by Stacey Weeks
Dad narrowed his eyes. “You were never a self-serving guy. You were a kid, grieving his mother, who made a series of unfortunate choices.”
“Choices that drove her into the arms of an abusive man.” William slumped against the countertop and stared at the floor.
“Now hold up.” Dad reached across the countertop and brought his hand down on William’s shoulder with weighty force. “You are not responsible for her choices. Yes, you hurt her, but you tried to stop the bet. Yes, you need to seek her forgiveness and assure her that you found the Lord—like she wanted you to, but her choices are hers. She’s the one who ran off and refused your calls. She chose to marry a man she hardly knew. And her choices are between her and the Lord.”
“It’s all so easy to say—”
“And much harder to do. I know, son. But maybe, if you clear this up, you two can finally explore what might have been.” Dad gave William’s shoulder a quick squeeze.
“Yeah,” he snorted. “In all my spare time.” What might have been? That dream haunted him. Daily since Jenna returned to Bayview. But how could his widowed father even suggest such a thing? William wasn’t stupid. He knew no one lived forever. But he’d never before considered the repercussions of leaving behind a wife or losing one.
“Would it be so bad?” Dad said.
How could his dad even ask that?
“Between the church and the show, I have enough on my plate without trying to add a doomed romance. Besides, love ain’t too high up on my list right now.”
“I wish it was higher. Your mother and I always prayed you’d find the kind of love we shared. You don’t know what you’re missing.” Dad gazed through the window into the night sky with a faraway look in his eyes. As far away as Heaven.
“I know exactly what I’m missing,” William echoed. “All the heartache.”
“Jenna might be looking for a reason to stick around. For a place to put down some roots. You should tell her everything. Give her a chance.”
“I don’t know if I could stand it if we tried and she left.” He was talking about more than a business partnership. He knew it. His dad knew it.
“If you think that I, in any way, regret marrying your mom because our time was cut short, I have failed you.” Dad’s gaze landed on him with a physical force that sucked the smugness from William’s attitude.
“If you would have known it was going to end this way, would you have still married Mom?”
“Wild horses couldn’t have stopped me.”
“What about Paul? Do you think he would have married Linda had he known he was going to leave her a widow?”
“I can’t answer for your brother, son, but I know he loved Linda with all his heart. And when David was born, well, I’ve never seen him prouder. Whether it’s for one minute, one hour, or one day. When you find that person God made just for you, you love with everything inside of you. And it’s all worth it.”
William shook his head. Love sounded like one big gamble. He didn’t need that kind of heartbreak. But, if he was being honest, he’d have to admit avoiding romance hadn’t protected his heart from disappointment. Maybe nothing could.
“I don’t know. I just want to protect Jenna, you know? She’s been through so much. I don’t want her to feel used.” Or give her the chance to walk away.
“You might be selling her short. Maybe God’s plan for her future includes Bayview. Includes you. Keeping secrets will hinder things, not help.”
“I don’t know.”
“Whatever you choose, I’m here for you if you want to talk.”
“I know.” William said good-bye to his dad and watched him make his way to his truck. Dad paused in the driveway and peered into the sky. Probably at the North Star. Whenever he and mom were apart, they’d look for the North Star and say that no matter how far apart they were, they were both looking at the same star and thinking of each other. Dad wiped his eyes before climbing into his truck. Alone. To return to his empty house and police scanner.
Dad was wrong. Exploring what might have been would be disastrous. He wouldn’t encourage his feelings for Jenna. Feelings that could only end in hurt. The kind of hurt that, based on his Dad and sister-in-law, never really went away. He saw it every time he looked at them.
He threaded his fingers together and wrapped them around the back of his neck. He titled his face heavenward. He’d certainly made a mess of things. If Jenna stayed, she’d lose her job at the newspaper. But if she went, he’d lose the show and maybe the farm. What was he going to do?
9
“The blood bank is low and Red Cross needs more donors. You all know how many transfers my mom and Paul needed. I can’t imagine what it would have been like if the blood hadn’t been there for them. Can I count on you all to donate?”
William eyed each one of his men in his construction crew. If he could will them to donate, he would. But the harsh reality was that although the ability to save a life flowed through each person’s veins, many would choose not to bother despite his passionate plea. He made quick eye contact with everyone until his eyes met Jenna’s and stuck. The way Jenna folded her arms in defence while they stood toe to toe outside Linda’s trailer ran through his mind. He should have spent more time assuring Jenna that he had no romantic interest in Linda. No romantic interest in anyone.
But that wasn’t exactly true. And he suspected that Jenna knew after her unannounced visit to his house the other night.
Jenna leaned forward, listening intently, and his breath snagged. He cleared his throat and forced his gaze to move away toward Brian, his painter, who straddled a reversed chair next to her with his arms folded across his chest and an unreadable expression on his face.
“Any questions?”
“Does it hurt?”
William fought the urge to sigh. Every year someone asked the same question. “None of you guys are wimps. But yes, you can feel it. There’s a small pinch, like fingernails digging into thin skin, then an odd sensation. It doesn’t itch, doesn’t hurt, just feels odd.”
