by Cindy Kirk
“They did.” Toby’s features relaxed. His posture looked less stiff. “I’m not big on having my picture taken, but you made the process painless. I didn’t feel like a robot or a puppet on strings.”
Jenna wiggled her toes. “Those are words every photographer loves to hear.”
Amber leaned against Toby like a possessive cat. “You were his choice of photographers, but I knew you’d say no so we went with someone else.”
“You understand why my answer is no now, right?” Jenna asked.
“Yes.” Amber stared at the tiled entryway, then raised her gaze to meet Jenna’s. “What I did. It was . . . wrong. I’m sorry. I should have spoken up right away, but I didn’t think Ash was going to cancel the wedding and ask for Grandma’s ring back. I felt horrible, but I was too afraid of getting into trouble to say anything. Thinking only of myself was selfish. If I could do it over again, I would.”
The words sounded sincere, more grown-up than Jenna expected. No doubt Toby was a good influence on Amber. “I appreciate you coming here and apologizing. Thanks.”
“I know you’d rather not photograph our wedding, but you were Toby’s first choice,” Amber added. “That’s the only say he wanted with the wedding planning.”
“The photographer and wedding cake,” Toby clarified.
“Oh, yeah,” Amber agreed. “And you didn’t get a say in that, either. But now that the other photographer is on bed rest, I thought maybe you could forget I’m the bride or pretend I’m someone else so Toby could have the photographer he wanted.”
Toby took a step forward. “No pressure, Jenna. This is an awkward situation, and we understand if you don’t feel comfortable.”
Amber opened her mouth as if to speak.
Toby shot her a sideward glance. “Don’t we, honey?”
“Of course,” Amber said.
A battle waged inside Jenna. She wanted to help Toby, but the idea of spending time with the Vance family made her stomach hurt. “My June is pretty booked with people adding Friday night and Sunday afternoon weddings to the mix.”
“Understood.” Ash held the empty lemonade glass. “Amber and Toby are getting married on Saturday, the twenty-seventh.”
Available. The word swirled through Jenna’s head, becoming louder and louder. She fought the urge to cover her ears to quiet the noise.
The twenty-seventh was supposed to have been Claire’s wedding day. But that didn’t mean . . .
Torn, Jenna prayed. “That date’s open, but—”
“Score!” Amber jumped up and down.
Toby’s grin spread across the width of his face. “Tell us what it’ll take.”
Ash nodded. “I’ll double your fee.”
Saying yes appealed to Jenna as much as eating liver and onions, her dad’s favorite dinner. Her mother had made the meal once a year. Jenna and Colton had gagged their way through miniscule servings to be rewarded with hot fudge sundaes for dessert. Maybe she could treat this wedding the same way. Sending extra money to Colton would be the cherry on top.
Except she still wanted Ash and Amber to leave. But they’d apologized. Jenna couldn’t shove them out the door. Pastor Dan had counseled her on the importance of forgiveness for her faith and so she wouldn’t be consumed by bitterness.
“If there’s anything else you want . . .” Ash added.
Wait a minute. She straightened, an idea forming in her mind. There was something she needed. Not her exactly, but the church’s youth group. They were short chaperones. If the three agreed to help . . .
She drew in a breath to calm her nerves. “My church needs adult volunteers for our youth group outing on Saturday or they’ll have to cancel. It’s all day at a ropes course, so if you’re busy—”
“I’m in,” Ash said without any hesitation.
Toby nodded. “Me too.”
Amber received a nudge from her fiancé. “Uh, sure. I can do that. But what’s a rope course?”
“Never mind what it is, you’ll have fun.” Ash looked at Jenna. “We’re happy to help out. But the decision to photograph Amber and Toby’s wedding is yours.”
Jenna had three yeses. What had Kerri said earlier?
There’s always a plan. Not yours or mine, but His.
