“A picnic? Yes. Good idea. On one condition.”
Uh-oh. He wasn’t fond of Ginny’s conditions. They always got him into trouble.
“I’m scared to ask.”
“Smart man.” She grinned. “I get to ride on the back of your bike.”
He thought it over, then nodded. What could happen?
“Okay.”
“You mean it?” In her exuberance, she hugged him. “Oh, Tucker, I lo—” Her voice choked and died, her eyes cloudy, shimmering with unshed tears.
Slowly her arms dropped from his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean—” She cleared her throat, grabbed her purse and stood. “I’ll wait outside. I don’t think it should be much longer.”
“Ginny, it’s—” He gulped down the words he’d been going to say. It wasn’t all right. Not at all. He’d told her he didn’t want to marry her, that he couldn’t love her. Why add fuel to the fire, make it worse by repeating it all, rehashing it in a public place?
He let her go, shame welling up at her hurried departure. What a fiasco. And it was all his fault.
Several of the customers glanced up when she rushed past them without answering their calls, but no one said anything. They simply stared at Tucker with pity in their eyes.
By the time he walked outside with their lunch, Tucker had determined his next course of action. He was going to ignore her slip, pretend nothing had changed, just like he ignored the pain deep inside his soul. What else was there to do?
He found her sitting on a brilliant blue bench in front of the craft store two doors over. She got up as soon as she saw him, but her steps weren’t the bouncy, buoyant ones he’d seen earlier.
“I think they gave us twice what we ordered,” he joked, storing the box on the holder at the back of his bike. “Hopefully we won’t blow a tire on the way back—from all the extra weight,” he explained when he caught her puzzled stare.
“Ah.” That was all she said as she stood, patiently waiting for him to tell her where and how to sit before handing her a helmet that matched his own.
“Okay, I think we’re ready. I’ll get on first.” He swung his leg over and flopped on the seat, edging forward to give her as much room as possible.
That’s when he caught sight of her shoes.
“Uh, Gin, I’m not sure what you’re wearing is appropriate—” He stopped short at the glower in her eyes.
“You’re not backing out, Tucker. Not this time. You promised I could ride on this bike, and I’m holding you to your promise this time.” Her eyes glittered with an inner fury that dared him to deny her.
Which he had no intention of doing, but maybe now wasn’t the time to explain. Tucker sighed. Coming back was getting a lot more complicated than he’d imagined. Everything seemed to hark back to the past, to that stupid promise. He hated watching the flicker of hurt wash over her face, hated knowing he’d put it there, but—
Ah, therein lay the problem. That little but hid myriad minefields, places he’d rather not explore. If that made him a coward, he’d have to learn to live with it. Somehow.
“Well?” She stood beside him, hands on her hips, waiting.
There was no avoiding this.
“Climb on. Make sure your skirt is tucked under you and your feet stay clear of mine. Most of all, make sure you don’t lose those—shoes. Okay?”
“Yes!” She tossed her head, and her shiny hair bounced off her shoulders, swooped, then settled around her cheeks as she concentrated on straddling the leather seat. “Like this?”
He glanced back. She sat gingerly, as if afraid the bike would take off and eject her at any minute. Her hands fluttered nervously. She tucked her skirt more firmly around her long legs.
“Yeah, fine,” Tucker muttered over the lump in his throat.
She looked like a kid who’d just been given a very special treat. Her green eyes glowed emerald in her pale heart-shaped face. Her small, compact body tilted slightly forward, ready, expectant.
“You’re sure this is right?” She licked her lips. “I don’t want to fall off halfway down the road.”
“You won’t fall off.” Tucker gunned the engine once. “You can either hang on to me or to that metal bar behind your seat.”
He felt her lean backward and turned to check. She was stretched to the max, trying to reach the support, her fingers barely able to close around the cold, hard metal.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s going to work. You’ll break your back before we go half a mile. You’d better hold on to me.” He waited a minute until she’d rearranged herself. “Ready?”
“Yes.” A puff of warm air caught him on the neck as her fingers gripped his waist. “I’m ready.”
Tucker kicked the bike into gear, wondering if he was.
It was glorious!
The wind tore at her hair, dragging it off her face so the sun could beat down and warm her. The engine throbbed beneath her, leashed power just waiting to be set free. In a kaleidoscope of impressionist paintings, the countryside whirled past, mere daubs of color.
Freedom.
Absolute freedom.
This had to be what it felt like. No wonder he loved this bike. Her dad, the store, Tucker, everything faded into the background as Ginny relished the joy of the ride.
“Okay?” Tucker called over his shoulder.
She leaned forward so her lips were near his ear.
“Perfect,” she told him, and meant it.
This was why he disappeared so many nights when the boys had gone home and her father was in bed. To ride his bike and clear away the cobwebs life brought.
A thousand different fragrances assaulted her nostrils, daring her to identify them. Grass—freshly mown. Lilacs. Sweet clover. His aftershave.
It felt good to rest on him, to let herself relax, allow her body to bend with the curves in the road. Tucker was here, solid, trustworthy. He would handle things. For now, she could depend on him.
