by Stacey Weeks
“That could pose a problem.” William puckered his brow and scratched his chin, eventually pulling at his lower lip.
“It’s hard for some people to let go of the past and move on,” she offered softly. Her attempt at distraction had flawlessly executed the elephant.
“Exactly.” Talk about a loaded statement. He was pretty sure she wasn’t referring to the church anymore. One glimpse of Jenna after ten long years confirmed what he had always suspected. He and Jenna had some unfinished business to deal with before either one of them could move on. The question remained: was either of them ready?
She moved down the aisle toward the front doors. “Are you coming?” She sent him a curious sideways smile that he hadn’t seen since high school. His stomach lurched.
He had no business appreciating anything about Jenna except her keen business sense and ability to take a project from great to fabulous. Especially if he was going to respect her newly imposed boundaries and his own vow to remain unattached.
“Yeah, I’m coming.” He moved into the aisle and followed her, respectfully averting his eyes from her shapely form.
Boundaries.
He chuckled, pretty sure she’d broken a few of her self-imposed boundaries already.
He needed this job to be successful, which meant they had to get along. Eventually they’d discuss their past and she’d hear him out, whether she liked it or not. She deserved to know that he had tried to stop Linda’s prank. That he didn’t profit from her pain like she assumed he had. He knew the blood of Jesus covered his sin and that he was forgiven, but, he wanted Jenna’s forgiveness too. And to get it, he’d have to play by her rules.
She tossed one last glance his way then tugged open the exterior door and slipped outside. He had better play nice. Especially since the local television network had scheduled a film crew to record bits and pieces of his first week on the job as part of his audition for a reality renovation show. The money from a show like that sure would help get the bank off his back and save Paul’s farm from foreclosure. Would Jenna’s new boundaries help or hinder his audition?
3
“Grab that end, Lucy.” Jenna waited until her niece had a firm hold of the plywood before heaving her end off the ground. They shimmed and wobbled the large sheet of wood around the exterior of the barn. “That’s right. Slowly now,” Jenna coaxed. They set it on the barn floor in front of the work table.
Lucy stood up and planted her hands on her hips and looked at Jenna. “Now what?”
Jenna picked up the jigsaw, twisting it to view it from all vantage points. How hard could it be?
A whiff of familiar cologne sent a wild warmth surging through her traitorous body. She stiffened against the physical betrayal. What was Bill doing here? Her mind immediately flashed back to when she saw him last at church. The disastrous boundary-setting meeting.
“What’cha doing?” Bill cocked his head to the side, studying the piece of painted wood laying in front of her on Tucker’s barn floor.
Her breath caught and her stomach released dozens of butterflies. She would not be attracted to Bill. An irritated puff slipped out before she could censor it. She was annoyed at her primitive response and her frustration shot toward him like an arrow.
He flinched. Bull’s-eye.
“We’re trying to carve a pumpkin.” Her words crystalized in the frosty air. What happened to her expressed wishes that he not cross the professional line she’d drawn between them in the sand? OK. So her heart had thrust her over the line already, but he didn’t know that—did he?
“Can you help us, Mr. William?” Jenna’s niece widened her large eyes beneath her protective eye goggles. “Dad’s out and the scarecrow deadline is tomorrow.” Lucy triumphantly turned to Jenna. “See, I told you if we prayed, God would send some help. He sent Mr. William.”
Jenna’s heart stuttered. This wasn’t exactly the answer she’d hoped for. But, then again, when was the last time God answered her prayer the way she’d wished? It figured He’d send her a knight in tarnished armor.
“The deadline is tomorrow? Wow, that means the Fall Festival is only a few days away. Before we know it we’ll hear Santa’s sleigh bells jingle and reindeer tap dancing on the rooftops.” Bill tousled Lucy’s hair then rubbed his hands together.
“You don’t have to,” Jenna started, but he stopped her with a raised hand.
“I want to.”
“Yippee!” Lucy’s little happy dance warmed Jenna’s insides. Man, she loved this girl.