“What about afterwards, will I feel woozy?” asked another.
William looked toward the back of the church where the question originated. “Everyone is different. Some people feel lightheaded. I never did. They provide snacks to combat the feeling.”
“Will you give us the day off if we donate?” A brazen new hire laughed at his own question.
“If I thought it would get you all to donate, I would love to give you the day off. But the reality is that if you don’t pass out, I need you back here. We have a pretty tight deadline, and it’s coming fast.” He hadn’t told his crew that finishing this job on time and under budget was a requirement to landing the television contract. As contractor, that was his responsibility, not theirs.
He pushed thoughts of the television deal from his mind. The station manager was eager to see Jenna’s signature on the contract. The signature he implied he could get with no problem.
“How do you reconcile a world with such a tremendous need for blood donors with a God who lets these tragedies happen?” Brian asked. The sudden and serious question sucked the quiet conversation from the room like an industrial wet-dry vacuum eating drywall bits and nails. Brian leaned into the reversed chair back, as if he were trying hard to look casual, but the rigidity of his posture screamed defensive.
His words hung like frosty breath. William knew Brian’s family had struggled hard since the economy turned. He lost his house, his wife left him, and he worked hard to keep his three kids fed and clothed. The question had been a long time coming, but William never expected it here, in this public setting.
William looked his co-worker right in the eye, noting in his peripheral vision that Jenna sat frozen in place. This was likely the very question she had been afraid to ask. He measured his words. “Sometimes, when life is hard, the enemy whispers that it’s God’s fault. That God planned for tragedy. But I don’t believe God planned for cancer to steal my mom or for my brother
to die young. I don’t believe He planned for them to need blood transfusions. We live in a broken world, and things like cancer, abuse, death, loss, are a result of sin, of the fall of man.”
Brian humphed and his forearms flexed as they rested along the top of the chair.
“In God’s goodness He promises us that He will use every hardship for good if we let Him. He is so close to us during our trials, wanting to comfort us that it’s easy to mix Him up with all the bad things going on. But He’s not the cause of the bad. He is what enables us to carry on.”
“What good is He if He doesn’t stop it?” Jenna immediately slapped her hands over her lips.
He softened his expression and turned toward her. “That’s like asking, what good is a best friend? God doesn’t promise easy, He promises Himself. He tells us that we should expect trouble in this world, but to take heart because He has overcome this world. We’ll understand better, in the next life, in eternity.” He glanced back to Brian, who nodded, but his thin lips implied that he didn’t agree.
William wiped suddenly damp hands on his jeans. As much as he’d like to elaborate on the theology of God’s goodness, Brian’s tight lips and Jenna’s stiff posture screamed that they were done listening. “I have some information about the next clinic. I’d appreciate you all considering my request.” He briefly held up a flyer and then stapled it to a two-by-four leaning against the wall. “That’s all for now. Back to work.”
As the men dispersed, William fielded a few more questions but kept Jenna in his line of sight. She waited patiently as he answered the men. Finally, she was the only one who remained. She stood before him.
“You look tired.” She reached out as if she were going to brush back a curl that flopped forward onto his forehead, but she pulled her hand back before touching him.
“I am tired.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets.
She grazed her fingertips along her jaw line. “I was going to ask you to drop off a photo album at Linda’s. I missed one yesterday; it slid under my seat. But if you want to stay here in case some of these guys have a few more questions, I’ll do it myself.”
A smile sneaked across his face. She clearly didn’t feel comfortable visiting Linda, but was willing to—for him. “Thanks.”
Jenna looked down the minute their gazes met, but he lifted her chin with two fingers. Electricity zipped from her petal-soft skin. She leaned in. He snatched his hand back. What was he thinking?
Jenna backed up a few steps, eyes widened and a little wild.
“That’s helpful. I appreciate it. I have a meeting after this so that helps.”
She gave a brief smile and left without a word.
The knot that had rested heavy in his stomach since her arrival loosened a tiny bit as if God were assuring him that He hadn’t forgotten about Jenna. That He still held her in the palm of His hand.
A muted ringing caught his ear. He dug around and uncovered Jenna’s phone, buried beneath a pile of supplies. It must have slipped out of her pocket. “Hello, Jenna’s phone.”
“Oh hi, I expected to hear Jenna’s voice.” A smooth female purred.
“Sorry, she’s left the work site. Can I give her a message?” He dug around, looking for a paper and pencil. Finding only a pencil he poised before the same two-by-four that he had stapled the blood donor information onto, ready to record a message carpenter style.
“Ah, you must be the partner I’ve heard all about.” The woman chuckled.
He froze. She heard about him? “Uh, is there a message?”
“Yes, tell Jenna that her recent columns have had a great response. Her syndication has gone through, and she should receive her first syndication payment anytime. It’ll be direct deposited into her account.”
“OK. I’ll let her know.” He jotted down the details. “Syndication is a go.” His heart sank. Sounded impressive.
He better pray that Mr. Foxshire allowed him to cut Jenna loose from the television contract because she already had her future mapped out.
