by Lin Stepp
She raiser her eyebrows.. “Is that why you haven’t brought her by?”
“Maybe, in part,” he admitted.
A silence stretched between them while she thought about this. “Oftentimes, people who divorce are people who don’t hold commitments or vows before God as important,” she said at last. “When the first sign of discomfort comes, the first disillusion, the first fight or two, or the first real problem or challenge to a marriage, they leave. They break their vows. Then they start looking around again. The likelihood is that they will act the same way again with the next partner. But it’s different when there’s adultery or desertion. Or cruelty or abuse like this girl has faced. Raynelle says she’s bloomed like a rose since she’s been down here. I’m glad for her. She’s a sweet girl. She deserves a chance at recovery and real happiness. But be careful, Boyce. She’s on the rebound right now. She’s hurt and confused, just like that little vixen was.”
“I know,” he said, sighing. “Believe me, I know. That vixen bit me when I was trying to take care of her. Do you remember that? I’ve still got a little scar here on my second finger from where she nipped me.”
“Let me see.” His mother took his hand in hers. “Well, well. You surely do, and I remember we bandaged and medicated that bite as best we could.”
He stood up then, growing restless. “We’d better get these plants in Mama.” He offered her his hand to help her up.
“Yes. It won’t take you as long as it would have taken me to do it. I thank you for helping me with it.”
Boyce caught her eye. “Thanks for not being too hard on me about Jenna. The situation is difficult enough.”
“Love always is.” She smiled at him. “And it always seems to come with complications.”
An hour later, Boyce had put out four flats of sultana, two in the round flower bed around the birdbath and two more scattered in front of the shrubs on either side of the front porch. He cleaned up at the hose outside and then made his way in the back door. He found Jenna sitting at the kitchen table coloring pictures in a color book with Alice and Sharon.
“Look at our eggs,” Sharon cried excitedly. “We made really pretty ones.”
Alice jumped up to catch his hand. “Yes, and Jenna learned real fast how to do them. She read the directions in the box and helped us put designs on them and everything!”
“We even wrote our names on some with a wax crayon,” Sharon added. “See?’
Boyce looked appreciatively at all the eggs with the girls. He noticed Jenna was as flushed and as excited as they were over the results.
She smiled at him brightly. “We figured out how to make two color eggs by experimenting,” she told him. “We put one end into one color and let it dry a little, and then we put the other end in another color, leaving a little ribbon of white between. See? Look how pretty they are – green and yellow here, and this one pink and purple.” She turned to look at him, her face a wreath of smiles, and his heart clutched in his chest. “And the little flower and bunny designs that came with the color sets were so cute. We had the best time with those.”
“They all look great,” he said.
“Jenna’s nice,” Alice told him. “Will you bring her back to go to Easter church with us next Sunday? Please? Sharon and I have new Easter dresses, and we want Jenna to see them. We’ll get Easter baskets, and I told her we might get real baby chickens, and she hasn’t ever seen a real baby chicken before.”
Sharon jumped into the conversation. “And we’re decorating the cross with daffodils in the service. Jenna said it sounded like that would be really beautiful.”
Boyce’s mother came into the room. “We’d be pleased to have you come and join us at church on Easter,” she said graciously. “The girls’ father is the minister of the church, as well as being my daughter’s husband. Plus, all our family share dinner afterwards.”
“It’s nice of you to ask.” Jenna hesitated. “But I feel that I might be intruding on a family time.”
Ruth waved this idea away with one hand. “Nonsense. You’re Sam’s girl. That makes you a part of our family. He’d be upset if I didn’t ask you.”
With the girls shouting “Please, Please” Jenna had little chance to give any answer but yes.
“Ours is a persuasive family,” Boyce told her teasingly.
“Yes, and now you girls have got to get on home for dinner,” said Ruth. “I told your mother I’d send you home after these eggs were done. And, Boyce, you and Jenna are to stay for dinner with me. I’ve got a crock pot full of homemade vegetable beef soup already cooking, and I’ve a mind to make some cornbread to go with it. It won’t take long to do that. You and Jenna walk the girls over to their house, and I’ll have everything done about the time you get back.”
Knowing it was useless to argue with his mother about dinner, Boyce conceded gracefully. “What’s for dessert?” he asked, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.
