by JoAnn Durgin
“Excuse me?” She whistled under her breath. “I knew Mitch went to Harvard, and Marc to Yale, but I had no idea. Seems we’ve got ourselves a few blue bloods in our TeamWork camp.”
“Something wrong with that?”
She looked up at him quickly. “Not at all. What did you study?”
“Foreign relations.”
“Oh,” she said. “That makes perfect sense from what I know.”
“Foreign relations applies every bit to relating to a woman such as yourself as it does to maintaining a friendly rapport with other nations.”
“That’s a very politically correct answer. Why did you need that kind of training? That’s what I’m wondering.”
Eliot sighed. “To prepare me for my career.”
“Oh, so you’re a spy,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.
“I can’t say anything more, Marta. Really.”
“Because if you told me, then you’d have to kill me, right?”
“Something like that.”
“So, are you like James Bond? Do you have any fun little gizmos or gadgets? Cars with ejector seats? A beautiful, sexy woman in every port?”
Eliot chuckled. “No, but I’ve had some interesting adventures. That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my so-called girlfriends around the globe. I thought we’d settled that misperception. Let’s keep moving forward. Tell me more about your education.”
“Not much to tell. I was a good student but my mom didn’t think I applied myself or I could have been brilliant. Her words, not mine. You know I went to Baylor University, but you probably don’t know I earned a full-ride swimming scholarship.”
“That’s very impressive, but it seems natural for someone who could swim before she could walk. What’s your specialty?”
“The 800 Freestyle and the Butterfly were my best events.”
“Which tells me you have endurance, strength, and stamina.”
Pulling up her knees on the chair, Marta wrapped her arms around them. “You also know what I do for a living, but what you don’t know is that I smuggle state secrets in muffins.”
“That’s a very commendable choice. The school, not the smuggling.” The corners of Eliot’s mouth upturned. “What’s your degree?”
“Geophysics.”
Eliot choked as he took a drink from his water bottle. “So, my next question would have to be why—”
“Why am I working for Lexa and Winnie’s catering business? I do a lot of the accounting work for Lexa now, so I’m putting my mathematical skills to good use. Since Cassie moved away, I’ve taken over the front office duties. I coordinate events and interact with existing and potential clients, put in bids for big jobs, order supplies and enlist extra staff for big events. I enjoy it, and I still help serve at the occasional catering event. We have a regular staff of part-timers now, and they’ve just hired a new office manager.”
Marta shrugged. “To be honest, there aren’t many positions for geophysicists that appeal to me. The jobs are few and far between unless I want to man the controls at the local planetarium. I’m happy keeping the books for Doyle-Clarke Catering and baking the occasional muffin. I’ll have you know my blueberry muffins are to die for.”
“I’m sure they are. I’ll have to try one sometime. State secrets included or not.”
Although he didn’t smile, Marta could hear the amusement in Eliot’s tone. “It’s okay to say you’re surprised, Eliot. That’s about the only thing they allow me to bake.”
“Okay then, I’m surprised. You had me way back at trophies, but why geophysics?”
“Call me weird, but I’ve always loved math, science, and the study of the earth. I love the study of meteorology and astronomy, in particular. Can you keep a secret?”
Eliot grunted. “I’m an expert at it.”
“I’ve been talking with one of the TV stations in Houston about a weekend meteorology job.”
He shifted in his chair. “That’s great. Which station?” When she told him, he nodded. “Adding a beautiful blonde on the weekends makes perfect sense to me. They could use some fresh blood, so to speak.”
“I have a screen test next month. If I get the job, I’d start early in the New Year. I’m not sure whether to tell Lexa and Winnie yet. Gayle’s the only other person other than you that I’ve told.”
“Are you saying I’m special?” His wink made her heart soar.
“No.” She laughed quietly. “I’m saying that nothing may come of it. They’re my friends, too. I’d like to share this news with them so they can pray for me, but they’re also my bosses and sign my paychecks. I’m sure you can see my conundrum here.”