As the trees, rolling hills and scattered acreages flew past she let herself daydream, allowed just this once those fantasies from the past to live again. They were a couple, in love, secure in the world they’d built together. Nothing could keep them apart.
“Is this the place?”
Ginny opened her eyes. Reality flooded back, and with it embarrassment. She sat pasted against him, her hands tight around his middle, her face on his shoulder. Gingerly she eased away.
“Yes, this is it. Go a little farther.” She sat quietly as he steered up the road, really more of a track, waiting until they crested the hill. “Stop here. Please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tossed her a grin at the order but obediently rolled the bike to a halt and turned off the motor.
Before he could see the embarrassed red covering her face or see things in her eyes she’d rather keep secret, Ginny hopped off the bike and walked to the spot her customers had chosen more than three years ago.
“Perfect,” she whispered.
“It’s a lovely area. They were lucky to be able to buy this.”
“It wasn’t luck.” She sat on the grass and waited while Tucker set the box of lunch beside her.
“Really?” He accepted his milk shake, flopped down across from her as he tasted it. “What, then?”
Ginny handed him his lunch, unwrapped her own and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully on the diced celery and savory chicken before she spoke.
“Shared dreams, sacrifices, mutual plans for their future. Scrimping and saving to keep up the payments on this place.” She sipped her shake, recalling what little she knew of the couple.
“Yvonne’s worked more overtime, more holidays, more nights than any other nurse I know. Wayne deliberately takes all the long-haul routes he can get because they pay more. They started out with nothing, but now they’ve got a solid base for the future.”
Out of the corner of her eye she watched Tucker’s face as he assessed what she was saying.
“Wayne wan
ts to start a cattle operation someday, so they needed extra land. Yvonne wants to raise her kids in the country, just as she was. They’ve got their future all mapped out.”
“And you’re going to do the house?” He grinned at her. “Have you got something in mind?”
“Of course.” Ginny frowned. Had he really changed so much he couldn’t imagine what this stretch of land could become?
Had that part of him died, too?
“Can’t you see it? The kitchen’s over there, to catch the morning sun. There’s a breakfast nook and a larger eating area that faces south, with patio doors opening onto a big deck.”
It was clear that, though Tucker looked, he didn’t see what she did.
“No dining room?”
She’d give him a point for trying.
“No dining room. They don’t want formal, they want family. Comfort but also efficiency.”
“Ah.” He looked dubious.
“That doesn’t mean it’s going to be ugly, Tucker. I think they’ll be very happy with their new home when it’s finished.” She couldn’t resist telling him the rest.
“A family room sits opposite the kitchen so they can still have those big family dinners without sending everyone to a different room. Wayne’s study will be in front, across from Yvonne’s workroom, which will include the laundry. The bedrooms are—” She stopped, only then noting his glazed expression. “You’re not interested, are you?”
“Interested, yes. But I guess I’m not good at visualizing. A picture would help.” He used a napkin to wipe the last bit of chicken salad from his finger. “It’s funny, but I never thought of you as particularly talented at seeing what isn’t there, either.”
“You might be surprised.” Ginny crunched on her pickle, deliberately avoiding the words that longed to tumble out. She knew he didn’t want to go backward, knew he hated dragging up the past. But for her, past and future ran together, one inexplicably entwined with the other.
“When you see the future, Gin, what do you see?”
The whisper-soft question shocked her. What was he really asking? Could it be that he sometimes thought about the promise he’d made, wondered if she did?
Did he want to know her heart’s desire? Did he care?
She sipped her drink, her mind filling with possibilities.
“Gin? What do you see when you look into the future?”
You. She didn’t say it.
Instead Ginny stared at Tucker, watched his eyes darken with worry. “I’m not sure,” she finally admitted.
“Is it because of me? Do you think that if I stay here long enough I’ll change my mind?” The voice was soft, but the words were harsh.
She refused to look at him, knowing that was exactly what she thought, hoped, prayed, ever since he walked into town. She’d tried to stifle her feelings, pretend they weren’t there, even ignore them.
And now she was totally confused.
“I—”
“It can’t happen, Virginia. I won’t let it. My future isn’t here, if it ever was, and I’m beginning to doubt even that.”
He sprawled on the grass, his eyes searching the heavens, though Ginny was almost certain he didn’t know what he sought.
“I would never presume to tell you that you should stay.” She put the rest of her sandwich into the bag, hunger completely gone.
“You asked me what I see in my future, Tucker. The answer is, I don’t look that far any more. Living today, that’s all I can handle. I get up in the morning, pray that God will give me enough strength to handle whatever comes up, and I take the next step. Right now that’s all I can manage.”
“You can see houses not yet built, but you can’t see your own future?” He smiled lopsidedly. “That doesn’t sound like the Ginny I knew.”
A tear wiggled out of the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek. Ginny dashed it away, angry with herself for letting him see her emotion.
“Perhaps that’s at the root of everything.” She glared at him. “I’m not the Ginny you knew, Tucker. I’m older, maybe wiser. Nothing is black and white anymore in my life. I can’t say, ‘I’m going to go here, or I’ll do that,’ because the truth is I probably won’t.”
