“Ian...”
“Hope.” He dragged out her name. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. And if you don’t answer the door, I’ll sit on your porch all day long. You know I will.”
“Fine.” She slammed her finger onto the end button.
Half an hour later his black jeep pulled up in front of her house. She came out so he wouldn’t have to park.
She couldn’t think of anything to say on the ten-minute drive to the south edge of town. She closed her eyes and gathered her courage as he walked around the car to open her door.
He held out his hand. “Come on, it will be fine. No one will attack you and demand a deep and abiding friendship today. I promise.”
His smile disarmed her, and she relaxed in spite of herself. He put his hand on the small of her back to guide her and warmth spread from his touch to her shoulders, her neck. She shifted her purse to the shoulder nearest him as some sort of flimsy, cloth buffer.
Inside, he sat about a fourth of the way up, on the aisle. Various members smiled, but since the service was just about to start, no one spoke to them. She glanced around the small church, its white walls, deep cherry wood-colored pews, blue carpet. The dais was raised about two feet, making it easy to see the pulpit from even the back rows.
The worship leader came to the front with a guitar and invited everyone to stand. He began singing a familiar chorus, three singers to his left joining him.
Hope startled at Ian’s strong, tenor voice. Most of the guys she knew back in her church in Bethesda barely sang aloud. They never prayed aloud like Ian had so often before meals. His faith was so different, so much a part of him.
After another song or two, the pastor spoke about hope. She laughed silently at the irony. Her own name and yet she felt she had none.
Pastor Fitzgerald said they should “be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.” Well how was she supposed to do that, exactly? Just will herself to be strong, take heart? She’d been trying.
He directed them to Psalm 25:5. “Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” For God to guide us in His truth, the pastor said, we need to listen to His truths, listen to his voice.
Had Hope been listening? She’d told Ian she’d been reading her Bible, but that wasn’t really true. She glanced at it now and then, but she wasn’t paying attention to what God had to say to her. Not really.
Next to her, Ian put his arm on the pew behind her. He never touched her, but she felt ... protected, enclosed. Surrounded by his faith. On his lap sat his Bible and a note pad. He was taking notes? She’d never seen anyone her age takes notes on a sermon before. Only the old ladies at home took notes, and she was never sure what they did with them.
She drew her attention back to Pastor Fitzgerald. He read from Psalms 33. Hope found the chapter in her own Bible.
“But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.We wait in hope for the LORD; He is our help and our shield. In Him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in His holy name. May Your unfailing love be with us, LORD, even as we put our hope in You.”
So that was the idea. Put your hope in His unfailing love. Trust in His name. She wasn’t sure how to do that.
As the worship leader returned to the dais and the congregation stood, Ian brought his face near her ear. He smelled of musk and salt air and she took a deep breath to keep from burying her face in his neck.
He gently grasped her elbow as he whispered, “Let’s go.”
She followed him out of the pew and the building. “Why are we leaving early? The service isn’t over yet.”
“This was you won’t have to talk to anyone.” He flashed one of his by-now familiar dimpled grins at her as they crossed the parking lot.
He’d do that for her? Give up part of his church time for her?
As he held her door to the Jeep open, he ran his hand down her arm. “How about lunch? I know a great place a few miles further in. Quiet, no beach crowd, no one from church. OK?”
All she could manage was “OK.”
Ian spent the drive in telling her about the church, its local history, the pastor, and some of its more colorful members.
She spent the time letting his calm voice soothe her frayed nerves, and watching his muscled arms maneuver the Jeep through the potted back roads.
“So did you like the church, or am I in trouble for kidnapping you?”
That smile. How could he stay in trouble for any length of time when his smile made her stomach do somersaults like that? “No, I really liked it. It’s quite different from my church in Bethesda.”
“How so?”
“For one thing, the pastor’s sermon was actually useful.”
Ian chuckled. “Your pastor’s sermons aren’t useful?”
“Not really. Not like that one. He’ll go through some Bible story or passage, but he never really tells us how to use it in our lives like your pastor did today.”
“OK. How else is it different?”
“Well, you’re different from any of the guys in my church.”
“Uh-oh.”
“No, that’s a good thing.”
“Then how am I different?”
“Well, none of them would ever sing out loud like you did. And no one my age would ever take notes.”
Ian laughed. “Really?”
“No way. What do you do with them, anyway?”
“Sometimes nothing. Just writing it down helps cement it in my brain. Sometimes I look back at it over the week as I study the Bible on my own.”
He studied the Bible on his own? “Are you in seminary or something?”
Another laugh. “No. Why?”
Fortunately they pulled into the parking lot before she had to explain a question that was obviously funnier than she had intended.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AS THE TIME CREPT PAST noon, the sun poured in a side window of the restaurant and played with the highlights in her hair. Ian loved her hair, loved when she wore it down instead of yanked back in a ponytail. The women in his family were all brunettes, and Katie was a brunette ...