Jenna took a deep breath and another to try to calm her nerves reaching near panic mode. Not for her. She repeated the three words in her mind. This was for Colton, her friend Sam the youth pastor, and the teens at her church. “If Ash doubles my fee and the three of you volunteer with the youth group on Saturday, I’ll photograph the wedding.”
Saturday morning, Jenna stood in the parking lot outside the Sweetwater Community Church with Sam Carson, the youth pastor in charge of today’s outing. Birds chirped from nearby trees. The sun shone bright. Soon heat would reflect off the asphalt. Only two cars—hers and Sam’s—and the church’s bus were in the parking lot. She’d arrived early to help him prepare.
Placing water bottles into a large ice chest, she yawned, tired from working a wedding last night. A restless sleep hadn’t helped. Thoughts of seeing Ash had kept her awake long after her body wanted rest.
Sam removed the plastic wrap from a case of water bottles. “You’re exhausted. You should have slept in this morning. Go take a nap in my office.”
“You’re as bad as Colton.”
“He asked me to look out for you when he was here on leave.”
“No wonder I feel like I have two brothers.” She stifled another yawn.
Sam gave her a look.
“I’m fine.” She was. Just a little wigged out about seeing Ash this morning.
He’d sent a check, as promised, for the full amount plus interest. She’d expected a portion, half at most, and had been surprised. Stunned, really. Once the check cleared, she would be free from credit card payments and able to repay Colton. Out of debt with money in a savings account. An exciting, new place to be, but that didn’t stop another yawn. A nap on the hour-long bus ride to the ropes course might be in order, if the teens let her sleep.
Sam dumped the water bottles into an ice chest. “You work too hard.”
“Do you want to be the pot or the kettle? The choice is yours.” She didn’t expect him to answer. “It’s going to be hot today.”
“The trees will keep us shaded, but I brought extra sunscreen and grabbed a few more cases of water last night, just in case.”
“We should be good then.”
“Especially with your extra volunteers coming along.” Sam’s grin took ten years off his face. The twenty-six-year-old looked more like a teen than the group’s leader. “Thanks for finding more chaperones. The kids have been looking forward to this outing. I’m relieved we didn’t have to cancel.”
“Me too.” Except the thought of spending the entire day with Ash jangled her nerves. She poured half a bag of crushed ice over the water bottles. “Everything worked out.”
“Easy-peasy, smooth as French silk pie, as Trish would say.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Jenna’s mouth. “I can hear her say those words. And Pastor Dan laugh.”
“Yep. Only I’m not kidding.” Sam closed the lid on the ice chest as if accentuating his point. “Your three volunteers showed up at my office the day after you texted me and filled out the background check form. That’s usually the stumbling block to getting help.”
“I knew we needed more adults.”
Sam carried the ice chest he’d filled to the bus. “So what’s it like having your ex-fiancé back in your life?”
Her past wasn’t a secret. Pastor Dan had asked her to give a testimonial after joining the church. Sam was one of her closer friends, so he knew a few extra details. “I wouldn’t say Ash is back. I’ve only seen him the day he apologized.”
“Gutsy.”
“Ash realized he was wrong.”
“Takes courage to admit that.”
“Yes. He’s contacted people who took his side and explained what really happened. I’ve booked photogr
aphy shoots with a couple of them. He’s gone above and beyond to make things up to me.”
“But you wish he hadn’t needed proof.”
She straightened. “I didn’t say that.”
“Still true.”
“Maybe.”
Sam shot her a curious glance. “Thinking about getting back together?”
The water bottle in her hand slipped, crashed into the ice chest. “No.”
“Sure about that?”
“Yes. Definitely.” Though Jenna wished she wouldn’t think about Ash so much. “I’m not the same person who dated him. Working here, attending services, making new friends . . . I don’t want to go backwards to who I was with him.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
“No. It’s the truth.” She wanted to do the right thing and not get hurt again. “I’m photographing his sister’s wedding. That’s all.”
