It wasn’t raining tonight. It hadn’t rained for a couple of weeks in Savannah. Clear weather was always good for tourism. Rain didn’t go well with walking tours or fireworks or riverboat cruises. And rain didn’t go well with her carrying all her stuff from the car to the house.
She bolted the front door behind her in the foyer, and stared up the steep stairs.
Her calves hurt. Her heels also hurt. In spite of her hiking boots and the sole pads, her plantar fasciitis on her left foot was acting up again. She was worn out, but she didn’t feel like climbing up those stairs to her bedroom.
She dragged her bags to the sitting room and plopped down on the sofa. This was Mom’s favorite sofa, and she particularly liked the Aubosson tapestry.
Tamsyn kicked off her hiking boots, rubbed her heels, and stretched out on sofa. She closed her eyes.
A little tune came from her iPhone.
“Leave me alone, will you!” Tamsyn mumbled as she reached for her tote bag.
It was Dad, learning to text.
Tamsyn waded through the typos and concluded that Dad just wanted to say hello.
She texted back. “Don’t stay up too late.”
She rolled back onto the sofa. She thought she should get up and make herself some dinner. She probably had one frozen chicken pot pie left she could microwave.
She should wind down and then go to bed.
She didn’t feel like watching TV.
Tamsyn had never been one to watch television. She was more like Mom, who had preferred books to video. TV was Dad’s thing. He could sit in front of the TV all day along if there wasn’t any work to be done.
Tamsyn could see them now in this sitting room, which hadn’t changed in decades. Mom would be busy looking at swatches and upholstery designs while Dad watched football, oblivious to the escalating costs incurred in keeping an old house period-authentic.
Still, those were the days when they had been a happy family.
After having had several miscarriages after Tamsyn, Mom and Dad had adopted a baby girl so that Tamsyn could have a sibling. It hadn’t worked out. When Bernadette had turned eighteen, she left the Pendegrast family and was never seen again. Her last words—a scrawled letter—had declared that she hated them all and wanted to be liberated.
Sometimes Tamsyn wondered what happened to Bernadette, whether she knew that Mom had passed away from cancer, and that Dad now lived on the riverboat, where Bernadette had loved to play as a child.
The grandfather clock ticked loudly in Tamsyn’s ears, but she had heard it so many times in her life that it was just background noise now.
Soon, she was thinking of Mom’s restoration projects and wondering whether she should try to finish restoring that one room left upstairs, Tamsyn’s own bedroom. Mom had said that she had left that room for Tamsyn to fix up.
Tamsyn knew that Mom had said that only because her bedroom was too messy.
Mom didn’t like messes.
She liked everything just so. Neat and tidy, and everything in place.
That was how the Pendegrast family home had been preserved.
In the end, when Mom had been diagnosed with lung cancer—oddly enough, she never smoked—Dad had taken over, keeping the house the way Mom liked it: untouched.
After Mom had passed away, Dad decided to renovate the kitchen. It was the only place in the entire house that he felt Mom would be fine with if he updated it.
Hiring a local contractor whose business was to restore historic homes, Dad had the kitchen gutted. He replaced the floor, cabinets, sinks, refrigerator, stove, and just about everything in the kitchen. Due to Dad’s indecision about countertops and backsplash color selection, the renovation went on for weeks.
And weeks.
Tamsyn could hear the construction noise now. It was loud, and it—
Crackled and popped?
And roared?
And smelled like—
Smoke!
Tamsyn sprang off the sofa. The strong smoky smell came from everywhere. At first she thought her fireplace—
No. It was outside.
She peeked out the window.
The sky above Rosa Pendegrast Lane was gray and hazy in the street lights. There was something yellowish and orangey coming from her backyard.
Oh no.
Barefoot, she grabbed her iPhone off the coffee table and ran to her front door and down the sidewalk. She spun around—
That was when she saw it.
Her neighbor’s 1854 gingerbread house on the other side of her magnolia tree was engulfed in flames, only yards away from her house. As she stood there, an explosion lifted part of the roof off her neighbor’s house, spraying splintered wood and flares of fire every which way.
Tamsyn dropped on her arms and legs. She looked up.
What was that?
She gasped as flares of fire jumped her magnolia tree and onto her back porch, setting the roof and porch planks on fire!
Oh no!
“Lord, help us!” She dialed 911 and found out they had already received several calls.
She wondered whether to go back to her house to pick up a few things—
She got on her feet and turned to run back into her house—
“Miss Tam, no!”
Someone grabbed her arms.
“Mom’s Bible,” Tamsyn replied, but it was more than that. Mom’s books, bookshelves, furniture, fireplace, wallpaper, Mom’s life’s work!
Must salvage something!
“No, Miss Tam!” One of her neighbor’s sons—who lived on the other side of Rosa Pendegrast Lane—stood in front of her. The other two ushered her away from her house and down the stone path to the sidewalk.
“It’s safer on the other side of the street. Let’s get her there. She looks shocked.”
Shocked? Me?
“Where’s the fire truck? Where are they?” Tamsyn shouted, her voice floating in the air in a surreal time lapse. Mom had poured her life into that house. If the house went, Mom’s memories…
Mom’s memories would be gone!
