Orchard Hill Volume Two

by Kara Lynn Russell

  “What will we talk about all night?” Maybe he should invite her to a movie or something. Then he wouldn’t have to talk for at least an hour and a half.

  “What am I thinking?” Andrew chastised himself. “I carry on conversations with people I hardly know all the time. What could be so hard about this?”

  It was the whole date scenario that was throwing him. Though it had been more years ago than he wanted to think about, Andrew remembered feeling like this in junior high when he’d asked Emily Dubrowski to the 8th grade dance. Had he made so little progress in the three decades he’d lived since then? He’d experienced marriage, parenthood, and widowhood. He’d earned several degrees and built a respectable career.

  Yet here he was, reduced to sweaty palms and a knotted stomach at the thought of calling a woman for a date. Where was the fairness in that? A lifetime of experience in maintaining poise in difficult situations surely must count for something?

  Andrew wiped his moist hands on his pants. Apparently not.

  The most ridiculous part about this whole fiasco was that he was only asking Harmony out because he’d promised Robin. It wasn’t as if he was attracted to her. At last, disgust with himself beat out anxiety, and he picked up the phone.

  ****

  Andrew was feeling pretty pleased with himself as he walked into school the next morning. He’d called Harmony, and they’d made plans to go out for dinner that weekend. He’d done it. Robin would be proud of him.

  Faith was already at her desk. “Good morning,” he called to her as he sailed through the office. Her response was less than enthusiastic.

  Andrew paused. “Everything all right, Faith?” he asked.

  Faith looked up from her work. Her eyes and nose were red. “I think I’ve picked up that cold that’s been going around. But I’m all right.”

  “Are you sure? You’re never sick.”

  “Yes, I’ll make it through the day.”

  But by that evening, Faith knew she was done. Her throat hurt, her head hurt, her nose was running like a faucet, and all she wanted to do was curl up under a quilt and watch sitcom re-runs.

  “You okay, Mom?” asked her son, Kevin, when he emerged from the cocoon he called his room in search of food, his dog on his heels, as usual.

  “Not quite, I’m afraid,” Faith croaked. She hated being sick, but she had to admit this bug was getting the best of her. “Do you think you can make yourself some supper?”

  “Well, sure. I can heat up some leftovers or something, but what about you?”

  “I’m not hungry. I’ll have something later.”

  Kevin was silent for a moment. Then, he came over to the couch and knelt down by her. “You wouldn’t let me skip supper if I were sick.” He placed a hand on her forehead. “I think you have a fever, Mom.”

  “I’ll check it in a few minutes. I don’t feel like getting up now.”

  “What about eating? I could make you some soup.”

  “Thank you, honey, but I don’t think I could get it down.”

  Kevin disappeared into the kitchen to make one of the soy cheese pizzas from Misty’s—and to sneak treats to the dog, she assumed.

  About ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Before Faith could convince herself to move from the couch, she heard Kevin open the kitchen door.

  Did he invite a friend over when I’m sick? He wouldn’t do that to me, would he? Now she really had to get up and see what was going on. And she would. In just a minute.

  “She’s in here,” Kevin said, and then Andrew’s face was in front of hers, concern written all over it.

  “Faith?” he asked.

  “Andrew? What are you doing here?”

  “Kevin called me. He said you were sick.”

  “You knew I had a cold. It’s no big deal.”

  He knelt down beside her and laid his hand on her forehead. “Get the thermometer, Kevin.”

  “I’ve got it right here.”

  “I’m fine,” Faith protested weakly as Andrew popped the thermometer in her mouth. Well, maybe not fine, exactly, but surely not in need of this kind of attention. She just wanted to lie on the couch and relax. Was there a law against that?

  “She asked me to make my own supper,” Kevin whispered to Andrew, as if that was a crime.

  “But…”

  Her protest was cut off by a stern look from Andrew. “Don’t try to talk.”

  With a sigh, Faith sank back into the cushions. After a minute, Andrew checked the thermometer.

  “What does it say?” Kevin asked, leaning over his shoulder.

  “One hundred and one. It’s official. She’s sick.”

  “Do we have to take her to the hospital?”

  Andrew chuckled. “No, I think it’s just a virus. Your mom needs rest and a lot of fluids, mostly.”

  “I need to be left alone,” she mumbled, but they ignored her.

  “I offered to make her soup. She said she didn’t want anything.”

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we,” Andrew said. “Let’s go see what we can do in the kitchen.”

  Twenty minutes later, Andrew and Kevin were munching on pizza while Faith sat up on the couch staring at her unappetizing bowl of soup.

  “Would you rather have some of the pizza, Mom?” Kevin asked.

  “No. My throat’s too sore. But thank you, honey.”

