by Amanda Tru
By the end of the week, Beau was ready for it be over. If it wasn’t the bull getting out of his pen, it was the heating unit in the greenhouse breaking down. They’d spent an entire freezing night in there trying to save the plants from frost damage. He and the crew had definitely earned their time off.
He picked some flowers from the small garden Elizabeth kept tucked into the corner of the greenhouse. He figured she owed him. They smelled good even if he had no idea what they were. He shifted the flowers and the Art’s on Main bag to his other hand and knocked on Shelby’s front door.
When Shelby didn’t answer the door, he went around the side to look in her kitchen window and found her kneeling in the gravel. He dropped the flowers and bag and ran to her side. “Shelby are you okay?” He fell to his knees beside her, ignoring the gravel digging into his skin, and pulled her head up. Tears shimmered on her eyelashes.
“I’m okay.” Shelby sniffled, her eyes shining. “I just couldn’t go into the trees.” She hid her face in her hands as he pulled her into his chest. He could feel her shaking. “I didn’t know that you were so scared of the trees.”
“That’s the thing.” Shelby tilted her head back so he could look down into her eyes. “I’m not.” A tear slid down her cheek. “It’s the shadows and the closeness and the…”
Beau hadn’t seen a bear or cougar near town in a while, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. If one had shown up, he’d have to let the forest service know before someone got hurt.
“And then what, Shelby? Did you see something in there that scared you?”
She hid her face against his chest and mumbled something into his shirt.
“What was that again?” He hated to push her, but he couldn’t keep her safe if he didn’t know what he was looking for.
She turned her head to the side and laid it against his shoulder. “Squirrels.”
Beau tried not to laugh. He really did. But he could no more stop the booming laugh that welled out of him than he could stop a tsunami. It just rolled over him.
“It’s not funny.” Shelby poked him in the shoulder. “Squirrels are vicious rodents. They can throw stuff at you with the precision of a kid with a slingshot. And they attack the face with their teeth.” She shuddered. “It’s awful.”
Beau’s laughter had subsided, but he chuckled a few more times. “I’m sorry.” He gave her a quick hug and pulled her to her feet. “I don’t think there are any squirrels in the forest here. But I will take that chance and go cut you down a tree.” He squeezed her upper arms and bent down to look into her eyes. “Is that okay with you?”
She nodded and wiped the tears off her face with the edge of her sleeve. “I dropped the ax there,” she pointed at a huge pine tree sitting up against the property line.
“Do you care what kind of pine I bring back?”
“Not really.” She pushed her hands into the opposite sleeves and avoided looking at him. “Just needs to be less than eight feet tall. Otherwise, it won’t fit.”
“I’ll just top it, if it is. Why don’t you go back inside, and I’ll bring the tree around when I’m done. We can start all over again. Okay?”
She nodded shyly, twisting her hair around one finger. He could swear it was different today, but he didn’t know what had changed. “I’ll be back in a bit.” He strode into the forest and found the ax right where she said it was. It didn’t take much time to find the perfect tree, chop it down, and drag it back.
He opened the front door. “I’m coming in with the tree. Where do you want it?”
The walls muffled Shelby’s voice, but it sounded like she wanted it in the living room.
“Okay, I can do that.” Beau found the stand and with some quiet prayers for patience managed to manhandle it into the stand. He took a step back. It looked okay to him. “I’ll be right back, Shelby.”
Her response was still muffled but definitely an okay. He hurried out the door, closing it gently behind him, and followed the same path he’d taken earlier. There, on the gravel, lay the flowers and the bag, all of them a bit worse for wear. He frowned as he picked them up and tried to straighten the stems. The bag was a mess but, when he peeked inside, found everything in one piece. He sighed with relief and strode back to the front door.
“Let’s try this again.” Beau knocked on front door and waited for Shelby to answer it. The door creaked open, Shelby standing just beside it. She’d put up her hair and, although her nose was still a bit rosy, her face was scrubbed of the tears. He stared at her hair, pulled up and knotted on the top of her head, some of it falling around her face, framing it.
“Did you do something different with your hair?” It looked fuller and purpler, if that was even possible.
“Like it?” She touched a tendril with a delicate fingertip. “I got it cut earlier today.” She moved to the side. “Come on in.”
He thrust the flowers at her. “These are for you.”
One of the flower heads fell off as she reflexively took them from him. There were still enough flowers to overflow her arms, though. Maybe I overdid it with the flowers.
Shelby buried her nose in the bouquet and immediately sneezed. She giggled, in a stuffy sort of way. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” She turned on her heel and headed toward the kitchen. “Come on back. I’ll put these in water while you make the coffee.”
“Slave driver,” said Beau, following on her heels. He heard her chuckle and grinned to himself. She stood on tiptoes to grab a large mason jar from a high shelf. Beau grabbed the jar for her before she could tip it over. They were mere inches apart, and the scent of jasmine clung to Shelby’s hair, intoxicating Beau’s senses.
“Thanks.” Shelby clutched it to her chest. He placed a hand on the counter beside her and leaned forward. She began to close her eyes. A shrill bell went off in the kitchen. Shelby’s eyes flew open, and she pushed past him to the stove. “Sorry. The cookies are gonna burn.”