Then she heard the sirens.
Chapter Seventeen
Ryan had chosen not to play golf with his father this morning. He couldn’t imagine spending five days a week on the golf course when he could be working and earning income. Well, he had to give it to Ryan Pendegrast IV. He had worked hard all his life, and now he deserved to enjoy the fruit of his success.
Ryan wasn’t there yet.
Nope.
An early riser—like Tamsyn—Ryan was in his empty Buckhead office by six o’clock. The employees had Fourth of July off, so Ryan was hoping for a quiet place to work and get his mind off Tamsyn.
Nine days and counting.
Nine days without communicating with Tamsyn. No emails. No texts. No phone calls.
No more of her euphonious voice.
He missed her. He wished they could have worked out something, but she was right.
Two hundred and fifty miles between them did not a relationship make.
His only recourse, like hers, was to immerse himself in work. So here he was, at the RYUCP glass tower.
Alone.
He was drinking his third cup of coffee when Hiroki called from his house in Alpharetta.
Ryan picked up his office phone. “Morning.”
“What’s wrong with your iPhone?” Hiroki snapped.
“I forgot it this morning. Left it at home. I’ll pick it up at lunch time. Since we’re closed today, I’m not expecting any calls. Why?”
“Did you see the news?” Hiroki asked.
“Do I look like a person who watches the news?”
“I figured. I’m emailing you the news clip.”
“About another animal rescue success story?” Ryan laughed. Hiroki had a soft spot for animals, judging by his Facebook posts and his emails to his friends.
Ryan couldn’t imagine owning any pet, but Hiroki had eight dogs he had rescued from the pound. Hiroki was looking for
a bigger house to buy so he could rescue more Labs and Golden Retrievers.
“No, you will want to see this. I can’t get hold of Jared, but I’ll send him a copy too. Emailing you now. Got it?”
“Let me check.” Ryan cleared his screen and logged into his email account. There were several emails there that he hadn’t read this morning—only because this was the first time today he’d checked his email. One from Dominic Khan, RYUCP’s Savannah real estate agent, marked urgent.
Hiroki’s email had an empty subject line. Just like him not to title his emails.
He clicked on the morning news link from—
Savannah?
“What’s up, Hiroki?” Ryan asked as the reporter’s face filled the screen.
“That’s from last night. Put me on the speakerphone.”
Ryan did. “Did you say last night?”
“About two in the morning.”
“Four hours ago.” Ryan turned up the volume on his computer monitor.
“Firefighters have arrived and are busy putting out the fire.” The reporter stood on a street corner. Behind her, fire trucks and SCMPD vehicles dotted the small street. Beside her, curious onlookers were staring into the local TV camera. Above her, the street sign said Rosa Pendegrast Lane.
No!
“Tamsyn!” Ryan jumped out of his chair.
“She’s okay,” Hiroki said.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I called Pastor Flores of Riverside Chapel, and he said Tamsyn is okay,” Hiroki explained. “If you’d checked your email sooner or had your iPhone with you, you would have known this a few hours ago.”
“I was asleep a few hours ago and my iPhone was recharging in my home office. That’s how I left home without it—Did you say you called Pastor Flores? Why?”
“To find out if Tamsyn is okay.”
“Why would he talk to you? Does he know you? Why would he tell you anything about Tamsyn?”
“I said that I was calling on behalf of my idiot friend who is concerned—or should be concerned—about his girlfriend but is afraid—or would be afraid—to ask.”
“You what?!”
“Your girlfriend was in danger and where were you? In your own little bubble.”
“I’m at work, Hiroki. Besides, she’s not my girlfriend anymore. We parted ways.”
“How poetic, Ryan.”
“Shut up and let me watch the rest of this.” He shook his head. “Whew. Thank God Tam is okay.” Thank You, Lord!
The reporter stood among three boys who dwarfed her. “We’re here with three teenagers, the heroes of the evening. What can you tell us, Adrian?”
“We were up late playing Wii at Hector’s house across the street. Our windows were open and we smelled and heard the fire. We called 911 and then went outside to see what’s going on, you know.”
“And then?”
“We saw that other house on fire and so we knocked on the neighbors’ doors to tell them to get out. We were coming up to Miss Tam’s house when she came outside.”
Miss Tam.
Tamsyn!
Ryan was on his feet again. He put his palms on the table, leaned down with his eyes on the screen. “And I wasn’t there for her.”
The reporter wasn’t finished. “Then?”
“She wanted to go back inside to get her mama’s Bible, but we stopped her.”
“Yeah,” his friend said. “She’s a nice lady and all but she was screaming her head off. It took three of us to pin her down so she didn’t go back in—”
“That was really bad!” the third kid said. “I can’t believe Miss Tam wanted to risk her life for a book—”
“It’s the Bible,” the kid named Hector nudged his friend.
“Everybody knows they can reprint a Bible. You can even get it online for free.”
It has to be more than that.
Tamsyn probably thought that she had time.
Ryan felt sick. He stopped the video clip.