  Andrew moved over until he sat next to her on the couch. “I know it’s hard, but you have to eat Faith. You have to keep up your strength.” He put his arm around her and she, weak soul that she was, leaned her head on his shoulder, soaking up the comfort he offered.

  “Take a bite,” he urged her.

  Faith complied, saddened by her lack of willpower where Andrew was concerned. Maybe if she finished the soup he’d go away. She took another bite.

  She couldn’t taste anything, and her throat burned. Why did he have to be here now, when she was a complete mess? Now, that would be a picture to compare to Harmony Solberg when they went out.

  Harmony always looked perfect. Of course she looked perfect on TV, but even the few times Faith had seen her around town, she appeared to have just stepped out of a salon. Her clothes were pressed and perfectly fitted, never a hair out of place.

  Faith sighed. And here she was—runny nose, red eyes and dressed in a ratty bathrobe that should have been thrown out years ago. Life was so unfair.

  She leaned forward and plunked her bowl on the coffee table. “I can’t eat any more. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

  To Faith’s horror, Andrew got up and followed her. “Well, take some cold medicine first. With juice maybe. And keep some water by your bed.”

  Faith took the pills he offered because she didn’t have the strength to argue with him. She accepted the glass of water he gave her because she was too tired to complain, but she rallied when he tried to follow her into her bedroom.

  “Andrew, you are not tucking me in,” she protested. “Thank you very much for your help, but I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

  He shook his head. “No way. You’re staying home tomorrow.”

  “But I never miss work.”

  “This time you will. And that’s an order.” Andrew put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “I need you. Get better.”

  Faith slumped against her door as he walked back to the living room. He needed her. If only he wasn’t talking about someone to take his messages and keep track of his schedule.

  This cold was making her overly emotional. Maybe she should stay home and sleep tomorrow. She certainly felt like she could sleep that long.

  Back in the living room, Andrew sat down to finish his pizza. “Do you want to work with Davy tonight?” he asked Kevin.

  Davy was the terrier-type dog Kevin had adopted recently. Andrew had volunteered to help train the dog. At first, Kevin had wanted to call him Goliath, but Andrew pointed out that since the dog was done growing, he would likely never fit that name. “He’s more of a David than a
Goliath,” Andrew had said and the name stuck in slightly altered form—Davy.

  “Nah,” Kevin answered. “He’s doing okay. Besides, what if Mom needs me?”

  “I think she’ll be all right. You do understand it’s just a cold, don’t you?”

  “I know…but Mom’s never sick. And Robin said…”

  “Robin said what?”

  “Robin said her mom got sick before…before she died. Maybe you should spend the night.”

  Andrew studied the boy. These fears seemed a little childish for a thirteen-year-old, but then again Faith was remarkably good at avoiding sickness—a must for anyone who worked in a school—and Kevin had already lost one parent.

  “That’s true. But Robin’s mother had a lot more than a simple cold. You just haven’t seen your mother much when she’s sick. Trust me, there’s a big difference between a cold and cancer.”

  “Okay,” said Kevin. “If you’re sure you don’t want to stay.”

  Andrew laughed. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it.”

  “I guess not,” he agreed. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have to tell Robin what you said.”

  “Tell Robin?”

  “Yeah, while I was waiting for you I IM’d her and told her about Mom. I have to tell her you said it was just a cold.”

  “IM?”

  “Instant Message. Geez, Andrew, you work with kids. You should know this stuff.”

  Now that he was sure his mother wasn’t dying, Kevin was back in full teenage mode, Andrew noted, attitude in tact. He’d seen enough of that over the years that it didn’t faze him. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “I’ll try to stay on top of it. If you’re going back to the computer, I’m going to head home.”

  “Do you think Mom will need anything tonight?”

  “Probably not. But if she does, she should be able to get it herself. You can always call me if you need me.”

  “I know, Andrew.” Accompanied with eye roll.

  “Remember that I said she wasn’t supposed to come in to work tomorrow. Don’t wake her up when you leave for school.”

  “I never have to wake her up. She’s always up before me,” Kevin protested.

  “Well, don’t count on it tomorrow,” Andrew said before he slipped out the door.

  TITLE

  Orchard Hill: volume Two

  Chapter 1

  Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering,

  persevere in prayer.

  —Romans 12:12 NRSV

  Oliver’s gaze followed Hope as she crossed the room. She was everywhere. Everywhere he went, she seemed to show up. How could he have forgotten that Orchard Hill was the name of her hometown? How could he have known she would move back, or that she would be working at the same school where he’d signed on as a physical education teacher, or that she would be a member of the church his neighbor had invited him to attend?

