by Lisa Jordan
What happened to the cream-colored walls and the gleaming wooden floor?
She had taken pride in making the house cozy and keeping it clean, even with their limited budget.
The thirsty floorboards creaked beneath their feet as they moved from the living room into the dining room.
Memories of a different life drifted up from behind every crack and crevice, threatening to buckle her knees.
Love had been a constant in the beginning months of her marriage to Bobby Levine, but those rose-colored glasses cracked before their second anniversary when she learned about his first affair. The beginning of broken promises, pleas for second chances…and thirds.
She’d spent ten years in this house until… Her eyes skimmed the staircase hugging the left wall…. No, she definitely wasn’t going there. She shifted her gaze and hurried through the archway into the kitchen.
Bracing her hands against the stained porcelain sink, she forced the shudder in her chest to calm. She stared out the cracked window to the backyard at the mangled rosebush and neglected flower beds.
“Red?”
She turned and nearly bumped into Ian.
Agnes ran a trembling hand along the counter dulled by decades of use. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Sorry, I kind of just took off.”
“No need for apologies.”
The yellowed floral-printed wallpaper curled at the corners. She pressed the brittle paper back in place, but the moment she let go, the edges pulled away from the wall. She knew that feeling of continuing to hold on, wondering if hope had forgotten her.
“If your mama had chosen a different house, I’d have the first coat of paint on the walls already.”
“We can’t deal in ‘if only.’” He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his hand lingering on her hair. “Given the chance, this house—and the women in it—can be redeemed. Sometimes it takes peeling away the layers to find the promise for the future. But if you don’t think you can do it—”
“I said I’d do it.” She stepped away from his touch and waved a hand over the kitchen. “It’s just a little tough being here again. That was a painful time in my life.”
“I know. If I could turn back time, I’d object to you marrying that jerk.” The muscle in his jaw twitched, and his hand balled into a fist.
“You had the chance. Why didn’t you?” The words slipped over her lips before she had time to think about what she had just said.
He turned away. “You chose him. I couldn’t stand in the way of your happiness.”
Angry tears threatened. Her happiness? The only man she had wanted to stand beside her at the altar saw her as a buddy, a pal.
No, she hadn’t chosen. She’d settled.
“I asked you if there was any reason why I shouldn’t marry Bobby. You said no.”
“I was your friend, Red. I couldn’t stand in the way of your future.”
She scoffed and shook her head.
Friend.
Right.
He faced her again, a scowl scrunching his eyebrows. “That creep and this house have drained you emotionally. Now it’s time for healing. Learn to let go and forgive. Leave the past where it belongs and focus on your future, Red.”
“I don’t know what the future holds.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.
“But God does. I’m here for you, too.”
“You’re a good friend, Ian. The best a girl could have.”
He shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Friend. Yes, seems to be my lot in life.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. I’m proud of you, Red. Just so you know that…. You said you’d never step foot in this house again, and look where you are now.”
“Yeah, well, you were pretty convincing.”
He glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment soon, but first I want to check upstairs.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the kitchen and into the dining room toward the steps.
Agnes tried to pull her hand from his grasp. “Wait, where are you taking me?”
He released her hand and gripped the nicked banister. “Just upstairs.”
Agnes’s eyes studied each step until they reached the top. She lifted a foot onto the first step. Her breath choked in her throat.
Ian scowled and said something, but the roaring in her ears drowned out his words.
Yelling. Accusations. Pleas. Broken promises jostled at a locked door in the back of her mind. Feeling that first step beneath her foot pried that door of memories loose, exposing past aches.
Her heart raced as her breathing quickened. She squeezed her eyes shut. She watched herself reliving the fall—every bone and muscle knocking off the steps—until she landed in a crumbled heap at the bottom, aching for what she had lost.
Those bones healed and the bruises faded, but Bobby’s role in her accidental fall tore away a part of her that could never be put back together.
Agnes wrapped her arms around her stomach. God, please…make it stop.
She shook her head, tears flooding her eyes. “I can’t go up there. I just can’t.”
Turning, she fled to the front door, wrenched it open and stumbled into the sunshine. Without checking to see if Ian followed her, she hurried down the sidewalk past his Ford Escape.
Ian wanted this house to bring his family back together, but how could they find hope when all she felt was pain?
*
As long as he lived, he’d never forget the look of torture that contorted Red’s pale face as she stared up at him from the bottom of the steps.
He wanted to gather her to his chest and protect her from her past. But that was impossible. All he could do now was help her to face it in order to heal and have the life God desired for her.
Palming the warm pizza on one hand, Ian rapped his knuckles against Red’s front door, praying she didn’t slam it back in his face.
A moment later, she opened it, giving him a wary smile. “If you’re fixing to change my mind about going upstairs, it’s not going to happen.”
“Of course not.” Ian held out the large red and white box. “Pizza offering?”
“Come in. It’s not polite for a girl to leave a guy standing on her front step.”
“Especially when he’s holding her favorite pizza.”
“Especially then.” She flashed a quick smile, giving him a glimpse of the spunky Red he knew and loved.