“Lucy, where are your gloves?” Tools strewn all over the barn floor spilled from inside the four walls and out onto the frozen bare ground where a light frost dusted the tips of crunchy grass.
“I don’t know.” Lucy shrugged. “Do I need them in the barn?”
“Yes, it’s cold with the doors open. Find them please.”
Lucy hesitated. Bill waggled his eyebrows at her, making her giggle. She yanked off her goggles and hunted for her discarded gloves.
“Thanks,” Jenna said.
Bill grinned at her, then waggled his eyebrows again. He stepped closer, much closer than necessary, triggering a warning in her head. She stepped back.
He held out his hands. Expectantly.
The saw! He wanted the saw. Relief washed over her and she surrendered the jigsaw without complaint. She tugged her scarf up over her lips to cover her tight mouth. How could she be so dumb? Bill wasn’t interested in her. And she didn’t want him to be, either.
Bill slapped on a pair of safety goggles and fired up the saw. “I’ve carved a lot of pumpkins in my day. But I have to say, this is the most, ah, unusual pumpkin I’ve ever been asked to carve.” He balanced the large sheet of plywood with a bright orange pumpkin painted in the center against the sawhorse.
“Mr. William!” Lucy’s shriek drowned out the saw. She had on one glove, and the other lay on the floor by the woodpile. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Bill shut off the saw and was there in a flash.
Jenna gasped as a shiny black spider scurried out from inside the discarded mitt. Her heart thudded a painful beat. A black widow?
“Let me look, honey. It’ll be all right.” Bill tenderly opened Lucy’s palm and examined the wound.
Jenna poked furiously at the wood pile with a stick. She needed a better look at the arachnid. She needed to know how to treat this. Now.
“How big was it?” Bill’s quiet composure butted heads against her terror.
“I only got a quick look, but about an inch or so.” She didn’t want to say black widow in front of Lucy in case it frightened the poor girl even more. The dangerous spider had been known to lurk around wood plies this time of year. The thought of Lucy enduring the unpleasant side effects sickened her.
“How bad does it hurt, Lucy?” Bill studied her.
Lucy rubbed her eyes with her good hand and whimpered. “It hurt a lot at first, but it’s not so bad now.”
Bill smiled reassuringly at Lucy, and then at Jenna. “A black widow bite is very painful and it can cause a severe reaction. If it was that, in about a half hour she’ll have some muscle cramps, tummy pain, nausea.” It was like he could read her mind. Or maybe her fears were written all over her face.
So much for keeping her fright under wraps. “Should I call someone?”
Bill arched a brow and said dryly, “I’m one of the first responders. You can call me.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Oh yeah.”
“I’ll monitor her for the evening, and if anything develops I’ll take her in. Can you grab me some water and a clean cloth?”
As Bill cleaned Lucy’s hand, his calm and tender tone did wonders for both girls. Why did it surprise her that he wasn’t the same self-centered boy she once knew? She wasn’t the same person. Why did she expect him to remain unchanged?
“There, all done.” Bill dropped a kiss onto Lucy’s forehead.
“Thanks, Mr. William. Are we going to keep doing the display?” She peered up at him through
teary eyes, clearly afraid her mishap would bring their project to a halt.
“I think I can watch you out here as well as anywhere.” He tweaked her nose. “Now let’s get started.”
“This is going to be the best scarecrow display ever,” Lucy gushed. “We’ve been working on it for almost a week. We have smaller pumpkins for ‘wheels,’ and once you cut a window in the carriage it’ll be—”
“Off to the ball!” Bill supplied.
Lucy hopped onto a bench—far from the wood pile—and eagerly waited for Bill to fire up the saw. She bounced back unbelievably fast. Oh, to be as resilient as an eight-year-old child.
Bill placed the jigsaw’s blade against the wood then lifted his eyes to meet Jenna’s. He studied her for a moment before turning it on. She shuffled. Was he examining her to ensure that she wasn’t going to faint over a spider bite? Appearing satisfied, he nodded toward the scarecrow decked out in a ball gown and glittering crown and grinned at Lucy.