“I can. As much as I know they’d hate to lose you at Doyle-Clarke Catering if the job comes through, Lexa and Winnie would be pleased for you. You’d be at TeamWork events, so it’s not like you’d lose touch. And you go to the same church, as I understand it.”
“True. Jensen Callahan—the new girl we’ve hired as the office manager—seems more than capable of taking over in my place. Rumor is she can cook, too. A certified double whammy.”
“Sounds to me like the Lord is paving the way for something to happen so you can move on.”
“Could be. Don’t get too excited for me yet. Since it’s a weekend job, there’s the possibility that I could still work for Doyle-Clarke during the week. Depends on what the TV station’s looking for, I suppose.” Marta tucked hair behind both ears. “I’m nervous about the screen test, but I’ll give it my best shot.”
“I’ll be praying for you, Marta.”
Her pulse sputtered. She’d always been the kind of girl who lived in the moment, the here and now. Once they went back to the “real world,” the Lord only knew what would happen, including with Eliot. She quickly dismissed that thought. This evening was too special to dwell on anything sad.
With every muscle protesting, Marta reluctantly rose from the chair. “I’d better say good night. Thank you for the wonderful chat. Since we don’t share a normal dating relationship in any sense of the word, I think you should know that I consider this a date.”
“So do I.” Eliot drained his water bottle, recapped the bottle, and set it on the ground.
“I already broke a big dating rule with you,” she said, lifting her shoulders. “Huge, actually.”
“Should I ask?” When Eliot rose from his chair, Marta’s heart jumped. Lacing her fingers through his, he walked her to the door—all of two feet.
“Kissing before the first date. It’s unheard of. I hope you can still respect me.”
“Always. But if you think about it,” he said, “we talked on the way to the camp when I first arrived. Then we had what I’d call a major, life-changing talk after that first prayer circle. That’s two dates in one day, right? Got to count for something.” When she nodded, he continued. “Then we shared the hammer and ice incident. And then the middle-of-the night episode—”
She laughed. “I like your reasoning.”
“Marta, I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment we first met. And each time we’ve spent together since has reinforced those feelings. My mind and body have been going at such warp speed at times that I needed this mission to slow down and focus on you. On us,” he amended.
She inhaled a quick breath. Eliot’s words thrilled her. Should she pinch herself to see if this conversation was really happening? He took her other hand in his and guided both her hands around his neck. Smooth move, Mr. Marchand.
“Thank you for sharing more about your life with me,” she murmured. “I realize that’s a big risk for you, and I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”
He leaned close and touched his lips to hers. “Is that all?” His arms moved around her.
“Are you teasing me again?” Marta smoothed one hand over his hair. The light from the moon brought out the highlights in his hair, and the strands were soft under her fingertips, making her want to sink in with both hands.
“Yes. I ki
nd of like teasing you.” His voice was deep, low, teasing.
“Kiss me again, please?”
Eliot’s lips met hers. His kisses made her deliciously, deliriously dizzy.
As they parted, Marta was thankful his arms still circled her waist. “At the risk of sounding like a girl in a fairy tale, I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Oh, this is definitely happening.” To prove his point, Eliot kissed her again.
A long moment later, Marta released his hand. “The here and now is a beautiful place to be.”
Chapter 29
Day 6, Saturday
~~♥~~
“Is this where you want the gazebo, Pastor Chevy?” Sam worked with his TeamWork men to position the partially constructed gazebo to the side of the church. One of the One Nation men had transported it from the campsite in his large, flatbed truck.
“Yes, thank you.” The other man smiled and addressed Kevin. “Thank you for making this lovely gazebo and donating it to our church, Mr. Moore. The women, in particular, are very pleased with this addition.”
“TeamWork’s all about promoting love,” Marc said. His sentiment was met with knowing smiles from several of the other men.