“I have to fly to Savannah,” Ryan said.
“There’re several Delta flights out this morning. Want me to pick you up from the office?” Hiroki asked.
“Thanks, friend, but I’ll just drive. It’ll take you longer to get here than I can get to the airport.”
“Take the rest of the week off, if you have to. Jared will understand.”
Oh yeah. It was only Wednesday. Then again, it might be a waste of effort. “I don’t think Tamsyn wants to see me the rest of the week. I’ll just go see how she is doing, and then I’ll fly home tonight.”
“Whatever suits you, man.”
“Hiroki?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you pray for me and Tam? I want God’s will for us, but it’s killing me to be away from her this long. I was willing to accept seeing her only two days a week, but it’s been ten days.”
“I’ll pray for you. You know something? Soldiers who get deployed are separated from their loved ones for more than ten days. They endure it.”
“They know they have someone to come home to.”
“Good point. In your case, maybe we should pray for you to have faith in God.”
Faith. What I need.
That reminded Ryan of his last conversation with Tamsyn. He had shared a verse about faith with her, and she had said it was her mom’s favorite verse.
But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.
“What if it’s not God’s will for us to be together again?”
“Then you won’t,” Hiroki said. “Meanwhile, we have a problem. When you get to Savannah, survey the damages. I’ve already made arrangements for Dominic to get an appraisal. The insurance could pay for a complete restoration. This could move your living museum idea forward faster than we expect.”
Insurance.
“And the same for Tam’s house, then,” Ryan said.
“Probably. It wasn’t her fault the house burned down. It’s under investigation, I’m sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some illegal fireworks happening, with it being Independence Day and all.”
“I’ll touch base with Dominic and see what he says. Bet he didn’t realize that handling our properties could be this messy.”
“What properties? One of them is totally burned to the ground, and the other has water damage on every floor. Water, you know, is the enemy of historic homes.”
“And how did you suddenly know so much about historic homes?” Ryan asked.
“Just talked to Dominic. He’s like a walking search engine of historic homes in Savannah. We should hire him to be part of our Savannah office. And his daughter is kinda cute.”
“Dominic has a daughter? He doesn’t look old enough to be—Where are we going with this, Hiroki?”
“I’m thinking I need to make a trip to Savannah too.”
Ryan chuckled. “I’ll pray for you, man. Whoever you date has to put up with your idiosyncrasies.”
“You mean my eye for detail?”
“That too. You do keep up with things. And you’ve come to my aid so many times, Hiroki. For that, I appreciate you. Thank you for telling me about this fire, and I’m going to let you go now so I can buy a plane ticket.”
“Sounds good.”
“Hey, Hiroki?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good friend. Now go back to sleep and don’t do any more work today.”
“Just remember I’m your best man.”
Ryan wasn’t sure what Hiroki meant, but he had already hung up. Did he mean he wanted to be Ryan’s best man at his wedding?
Wedding?
What wedding?
To have a wedding he’d need a bride.
She’s reluctant.
She has a hang-up of some sort.
“Lord Jesus, whatever it is that Tam is going through, give her strength to prevail. Fill her life with love—mine, I hope, not some other guy’s—and
most importantly, fill her heart with Your love, Lord. Of course.”
Ryan bought the first ticket he could get on Delta. He was driving down Interstate 85 before he realized he had to go home to pick up his iPhone. He had barely enough time to get to the airport with this detour.
He floored the gas pedal.
Chapter Eighteen
“It’s all my fault.” Tamsyn’s shoulders sagged as her new boots stomped the ashen heap that was once Mom’s precious library. She was surrounded by partially collapsed blackened brick walls. It was obvious which parts of the Queen Anne house were built of brick, and which parts were all wood. The wood had been consumed by the fire in the night.
Tamsyn looked for that old family Bible, but not a single book remained.
Mom’s Bible is gone.
The fire had spread quickly, consumed anything paper, wood, cloth, and combustible, and had left only the lower foundations standing.
From where Tamsyn stood, she could see clear through to the backyard where the magnolia tree had been burned down to a stump. Dad stomped across the wet grass toward her. The ground had been saturated with water from the fire hoses hours before.
“It’s not your fault, honey.” Dad combed through the rubble with a stick he had found.
He must have heard her talking aloud to herself.
Car doors closed behind her, and Tamsyn turned to look.
Pastor Flores and Heidi waved to them. Heidi reached Tamsyn first with a sisterly hug that said it all. Riverside Chapel would support her and help her in any way in her recovery.
A few steps away, Pastor Flores shook hands with Dad.
“How are you?” Heidi asked Tamsyn.
“I’ll be okay.”
Tamsyn remembered her visit to Heidi’s house about two months prior when she had found out that her last two neighbors had sold their historic homes to Ruttledge Yamada Urquhart Commercial Properties. She remembered how she and Heidi had prayed, and she had—for some reason she was beginning to understand now—surrendered her house to God.
Thank You, Lord, for loving me. You’re all I need.
Take my house, if You so choose, Lord. I give it to You.
And, yes, God had taken it.
Love Blossoms: 7 Spring-Fresh Christian Romances Page 44