The exterior of Red’s brick apartment building lacked character, but her place exploded with color. Cream-colored walls, an orange couch, a bluish-green printed chair with matching ottoman, sheer blue curtains hanging from tree branch curtain rods that had been pushed back to allow the sunshine to spill across the hardwood floor. White daisies in a yellow pitcher sat on a wicker and glass coffee table. And plants in colored pots sat all over the place.
She had exchanged her work clothes for cutoff denim shorts that showcased her bare legs and a blue Lone Star State T-shirt. Red pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and tossed it in a pottery bowl on the end table. She fluffed her ginger curls around her face, then took the pizza from him.
Ian followed her through the living room into the kitchen.
She set the box on the table and pulled two red stoneware plates from the cupboard. Ian opened the lid, releasing scents of yeast, tomatoes and oregano.
She peeked over his shoulder, her hair brushing against his cheek. “You got pineapple and ham. My favorite.”
“Of course.” He took a step back to keep from winding one of those curls around his finger. Hands off. He was her friend. “You want to tell me why you hightailed it out of there so quickly?”
She set the plates on the table and turned away to open a drawer. Grabbing two forks, she looked at him, her eyes shrouded with pain.
She thrust the utensils sat him, then turned and gripped the edge of the sink. “Even after all this time, the stairs…well, they’re a visual reminder of the fall and what I lost
that night. I guess I kind of freaked out. Sorry. Anyway, let’s eat before this pizza gets cold.”
She flashed him another quick smile, but this one did little to extinguish the torment in her eyes. She reached into the box to lift out a slice of pizza. Wrapping the melted cheese strings around her finger, she nodded toward the living room. “Let’s eat in there. Grab us a couple of Cokes, will you?”
Leaning against the sink, he watched her leave and ground his teeth together. He wanted to kick himself for pushing her into going to the house when she wasn’t ready.
Way to go, dude.
He grabbed their drinks, then closed the refrigerator door with his hip. Snatching his plate, he headed for the living room.
Red set her plate on the coffee table and pushed the pitcher out of the way to make room for his before sitting on the couch.
Once Ian settled on the cushion next to her, he reached for her hand. “Let’s pray before I start eating like a heathen.”
They bowed their heads while Ian blessed the food.
She echoed his “amen” and gave his hand a light squeeze, sending a shock of heat up his arm.
He pulled his fingers out of her grasp and reached for his pizza. “So, have you forgiven me yet?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Ian. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just…overwhelmed, I guess.” She rested her head against the back of the couch, her hair fanning against a multicolored afghan.
He nudged her shoulder with his. “Still, if it’s too much, we can find someone else to paint. You know what the rooms look like. Choosing colors and all that stuff with Mom won’t be too bad, will it? Then volunteers can handle the rest.”
“No, I don’t want you to do that.” She shrugged, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “The Lord and me…we’ll get it figured out.”
“Maybe this is His way of saying it’s time to move on…to something new.”
“We’ll see. Did I see you sneak in a Cuppa Josie’s bag?”
“If I say yes, do you promise to keep me in the loop about how you’re dealing with the house?”
“Depends on what’s in the bag.”
“Josie’s chocolate macadamia nut brownies.”
Agnes closed her eyes and groaned. “Guess I’ll have to stick with one piece of pizza. I can’t afford to buy new jeans.”
“Believe me, Red. There’s nothing wrong with your jeans.” He threw his crust on his plate and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.
“Ian, I’m in to help with the house. Just let me work at my own pace. I promise to have the job done by your mama’s deadline.”
“You bet. With your talents and my brawn…” He paused to flex his muscles. “We can whip that house into shape in time for Zoe to come home.”
“When are you going to find time to remodel a house in a few short months? Your job keeps you going all over the county. And when you’re not working, you’re harassing me or hauling your nephew to practice.”
“Nice to know you worry about me.” He winked at her.
He liked knowing she cared.
She bumped him with her shoulder. “Well, someone has to.”
“I’ve wanted to fix houses since we took that mission trip over spring break in high school—you remember, when we helped that family fix their house after the hurricane? If I can help others, then I’ll make the time to do it.”
“You talked about my dreams, but when are you going to start living yours?”
“Being a claims adjuster is my job. Pursuing my passion of restoring houses feels a little out of reach. Opening Agape House and bringing Zoe home take priority. My dreams can wait once my family is restored.”
“You’re a good man, Ian, but what about starting your own family?”
“We talked about this, Red.” He scoffed and shook his head. “My life is crazy. I don’t have time right now. I didn’t spend enough time with Emily, remember?”
Dating women who weren’t Red didn’t appeal to him. He needed to focus on convincing her he was the right man for her.
“You need some fun in your life.”
“Yeah, well, that’s going to have to wait.” He stood and reached for his empty plate. “Sorry to eat and run, but I have to pick up Griffin from his buddy’s house.”
Red took his plate and set it on top of hers. “How’s that cute little nephew of yours doing?”
“He’d hate hearing you calling him cute or little. Being eight is a big deal, you know. Counting down the days to when he turns nine, which is around the time Zoe should be home.”
“He sure misses his mama.”
