“Well, I have to agree there. Too easy to slip into temptation. But…” Mary shook her head a little.
Thankfully, she didn’t push harder.
He glanced over to Sarah, working beside Charlie and Fiona. Truth was, he hadn’t felt interested in dating anyone else since he started looking forward to Wednesdays. He thought Sarah did, too. But he couldn’t figure her.
They reached the kerb, and he scanned the area. No visible litter. The other team members were regrouping beside the kirk. “Looks like we’re done with the cleanup.”
Mary twinkled up at him. “I’m sure you’ll be glad of the chance to escape an interfering old woman.”
“Not at all.” He took a firm hold of her arm when she stumbled on the slightly uneven ground. “All that time Mum was so busy with Brodie being in and out of hospital, you were like a grandmother to me. I’ll forgive you anything, even a little interfering.”
She might be nosy. She might be stubborn. She might see far more than people wanted with those shrewd blue eyes. No matter. He meant every word. Mary blessed his life at a difficult time, and he wouldn’t forget it.
They joined the cluster around Sarah. She lowered the garden plan she’d been discussing with Charlie. Their eyes met, and awareness of her shook him.
Somehow, seeing her out of school changed everything.
He turned to check Mary. Her eyes held too bright a gleam.
“Do you need to sit down? I’ll fetch you a chair.” He indicated the stack of folding garden chairs he’d carried from home earlier.
She patted his hand. “I know what you’re up to, laddie. Trying to get away from me. But yes please.”
“We’ll wait until you’re comfortable, Mary. No hurry.” Sarah’s rich sweet voice vibrated through him. Out of nowhere, he imagined them standing side by side in church, singing one of the wonderful old-fashioned hymns they did at the early service. She probably sang beautifully.
Being around Mary was turning him soppy. Sarah didn’t want to date him, and he didn’t want to give up his single life. End of discussion.
He hurried to fetch and unfold the chair.
Mary subsided gratefully into it. “Thank you. My old bones aren’t what they used to be.”
Sarah’s smile lit her face with sweetness. “Those old bones seem in excellent working order. But you might be more comfortable sitting out and supervising from now on. Once we start digging, it’s going to get a lot more physical.”
“I’ll do what I can. But I appreciate the chance to rest now and then.”
Mary had a stubborn, never-say-die willpower. He’d need to keep an eye on her to ensure she didn’t overtire herself.
Sarah waited until Mary settled before speaking. “Thank you for your hard work so far. This next stage will be more complicated.” She handed them each a letter-sized copy of her garden plan, then held up a larger laminated version.
Fraser studied the page. No wonder the kirk elders had chosen her design. Her carefully drawn plan shouted professional.
“Now all the rubbish is gone, we can talk about the actual garden.” Smiling, she pointed at the plan. “It will have raised beds, with low brick walls to contain them and dense shrubs around the outside, sheltering the centre area with the pathway and seating. If you turn the sheet over, you’ll see some different pictures to make it easier to imagine.”
The second sheet showed a user’s viewpoint of the garden, in artist-quality, watercolour paintings.
Sarah did these? If so, she had talents he never knew about.
In all the time he spent listening to her sports stories, she hadn’t told him anywhere near all there was to know about her. Yet they’d spent more time with each other than some couples he knew had by the time they became engaged.
Seemed Sarah Browne was keeping things on the surface with him.
Disappointment twinged through him, sharper than he’d expected. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
In one of the paintings, tall shrubs formed a wall of green, blocking any view of what lay within. But low-growing plants, artwork, seats, and a water feature filled the centre of the garden. Her design was like her, not giving away much on the outside, but with surprises inside its secret heart.
“The shrubs should also help catch the litter before it blows right into the garden,” he said. Time to keep things practical.
Sarah laughed. “That too. Our job for the rest of today is to lay out the pathways and skim off the turf. A landscaper will construct the path through the garden’s centre and the low walls to edge the beds. He needs the site ready to start first thing on Monday. Once he’s done, we can come back next week to fill the beds with soil and start planting.”
