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Edited by Deidre Lockhart at Brilliant Cut Editing
Love never gives up on people.
It never stops trusting, never loses hope, and never quits.
1 Corinthians 13:7 ERV
Chapter One
Fraser Maclean aimed to keep his life simple and uncomplicated.
Sunday, church. Weekdays, he put everything he had into teaching sports at the high school and coaching the kids after school. Saturdays, he reserved for playing hard—rugby, crag hopping, rock climbing, anything adventurous.
So, what was he doing here, wasting the best sunny Saturday Edinburgh might get all spring, volunteering to garden all day?
He scanned the volunteers gathering in front of the church and knew the answer the moment he spotted her.
Sarah Browne.
Spending time with her was worth giving up his Saturday, even if it did involve another of his sister’s grand schemes.
Sarah looked even more gorgeous than she usually did on the one day a week they worked together for her practice teaching sessions. There, she tied her long blonde hair back in a tight ponytail. Today it hung softer in a thick braid on her shoulder, with little curly wisps already escaping. Figure-hugging jeans and a T-shirt showed off curves she kept hidden under baggy sweats when coaching their shared classes.
He swallowed hard.
As if she sensed his focus, she glanced his way. He half smiled, unsure how she’d respond to him outside of school.
Her blue eyes widened as their gazes connected. He still couldn’t get used to the little jolt it gave him. Judging by the speed she looked away, she felt it too.
He wasn’t just imagining their chemistry. She sought him out at school, spending their lunch hour together. So why did she make excuses every time he asked her to join in any after-school activities with the kids? And why when he’d finally asked her out after months of lunchroom chats, did she turn him down?
Sure, they disagreed about teaching methods. He focused on the talented kids, training potential champions. She wanted to get the couch potatoes moving. They argued it loud and long most days, but that didn’t explain her blowing as hot and cold as the Scottish weather.
He had no idea what Sarah wanted.
Or what he wanted, either. His plans didn’t involve getting serious about any girl yet. He’d enjoy their lunchtime debates without looking for anything more.
His best friend approached, and Fraser braced for the playful shoulder thump, like they were in a rugby ruck. He thumped back, harder.
“I didn’t think we’d see you here today.” Alistair Murray grinned and nodded towards Sarah. “Does it have anything to do with the pretty blonde talking with my new bride? You know her?”
“Don’t go getting ideas. We’re just friends. I intend to hold onto my easy single life as long as I can.”
“So I guessed right?”
Fraser laughed and shrugged. Of course, Ally guessed right. But since getting married, his friend started a mission to get everyone else hitched as well.
At twenty-six, Fraser wasn’t looking to settle down so soon, no matter how lovely the girl was, how many interests they shared, or how well suited they seemed.
If guys had biological clocks, his wasn’t ticking loud enough to hear.
“We’ve worked together nearly eight months, but I didn’t know she came to our kirk. That’s how well I know her.”
“I think she’s new here.” Ally grinned. “Your sister has a way of roping people into her projects.”
“Tell me about it. We’ve both been dragged along with her schemes more times than we’ve wanted. I’ve gotten better at ducking for cover. You have no escape now you’re married to her.”
“True.” His friend laughed and scanned the kirk’s so-called gardens. “This time, Cat probably does have a point.”
Fraser had to agree. At the front, concrete paths edged garden beds holding a few straggling tulips and a hunch-backed apple tree. Beside the long kirk wall, muddy tracks carved deep into a weed-filled lawn everyone used as a short cut. Neglected shrubs caught litter blown in by the wind.
The surroundings didn’t match the dignity of the old mellow stone Victorian church.
“No one’s done more than mow the grass since Maggie Thatcher was Prime Minister. The skid mark you gouged in the lawn when we were kids doing stunts on our bikes and you crashed into the kirk wall is probably still there.”
Ally laughed. “Probably.”
Cat clapped her hands and brought the group to attention. “Thank you for volunteering today. We’re grateful for your help. Some of you may not know Sarah Browne, who’s co-leading the garden project with me. She’s new to the church, attending the early Sunday service.”
Explained why he’d never seen her here. Pension-age parishioners, singing hymns with the pump organ, attended the seven thirty a.m. traditional service. He liked the old hymns too, but Sunday was his only morning to sleep in. Unless it involved seeing the sunrise from the top of Arthur’s Seat, he wasn’t getting up that early.
Cat pulled Sarah forward. “She designed the garden the kirk council voted to use, so I’m going to ask her to explain it.”
Applause splattered through the group, though Moira and Derek, a middle-aged couple, only pretended to clap.
Sarah lifted her head and smiled. “Thank you, Cat. And thank you all for offering to help build a new sensory garden for the kirk and the local community.”
She sounded quiet, almost shy.
She’d been like that with him at first, when she’d started at the school back in August. It hadn’t taken long for her to find her voice during their disagreements over the best way to work with students in the classes they shared. Or in their discussions of news, politics, and sports over lunch break, either.