Finding her phone had to be providence. It was God warning him to be careful. Jenna’s heart was for the city life. And she was returning there as soon as she could.
~*~
Jenna stewed the entire drive to Linda’s salon as thoughts of William tumbled through her head. Just thinking about the horrifying way her fingers ached to graze the stubble that shadowed his jaw twisted her gut. She swallowed against the boulder that grew in her throat over the way he openly shared with his work crew. It pricked her heart, and conscience.
If William could rally the troops to flood the depleted blood bank with donors, the very least she could do was save him the additional trip to Linda’s salon and drop off the forgotten album.
An odd blend of relief and dread bubbled inside as she slid her car into a vacant spot in front of the salon—relief that she could finally look Linda in the eye and hopefully put to rest her fears regarding the woman’s integrity, and dread that Linda might prove to be the same conniving bully she always was. It was one thing to buy the woman a few groceries through a third party fundraiser; it was quite another to visit her at work, on her own turf, alone.
In and out. That was it. She didn’t need to stay. She didn’t need to become Linda’s best friend. But she needed to be kind.
Like Linda was ever kind to her.
OK, to be fair. Linda had been kind at the festival. But that was because there were loads of people around. Wasn’t it?
Jenna pushed out the unwelcome thought as fast as it came. William insisted that Linda had changed, but Jenna wasn’t convinced. However ingrained morals from her past remained. She would not repay Linda’s youthful evil with evil.
William’s transparent heart and gentle words steered their fragile friendship toward intimate waters. How could she continue to force distance between them when he kept doing such compassionate things like organizing a blood drive and acting as a father figure to his nephew?
She snagged the album from the backseat and stepped onto the shoveled sidewalk. Her traitorous breathing caught in her throat. The protective wall around her heart weakened, so she forced herself to recall all the reasons an emotional connection with William was unwise.
He once took part in a bet that humiliated her.
Linda was his sister-in-law.
And Jenna had enough on her plate trying to appease her editor while repaying the families her husband cheated without adding an unwise romantic entanglement.
She hugged the book to her chest and assessed Linda’s curb appeal from a decorator’s point of view. The salon name, Linda’s Hair, stood out on the tanned striped awning in a bold black script. The awning shaded the front windows, which displayed glossy prints of the latest haircuts to hit Hollywood. The place possessed a quaint charm.
“Jenna? Is that you?” Becky exited the salon, red scarf stylishly wrapped around her neck, her hair bouncing with every step like TV commercial hair.
Jenna planted one hand on her hip. “Why hello, movie star.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Becky feigned innocence and an accent that would have made any southern belle proud. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked past Jenna at something behind her.
Jenna turned and found Becky preening over her reflection on the windshield. “You’re not even looking at me.”
“Come on,” Becky begged. “Tell me my hair looks great. I love it!” Becky didn’t usually gush, but right now only a compliment could put a cork in her and stem the flow of vanity.
“It’s great, Bex.” Jenna sincerely loved the color and the shape of her cut. “Did Linda do this?”
“Yes. It’s nice, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” The vinegary admission stuck in her throat. She didn’t wish Linda any harm, but it was hard to admit that Linda excelled in her own field as much as Jenna excelled in hers. Her gaze flicked back to the salon where soft music filtered through the open screened window. Open windows? This time of year?
“Well, sort of…” She had no desire to explore her newly found soft feelings toward Linda.
Becky yanked open the door, jingling the bells near the top, and motioned for Jenna to enter first. The strong scent of ammonia hit full force.
Right on cue, a salt and pepper lady with more salt than pepper hobbled from the restroom.
“You got customers.” The old granny-like woman called out and patted her small pink curlers. She eyed Jenna up and down before giving a disapproving grunt. Big-city fashion appeared to be lost on this old lady.
Linda’s salon looked like every other salon Jenna frequented. It had two hydraulic chairs, two workstations, a small reception area, and waiting room. The only luxury stood on a stand next to the restroom door, an inconspicuous espresso maker. It sat under a hand-painted black-and-red sign that read, “Expresso Yourself.”
Linda and a young co-worker strode around the corner. Jenna immediately re-evaluated her first impression of her former schoolmate. Freshly touched-up roots, perfectly applied makeup, and a dress that flattered her slightly larger figure presented a confident woman who would draw a second glance on the street. The scales no longer tipped so heavily in Jenna’s favor. Linda had style capable of gracing the cover of a magazine.
“Is there something wrong, Becky?” Linda dried her hands on a crisp white towel and approached with a look of concern. Her eyes assessed Becky’s hair for a fault.
“No, no.” Becky reassured her. “I love it. In fact, it looks so great Jenna wanted to swing by.”
Linda’s sudden attention made Jenna squirm. The superiority she boasted at the fall festival paled as she stood side by side with the cleaned-up Linda.
“I can fit you in right now if you’re OK with my junior stylist jumping in when necessary.” Linda gestured to Sarah, who eagerly stepped forward and shifted her weight from side to side. Linda glanced over her schedule and checked a small timer keeping track of the woman in the next chair. “At some point I’ll have to attend to Gertrude’s perm. Does that work?”