Fraser usually dodged getting too involved in volunteering for Cat’s projects. One token day, then he made his escape. But he’d be back next week to work alongside Sarah.
Climbing the crags could wait.
Charlie squinted at the plan. “Why are the edges of the paths curved? In my engineering class, I learned straight walls are more efficient to build. Less surface area, so they use less materials.”
“You’re right, Charlie.” She leaned towards him and traced a straight line across the plan with her finger instead of her winding path. “Normally, straight lines are the most efficient option. But in a sensory garden, we want to maximise the edge.”
The kid frowned.
“Curving paths are longer,” she explained. “We can put more plants within people’s reach. The curved wall is also stronger, less likely to fall down with the back-pressure of soil.”
Charlie’s eyes widened, and he seemed impressed.
She’d impressed Fraser, too. Not just at her patience with the lad’s questions, but her knowledge. More surprises.
“We want the path to look like a stream. The easiest way to lay out the curves is to use a garden hose.” She pointed to the two behind her and picked one up. “Just lay it out on the ground and let it wriggle.” She unrolled a few feet and demonstrated. “What we need to avoid is any angles kinking the hose. They’ll be hard for Peter to build and also not good for garden users. We don’t want anyone hitting a leg on a sharp corner or getting their wheelchair stuck. So keep it curved.”
“We have straight paths in all the gardens we design,” Moira said with a hint of a sniff. “With a public garden like this, people will take shortcuts. The paths should be laid in the most direct route, where they’ve made tracks in the grass already.”
Fraser scowled at her, surprised by the strength of his reaction. Charlie’s questions had been curious. The kid had Asperger’s; questions went with the territory. Hers were downright challenging.
Hadn’t the woman looked at the plan or heard any of Sarah’s explanation?
Sarah didn’t react to Moira’s hostility. Instead, she flashed a sunny smile. “You are so right. People do take the shortest route across this area now. And if we intended keeping it grass, laying the paths where we can see people have walked makes the most sense.”
Moira smiled smugly as if she’d won the point.
Sarah clasped her hands in front of her and took a deep breath. “But we won’t have lawn in this garden. It’s designed to stop people walking straight through. I want people to linger. The wall of shrubs surrounding it will have only one way in or out on each side, to discourage people taking short cuts. We’ll need to use a temporary fence until the plants grow thick enough, of course.”
Sarah’s smile didn’t falter. He’d seen this with the kids at school too. The perfect mix of knowledge and patience.
So much to admire. Beautiful, smart, kind.
Like 1 Corinthians 13 embodied.
He’d never wasted time chasing a girl who wasn’t interested before, and he didn’t plan to start now. But something told him Sarah was interested.
The way she sought him out at lunchtimes. The way they worked so well together at school, laughing through their arguments. The way he’d catch her looking at him
, and she’d glance away. The way, when they accidentally touched, she jumped and pulled back as if she felt the same sweet shock he did.
Sarah Browne could be the one girl he’d consider giving up his easy single life for, yet she wouldn’t agree to see him outside of school. Once she finished her teaching time, she bolted out of there as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
Something was happening between them. Something he wasn’t sure about and had no idea how to respond to.
But with God’s help, he intended to make it his mission to find out. Sarah was a puzzle worth solving.
Chapter Four
Conscious of Fraser’s gaze on her, Sarah looked away fast. Eye contact with him tweaked her heartbeat and did too many other things she didn’t want happening.
Struggling to ignore her awareness of him, she continued explaining the garden plan to the group, pointing at her watercolour-and-ink sketch of the finished garden. “We’ll start with smaller plants to keep the cost down and help them establish strong roots. It will take a while to get to the fully grown stage, of course, but this gives you the idea what we’re aiming for.”