“Which brings me to our next project,” Sam announced. “After lunch, I suggest we go on a shopping expedition.”
“Are you talking about more building supplies?” Mitch said. “I can help you.” Kevin and Landon echoed their agreement.
“I have something a little more personal in mind, guys. We’re halfway into the mission, and I can tell you natives are getting a little restless.” Sam’s statement was rewarded by a series of grunts and chuckles. “We’ve been working hard, and it’s time to take a few hours off. I’d like to suggest that you each pick out a special gift for your wife. Gear it toward her unique interests. Whatever helps her to relax, makes her feel pampered, makes her feel pretty. That kind of thing.”
Marc nodded. “Sounds like Rule Number Three. Show her your love in a physical, tangible way.”
“I’ve pretty much imprinted those rules in my brain,” Landon said. “They’ve come in handy.”
Josh smiled. “You like them so much you’re publishing Sam’s books.” He turned to Marc. “I don’t even want to see what you’d pick out for your wife.”
Marc laughed. “Try to keep up, will you?”
“We’ll tell the ladies we’re going to the home supply store for pipe fittings and that should do it. Once they hear that, I can guarantee none of them will want to come along.” Sam paused while the other men laughed. “We’ll only be gone a couple of hours, and they won’t suspect a thing. It’ll be good for our marriages, and that’s always a good thing.”
“When do you suggest we give the gifts to our wives?” Ah, that from Kevin, practical as always.
“Don’t you mean where?” Marc said.
“I’ve got a plane. I can take reservations.” Several of the guys laughed at Landon’s suggestion, but it might have been inspired.
“I guess the nature of your gift will dictate how much privacy you’ll need.” Sam chuckled. “You’ll figure it out. I’ll leave it up to you. I know you’re a creative bunch.”
“We learned from the master.” Marc saluted him as he headed for the church.
Hands on his hips, Eliot tossed Sam a broad grin as the others departed. “I’m sure you’d like us to take over security at the camp while the rest of you lovebirds are at the mall? Great idea, by the way.”
“You might want to catch some more sleep, Eliot. You were only supposed to handle a three-hour shift last night, but you were standing guard last night and again when we climbed out of that teepee.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. “In my wildest imagination, I never would have believed I’d be saying a sentence like that.”
“Not a problem,” Dean said. “You can count on us, Sam. Eliot’s coasting on love fumes as it is.”
Eliot smirked. “Speak for yourself, Romeo.”
~~♥~~
“Do you want some iced tea?” Angelina asked Felipe. They’d played a couple of games outside, and now the kids were coloring at tables in the dining hall. Winnie had stopped by a few minutes ago to get Emily and Luke for their naps, and Lexa should be coming soon to get Leah and Hannah.
“Sure, but not milk this time. Thanks, Love Bunny.”
Laughing, she shook her head. “Don’t let the kids hear you say that.”
“Yeah, right. Get real, Angel. These kids hear plenty of nicknames from their parents.”
On her way to the kitchen, she saw Gracie hand a crayon to Joe. Good. She didn’t feel like mediating between them today.
A couple of minutes later, Angelina handed Felipe a cup of iced tea and dropped down onto the bench beside him.
“What’s that you’re drinking?” he said.
After she explained it was called an Arnold Palmer—half-lemonade and half-iced tea—he asked to try it. “Not bad,” he said, smacking his lips. “Tart and sweet, like someone I know sitting with me now.”
“Very funny.”
“Angel, did you know that one of the survivors at The Alamo was a little girl named Angelina?”
She blinked in surprise. “Seriously? I had no idea. I’ve only been to The Alamo once with a school group. I’m surprised I didn’t know that. How’d you find out?”
“Our resident history expert mentioned it to me when we were working over at the church the other day.”
She laughed. “Let me guess—Sam?”
