding tools and making quite a bit of racket. A wrench falls onto the concrete floor with a loud clang! and the noise reverberates around the whole building. I finally spot Logan at one of the far service bays, bent over working on a motorcycle.

  “Hey, Noah,” he says as I approach. “I lost track of time working on this beauty.”

  The motorcycle looks to be a vintage one, but I’m clueless as to what makes it special in Logan’s eyes. “Is now still a good time to meet?”

  He stands, wiping his hands on a towel. “Yeah, let’s go to my office.”

  We cram ourselves again into the tiny space that barely qualifies as an office. I shake my head in amusement at the piles of papers on his desk. He hasn’t heeded my advice to go digital.

  Logan hands me a box stuffed with papers and grins. “Here’s last month’s receipts.”

  At least I transitioned all his invoices from vendors to be online now, so the box is much less full than when I met with him the first time. “Thanks. Anything new we need to talk about? Have you thought any more about getting a cash register that could automate these receipts instead of continuing to use paper?”

  We’ve had this conversation for the last eight meetings, so I don’t expect a different answer, but I keep trying.

  He grunts. “You don’t give up, do you?” Bene
ath his gruff, bearded exterior there’s a funny, engaging guy. You just have to dig for him.

  I laugh and hold up a hand. “Fair enough. I won’t mention it again.”

  A small smile tips his lips up. “I’m expanding to restore vintage vehicles. That motorcycle is our first client.”

  “Oh? That sounds interesting. Is there a lot of demand for that in this area?”

  He nods while I take some notes on my iPad. “Ernie retired earlier this year, leaving vintage owners with no repair place. I decided to take on Ernie’s old clientele. A few weeks ago, I met with Ernie’s supplier of vintage parts, so we’re set up to work on about anything now. Got a call about fixing a Model T last week, and that part is on order. I think this can be a lucrative addition to my business.”

  Nodding, I ask, “Do you plan on expanding the garage area as well?” I point towards the service bays already filled to capacity.

  “Yep, Ernie offered to rent his old space to me. I might have two locations, one for vintage repairs and one for everything else.”

  “Give me the rent numbers and your fees for the vintage work and I’ll do a revenue projection for you.”

  “You can do that?” His eyes go wide at my suggestion.

  I laugh. “Yes, we want to make sure your new venture has a positive ROI.”

  Logan’s eyes roll back in his head at my mention of anything having to do with finances. “Well, thanks. I’ll get you those numbers next week.”

  I nod, knowing that the information will be scribbled on a slip of paper. Oh well. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.

  As I put away my tablet, Logan says, “So I heard you and the kindergarten teacher have a romance going on.”

  My mouth hangs open because that’s the last thing I expected to come out of Logan’s mouth. “We aren’t officially dating until after school’s out.”

  He laughs. “Mrs. Marshfield and her strict rules.”

  I wonder how he knows about that, but I don’t ask.