She yanked the oven door open and withdrew a cookie sheet laden with cookies, perfectly browned and crisp around the edges.
Beau struggled between being annoyed that he hadn’t got to kiss her and delighted that she made him cookies. He sniffed the air. “Are those oatmeal raisin?”
“Yes,” she said sliding one cookie after another onto a spatula from the cookie sheet and off onto a baking rack. He immediately forgave her. Anyone who baked oatmeal cookies was a treasure.
“You do like those, right?” She stopped in mid-slide. “If you don’t, I might have some Oreos stashed away.”
“Oatmeal raisin is my favorite.” He snagged one from the baking rack and bounced it from hand to hand. “Why do you have a stash of Oreos?’
Shelby slid the last one onto the baking rack and removed the oven mitt she’d been wearing. “Well,” she picked up a cookie and blew on it, “turns out Anne has quite the sweet tooth.” She bit into the cookie and made a happy sound as she chewed.
He hid his grin by eating his own cookie. When he was done, he put the water on to make the coffee. “Oh, I forgot.” He handed her the Art’s on Main bag. “This is for you. I hope you like it. And, um, ignore the dirt.”
Shelby wiped her hands on a kitchen towel then took the bag from him. “You didn’t have to do this.” She opened the bag and then slammed it shut again. Her eyes were wide. “Shut up. You didn’t.” She opened the bag again and upended it on the counter.
Despite what she’d just said, he assumed she was happy from all the noises she was making. He barely caught her as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He caught himself, though, and leaned his hip against the counter before putting his arms around her shoulders and returning the hug. It felt like an eternity and ended too soon when Shelby pulled away. Her cheeks blazed as she turned from him.
“Everything okay?” Did he hug her too hard? Maybe he shouldn’t have hugged her at all. It was hard to tell with women in general but her specifically. “Did I do something wrong?”
She
lby’s laugh had a wet edge to it. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just wasn’t expecting that.” She pointed to the paint tubes. “You realize that they’re top of the line? It’s more than I can afford, so I stay away from there. Otherwise, it’d either bankrupt me or send me tail-spinning into depression.” She picked them up and put them back in the bag. “And now I’m babbling. First the thing with the tree and now this. You must think I’m nuts.”
Her forlorn expression tugged at his heart, and he wanted to hug her to him again. “I always thought you were nuts, Shelby.”
That startled a laugh out of her. “Thanks. I think.” She looked down at the bag to close it and pulled out the gift certificate instead. “What’s this?” Her gaze flew to his, and she shook her head. “Oh my, Beau. This is too much, really.” She handed it to him. “You already pay me a salary and gave me flowers and a present. I can’t accept this, too.”
He stuck his hands in his jean pockets so she couldn’t shove it into his hand. “Too bad. It’s a gift, and you can’t give a gift back.”
She put her hands on her hips, gift certificate curled in one hand. “You’re not going to budge on this are you?”
She looked so flustered, her cheeks were rosy from the hot oven, and her purple pansy hair curled around her face. He couldn’t help but grin at her and give her a slow shake of the head. “Nope. You’re stuck with it.” He nodded at her hand.
“Fine.” She put it in the bag, but he could see the smile she tried to hide from him. “I’ll just put these in the studio. Be right back.”
He leaned against the counter to let her pass, the smell of her hair floating behind her. He tried to gain control of himself and partially succeeded. You’re not a teenager, so stop acting like one. He rubbed a hand across his face and turned to the coffee pot to keep himself busy. The coffee was finally ready when she came back.
“Ready to start the decorating?” He handed her the cup he’d poured for her. “Just tell me where the stuff is in the loft, and I’ll pull it down for you.”
She sipped the coffee and looked toward the ceiling. “As I recall the ornaments and other tree decorations are in the front on the left. What I don’t remember is if they’re labeled.”
He scratched his chin and squinted at the ceiling. “I’ll go take a look. Is there a light up there, or do I need a flashlight?”
Shelby rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a flashlight that could have doubled as a nightstick. “It’s the only one with working batteries at the moment.” She handed it to him. “Be careful on the stairs.”
He accepted the flashlight and took one last swig of coffee before heading into the loft. It didn’t take too long to find all the decorations and pack them down the stairs. “Where do you want this one?” He held up the last box for her inspection. Shelby stood on tiptoe and lifted the flaps to look inside.
“This looks like old tinsel. Huh.” She looked around the living room, hands on hips. “Go ahead and put it next to the sofa.”
There were four boxes stacked in the living room and another two in the kitchen. It felt like more when he was bringing them down. “Where do you want me to start?”
“Well,” she put her hands on her hips and twisted around to see all the boxes. “How about we start with the lights. That’s always a good base for any Christmas decorating.”
“Lights it is.” He picked up the box, set it on the coffee table, and opened it up. Inside were boxes of lights, all wrapped carefully around cardboard sleeves. “Wow. I think someone had OCD to put these back like this.”
“Mmm, probably.” She pulled a few out and began to unwind a string from the sleeve. “We’ll need to check these.” He groaned but did as she asked. He hated testing lights and then having to find the one tiny bulb that was broken that kept the whole thing from working. Maybe he could find some modern LED lights for her next year.