“Right. Anyway, she was only a baby. Two years old. Her name was Angelina Dickinson, and her mama’s name was Susanna. Have to tell you, if her name had been Sheila, that would have been pretty weird. After the battle at The Alamo, a Mexican general offered to adopt Angelina, but Susanna refused to give her up. I thought about that, and I know your mother wouldn’t ever give you up, either. But my mom? If she had an offer like that, she’d probably jump on it.”
When Felipe said things like that, it made her heart hurt. “Felipe, I’ve been wanting to ask you about something.”
“What’s that?” After taking a drink, he turned to face her.
“You mentioned step-siblings when we were out at the spring. Can you tell me a little about them?”
His grin faded fast. Oh oh. What had she said now? She didn’t mean to make him sad, but she also wanted to understand more about his life so she could be a better friend.
“Yeah, I’ve, uh, got a few half-siblings and some step-siblings. I’ve kind of lost count.”
Angelina tried to keep the shock from her voice. “You honestly don’t know how many brothers and sisters you have? How…tragic.” She’d prayed for a baby sister or brother for years. Mama was still young enough to have another baby. She’d noticed the way Dean looked at Mama, and he didn’t have any kids. She liked Dean, and Mama deserved to be happy. Maybe there was still hope.
“They’re all bad news,” Felipe said, breaking into her reverie. “Like my folks. Mom’s been married three times that I know of, and Dad’s been married at least twice. I try not to think about any of them.”
“How are your step-siblings bad news?” Maybe she shouldn’t push it, but she wanted to know.
“In and out of jail. Drug possession for the most part. Drugs are stupid.” Wrapping his hands around his cup, he nodded to the kids. “Look at them. Do you think they have any idea how bad some people have it?”
She followed his gaze. The kids giggled together, their laughter filling the otherwise quiet dining hall. “Probably not, but why would you want to take away their innocence? They’re happy. They’ll find out soon enough how hard the world can be. How people aren’t always nice even if they seem that way on the outside. Those kids are stronger than you might think, though.”
“Yeah? What makes you say that?”
“From what I know, not one of them cried or got scared because of that symbol.” Angelina looked back over at Felipe. He stared straight ahead, but she could tell he was
lost in his own world.
“One of the guys I hung out with back home took an overdose a couple of weeks ago.”
The sadness in Felipe’s voice about broke her heart. “I’m so sorry.” She had no idea he’d been struggling with something like that since he’d been here in the camp.
“Me, too,” he said after taking a drink. “He was one of the guys who borrowed the car with me that night. I thought Marco would be the one who’d make something of himself. He was a lot smarter than me.”
Shifting on the bench, Angelina turned to face him. “Sorry to say this, but he wasn’t all that smart if he took drugs.”
“I think it was an escape for him. He had it rough. Problem is, nobody knows if Marco meant to kill himself on purpose or not.”
“You’ve had it rough, too. Drugs are a cop-out. What’s your escape, Felipe?”
“I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, Angel. I tried drugs, but they made me do stupid stuff. I play soccer sometimes.” He drummed his fingers on the cup. “And…”
“And?” Angelina prompted.
“Promise not to laugh?”
“I promise.” She sipped from her drink.
“That promise thing didn’t work out so well before, but I’ll tell you anyway. I like to write stories. Short stories mostly.”
“Really? That’s great, Felipe!”
Her enthusiasm made him visibly brighten. “You don’t think it’s too weird?”
“Of course not. For one thing, it shows you have an active imagination. Not that I doubted it for a second. What kind of stories do you write?”
“Okay, this part might sound strange.”
Angelina held up one hand. “Don’t even tell me if it’s— ”
He snorted. “Not that kind of story. Get your mind out of the gutter. I like to write stories for kids.”
That was the last thing she expected to hear. “Kids? You mean like chapter books?”
“Picture books about families. For younger kids. Books to let them know it’s okay if their family’s messed up. To encourage them to make something of themselves.” He lowered his voice. “To tell them that the bad stuff doesn’t mean they can’t be successful or do whatever they want in life. That kind of thing.”