Blonde was different. So many different colors of blond on one head. Fascinating. And those green eyes. When she talked about something she cared about, they lit up. When she was hiding, they grew dark, as if a door closed shut on them. Then he couldn’t see into them no matter how hard he tried.
Ian watched her as she finished her Coke. He’d had enough small talk. He wanted—needed—to know why she was only going to be here until Christmas. Until now, she hadn’t seemed willing to talk about it. But they’d been spending more and more time together, almost every Friday, and at least a couple other days a week, so maybe now she’d open up.
“So, Hope, you want to tell me why you are here only until Christmas?”
She sighed, and ran her teeth over her bottom lip. A nervous habit, he’d learned.
She pushed her plate away and leaned on her arms.
He checked her eyes. No closed door yet.
“Short answer? My father conned someone into a bad deal. Back in Chicago, where we lived before here. He died. They sued for the beach house. He put it in both our names as soon as I was twenty-one. I won, but I still had to pay the lawyers and court costs. I can sell the house, but I have to live in it three more months to meet the residency requirement to avoid huge capital gains taxes. The time will be up December 21. Then I’m going back to Bethesda.”
Ian’s heart sank. That explained everything. Her obsessive need to fix the house, her unwillingness to connect with anyone, the three-month mystery. “No other options?”
“None that I can think of. I just need to sell it and get back home.”
Home. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Is there someone in Bethesda you need to go back to?”
She looked at him, almost right through him. “No. There’s jus
t nothing here.”
He’d change that if she’d let him.
He settled into his seat in the Jeep. The day couldn’t be over yet. “How about a walk through the Farmer’s Market?”
“Oh, that would be great. I’d love some fresh fruit.”
“You got it.” He pointed the vehicle toward the road. Once there, he followed her down the rows, carrying a wicker basket while she selected peaches, corn, even a watermelon. After paying for the food, over her objections, they went for a long drive through the farmland of the Eastern Shore before returning home.
Ian carried the paper bag of produce in and set it on her counter.
“How about a milkshake? I need to give you something for all your effort.”
He turned around and leaned back against the formica. “Yeah, it was a lot of hard work to carry all that food around.”
“Gotta give those muscles a workout somehow.” She placed her hands on his biceps. He could swear her breath hitched.
His definitely did. The heat remained when she removed her hands.
“Could you get a couple glasses down? The tall ones?” She pointed to the cupboard behind him.
“Sure,” he said. But he didn’t move for several moments, instead watching her every move as she took out ice cream and milk from the appliance across from him.
She set the items down and turned to him. “Well?” Her eyebrows rose.
“Sorry.” He turned and reached behind him. Did guys blush? He hoped not. He handed her the glasses and tried to decide if she were smirking.
As the clock neared 6 pm, he hovered near the door, unwilling to end the day, unwilling to end any day that would bring him closer to her leaving.
“I had a great time today, Hope.” He ran the tips of his fingers down her cheek, and was rewarded with a smile before she dropped her head.
He hooked his finger under her chin and gently pulled her face up toward his. Moving his hand to her cheek, he placed his other hand on her waist as he brought his lips to hers.
Her mouth was warm and soft, and when she responded to his kiss, his pulse kicked into overdrive. He slid his hand around her back and drew her closer.
Although he could have kissed her all night, he pulled back, stared into the emerald abyss of her eyes.
“Ian ...” Her voice was uncertain.
His feelings weren’t. But he couldn’t have her scared. He leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s just a goodnight kiss, Hope,” he whispered. “It’s OK.”
She seemed to relax, so he kissed her cheek before he slipped out her door.
Sitting in his Jeep, though, he knew it wasn’t OK. He was falling, fast.
And he only had a short while to win her heart.
Just until Christmas.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HOPE TURNED UP THE MUSIC from her iPhone as she ran that night, trying to block her thoughts. She’d thought about running on the beach, but it only made her think of him. Instead, she opted for the route she’d taken when she first arrived—down Ocean View to New York Avenue, then south for half an hour. Turn around and come home. Kind of boring, but mindless.
She ran hard the last few minutes of her run, but no matter what she did she couldn’t erase the memory of Ian’s kiss.
This was not good. She couldn’t get involved with him. She’d told him she was leaving before Christmas. What could have possessed him to do that?
What possessed her to let him?
As she neared the corner she slowed. Chest heaving, she turned down the music and reviewed her priorities.
First, she needed to get the house fixed up. Second, she must make as much money as possible in the meantime to pay off the lawyer’s fees. Third, she had to get the house on the market so she could sign the papers on December 21st.
Her breathing calmed and her heartbeat slowed to its regular rhythm. She turned onto Ocean View Parkway.
Once all that was accomplished, she had to get out of Brandon Beach and away from Ian. That was the only way she could be safe.