“Nice of you, under the circumstances.”
“An act of forgiveness.” That was how she’d explained her decision to shoot Amber’s wedding to Colton. He wanted Jenna far, far away from Ash. She assured her brother that her heart was immune. Come June twenty-eighth, the day after Amber and Toby’s wedding, she would never see Ash again.
“But I’ll be honest.” Jenna knew Sam would never judge her actions. “Agreeing to photograph the wedding isn’t completely altruistic. I knew the youth group needed volunteers, so I made that part of the deal, and Ash offered to double my normal rate.”
“That’s a win-win-win. If you’re going to have an ex, sounds like Ashton Vance is one to have.”
Jenna half-laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Glad you agree, because he’s here.”
Butterflies went bonkers in her stomach. No biggie. One day with him was nothing. Two days if she counted Amber’s wedding. Two and a half if she included the rehearsal dinner. Every muscle tensed. She looked over her shoulder.
Ash walked across the parking lot dressed in khaki shorts, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. He wore a backpack and carried three pink rectangular boxes.
Her mouth watered. The reaction had nothing to do with what might be in the boxes and everything to do with him. He looked as good dressed casually as in a suit.
Sam blew out a breath. “Oh boy. If Ashton brought donuts, you’re going to have to start dating him or convince him to volunteer more.”
“Because of donuts?”
“Three boxes’ worth? You bet.”
She shook her head. At least she knew what to get Sam for his next birthday.
“Good morning.” Ash raised the pink boxes. “Stopped by the Donut Hole. Figured we might need some sugar to jump-start us this morning.”
Sam kept his hands at his side, but he looked like he wanted to grab the boxes and get first choice. “Thanks. The kids will love them.”
“There’s plenty for everybody.” Ash handed over the donuts. “Help yourself now.”
Sam set the boxes on his car’s trunk. He practically drooled opening the first lid, then removed a maple bar. “Happy you’re onboard, dude. We haven’t had donuts since one of our volunteers moved to Seattle last year.”
Jenna understood Sam’s excitement. Youth ministers didn’t earn a big salary, and donuts weren’t considered a necessity. When she’d been working three jobs, a stick of chewing gum could make her day. “Generous of you.”
Ash’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. The additional lines appealed to her. Not that she should be noticing how he looked. Or find him attractive. Jenna stared at the asphalt in the parking lot.
“I got your favorite,” Ash said. “Old-fashioned chocolate.”
Jenna raised her head. “You remembered?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. Two years isn’t that long.”
“I guess not.” Still, she was . . . touched. Part of her wondered what they’d had together those two years—love, like, convenience. She’d tried to purge everything about Ash from her memory. “You like sugar donuts, right?”
“That’s right.” He sounded pleased.
Funny he liked that type, because he preferred things neat. Maybe the messiness appealed to him on a subconscious level.
Sam’s maple bar disappeared in a final bite. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m not surprised Ash remembered your favorite donut. You’re an old-fashioned girl.”
“You think?” Ash asked.
“Homemade lemonade, baking pies for mission suppers, sewing her own slipcovers, singing along to beach movies from the sixties.” Sam’s words flowed without hesitation. “I’d call that old-fashioned.”
Ash studied Sam with a hard gaze. “You know Jenna well.”
Uh, oh. Ash’s tone sounded almost jealous. But that made no sense. And Sam was her surrogate brother. “I think I’ll have a donut.”
Sam handed Jenna her favorite kind, but his posture changed. He stood taller, his shoulders square to Ash. “I do know Jenna well. She’s worked at the church for over a year and a half. I see her almost every day, including Sundays during the youth service. But I didn’t know her favorite kind of donut until now.”
“That’s because you’re too busy during fellowship time to notice what I’m eating,” she told Sam.
Ash held his donut midair. “You work here at the church?”
She nodded. “I used to be on the cleaning crew, but now I just work the espresso cart. I also fill in if the office is short staffed.”
