by Cheryl Wyatt
To plot her sister’s timely murder.
Meadow resisted temptation to confront Flora in front of Colin. “Pardon me; I have a ton of apples to peel.”
Colin took off his coat and gloves and followed. “I’ll help.”
Flora shoved her peeler at him. “Good idea. I’ll head out, then. My pre-wedding to-do list is proliferating and I’m here procrastinating.”
If Meadow wanted to hurt Flora before, she wanted to knock her into next week now. Meadow said to Colin, “Excuse us,” and marched her miscreant sibling outside.
“What?” Flora blinked big dramatic eyes.
“What indeed. What game are you playing?” Meadow waved her hand between herself and Flora. “We are a team.” She jabbed a finger Colin’s way. “He is the enemy. Or have you conveniently suppressed memories of everything he and his snooty, self-important friends and girlfriend put me through in high school?”
“He was a teenager, Meadow. My instincts, training, and experience in family and relationship counseling tell me he’s changed and we should give the guy a break.”
Flora’s words unsettled Meadow because they eerily paralleled Del’s. Flora was usually right about people. Yet she had that peacemaking side that could cloud her judgment.
Maybe Flora’s upcoming vows had her too veiled to see reality. If Colin was prone to hurting her back then, he could be capable of it now. Especially once his old friends reinfiltrated his life. “Knock off using your sociology degree on me, Flora. It won’t work to change my mind about him or his cruel friends.”
“Where are they now? Is he hanging with them? No. He’s hanging with you.”
“Out of guilt. Once he appeases his conscience, he’ll be gone.”
Flora’s face grew as serious as salmonella. “I don’t think so, sis.”
Meadow groaned. “Regardless. It’s better if I stay guarded.”
“Better? Or safer?”
Meadow fought for a well-reasoned refute but came up short.
Flora leaned in. “I’ve gotten to know him some from working with him on his family’s legal needs. He truly seems a different person now. Plus, you’re single pringle. He’s just as single. I thought maybe—”
“Ab-so-lute-ly not.”
The sisters waffled over Meadow’s lack of a love life several moments before a drilling sound drew their attention.
“Surely the man has sense enough to know not to drill wood props near my food prep!”
The sisters gaped at each other before rushing back in. Once inside, they screeched to a halt, and Flora burst out laughing.
Meadow had no words.
Colin looked up from where he’d shoved a drill in the end of an apple. “What?”
Meadow felt blood drain from her face. “What are you doing?”
“Peeling apples efficiently.” He turned the drill on and pressed peeler to apple. To Meadow’s surprise and Flora’s glee-filled squeal, the peeling spun right off.
“In seconds.” Meadow didn’t know whether to laud him or yell at him.
Flora grabbed her coat. “I’m outta here. Have an appointment with my tailor.”
Meadow doubted that. Flora seemed intent to leave her alone with Colin. Colin had turned, and Meadow stared at his back, trying not to let its nice V-shape appeal to her. Working up a good glare, she stepped into Mr. Innovation’s line of sight.
Colin looked torn between wanting to laugh his face off and run for his life. “Before you get mad, understand there are two options here.”
Meadow folded her arms across her chest.
“One: You kill me—you have no help.”
“And two?”
“Let me live—I’ll have a bushel peeled in minutes.”
Anger and shock subsiding, Meadow fought the urge to giggle. This would teach her to turn a construction guy loose in a kitchen alone with power tools in the vicinity.
He plucked another apple from the bowl and peeled it in two seconds.
Meadow rushed him. “Gimme that.” She grabbed the drill. Tried it herself.
Hip against the counter, he grinned.
“Oh. My. Starch. It actually works.”
Why did the man have to be handsome and right?
“The drill is brand-new and the bit sterilized.”
“How?”
He pointed to her stove where she’d set a pot of water to boil. The only copper one that survived the cave-in. “That’s my best pot. I’m not sure whether to applaud or pummel you.”
“Applaud gets my vote.”
“You aren’t allowed to vote when I’m thinking up means to torture you.”
He grinned, and her gaze snagged on it whether or not she wanted it to.
She tried two more apples. Hands covering hers, he repositioned the drill and peeler. The peel zipped off. So did her common sense, because she found herself stalling just to be near him and continue the friendly contact. His chest to her back, his body felt warm, smelled freshly showered. She fought to de-acknowledge appreciation of his physique and voice, but deep rumbles of laughter after every apple melted her bones into caramel.
She refocused on his drill-peeling method. Its efficiency sank in, and she turned to look at him. “You’ve revolutionized my vegetable and fruit prep.”
He nodded, looking handsome with his heroic drill.
Her mind exploded with possibilities. “Potatoes. Pears. Everything!”
“Maybe not overly ripe pears. They’d probably tear.”
“Right.” She plucked up an apple. “Still, what a time-saver for this.” She beamed at him. “I’m impressed, for real. Your brilliance blinds me, sir.”
Colin smiled slowly, and like this morning’s dawn after a stormy night, the sight of it stole her breath. Staying mad at him would be so much easier if he wasn’t so funny, suave, and smart. She needed distraction. Quick!