“And that’s okay with you?” He sat up as if that would give him a better take on her expression.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s okay with me or not.”
“It doesn’t?”
She shook her head. “I’m not the one in control. God is. He knows what I want to happen. He knows the deepest secrets of my heart. And He wants to give me what’s best. So I follow His lead. So far that’s meant staying in Jubilee Junction and working with my dad.”
“But it sounds so—fatalistic!”
“Oh, no! It’s not fatalistic at all. It’s faith.”
“I don’t get it.” He raked a hand through his hair, frustration burning in his eyes.
“When I gave my life to God, I handed over the reins and promised He’d be Lord. That means He’s the boss. I do what He wants, not the other way around.” Even as she said the words, Ginny wondered if Tucker realized how difficult that was sometimes.
“So you just sit around and wait for some miracle to happen?”
“Is that what you think? That I’ve been sitting around these past seven years?” She burst out laughing at the dubious look on his face. “I haven’t got time to sit around, Tucker. I’ve got a business to run, houses to build, a degree to finish.”
“But that’s what I meant when I asked about your future.”
“Did you?” She fiddled with her skirt, avoiding his eyes. “I thought you were asking about whether I expected to marry, have a family, travel.”
“In a way, that, too.” He pulled up a blade of grass and stuck it between his teeth. “So you don’t want those things?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Where was this going? What exactly was he asking? If she still loved him?
“Then what are you saying? Speak plain English, Gin. Stop dancing around and lay it out so I can understand!”
She twisted her body so her eyes were only inches from his. His chocolate-scented breath feathered over her face.
“I’m not dancing around anything.” She held his gaze while searching desperately to put her feelings into words. “I can’t look that far ahead, Tucker, because I don’t know if that’s what God has in store for me. If He does, fine. There’s nothing I’d like better than to be a wife and mother.”
His eyes met hers, fear swirling in their depths. He leaned back a fraction, trying to escape her stare.
“And if not?”
The whispered words pierced her to the quick, but Ginny managed to retain her composure.
“If not, then God will give me the strength and grace to pursue something else, something far more wonderful that He has in store.”
“I hate that!” He pushed himself away from her and jumped to his feet, pacing a narrow track across the hilltop. “I just hate it.” His hands were clenched at his sides. His teeth barely allowed the whispered words to be heard.
“Why?” Ginny stayed where she was, sensing he needed the space.
“Because it renders you so helpless, as if you’re at the mercy of some unknown fate.” He glared at her, the anger barely suppressed.
Ginny smiled. She knew exactly how he felt. She’d fought her way through this often enough before she’d finally accepted the truth.
“I am at the mercy of the unknown,” she murmured, staring at the azure sky with a faint smile. “But not at the mercy of fate. Never that.”
“God, you mean.” It wasn’t a question.
“That’s exactly Who I mean.”
“And you think it’s okay that God would take away the one dream you talked about for as long as I’ve known you?” He glared at her.
“Tucker, it’s not only okay with me, it’s the only way I want it.”
“Ginny, that’s ridiculous.”
She stood, allowed the wind
to blow her hair, to press her cotton skirt against her legs. Somehow it was freeing, as if the breeze that buffeted her carried away all the doubts and fears that tried to sneak up on her during the calm.
“No, it’s not ridiculous.” She touched him on the arm, indicating the land on which they stood, the wildflowers nodding across the meadow, the wooded area that sheltered a creek.
“He’s God, Tucker. God. He has more power, more brains, more intelligence than I could possibly imagine. He created me. How could I ever tell Him what He should be doing? If He’s truly my Lord, then it’s unthinkable that I, the servant, would give Him orders or try to get my own way.”
She stared at the land she’d chosen for the building site, awestruck once more as she contemplated the mighty hands that had created such beauty.
“He’s Almighty God, Tucker,” she whispered. “I daren’t challenge His decisions.”
She closed her eyes and listened as the wind whispered through the dried grass surrounding them, felt the soft, gentle caress across her face and knew that she was right.
God was in control.
“I guess we’d better head back. If you’re finished.”
“Yes, I’m finished.” Ginny opened her eyes and smiled at him, misty-eyed. “We can go anytime.”
They climbed on the bike, him in front, her behind, holding on to his middle. On the open highway, Ginny closed her eyes, ready to recapture the sense of awe and wonder she’d felt up there.
Instead her heart clicked into overdrive and presented her with the knowledge she’d been so carefully avoiding.
I love him. It hasn’t died or gone away or decreased. I love him in spite of his doubts, his broken promise, his refusal to love me back.
Once more she closed her eyes, but this time when she rested her head on Tucker’s back, Ginny wasn’t daydreaming. This time she prayed for the man who needed her only as a means to escape his past.
Oh, please, God, show me what to do now.
Chapter Eight
“Okay, guys, that’s it for tonight.”
“Hey, we haven’t got half of the stuff done!” Tom glowered at Marty and Tucker, his stance deliberately belligerent.
“No, we haven’t. But what we do have is a very good basic framework to begin our club and a semifinished clubhouse.” Tucker met the glare with a warning look. “We also have a curfew coming up, and if that’s broken, this club is history.”
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