Sometimes, it seemed, she argued just for the sake of arguing. The woman frustrated and intrigued him in the same breath.
She cast the group a wide welcoming smile. When she glanced his way, she gave a tiny shake of the head and a can’t-keep away-from-you eye roll. But he detected the hint of a contradicting blush.
That blush provided all the encouragement he needed. He smiled and offered a what-can-I-do shrug.
“I’ll start by telling you about sensory gardens, as some of you might not have heard of them. The aim is to involve as many senses as possible, creating a garden not just meant to be looked at, but touched, smelled, heard, and felt as well.”
Her shyness still showed. Yet by the enthusiasm ringing in her voice and the animation in her face, he could see her confidence building, amplifying his fascination.
“Sensory gardens can be used by anyone, but are especially helpful for adults or children with physical challenges, learning difficulties, altered senses, or memory problems. Having one here should provide a wonderful asset for the church and local residents. When I heard about Cat’s suggestion to redevelop this area as a community garden, I thought a sensory garden would tie in well with what the kirk is already doing, the Messy Church sessions for special needs kids. The council agreed.”
She stopped for breath, grinned, and lifted her shoulders apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a lecture.”
Just like their discussions at school. Everything Sarah did, she did with energy.
“Cat and
I were able to raise some generous donations of plants, labour, and landscaping materials, so here we are today.” Sarah’s huge smile and wave of her hands encompassed the existing gardens. “The front of the church will stay as it is, with a tidy up and some fresh planting, but the side area will be completely transformed. Today’s job is to get the area prepared for the builder who’s coming in on Monday to start the hardscaping.”
Cat stepped forwards again. “Sarah, would you ask God’s blessing on our project today?”
No one hearing her heartfelt prayer could keep a hard attitude towards her. Fraser’s had softened months ago.
They clashed over their teaching methods, but in an exasperated good-natured way. She wasn’t obnoxious about it. She simply had ideas different from his and stood up for them. And though she was a terrible timekeeper—sometimes late, sometimes skipping the last class of the day—when she was there, she gave the kids the same level of energy and dedication he did. He had to admire that.
Of course, when Cat divided them into two work groups, she grabbed Ally to work on the front garden with her, leaving him with Sarah’s team to take on the more complex job of the sensory garden.
No doubt about it, Cat and Ally were matchmaking.
They’d find out soon enough they were wasting their time. Sarah had already made it clear that a match between them was as likely to fly as the church building.
Not that he didn’t enjoy the challenge. A project outside of work would either bring them closer together, or one of them would be filing for a transfer by the end.
He assessed the rest of the group.
Dear old Mary Mackay, who’d minded him as a bairn and taught Sunday school. Her angelic white hair formed careful curls around her smiling face, as always, but today she’d swapped her tweed skirts for trousers and wellingtons. Ready for action. At eighty-eight, Mary resisted anyone’s well-meaning advice to slow down.
The two kids in their late teens, he recognised from school as well as church. Charlie, a tall skinny lad wearing glasses, attended Cat’s special needs youth group. Fiona, with her newly multi-coloured pixie-cut hair, stood close enough to Charlie to suggest if the two weren’t dating yet, they would be soon.
Derek and Moira, the couple who hadn’t clapped to welcome Sarah, bore tight-lipped smiles.
Him.
And Sarah.
Cat grinned, winked, and led her team away.
“Please collect the tools you brought, and we’ll regroup at the side of the kirk.” Sarah beamed at their small team. Her gaze seemed to skip him.
Gathering her equipment, she lowered her voice and moved beside him. “Fraser Maclean. No getting away from you, is there?” A smile softened her words. “Just like at school, we’re stuck with each other.”
He felt the same. Like a burr, a prickle in his skin, he was always aware of her. But he’d chosen to volunteer today knowing she’d be here.
“Looks like it.” He kept a couple of feet distance between them and grinned like she was one of the guys. That was how he’d played it since she’d turned him down last. It worked, as long as he didn’t accidentally touch her or hold eye contact too long.
“Let me take those.” He reached to help with the huge bundle of tools she juggled.
“I can manage.” She pulled back.
He caught the rusted old spade as it toppled off the top of the stack and added it to the items he carried. “Up to you. The offer’s still open.”
She was like this at school, reluctant to take help. Her choice.
“I’m sorry you’ve been landed with me,” she said, soft enough for no one else to hear. “I’m sure you’re as happy with it as I am.”
“And here I was hoping you were overjoyed to see me outside of school for once.” He grinned again and kept his tone dry, pretending his words were a joke.
Her snort suggested she’d taken it that way. “Of course.” She glanced sideways at him as they walked around the corner. “I’m surprised to see you here. I wouldn’t have thought gardening was your thing.”
“It’s not. I loathe gardening.” He laughed. “Cat asked me to help. Once she makes her mind up you’re helping with one of her projects, there’s no escape.”
Sarah didn’t need to know, once he saw her name on the list, he’d jumped at the chance to volunteer. Cat hadn’t had to use her usual strong-arm tactics to drag him in.