She snatched up his drill and went to town attacking more apples.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he watched her curiously before plucking his jacket from a wall hook. “I’m going across to your place and get back at it.”
“I feel bad not helping you.”
He tapped her schedule for the next few days, which she’d written on a whiteboard on her—his—office wall. “You have a catering gig tomorrow. Listen, your part of the deal can wait until after spring. It looks like you’ve come into a busy season. No wonder you panicked when the roof fell in.”
“Yeah, so thank you. Still, I feel bad, you over there renovating and me here peeling apples.”
He leaned in. His cuteness became intoxicating. “Tell you what, Meadow, you let me taste test some of that great-smelling Tex-Mex food, and we’ll call it even.”
She smiled. “I can do that. I’ll even fix you supper, if you want.”
“My TV dinner tummy won’t protest that. Especially since I don’t cook well, unless by microwave or grill. But regarding dinner, instead of Tex-Mex tonight, would you join—?”
Her phone chimed. She frowned. “It’s the hospital.” She answered the call.
“Miss Larson? This is Del’s doctor. She listed you as her emergency contact and medical power of attorney.”
“Yes.” A siphoning sensation numbed Meadow’s arms.
“How far are you from the hospital?”
Meadow’s knees weakened at the doctor’s tone. “Twenty minutes maybe. Why?”
“She’s had some setbacks. We’re looking at surgery pretty quick here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We believe infection from gallstones. She has life-threatening pancreatitis.”
After he expounded, Meadow said, “Be right there.” Remembering at the same time that she had left her coat at the catering event earlier, she whirled to grab her purse and ran smack into a slab of muscle. Reflexive arms came around her, surprising Meadow with their strength and sustaining power.
Colin.
He lowered his head to peer directly into her eyes. “What’s goin
g on?”
“Del—” My goodness, breathless. Mostly due to Del, but partly because Colin was so close. She had the strangest, strongest urge to lean in and let him shield her from the unrest exploding in her head. Worry over Del. Catering work. Obligations. Life.
“Del’s having complications?”
Meadow nodded, biting her lower lip. Everything hit her at once. Del. The train wreck her business was about to be with this new time crunch. But she couldn’t be selfish. Del’s health took priority. Still, Del’s and the teens’ futures depended on Meadow’s business success. Part of why Meadow pushed it so hard.
Colin moved very much inside her personal space. “Meadow?”
Panic and desperation pulverized her pride and made her want to step close to him. She dared not. She fixed eyes on the floor. No use. His nearness magnetized. Her will stretched like a mozzarella string to a point of thinness about to break. Crazy as it was, his kindness was getting to her . . . demolishing walls. He may be reconstructing her house but simultaneously deconstructing barriers she’d spent a lifetime building.
Never mind all that now.
She returned Colin’s steady gaze. “I’m scared for Del.”
“God’s got this. But she needs you too. When’s the Tex-Mex gig?”
“Rehearsal dinner’s tomorrow, wedding reception the day after. Why am I getting so many weddings during the week now, when everything is such a mess? My teen helpers will be out of school in time to help some, but I’m still short a very important hand in Del. I even have that wagon wheel prop over there she only got started.” She pointed with a shaky hand.
“Oh, Colin, how will I do this alone?”
Enormous relief settled inside Colin. She was letting herself lean on him. Big step. Big, big. “You won’t do this alone. I’ll help.”
She blinked. “You said yourself you can’t cook. Del’s my only trained chef.”
“Hey, I peel a pretty awesome apple.”
“Colin, no offense, but . . .”
“I can handle it. Besides, you don’t have time to argue with me about this. Del needs you.” Not seeing her coat anywhere, he draped his jacket around her shoulders and ushered her out the door. He always had a spare coat in his truck.
“Thank you,” she said after a few blocks. “I realize you don’t have to do all this.”
“I feel honored to. We’re neighbors.” And he hoped, soon, friends.
“I can’t help but think you’re doing this because you still feel sorry for me.”
She probably assumed that because of what he’d said about the root of his relationship with his ex-fiancée. Colin only semi-regretted sharing, but was his care forged of guilt? He’d been duped by his motives before.
“I have no basis for feeling sorry for you, Meadow. You underestimate your value. You’re worthy of respect. Not pity. I do feel sorry . . . but not for you. I feel sorry about you—and for me—that I couldn’t see how damaging my actions, inactions, and immaturity were to you back then.”
She grew so quiet he couldn’t begin to read how she took that. He knew better than to ask. She had a lot to be anxious about at the moment, and he didn’t want to add to it.
“What’s going on with Del?”
“Gallstones led to serious pancreatitis and infected many of her organs.”
“Vital ones?”
“Yes. Fluid collected as a cyst in her pancreas to a point it ruptured, causing internal bleeding. She developed low oxygen from lung damage caused by the chemical changes. Her kidneys are beginning to fail and her blood sugar is out of control.”
“Can it all be fixed?” He accelerated to get there faster.
“Only with surgery, intensive post-op care, lengthy recovery, and, according to her doctor, prayer.”
The gravity of Del’s situation set in. He asked about Del’s military service and anything else he could think of to keep Meadow from worrying over her dear friend’s fate.
