“Nothing wrong with being on time and being organized.” He slid his arm across the table and rested his palm against her silky arm. “You just have to remember that not everyone has those skills.”
“Be patient, you mean?”
He nodded. “Patience is a virtue. . .a fruit of the Spirit. And the Holy Spirit’s ready to develop more such qualities in your life if you ask for them.”
“You think so?”
“Bible says so.”
She grinned. “It does. That’s true.”
Her expression shifted like food in a blender, and Mark suspected she was delving for a comeback.
“Let’s see. Stubborn. Determined. So,” she said, giving him a mischievous look, “let’s talk more about you.”
Three
Clipping off a dead branch, Mark heard a voice and looked up.
“What are you doing?” Lana’s face appeared through the kitchen window screen.
“Finishing my job. You hired me, didn’t you?”
She flagged away his comment. “Then tried to poison you. So you’re back for more?”
He laughed, delighting in her humor. “You don’t see me eating anything, do you?” He patted his belly. “Besides I have to work off the pancakes from breakfast.”
“Sounds like an excuse. You’re just determined.”
He grinned and tallied a point for her into the air with his index finger. She’d begun to know him too well.
“It’s Sunday. I thought we’re supposed to rest.” Her face vanished from the open window, and in a moment, he heard the garage access door open. She came through the doorway carrying a rake. “If we’re worried about breakfast calories, then I need the exercise too.”
Mark loved watching her expressive face, the way her head tilted and her nose wrinkled—a nose dappled with freckles, and a natural smile that sent his pulse on a gallop. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“My lesson plans are finished for the week. We have only three days of classes because final exams start this Thursday. After three test days and two more for grading and cleanup, I’m free.” She lifted her shoulders in a deep sigh.
“Then let’s get busy.” Mark motioned toward the fallen twigs from the shrub. “You can rake those in a pile.”
Lana eyed the scattered clippings and headed across the lawn, stretching her arms and dragging the debris into a neat pile.
Mark stood a moment, admiring her energy; her slender arms pulling at the rake and her short stature gave no evidence to her bigger-than-life personality. But not a big heart—from what she said.
He wondered why a lovely young woman like Lana possessed such a negative outlook on teens. The attitude just didn’t fit. She wasn’t that old herself. Probably three or four years younger than his twenty-nine years. He longed to probe but not until he knew her better. Maybe in time she would tell him what bothered her.
Glancing his way, Lana paused and leaned on the rake. “If you’re stopping, so am I.” She sent him a wry smile.
He shrugged playfully and turned back to the trimming, but she stayed in his mind. The way her gray eyes squinted in the sunshine. The way the sunlight accentuated the red streaks in her light brown hair falling in wayward straggles over her forehead. The way her small stature seemed elfinlike. . .yet delicate and lovely.
When he turned her way, she’d disappeared, leaving a pile of dead twigs and trimmings in a tidy pile along with the rake. Before he could wonder where she’d gone, she reappeared with two shiny red apples. She strode toward him in her purposeful way and offered him a piece of fruit. He took one from her, and his teeth dug into the crisp, juicy Braeburn. The snap of the skin sounded in his ears, and the sweetness rolled on his tongue while the juice ran down his chin.
Lana laughed and pulled a napkin from her jeans pocket. She handed him one. “Always thinking ahead.”
Organization seemed her gift and her bane. Details could be part of her problem. She had no patience for those spur-of-the-moment souls who enjoyed adventures in life rather than mapping out each strategy. Just like he’d always been determined to do things his way.
They ate their apples, talking about nothing important, and when they finished, Lana held out a paper towel. “I’ll throw the core away,” she said, extending the toweling toward him.
Mark grasped the apple fragments. “Toss it into the shrubs. The birds will eat it, and if not, it’ll work as compost. It’s great for the soil.”
Her expression let him know she didn’t like the idea.
“You don’t have to,” he added.
He could see her mentally struggling with his suggestion. Finally she tucked the towel back into her pocket. “If you don’t think the neighbors will accuse me of throwing garbage in my yard. . .”
“I don’t think so,” he said, tossing the apple core into the tall hedge along the fence.
With much effort, she followed his example, and in his heart, Mark congratulated her for doing something spur of the moment. Something unplanned and natural.
Returning to his pruning, Mark enjoyed the smell of the spring loam, rich from the winter’s decay. New growth surrounded him, and he suspected Lana exhibited new growth too.
The word “new” prodded him with another thought. He needed to find an apartment or flat—some place to call home. In the interim, Jim had been gracious to invite him to stay at his place, but he realized his presence limited Jim’s way of life—a life that was guided by different values than Mark’s. He didn’t judge, but he believed God’s Word. Mark tried hard to live a life that God would approve.
“Looks good,” Lana said, appearing at his side and pulling him from his thoughts.
“It does, if I do say so myself.” He grinned at her upturned face.
“So. . .will another dinner minus peanuts cover my indebtedness?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head, faltering.
“I don’t think so.” Teasing, Mark slid his arm around her shoulder. “I have plans for you,” he said, startled by the excitement that rolled through him with his touch.
“Plans?” Her voice sounded suspicious.