Jenna’s mouth curved upward. She should be mad that he came over unannounced, but instead she was grateful. Besides, she was having her own trouble coloring inside her boundary lines.
Bill worked away, keeping a steady chatter flowing with Lucy. Jenna tuned most of it out until a lull.
“So how did you get into construction anyway?” she asked. “Last I heard you were still on the farm.”
He traded his saw for an electric palm sander and smoothed the rough edges of the design. “No, Paul and Linda lived on the farm. He bought me out years ago. But now it’s just Linda and David, her son.” His eyes dampened. He blinked and looked away.
His raw pain melted her insides. She started to touch his arm, but pulled her hand back. She knew better than anyone that time doesn’t heal all wounds. “I’m sorry. I heard about Paul’s accident.”
His chest heaved. Awkwardness stretched between them.
“I heard about the bank.” She scrambled to fill the silence. “Are they really going to pull the farm out from under a grieving widow and her son?” She tipped her head and tucked her mouth under her scarf.
“They don’t really want the land; they want their money. So they’re giving me some time to catch up on the missed mortgage payments. But in the end, if I can’t pay up, the farm goes.” Bill looked everywhere but at Jenna.
Her stomach lurched. She knew what it felt like to lose something she loved. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
He finally met her eyes and the dampness there touched her soul. “I’d rather you pray for me.”
Her mouth dried up. The last time she prayed, God had said no and her baby died.
“I miss Mr. Paul,” Lucy chirped, oblivious to the undercurrents.
“So do I, Lucy, but remember, he’s in a place where there are no tears.” He winked her way. “Well, maybe just happy tears.”
Lucy grinned while swinging her feet.
“I don’t miss farming,” Bill turned his attention back toward Jenna. “That was never my passion. Something about building resonates with me.” He pointed at a hand sander on the shelf next to Jenna.
Jenna handed it over, eager to think about anything other than God’s negative answer to save her child. “That’s how I feel about decorating. Although some people call it a superficial job.” People like Parker. “I love turning what the world labels ‘junk’ into something valuable.”
Bill lifted his head and sent the electric light Jenna had swung over the barn’s support beam swinging. “Ouch!” He rubbed his head ruffling his hair in an adorable fashion.
She reached up to steady the light.
“Careful,” he caught her forearm before she touched the bulb. “It’ll be hot.”
Her eyes slammed into his. His protective grip didn’t feel anything like Parker’s threatening touch.
“Thanks.” She tugged her arm away. Parker was dead. She didn’t need a protector. Or want one.
“You know, we’re lucky. We get to work side-by-side with the Creator doing what He does best, creating. Not everyone can say that.”
Grateful he had steered the conversation back to a safe place, she smiled.
“When I start a project”—William rubbed the hand sander over the remaining rough spots—“I feel like it’s a blank canvas.” He moved the sander across the wooden carriage until the rough splinters ironed out. “Kind of like the one God faced during the creation of the world.”
“Really?” Parker called her type of work trivial and had never likened her ability to transform a neglected space into something beautiful with God’s majestic creation.
Bill smiled.
“Humph.” She didn’t agree with everything he said, but she got the gist. She loved the satisfying rush that came when she created something beautiful out of nothing but scraps.
“You have the gift, too. I’ve seen your stuff.”
A tickle of pleasure ran down her spine.
“Your design column inspired a recent update in my laundry room.” He stopped working until she met his eyes.
“Really?” She stood a little taller, proud that this solid, macho man read her home decorating column and saw enough value in it to apply a handful of her suggestions to his home.
“Jenna,” Bill said. “God has given you a real gift. I think you were born to create.”
Her frustrated breath scattered wispy bangs across her forehead. “Isn’t it possible that I’m good at what I do because I’ve studied hard to learn the trade?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But you were the one who once told me all our talent and natural ability comes from above. If I remember that, I work a lot harder and with more integrity.”