She patted his cheek fondly. “An apple butter stack cake. You know you like that with ice cream on it.”
“I could die and go to heaven a happy man now,” said Boyce, pleasing her.
Jenna cleared her throat, attracting their attention. “I don’t want you to go to all that trouble for us, Mrs. Hart.”
Boyce’s mother sent her a warm smile. “It’s no trouble, child. And it keeps me from having to eat alone. Perhaps you don’t know how that is.”
A pained look crossed Jenna’s face. “Actually, I do know what it’s like to eat alone. And, you’re right, it’s so much more fun to share a meal. Thanks for asking us to stay.”
“Well, then, you just walk the girls home – and get all these eggs off my kitchen table – and I’ll get started warming things up.”
The afternoon was still sunny and pleasant as Boyce and Jenna walked Alice and Sharon down the country lane behind his mother’s house.
“We call this little road Hart Lane,” Boyce told Jenna. “It winds from our place over through the trees - and past the cemetery - to come out at the Wildwood Church. My sister’s home is just beyond the church on the road behind us.”
Alice’s young voice chimed in. “It’s 1400 Wildwood Road.”
The girls had the four of them holding hands as they walked down the road - Boyce and Jenna in the middle, the girls swinging and skipping on either side. The walk down Hart Road was only a short distance and soon ended at a circular drive between the cemetery and a white country church. Boyce and Jenna stopped and waited at this point while the girls ran across the church grounds and through a field to their own house, a yellow two-story on a little rise past the church.
Boyce smiled at Jenna. “This is tradition. One of us always walks the girls this far to be sure they get back home safely.” He noticed with pleasure that he and Jenna were still holding hands and that Jenna hadn’t pulled away yet.
“You have such a wonderful life.” Jenna sighed wistfully. “Do you know how lucky you are to have a warm, happy family like this?”
“I try to remember to be suitably grateful,” he answered with a grin. “Especially when my mother is feeding me her homemade cornbread and apple butter stack cake.”
“Oh, you!” She giggled. “All you think about is food!”
“Not all,” he said, leaning over to touch his lips to hers in a soft kiss.
She shied back, looking startled and uncertain.
Boyce cupped her face gently. “Don’t spoil the moment, Jenna. Affection between friends is a good, sweet thing on a warm April evening after a fine day.”
She smiled back at him softly, despite herself.
Sensing her defenses crumbling, Boyce wrapped her in his arms to kiss her more deeply. This time she sighed and nestled against him, slipping her own arms around his neck to draw him nearer, closing her eyes in pleasure.
He pulled away gently then. “There now, wasn’t that nice?”
“Yes,” she admitted dreamily. “It was nice.”
“Well, good,” he said,
deciding to stop while he was ahead. “Now let’s head back to Mama’s and have some dinner. I’ve earned it putting out all those plants of hers.”
They walked back down Hart Road, simply holding hands and talking.
Chapter 11
At three a.m. that night, Jenna woke up startled and frightened from a nightmare. The thunder crashed outside as Jenna sat up anxiously in bed, and a big streak of lightning flashed across the dark sky. The rain Boyce’s mother predicted had moved in. Jenna tried to calm herself, and settle back under the covers, but the dream kept trying to slip back into her mind. She threw back the covers, got up, and pulled on her robe.
She headed for the kitchen, hunted up cheese and crackers, poured a glass of milk, and then settled down on the big couch in front of the fire. She was glad for the warmth and comfort of the low fire still burning in the hearth. Ever since she’d been small, Jenna found it hard to fall back to sleep right after a bad dream. The dream always tried to continue in her mind, playing on like a bad movie you couldn’t turn off. Often the dream seemed more frightening when she woke up and became fully conscious than when she was asleep. She knew if she got up for a short while, had a snack and cleared her mind, she could usually go back to bed and then sleep well again.
Noticing the fire was dying out, Jenna walked over to put on another log like Boyce had taught her. It was quiet and comforting in the cabin, but the bad dream still chased about in her thoughts. Her nightmare had been about Elliott again. Ever since she learned some of the bad things - and the unpleasant details – about Elliott’s indiscretions she hadn’t known about before, a little sense of fear and foreboding haunted her. Her dreams played out her fears in exaggerated forms.