“We all do. If I had taken her call that night, then Zoe would be raising her kid instead of Mom and Dad.”
“You said we can’t focus on the ‘if onlys’ in life. Zoe chose to drink and drive, resulting in the loss of someone’s life. It’s tragic, but that’s not your burden to carry.” Red squeezed his shoulder.
Her gentle touch sparked his skin through his shirt. He reached for her hand and brushed a soft kiss across her fingers. “Says the queen burden carrier.”
She pulled her hands away and fisted them under her arms. “Has your dad come around?”
Ian crossed to the door and gripped the doorknob. “Nope, still as stubborn as ever. Thank God he doesn’t take out his anger at my sister on Griffin. He dotes on the kid.”
“Maybe Agape House is what y’all need.”
“I hope so, Red. At least for Griff’s sake. I don’t know how much more he can take. My sister’s made plenty of poor choices. Her kid doesn’t need to suffer because of them.”
“The rest of her life will be shaped by those choices. You need to stop dwelling on the false guilt you carry and focus on supporting Zoe’s fresh start and consider your own future.”
Didn’t she realize he couldn’t consider his future without her in it?
Chapter Three
When Mama decided she was done celebrating birthdays because they made her feel old, Agnes figured she’d better make her last party a doozy, even if Mama grumbled about turning sixty.
Aqua, yellow and lime-green balloons tied to the cedar rails rimming Mama’s back deck danced in the humid air. Streamers fluttered like kite tails. At least the rain held off, and the cloud cover kept the sun from baking the guests.
Agnes jammed the knife down the center of a buttercream-yellow rose, slid the piece of birthday cake onto a paper plate and handed it to Tyler Chase, Stephen and Lindsey’s son.
“Thanks, Miss Agnes.” He trotted off, trying to shove a forkful of cake in his mouth before skittering down the deck steps to the yard.
She started to call out for him to slow down, but Lindsey snatched him first.
Satisfied the child wasn’t about to impale his tonsils, Agnes checked the pitchers of sweet tea and lemonade to make sure they were at least half-full.
Then she reached for her camera to snap a few more pictures of guests sitting at the borrowed picnic tables covered in white tablecloths that dotted the backyard and of church friends gathered inside the gazebo Daddy had built for Mama as a twenty-fifth anniversary present.
Agnes zoomed in on Mama’s group of Sunday school terrors kneeling on the stones ringing the handmade koi pond, harassing the fat orange fish darting under the floating lily pads.
Sitting in the shade with her friends, Mama seemed to be enjoying herself as they watched the couples from church play cornhole.
Agnes focused on Ian. Still dressed in his tan dress pants and white polo shirt from church, he juggled the four corn-filled bags. He stepped forward and tossed one of the bags into the cornhole board across the grass. His shirt stretched across his back. His muscled forearms rippled.
Agnes’s face burned at the memory of his strong hands on her back when he hugged her.
Ian turned, filling her viewfinder with his wind-tossed hair and wide grin. She snapped as he winked and waved at her. Her heart somersaulted against her ribs.
Josie stepped through the sliding
glass door onto the deck with a fresh carton of vanilla ice cream. She set it in a tub of ice next to the sundae fixings, then tossed the empty carton into the trash can at the bottom of the steps.
“With an arm like that, maybe you should be joining your hubby in tossing those corn bags.”
“Nah, I couldn’t show him up in front of his friends.” Josie grabbed a strawberry from the watermelon fruit basket and leaned against the railing. “So, did you talk to your mom yet?”
Agnes reached for her camera again and focused on Josie’s expression as she smiled and reached for another berry. “Haven’t had time. It’s been a whirlwind weekend.”
Agnes set the camera down and reached for her sweet tea, pressing the cool glass against her heated cheeks. “I’ll talk to her after everyone leaves.”
“Talk to who, darlin’?”
Hearing Mama’s voice, Agnes stiffened. The woman had the stealth of a polecat. Agnes turned to find Mama climbing the deck stairs.
The wind ruffled the spiky points of Mama’s short cap of snowy hair. Hours spent tending to her gardens this spring afforded a sun-kissed glow across her narrow face. Her white crocheted sweater over a peacock blue and lime-green printed dress shaved a decade off her years. Agnes hoped she would age as gracefully.
“I thought you were watching the cornhole game. Would you like more lemonade, or maybe another piece of cake?” Agnes asked her.
“Agnes Joy, what’s going on?” Mama crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.
Josie scooted along the deck railing toward the stairs and gestured she was going to the backyard.
Traitor.
Sighing, Agnes wiped her hands on the damp cloth on the edge of the table. Like a hound treeing a racoon, Mama wouldn’t leave well enough alone until Agnes told her. “No need to worry, but my building’s been sold. I have about a month to find a new place.”
Mama pressed a hand to her chest and gripped the edge of the table. “Oh, my lands, that’s absolutely perfect.”
So much for Mama freaking out.
“What are you talking about?”
“The timing, darlin’.”
“Perfect timing for what?”
“I was just telling the girls your memaw asked me to come back to Texas for the summer and help her rid up the house before she puts it up for sale. She wants to move into a condo for seniors. Less fuss.”