“How about letting me borrow your newspaper? I need to do some apartment hunting. Do you think it’s too late?” He checked his watch. Six o’clock.
She eyed hers and shrugged. “Maybe a little late.”
“Okay. How’s this? I’ll check the paper, and you can help since you know the area. We’ll make a list, and tomorrow you’ll go along with me.”
She stood in silence a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I suppose I should be neighborly, but. . .what about dinner?”
“Let’s order pizza. Easier and safer. I’ve never had pizza with peanuts.”
Lana grasped his arm, giving it a teasing shake. “Then you’ve never had my homemade pizza.”
Enjoying the earlier sensation, Mark slipped his arm around her shoulder as they headed for the house. Unbidden thoughts slithered into his mind. He needed to know Lana much better before allowing his heart to get tangled with hers. Now all he had to do was convince his heart to pay attention to his warning.
❧
Lana did a full turn, scrutinizing the kitchen. Ugly cabinets, little counter space, old appliances. Mark couldn’t live in a place like this. She eyed the newspaper ad they’d looked at the evening before. The whole thing seemed full of untruths. “Look, it says right here,” she said, pointing to the paper, “ ‘cozy apartment.’ ”
Mark clasped the back of her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Some people’s cozy is another person’s misery.”
“But you’re smiling,” she said, amazed at his optimism. “They didn’t tell the truth.” She tapped her finger against the want-ad listing. “Right here in the paper.”
“They exaggerated,” he said. “And remember. . .never believe everything you read in the news.”
His good humor nudged at her frustration, shifting it an inch. “Let’s try the next place.”
“Okay, but don’t get your
head in a whirl with any preconceived notions.” He steered her through the doorway and down the stairs. At the apartment supervisor’s door, Mark dropped off the key, then headed to the car.
“The ads are always so disappointing and discouraging,” Lana said. “Before we bought the house, Barb and I looked for a rental to share. We were so frustrated.”
“You have to take a lot of the details with the proverbial grain of salt,” Mark said.
A grain of salt. Mark seemed to do that. He looked at life with an open mind, willing to take whatever came his way with that proverbial grain of salt he’d mentioned, like the day Barb brought him home to clean the yard. He’d done it with a smile.
“Here’s an idea,” he said, jolting her from her thoughts. He took one hand from the steering wheel and motioned toward the newspaper on the seat beside her. “Read me the next ad. We can speculate what the reality might be.”
His good nature dragged a grin to her face. She picked up the paper and scanned the listing until she found the ad. “Here goes. Five-room apartment.” She stopped. “Let’s see. We can expect two rooms. Right?”
He shook his head. “Four rooms and bath—living room, kitchen, bedroom, and. . .foyer.”
She gave him a presumptuous look. “An entry’s not a room.”
“But it is in newspaper ads.”
She poked his arm. “You’re being silly.” Focusing on the paper, she ran her finger along the column to find the ad. “Good location, it says here. What about that?’”
“It doesn’t say good for what, does it?”
Mark was surprised by her laughter.
“What about this?” she asked. “Spotless.” She held up her palm, halting him. “Don’t tell me.” She rested her finger beside her mouth. “Painted only five years ago and adequately clean.”
“You got it,” he said, pleased that she’d jumped in with the silly definitions. “Now you won’t be disappointed.” He glanced her way and prayed she could handle whatever they found.
When he saw Oak Street, he turned left and checked addresses. In the second block, he felt pleasantly surprised. Two neat rows of single-story apartments stood face-to-face, divided by a long driveway that led to a carport beside each unit. The grounds were neat, and a small tree shaded each front yard. But behind the buildings, Mark could see taller trees—oaks and elms towering over the rooftops. So far, so good.
He eyed Lana, and her expression looked positive. “A carport’s nice. Keeps the snow off.”
“And I like the trees,” he said, motioning to the tall branches evident behind the buildings. “Wait here, and I’ll get the key.”
He darted to the first apartment, and when he returned, a gentleman followed along.
“Hello there,” the man said, giving Lana a nod. “I’ll unlock the door for you so you can take a peek.” He gestured toward the apartment on the end of the complex.
Lana liked the wide windows at the front and the building’s neat appearance.
“Now you take your time,” the man said as he turned the key and opened the door. “You two look like a nice, friendly couple. I hope you like the place.”
“We. . .I’m. . .” Lana’s voice trailed off, and she eyed Mark, waiting for him to respond. Heat rose to her cheeks.
Mark sent her a toying grin and nodded at the man. “Thanks. We’ll let you know when we’re finished.”
The gentleman nodded his head and turned back toward his apartment while Lana gaped at Mark, confused.
“What’s the sense of disappointing him?” Mark asked. “He thought we were a nice, friendly couple.”
His smile sent Lana’s heart reeling. He was only teasing her. That seemed Mark’s way. His crazy sense of humor.
She followed his gesture and stepped into a small foyer with a coat closet. “First room,” Lana said with a laugh.
“We’ll have to see,” Mark said good-naturedly. He walked through the large living room and down a hallway to a fair-sized bedroom and bath, noticing with pleasure the place did look spotless.