“You did these paintings?” Fraser asked. “They’re good. You have all kinds of hidden talents, Sarah Browne.”
Her name sounded sweet as honey when he said it. And he had to stop looking at her like that. The appreciative light in his eyes filled her with a far too warm a glow.
“It’s just a simple watercolour.” She tried to shrug off his compliment, but wanted to hug it close to her heart. “My mum is artistic. I take after her.”
Dad always used to say she was a carbon copy of her mother, except for growing a few inches taller. Mum gave her the love of gardening and growing things. Mum encouraged her to run and took her to her first athletics meet. Mum passed on her good qualities, and her less welcome ones, too.
She had all Mum’s genes.
That was exactly why she had to keep her distance from Fraser.
Help me to be stronger, Lord, please. Help me not to feel the way I do for him. You know why getting involved isn’t an option.
And she still hadn’t had a text from Trish. It wasn’t even morning tea time, but she couldn’t stop her nagging worries.
Once they started outlining the path, she’d phone home.
Swallowing her worry, she slid back into lecture mode. “So let’s get started on making our curved path. As well as avoiding corners, we need to ensure there’s at least four feet between the path’s edges, so wheelchairs can safely manoeuvre.”
“How should we measure it?” Charlie asked.
She lifted a couple of broom handles she’d brought and grinned. “We have a low-tech solution. One handle is four feet long, so two laid end to end give an eight-foot wide path. It doesn’t have to be exact. As long as the path width is somewhere in between one and two sticks, it will work fine. Try to vary it up. I’ve marked the starting edges for the path, with those little white stakes you can see on each side boundary.”
While everyone looked, she forced herself not to glance at Fraser. She wanted to see approval in his eyes again, far too much. Letting herself get needy or dependent on anyone wasn’t going to happen.
“I’ll clip the hoses to the ground with these wire pegs at one end, and then you can unroll them and play with them till you have a good shape for the path. Okay?”
They nodded, though Moira and Derek’s nods seemed a little more reluctant than the others. Even Charlie, with his Asperger’s need for precision, seemed more able to accept the concept of curves that didn’t have to be exact or conform to the plan.
Maybe though, they’d surprise her. She hoped so. Being judgmental didn’t feel good.
She pushed the U-shaped wires into the soil to hold the hoses at one end, and then walked to the other side boundary. “Unroll the whole thing, make sure it’s not kinked or looped, and then bring the free end over to me. I’ll secure it for you. Take as long as you need.”
While Fraser and Derek battled hoses showing every determination to kink, and Charlie and Fiona played light sabres with the broom handles, she pulled her mobile phone from her pocket.
Still no message. Now she really began to worry. Mum was used to Trish, but the smallest change in her routine could confuse her.
Sarah hit the quick dial for home and counted the rings. Seven before it answered. “Trish, is everything okay?” she cut in as Trish voiced a greeting. “You didn’t answer my text.”
“We’re fine.” A hint of impatience, and surely surprise over Sarah’s concern, tightened Trish’s normally cheerful voice. “It’s such good drying weather, she wanted to do the laundry and hang it out on the airing rack.”
Sarah let loose a relieved whoosh of breath. “So she’s having one of her better days? Thanks for helping her.”
“I’m happy to support her to do normal things while she still can.”
The day would come, sooner than Sarah could bear, when there would be no normal left in her mother for them to support. Sadness lay like a stone in her chest as she blinked back tears. She longed to hear Mum’s voice, but trying to talk to her on the phone would only make her more muddled, unable to understand why Sarah wasn’t there with her.
“Thanks, Trish. Please call me if there’s any problem. I can come home during the breaks if she needs me.”
“We’re fine. Trust me, Sarah.”
She screwed her eyes shut for a moment before answering. “I’m trying. I trust you as much as I trust anyone. More. You know I won’t leave her with anyone else. I just feel so responsible for her.”
“I know.” The carer’s voice softened. “She’s lucky to have you.”