Of course, that meant she’d be around next year at this time. He turned that idea over in his mind. Did he want her to be around? His heart said yes. He took a quick look at Shelby and saw the serious expression on her heart-shaped face as she untangled a string of lights. If he wanted her to stay, he was going to have to be honest with her.
“Can I ask you something?” Shelby looked up from what she was doing. He nodded slowly. She held out the string of lights. “Can you get this knot out? I’m having a hard time with it.”
Relief swamped him. “Sure,” he held out a hand for it. “I’d be happy to.” He took the proffered light string and began to unravel it.
After a few minutes of troubleshooting and at least one minor electric shock, he had the string working again. “There. Put that on the tree before it tangles itself up again.”
Shelby scurried to the tree, lights in hand, and began to drape it around the pine boughs. “One down and about a million more to go.”
Beau chuckled. “I don’t think we have that many.” He handed her another box and set to work again on the one in his lap. “I need to tell you something.”
“Ok,” said Shelby not looking up from the lights before her.
“You’ve been amazingly honest with me.” Beau fiddled with the light, using a volt meter to test one bulb before moving onto the next. “And I haven’t been with you.”
Her head came up, eyes dark and liquid. “No? Are you hiding a deep dark secret?” Before he could say anything, she held up a hand. “No, don’t say anything. I’ll need fortification for this.” She tossed the light string aside and scrambled to the kitchen. A few minutes later she came back with two cups of coffee and a plate of cookies balanced on a vintage silver serving tray.
“That looks too good to eat,” said Beau, as he picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip.
“But not too-too good,” replied Shelby. She nibbled the edge of a cookie. “So, what is that you wanted to tell me?”
Beau cleared his throat. “Well. Like I said, I’ve not been as honest with you as you’ve been with me. And I don’t want that standing between us.” She leaned back against the sofa and nodded to him. “I did date Lena.” Shelby’s eyes brightened. “Hold on. I’ve yet to tell you why, though.”
He set the lights down on the ground to straighten them out. “Have you ever read a story where the guy falls in love with the less popular or ugly girl over the objection of the pretty girl?”
“Sounds like every teen film from the 90s.”
“Yeah, although I’m kind of surprised you know that.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, making her giggle. “So, you’d think that this story is a lot like that. Unfortunately, just because someone is ugly or homely on the outside, it doesn’t mean they’re beautiful on the inside.” He rubbed the side of his nose. “Lena wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t the prettiest girl at school either. What she did have was a tough home life. Parents weren’t abusive, but they were harsh. Understand the difference?”
Shelby nodded. “I think so.” She picked up another cookie and took a small bite from it. “They didn’t hit her or anything?”
“No, and it might have been easier if they had, odd as that may sound. Instead, they expected the best from her. Grades, choir, soccer. Whatever they thought would make her a better person, or more rounded person,” he air-quoted, “that’s what they would have her do. And what’s worse is that she just accepted it. It was normal for her. There was no joy in that household. Everything was a competition with only one outcome.”
“So why date her to begin with, if you knew that?”
“You know that whole ‘be a better person’ thing her parents focused on?” Shelby slowly nodded as Beau tapped the table with his finger. “That applied to everything. Including dating. At first, it was flattering. Lena lavished attention on me. She was popular enough to make it go to my head. But I found out the hard way that, for her, it was a game. She did it to win, and when she did, she moved on.”
Shelby chewed her cookie and swallowed. “So, she won you and then dumped you?”
“No, she w
anted to marry me and take the ranch. At least my step-mom and dad found out what was going on before it was too late.” He leaned forward and snagged a cookie from the tray. “I was furious and more than a little hurt when I found out. I confronted her about it and, you know the worst part?”
Shelby’s eyes had grown large. “There’s a worst part?”
Beau gave her a short nod. “Oh, yes. The worst part was that I thought she cared for me. I was willing to lay down my life for her, marry her, have kids with her. The whole nine yards.” He crumbled the edge of the cookie and wiped the crumbs off on to the platter.
“What happened then? I mean, you obviously didn’t marry her.” Shelby’s hand flew to her throat. “You didn’t, right?”
Beau chuckled at the horror on her face. “No, I didn’t. We had it out well before that happened. She admitted that’s what she was doing. At least she was finally honest about it. I think it was a relief to her as well.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I broke it off, and the moment I turned eighteen, I joined the Marines.” He set the cookie down on the coffee table that lay between them. “I didn’t come home for nearly twenty years. Never married, either.”
Her eyes never wandered from his face, and he could tell her mind was spinning.
“So, what changed?” asked Shelby finally.
Beau tilted his head to the side. “I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘what changed’?”
“She obviously hurt you deeply, but I can tell you trust people. Someone who hasn’t forgiven can’t do that.”
“True,” said Beau nodding, wondering if she had experience with what she was talking about. “Christ was the difference. Without Him, I would be a miserable old man. But He changed my life, and I’m forever grateful for it.” He popped a piece of the cookie in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Still a horrible sinner, of course. But at least I’m aware of it and doing my best to not be that person anymore.”