After pulling into a hospital parking stall, he grabbed Meadow’s hand. “Father, we place Del in your hands. Guide the surgeons, keep her safe. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
He slid from the truck, amused at the shock he’d glimpsed freezing Meadow’s face.
“What?” he said. The shock was still there when he met her on the passenger side.
“You just . . . I think you just prayed.”
“That’s what people of faith do.” He smiled kindly and nudged her shoulder with his. “You should know, Miss Pepper-Your-Walls-with-Scripture.”
“You noticed?”
“I noticed.” But truth plastered to her walls was of no help if she didn’t grant him access to bring down the walls inside her. They quickly navigated halls to the elevator.
“That’s what’s different about you,” she murmured as they exited the elevator to the surgery waiting room. His chest expanded at the wonderment in her tone.
“When did you become a Christian, Colin?”
“In the military. A chaplain led me to the Lord.”
She looked interested to hear more, but a nurse intercepted them. “Here for Del?”
“Yes. Can we see her?” Meadow looked close to tears.
Colin ached to comfort her.
“She just went to the OR. Doc will be with you soon as surgery’s over.”
“How long will that be?” Meadow clutched her purse to her middle.
Colin put a hand to her back in case the answer upset her.
The nurse flipped through papers. “At least three hours.”
Meadow’s face paled. That she didn’t protest his comfort proved she was reeling and feeling pressure and fear over Del, plus a wedding rehearsal the next day followed by a wedding reception that she was many hours away from being prepared for. Del took priority, but Meadow needed to meet her catering obligations to her Tex-Mex bride and groom and keep the teens’ paychecks coming too.
The emotional struggle played out over her expressive face. He needed to find a way to help her and keep her contracts from jeopardy. He gently steered her to a quiet corner sofa. She sat like a statue. He sat on a chair across from her. Leaned in. “Is there someone I can call?”
She blinked. “Who? There’s no one.”
“Flora, maybe?”
She shook her head. “She’s stressed about her wedding and readying her apartment for our siblings, arriving soon. They’re staying for a few weeks. They were going to be at my house, but . . .”
“Would you like me to wait here with you? Or I could go back to my place with a list from you as to what I can do to save you some time. How best can I help you, Meadow?”
She stiffened. “You’ve done so much already.”
His heart shredded for her. She’d had to fend for herself and her siblings for so long that she’d become destructively independent. “It’s always easier to help than be the one needing it.”
She met his gaze. It felt like their souls connected through their eyes. She searched his with an expression that beckoned the question he was trying so hard to prove in worthy actions the answer.
Can I trust you?
Colin cradled her gaze intently in an effort to anchor his answer therein:
I promise I will never hurt you again.
There were twelve inches, then ten, then seven inches of space between them, and it still felt like seven hundred miles. It became the longest seven inches of Colin’s life as he risked rejection and found the courage to reach for her. His hands spanned across the chasm of inches and years, offenses and tears of hard history between them and grasped hers.
Rather than stiffen or pull away, she held tight. “I have the hardest time accepting help from anyone, Colin, especially you. Plus, you need to spend time with your dad and your business. You’re the CEO now . . .”
Leaned forehead to forehead, he smiled. “Will you please stop that? I see Dad every day. We get quality time. He gets tired from so much visiting. And I do have staff and crew at McGrath Construction, you know. Besides, you w
ant to pull off this catering gig or not?” He squeezed strength into her hands with each word.
“Of course.” She slipped her hands from his. Had he imagined she’d only reluctantly done so? She dug through her shiny purse until she produced pen and paper.
A yearning to recapture the closeness whittled the edges of his resistance. He forced himself to focus on how much he loved her transformation from worry to work mode. Determination fueling her movements as she quickly jotted a list made him smile.
Paper down, she pointed. “These are things I’m certain you can do.”
She made a second list. “These are things I’m okay if you can’t do, but if you think you can, would save me a lot of time and preparation.”
She bit her lower lip, then scratched a third list. “These are things it would take a miracle for you to be able to do, but since I’m desperate and you’re nuts enough to try anything, I’m turning this over too.”
He chuckled, absorbing with pleasure the camaraderie, thankful for humor lifting layers of stress from her pretty amber eyes. Owlish in the sense they were so absolutely stunning and vivid on her face. He scanned the list mostly because he could get seriously lost in her eyes, but neither of them had time for that at the moment.
Or maybe ever.
Her first list mostly involved chopping food and gathering supplies. “Got it. Keep me posted on Del.” He wanted to stay here with Meadow and support Del, but they needed him elsewhere more. He picked up her phone and put his number in her contacts.
She started to hand him his jacket. “I’ll come help you as soon as I’m able.”
He pressed the jacket back into her arms. “Keep it for now. Call when you’re ready for a ride home.”
“Home?”
“The pole barn.” He shook his head of ardent cobwebs. Things got too crazy cozy there for a second. He needed to remember he was out to earn her forgiveness, not her forever.
Colin had worked on the lists several hours before Meadow called to say Del weathered surgery well. Thanking God, he drove to pick up Meadow, satisfied with all he’d accomplished.
“You look beat,” he said as he helped her into his truck.