Sarah wasn’t quite sure, but she’d keep doing what she could for as long as she could. Ending the call, she tucked the phone back in her pocket.
Mum took good care of her as a child, and now she’d take care of Mum. There’d be no one to do the same for her.
She squelched the unwelcome thought—fast. She didn’t regret having the testing done, but the facts were a burden she carried with every personal decision. Wanting someone to look after her would be the worst possible reason to get married or have children. She wasn’t so selfish.
Rubbing her stinging eyes, she turned to check those misbehaving hoses and spun smack into Fraser. His hands went to her waist to steady her. With a gasp, she lifted her hands to his chest and stared up into his concerned gaze, her pulse skittering.
“Whoa. Is everything okay?”
Strength and solidity flowed from him, giving her the sense of an anchor, a rock. She relished it for a moment.
Then she stepped back.
Not her anchor. Not her rock.
If only Fraser would leave her alone, stop being so caring, so kind. Sooner or later, if he kept persisting, he’d break down her guard and she’d tell him the truth. And then he’d want to help. He was that kind of guy.
She wasn’t sure what was worse, having to manage on her own, or being offered help by the one person she most wanted to accept it from, but mustn’t.
Mustering all her strength, she pushed away from him and forced her voice to stay steady. “Fine, of course. What makes you think there’s a problem?”
His hands dropped from her waist, and he shook his head at her obvious evasion. “Because I saw how upset you were about your call.”
She glanced around. No one within hearing. “I told you my mother wasn’t well. I just wanted to check how she was.”
“I know it’s none of my business, so you can tell me to butt out. You looked so worried. Let me help.”
If only she could. She’d love to be like the heroine of an old-fashioned romance novel and cast her burdens on his wide shoulders. But this was real life, and it didn’t work that way.
A man like Fraser who wanted a simple life should steer well clear of her. Maybe she should tell him. Not just about Mum, but the whole truth. Then he’d leave her alone.
“I’m fine. Truly.” But she d
idn’t meet his eyes, squinting at the mud flecking her gardening shoes instead.
Exasperation vibrated in Fraser’s long forced breath. “I can’t force you to tell me,” he said, his voice holding a hint of stiffness she’d never heard when they joked and argued at school. “Maybe one day you’ll trust me enough to open up to me. I thought we’d become friends.”
She pasted on a smile. “We are. If there’s anything I need to tell you, I will.”
Lord, I didn’t quite lie. There’s nothing he needs to know, now or ever, as he won’t be part of my life.
Having Fraser as a real friend would be too hard. If she saw him more often, keeping him at arm’s length would become impossible. She’d already let him get too close.
Time to get more distance. Remember what they were here for, the garden. Giving Mum a little opportunity for joy, before it was too late.
Stepping away from him, she raised her eyes and firmly pinned a bright meaningless smile in place. “You’re letting Derek and Mary win the hose contest.”
His smile in return didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I gave up on mine. The hose won.”
“Should I come help wrestle it into submission?”
“You can try.” His eyes warmed a little, this time.
She studied the problem, both hoses badly kinked despite everyone’s attempts to unroll them. “I see what’s wrong. My bad. I made a mistake pegging down one end. If it’s free to turn at both ends, that will fix it.”
Now she really could run from him. She sprinted down the garden. It had been a tough week, up late doing assignments then wakeful during the night with Mum. Despite her tiredness, it felt good to move, to feel the wind in her face and her braid bouncing on her back.
And it got her away from Fraser’s disturbing presence faster.
She didn’t leave Fraser behind. His long-legged stride kept pace with her. Reaching the end together, they each pulled a wire pin securing a hose.
“Snap,” they both said, waving their pins at each other.
Her laugh sounded more forced than Fraser’s. Why did he have to be almost perfect? What was God thinking, putting a man like this smack bang in her path?
Love Blossoms: 7 Spring-Fresh Christian Romances Page 22