To be fair, it wasn’t like she’d asked Ian to stop. So far he’d proven to be different from most other guys she’d known. He was generous, kind, gentle. He didn’t give unwanted advice. He listened when she talked. And yesterday was by far the most enjoyable day she’d had in ... well, years.
Maybe that pastor was right. What was it he said? Put your hope in His unfailing love. Did she have any hope in God? She was always hedging her bets. Always had a backup plan. Never took any risks, played it safe.
Maybe because Dad had done nothing but take risks. He’d dragged her from city to city to city, never putting down roots. Never teaching her how to do the same. The longest they’d stayed anywhere was Chicago, so at least she could get a recommendation from a former high school teacher to get into the university there for her last two years of study.
Since then every time she had taken a risk, she’d lost. Moved to Maryland with Marcos? She was left tin a new state without a job. Trusted Steve with the handling the preparations for the presentation to the university? Cut out of it entirely. And lost out on the promotion. Believed Chris every time he said he was at a sales meeting? Yeah, right.
But had she sought the Lord about any of those decisions? Put her hope in Him? Or just barreled ahead on her own and expected Him to follow?
Put your hope in Him.
But how? She had enough trouble trusting people she could see, hear, touch. How was she supposed to trust God?
That was something she’d never gotten a handle on.
Perhaps it was time to learn.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IAN LAY IN BED MONDAY morning, exhausted after little sleep. The last time he’d looked at the at the clock the red numbers blinked 3:17 at him, over and over. He’d been awake for at least an hour after that. Every time he closed his eyes he heard her uncertain voice saying his name. But he also felt her lips on his, and those two sensations collided in his mind, making sleep impossible.
He replayed the kiss over and over. Her hands had been on his chest, not around his neck or waist, but she hadn’t pushed him away, either. And she hadn’t scolded him for it. How much trouble was he in with her?
“Dude!”
Ian looked up to see Rob standing in the doorway to the office, arms akimbo. When did he come in? “What?” His voice came out harsher than intended.
“What’s with the attitude? What did I do?”
“Nothing. Sorry.”
Rob took the chair next to the desk and started tossing the nerf ball. “It’s her, isn’t it? What now?”
“I kissed her.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
Ian groaned. “She’s only here until Christmas.
“So then why did you kiss her?”
Ian jumped up, throwing his hands in the air. “I don’t know. We spent all day together yesterday. I picked her up for church. We went to lunch, to the farmer’s market, back to her house. I had to force myself to leave. And then I kissed her goodnight.”
The nerf ball stilled. “A kiss, or a kiss?”
Ian had nothing to say.
“Oh.” For once Rob didn’t laugh at him.
“I tried to pass it off as nothing, but I have never felt this way, not even with Katie.”
“You can’t make her stay if she doesn’t want to, dude. You know that.”
“I know.” Ian paced for a moment. “So do I apologize, ignore it, what?”
“I think if you bring it up, you may draw too much attention to it. Try just pretending it never happened. If she brings it up, then talk about it. Follow her lead.”
Pretend it never happened. Right.
Ian walked to the tinted window that overlooked the store. “Think it would be all right to ask her to my house for Thanksgiving? I mean, she doesn’t have anyone else. I just don’t want her to be alone that day.”
“You can ask. Don’t push.”
“I won’t push.”
“Tha
t’s what you said about Katherine.”
He spun around. “And I learned my lesson, didn’t I? The hard way!” He exhaled a long breath. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell again.”
“I don’t know. Did you learn?”
“I did. I’m not going to kiss her. I’m not going to ask her to stay. I just want to be her friend. Seriously.”
“That’s all you want?”
“OK, I admit, I would like more. But I’m not asking for more.”
He threw the ball again. “All right. Keep that in mind.”
Friday night after they finished their pizza and a movie, Ian set the remote on the coffee table and twisted to face her. “Would you like to come to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving? I mean, if you don’t already have plans? It’s casual, just my family. My brothers and sisters and their families. And Rob.”
“I don’t know...” she stroked Muffin’s head as he meowed in her lap.
“What else are you going to do? Sit home and eat a turkey sandwich?”
She squared her shoulders. “Maybe. What’s so bad about that?”
“Nothing. Look, no pressure. You don’t have to come. I’m just offering. I thought you might want to be around some other people that day.”
She drew her teeth over her bottom lip.
He’d better ease off. “Hey, one more or less isn’t going to make a difference in the amount of food my mom and sisters make, so you don’t have to decide right now. It’s not until next week. I’ll ask you next Wednesday, OK?”
“Sounds good.”
He scratched the kitten’s head. “Muffin has to stay home, though.”
“No fair.” She pouted.
“Ok, fine. If it’ll make you come, bring him.”
She giggled. “I don’t think that’ll help.”
He picked up the kitten and held him up. “Will you talk to her? Convince her to come?”
The animal mewed.
“You will? Good. I need her there.”
She gently took Muffin back. “And why is that?”
Just Until Christmas Page 5