“I haven’t known her long, but she does have that effect, yes.” She looked right up at him and smiled, warm enough to short-circuit his nerve endings. “I think she’s as excited about this garden as I am. I’m glad she managed to find so many volunteers.”
As they neared the others on the muddy lawn, she stepped away from him and spoke to the group. “I’m so pleased we’ll be working together. Our goal for today is to get the area cleaned up and the path skimmed of turf, ready for the hard landscaping to be laid. Then if all goes well, next week we can start on the planting. How many of you have gardening experience?”
Derek and Moira raised their hands. “We enter our home garden in the district show garden contest every year and have won several times. Never less than a highly commended from the judges.” Pride rang in their voices.
“Wonderful. I’ll call on your expert advice when it comes time to plant.” She checked her volunteer list then turned to the teenage boy and the girl superglued to his side. “How about you? It’s Charlie and Fiona, isn’t it?”
They nodded.
“I help Mum and Dad with their garden,” the girl said. “Weeding. And planting things.”
“Perfect.” Sarah smiled encouragement.
“Apart from mowing the lawn, no,” the boy said.
Sarah grinned. “You’ll find today a bit different. We’re digging up the lawn.”
“Why?” Charlie asked.
“Think about the sensations a lawn offers. We can look at it, but it’s a solid block of green, giving nothing for visually impaired people to focus on. Or we could feel the lawn, if we bend down to touch it or walk barefoot on it.” She scuffed her shoe across the rough patchy grass and laughed. “Well, maybe not this one. What a sensory garden does is offer more things to see, touch, hear, smell. Things people can experience and appreciate even if they’re differently abled.”
Her face glowed with passion for her subject, just like when they argued at school. He didn’t always agree with her, but he liked her enthusiasm.
He liked it a lot.
Her energy and vitality appealed to him. Any girl he dated would need it to keep up with him.
She wrinkled her nose at the lawn. “Right now, it doesn’t look appreciated by anyone.”
There was an understatement. This job truly was needed.
Sarah smiled. “Because it’s so unappreciated, our first job is to collect all this litter.” She raised a pair of gardening gloves, a long-handled pick-up tool, and a heavy-duty rubbish bag, and handed each of them a set.
As he took his cleanup items from her, their hands connected. Adrenaline rushed through him.
She pulled back like a bee had stung her, and lifted startled eyes to his. She had to feel it too.
He couldn’t figure her out. He couldn’t figure his reaction to her, either. If his goal was a simple uncomplicated life, continuing to fall for a girl who didn’t want to date him wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done.
Volunteering to spend more time with her began to look like a bad idea.
But he’d promised to help, and he didn’t run away from challenges. He’d stick with the garden for as long as the project took. Maybe, in the process, he’d work out what he really wanted to happen with Sarah.
And then pray Sarah wanted the same thing.
Chapter Two
Sarah organised the group, handing out equipment, checking everyone had safe footwear, and ensuring they knew how to avoid injuries, but she felt like an automaton.
Fraser Maclean’s unexpected presence had her tongue-tied and tummy-trembled.
/> His height, broad shoulders, messy dark hair, and strong features made him hard to ignore. She’d tried and failed all year at school. Of all the people to get assigned to a full day a week doing her practice teaching with, and now he intruded here, too.
He always found something to argue when she tried a new teaching technique with the class. Not to mention the way his win-win-win, losers-come-second attitude grated like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Even so, the kids idolised him. And she’d seen another side to him over lunchtimes, when they often shared a table and spent the hour chatting about their favourite hiking spots or reliving the glory days of their own high school sports experiences. Her athletics, his rugby. The things that inspired her to teach Physical Education.
Everything that annoyed her about him disappeared in that hour. The one hour of sensible adult conversation in her week.
But the man was a Class A distraction this morning.
Forcing her thoughts out of their Fraser-shaped loop, she showed the volunteers how the picker worked.
Charlie examined his, seeming more interested in taking it apart to figure out how squeezing the handle worked the claw at the end of the stick than in using it.
Fiona, already picking up a chocolate wrapper, clearly knew what to do.
Moira and Derek both held the plastic devices at arm’s length between two fingers. She half expected one of them to say, “We only use stainless steel tools in our garden.” They’d shown off their shiny tool set when they arrived, putting the clunky old spade and edge cutter she’d borrowed to shame.
Now, Sarah, behave, she scolded herself for the uncharitable thought.
The older lady, Mary, who she recognised from the early Sunday service, tested it a few times in arthritis-knobbled fingers and smiled. “I need one like this at home.”
Sarah grinned. “A bonus for volunteering. You can all take your set home at the end of the day. Of course, that automatically signs you up to come back and use them as part of the garden maintenance crew.”
Everyone laughed, even Fraser, his deep rich chuckle doing things to her heart that ought to be illegal.
Love Blossoms: 7 Spring-Fresh Christian Romances Page 20