At this moment, she couldn’t imagine him working with less integrity. He appeared to be the most honest and stable man she had met in a long time. She picked up a hand sander and furiously rubbed the rough edges.
Parker had come across that way, too, at first.
Bill’s warm hand covered hers, stopping her wild sanding and setting her frantic heartbeat into a full out sprint. “You’re going to sand the paint off rubbing like that”
She held her breath, trying not to think about the warm and gentle hand covering hers.
“Like this.” He guided her hand in a slow circular motion, oblivious to the effect of his touch.
A wistful yearning caught her unaware. “You remind me of who I used to be.”
“I think that’s who you still are. You’ve just lost your way.” Bill grazed her chin with the tips of his fingers, briefly lifting her face toward his so he could look into her eyes.
His gentle nature challenged everything she predetermined about him, and his tender expression left no doubt that their current partnership pleased him. Her chin quivered under his affectionate touch.
How could a simple look cause her to lose all sensibility? She stuffed the confusing emotions deep inside.
“Are you almost done?” Lucy called from her perch on bench. Her feet swung in time with Jenna’s thumping heart.
“Yup, almost done, pumpkin. Get it? Pumpkin?” Bill laughed at his own joke and finished in a few more swipes.
In no time at all, they had one fairy princess scarecrow waving from her carriage. One scarecrow driver and one scarecrow footman flanked the display.
“Thanks, Mr. William!” Lucy beamed and hugged him around the waist.
“Anytime, sweetheart.” He patted her head. He pulled her back and looked at her closely. “Are you feeling OK?”
Bill rested his fingers over Lucy’s pulse, checking her heart rate. A twinge of longing pierced through Jenna at the gentle way Bill held Lucy’s wrist. He would be a great father someday. If only she had married him.
Her baby might have lived.
She staggered. A fist gripped her chest and wrung the breath from her lungs. I can’t do this now, I can’t. Her nails dug into her palms. Through blurred vision she saw Bill’s eyes widen. His lips moved, but the roar in her ears drowned him out. Parker’s wicked grin flash
ed before her eyes and darkness rushed in.
Bill’s arms wrapped around her waist, and he eased her out of the barn and into a sitting position on the cool grass. He forced her head between her knees. “Jenna? Jenna!”
She fought for every breath. Her throat closed up. Her baby would have been three years old had Parker not caused her miscarriage. She groaned and rocked forward.
“Where do you hurt, Jenna? Lucy, go see if your mom is back.”
Jenna sat upright and clawed his arm. “Panic. Attack.” The words whooshed out in disjointed puffs.
Some of the rigidity left Bill’s body. He understood. “What can I do?”
“Nothing,” she huffed. “It…will…stop.” She furiously blinked against the tears pooling in her eyes.
“OK,” he conceded. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He wrapped her loosely in his arms, offering his body warmth.
Becky burst out of the house and thrust a paper bag in front of Jenna. “Here, Jenna. Use this.”
Jenna sealed the bag around her mouth and nose and breathed in and out.
“That’s right,” Bill encouraged her. “Breathe, Jenna. You can do this.”
Her damp forehead tingled. The tightness in her chest slowly subsided until the only remaining effect of her attack was her throbbing heartbeat in her eardrums. It eventually slowed, too, leaving her softly panting like a seasoned runner.
“What triggered it?” Bill loosened his arms around her and coolness rushed in, filling the space.
“I don’t know,” she lied, wishing he’d held her a few moments longer. His grip had been tight without being cruel, controlled but not controlling. She hugged her body.
“We should take you in.” Bill looked at Becky for support.
“No!” Jenna protested.
“It’s fine, William, really.” Becky rested a hand on Bill’s upper arm and gave it a subtle squeeze. “Jenna has had these before. She knows how to take care of herself.”
Jenna sagged with relief.
Lucy pushed past her mom and rushed to Jenna, thrusting her and Bill even further apart. Lucy’s tiny body quivered.
“It’s OK, sweetheart. I’m OK.” Jenna sought Becky’s face overtop of Lucy’s head. Thank you, she mouthed.