  Her bubbly personality, her frequent laugh, her constant chatter, all grated on his nerves. And that smile. Definitely too toothy for his taste. Then there was…there was…Oh, who was he kidding?

  Right now, he was inclined to believe in the reality of fate and the likelihood that it found tormenting him to be good fun. Hope Velasquez was the only woman who had ever come close to winning his heart, and that was a prize he wasn’t planning on giving away—ever.

  So, naturally, he had to pretend to dislike her. It allowed him to keep his distance. Getting close to Hope was dangerous for him—and for her, because he knew he’d end up breaking her heart. He didn’t want to do that, even if it meant this constant torture of seeing her everywhere and not approaching her, not talking to her, not knowing how she was really doing, and not ever, ever touching her.

  But he was doing the right thing, and that had to count for something, didn’t it? He watched as someone said something to her that made her laugh. Her face lit up, her big brown eyes sparkled, and he felt a sharp pain in the region of his heart. Apparently it didn’t.

  “There you are, Oliver.”

  He turned at the sound of his neighbor’s voice. “Thank you for inviting me today, Mrs. Parker. I enjoyed the service.” That was true. He didn’t want to admit to how long it had been since he’d stepped into a church, but he was glad to be back. Thinking of joining a church made him feel settled, as if he belonged somewhere.

  ”I hope I’m not jumping the gun, but I was wondering...”

  “Yes, Mrs. Parker?”

  “I was wondering if you might be interested in playing on the church softball team.”

  “How often do they play?”

  “Just once. The team enters in the Fourth of July tournament sponsored by the elementary school. The money raised is used...”

  “For the summer rec’ program. I heard about that. Thank you, Mrs. Parker, I think I would like to join. It’s a worthy cause.” He had been thinking about finding a way to become involved in that because it funded the tee ball program he headed. Oliver would have volunteered to be on the planning committee, but it was full by the time he’d found out about it.

  Pansy Parker led him to a table at the side of the narthex. It held several clipboards with pencils attached by strings. She handed one of them to him. “Here’s the softball team sign up.”

  He accepted the clipboard and checked the names carefully. There wasn’t a single Velasquez among them. He was safe. Oliver signed his name just as he heard a voice calling, “Aunt Hope, will you sign up for the softball team with me, please?”

  It was a different Hope. It had to be. But when Oliver turned around, it was her standing there with a teenage girl at her side, waiting for their turn with the clipboard.

  He stifled the urge to erase his own name and handed it to her. In spite of his efforts to avoid her, Oliver realized he would have to endure spending some time with Hope this summer. Fate again?

  “Thank you, Oliver,” she said, her voice as soft and sweet as always.

  “Sure,” he mumbled without meeting her eyes. Then, he walked away.

  Hope felt her smile falter, but only for a moment. Then, she signed her name and gave the clipboard to Abby. She didn’t know why she let Oliver bother her, but he did. She went out of her way to be friendly to everyone. She didn’t understand what Oliver had against her. They had been friends for a while in college, but one day, he had started to avoid her—and he hadn’t shown any signs of warming to her since he’d moved to Orchard Hill.

  Hope shook her head. There was something wrong with her, that she should care so much about his opinion. But she really liked Oliver. She found him an admirable teacher with a true affection for his students—for all his students, not just the athletically gifted ones. He was great with the special ed’ class—filled with a seemingly endless patience for those students. He was encouraging to the book worms and the klutzes. He challenged the sports crazed kids. Plus, he had manners that came from an earlier generation. Oliver was one of the few men she knew that she truly considered a gentleman.

  So what was it about her that turned him cold? She didn’t know, but his attitude really hurt.

  She knew through the ever-active grapevine that he’d been helping Pansy Parker with her yard work since he’d moved next door to her. Today, he’d even attended church with her. What kind of young man had time like that for old ladies? Especially a man who looked like him? He had hunk written all over his 6’ 2” frame. He was tanned and toned from all the running he still did. Add in broad shoulders, close cropped blonde hair, a strong jaw and crystal blue eyes and his physical appeal couldn’t be denied.

  Orchard Hill’s single women were all ready to fall for the new gym teacher—though he hadn’t thrown out so much as a crumb of encouragement to one of them.

  “Thanks for doing this with me, Aunt Hope,” said Abby. “I know the team is supposed to be co-ed, but there are usually so many more guys than girls.”

  “It’s no problem, Abby,” Hope assured her, her eyes still on Oliver’s retreating back. “I love to play. It’ll be f
un.”

  ****

  Later, at home, Oliver sat on the edge of his bed and held the Bible in his hands. His mother had sent it to him last week, and he hadn’t opened it yet. It was well worn, with faded gold edging on the pages and a broken spine. If he opened the book, Oliver knew he would find many passages underlined in black or red ink and the margin filled with notes.