Ash looked at her with an odd expression. “I wondered why you no longer attended Westside Christian.”
“This is closer.” Jenna could have said that she felt more comfortable here after folks at Westside took Ash’s side, but chose not to. She’d accepted his apology—saying more would solve nothing. “Pastor Dan and Trish help people who find themselves lost or in difficult positions.”
Sam raised his hand. “Like me a few years ago. I’m another stray they took in. They helped me turn my life around.”
“They’re like the animal shelter, except we have a forever home here.” A warm and fuzzy feeling enveloped Jenna. “I can’t see myself going to church anywhere else.”
“We’re happy you found us.” Sam picked up the ice chest she’d filled and loaded it into the bus.
“Sounds like a good place. Maybe I’ll attend a service here,” Ash said to her surprise. “Westside’s been a little . . .”
“Lukewarm,” Sam offered.
Ash rubbed his chin. “Yeah.”
“You need heat. Fire. Give us a try. Join us tomorrow.” Sam eyed the box of donuts again but didn’t take one. “I’m going to grab a few things from my office. The kids won’t be here for another half hour or so.”
With that, he walked into the church.
“Seems like a nice guy,” Ash said.
“The best. Understands the teens. Listens to them and hears what they’re saying.” She ate the rest of her donut. “I received your check. Thanks. Including interest was generous of you.”
“It’s fair.”
Fair wasn’t a word she would have used, but she wasn’t going to argue semantics.
Ash motioned to the church’s bus, an old school bus donated a few years ago. Trish said the kids’ paint job with multicolored shapes reminded her of The Partridge Family, an old show she watched as a kid.
“Is the youth group responsible for the adventure photos on your walls?” he asked.
“No. The church’s singles group is.”
He took a step toward her. “Singles group?”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
“Good for you.”
He didn’t sound upset, more . . . supportive. Maybe he hadn’t been jealous of Sam.
“I forgot to bring napkins. You have some chocolate here.” His fingertip brushed the corner of her mouth, sending a burst of sensation from the point of contact. “Now it’s gone.”
He’d touched her lips before with both his fingers and his mouth, but this g
esture felt more intimate. Heat singed her insides. Chills tingled on the outside. All she needed was a kiss . . .
What was she thinking?
So what if she hadn’t felt this way in two years? They weren’t a couple. Wouldn’t be one. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her bare arms.
“Cold?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” Or would be as soon as she stopped thinking crazy thoughts about Ash.
He removed a sugar donut from the box. “Have you ever done a ropes course before?”
“No, but Sam said the activities build trust and camaraderie. Have you been to one?”
“No, but I’m looking forward to this. Building trust is something I need to work on.”
The anticipation in his gaze made her mouth go dry. She cleared her throat. “Sounds like something we all need.”
“You’re very trusting.”
“I used to be.”
“What happened?” he asked.
She moistened her lips. “You.”
You.
During the drive and now on the high ropes course, Jenna’s word echoed through Ash’s head. What she said bugged him. He sat with eight teens and their guide thirty feet above the ground.
The midday sun blazed down from a cloudless blue sky. He tried focusing on what the guide, an army vet named Rob, was saying about the challenging exercise they’d just finished, but Ash’s thoughts were on Jenna.
Yes, he deserved the blame for what happened, but she’d accepted his apology. He’d paid her back and was restoring her reputation with mutual friends and acquaintances. He didn’t know what else he could do to prove he was sorry. Couldn’t she meet him halfway? Or was that asking too much?
“An interesting task.” Rob, a friendly, in-shape guy, emphasized the learning process while sprinkling in character and common sense and a little scripture. Like Sam, Rob had a way that drew the teens in. “So what else did we learn?”
“To communicate,” someone mumbled from the back.
Rob nodded. “Knowing how to communicate in different circumstances is key, no matter if you’re on a ropes course, in a classroom, on a field, or down on your knees praying. Did you communicate?”