Lana followed behind him, but her wary gaze held a new hint of optimism. “The carpet looks like its been cleaned recently,” she said.
Mark agreed. The medium gray carpet seemed fairly new. Inside the bedroom, he opened a large double-door closet. “See. Not bad and an extra big closet.”
“Maybe it’s large because that’s the fifth room,” she said, then sent him a teasing smile.
They retraced their steps and entered a roomy kitchen with plenty of cabinets. The appliances looked well kept, and the room had ample table space. But the surprise hit him at another doorway. “Look.” He motioned to Lana. “A sun room, and it’s heated so it’s year-round.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean this really is a fifth room.”
“Looks like it,” he said, thrilled at what they’d found. He gazed out the wide windows at the tree-filled setting. “What a great place to enjoy the outdoors even in winter and still be warm.”
“The owners outdid themselves on this place,” Lana admitted. “This is really a nice rental.”
“You admit you were wrong about newspaper ads?”
“Wrong about one ad.”
“Where there’s one, there’s hope. Just keep that in mind,” he said, beckoning her through the front door. “This is it as far as I’m concerned.”
“It’s great, Mark. Why not give the man your deposit?”
She caressed his shoulder, and a sweet feeling ran down his arm. He loved to see her smile and rejoice with him. Could this be God’s direction? He prayed it was.
❧
Lana stood in her classroom doorway and spied Stacy Leonard talking with a friend. Her anger seemed evident, and Lana held back, not wanting to get involved. But Stacy lifted her gaze and saw Lana watching her. The teenager slammed her locker and headed her way.
“What’s wrong, Stacy?” Lana asked. The girl looked as if she’d planned to scoot past, but Lana felt compelled to stop her.
“Nothing.” She rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling.
“For nothing wrong, you seem mighty upset.” Lana held her ground and kept the girl in direct focus.
“It’s nothing that concerns you. You wouldn’t understand anyway,” Stacy said.
“Why don’t you try me?”
“I’m just tired of having my plans goofed up. I had everything organized, then my friend tossed in her own plans and. . . I’m tired of it.” Stacy’s head lowered, and Lana suspected she had tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry your friend didn’t take your plans seriously. Sometimes two people’s ideas clash, and if we want to remain friends, we have to compromise. I’m sure you’ve heard that before.” Lana rolled her eyes and grinned.
A faint smile crept to Stacy’s face. “We were supposed to spend the night together at my house, but now she wants to go to the movies first, and unless I lie to my parents about what we’re doing, they won’t let me go.”
“Sounds like you don’t want to tell your parents a fib.” Lana prayed she was correct.
Stacy shook her head. “If I do, they’ll find out anyway. They always do.”
“Truth is easier, isn’t it?”
The girl nodded. “But now she’ll go off with other friends and party while I sit home alone.”
“Can you talk with her? Maybe you can suggest something different that your parents will approve. Roller skating. . .or hanging out at a mall.” Lana grasped at ideas, hoping she might hit on something that would help.
“The mall? She might like that idea.”
Lana could almost hear the girl’s mind working through ideas. “You see. Compromise can work. You just have to remove the emotion and think with reason.”
Stacy laughed. “If you ask my parents, they don’t think I’m very reasonable.”
“Parents worry a lot about their kids.”
Stacy’s face had brightened, and she took a step backward. “Thanks, Miss West. I’ll call Julie and see if she’
d like to go the mall instead.”
“Good for you,” Lana said, sending the girl a wave as she sped away.
Lana turned into her classroom. Only the weekend and then three more days before school closed. Her own plans filtered through her mind. This summer she’d decided to redecorate her bedroom. She had some great stenciling ideas for refurbishing her old dresser and headboard. When she finished that job, Lana had plans to tackle the dining room—paint and add a border where a chair molding would be. Her list had grown, and no one could stop her.
She faltered, recognizing Stacy’s complaint as her own. She hated people to botch up her plans, and although she’d given Stacy good advice, compromise wasn’t Lana’s favorite way to solve a problem. Not at all.
❧
Mark left his car in the street and headed into Jim’s place. He had a little packing to do, and tonight, he had bowling with the teens. Not his favorite activity, but it was his job. Tomorrow, he looked forward to getting into his own apartment. As he rounded his sedan, Lana came down the driveway toward the mailbox. He gave her a wave, and she returned his greeting.
“Tomorrow’s the big day,” he said. “My furniture comes out of storage.”
“You’re moving tomorrow?” Her face shifted through a medley of emotions and settled on an amiable smile.
He strode toward her. “I could use a woman’s touch getting settled. . .and I know you don’t work on Saturdays.”
She fingered her top button and thought for a moment. “Living next door, I’m at your mercy.” Her grin looked more natural than the earlier smile. “I’m not good at carrying. I’m too short. . .and weak.”
“How about small boxes? You can handle those.”
She nodded.
“And unpacking. You can do that if I open the box.”
“Got me,” she said, giving him a poke. “You sound like you think I’m trying to wheedle out of helping you.”
“Aren’t you the lady who said you hated doing things for other people?” He sent her a knowing gaze.
Over Her Head (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 489) Page 4