Jenna knew much of her anxiety continued because she procrastinated instead of confronting her issues with Elliott. Soon, she would have to deal with Elliott Howell, like it or not, and she sensed it would be unpleasant. Frankly, she absolutely dreaded it. Jenna hated confrontations. She knew it was a weakness of hers. She hated anger and quarreling - and the bitter words that always accompanied those scenes, as well. Her parents argued a lot, and Jenna hated hearing the bad things they said to each other when they engaged in their frequent arguments. As a child, she crept upstairs and hid in her room when they started to quarrel. They never hit each other, but their words flew like hurtful, angry darts between them – almost as damaging.
When her mother launched out at Jenna in a tirade, Jenna always retreated and tried to make peace.
“You remind me of your Aunt Lydia when you do that,” her mother snapped at her once. “She always tried to be sweet and make peace when a good quarrel was needed to clear the air. You’re too much like her and your Grandmother Alvarez. Both spineless when a fight was needed.”
But Jenna possessed no fighting spirit. She had a peacemaker spirit. It pleased her when she heard a chaplain at school assembly say once that peacemakers were blessed. Her mother always made it seem like it was a curse to want to live peaceably.
Jenna sighed and snuggled back into the couch, pulling one of the old afghans over her lap. Like it or not, she had to go back to New York soon. She knew moving out before Elliott returned from Paris was cowardly, but she couldn’t stand the thought of him standing over her while she packed, picking at her and arguing with her over every little item she might want to take.
Truthfully, there wasn’t much she wanted to take from Elliott’s apartment. Most everything in the apartment belonged to Elliott before they married anyway. Some wedding gifts that Jenna received from friends and relatives were still packed in boxes in the apartment building’s storage room because Elliott didn’t think they matched his décor. She would take those. Many of Jenna’s own things Elliott simply disliked, so she had packed these things away in storage in her parents’ attic. It would be fun to get them out and see them all again. Naturally, she would take her clothes, her art supplies, and her personal things. The rest Elliott could have.
Carla had called her before she went to bed to tell her everything was all set on the new apartment. Her enthusiasm bubbled into her conversation. “I’ve been up to see the apartment, and everything looks great. It’s a little bland in color - that’s what you do with rentals so whatever people have will fit in better. So the walls are all painted sandalwood or white, and the sofa, chairs, and ottoman are camel beige. The kitchen and bath are mostly white. But the great thing is that the hardwood floors are a warm, rich brown, there are lots of built-in shelves, and most of the furniture items are decent cherry pieces, even if a little battered.”
She laughed then. “The best thing in the apartment are the rugs in the living room and bedroom. They are fantastic old tapestry rugs that came from Berlini’s when they had a back room closeout once. They’d been floor samples, and Berlini’s let them go for a song. Actually, you helped me pick those out. Do you remember?”
“I do, Carla.” Jenna saw a quick picture in her mind of that happy shopping day with Carla. “And they were gorgeous. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. And you and I will have fun fixing the apartment up. You know, I’ve never gotten to decorate my own place before.”
Carla hardly seemed to hear that. “The one thing John and I are doing is ordering a new mattress for the bed and buying a new refrigerator,” she said.
“Don’t do special things for me, Carla,” Jenna responded. “I don’t expect that of you.”
“We always have to replace a few things after renters leave, Jenna. And it was time for both of these things, anyway.” Carla bubbled on. “Oh, and let me tell me you about one thing. The last student we rented to made a worktable over two file cabinets in front of the bedroom window. The light is good, and he did a pretty good job making it. Do you want us to leave it for an art desk or clear it out?”
“Leave it for now, and I’ll look at it,” Jenna replied. “I’ll need a place for my work.”
Watching the fire in the dark now, Jenna let her mind drift - thinking how she might fix up her little apartment to make it cozy and nice. It would be simple compared to her parents’ and Elliott’s places, and even compared to Sam’s cabin, but it would be all hers. And the most important thing - it would be away from Elliott. She couldn’t bear to think about living with Elliott again, not even for a day. And she cringed to think of him ever touching her again. Getting away and having time to think had taught her that.
“I’m glad I came here,” she said to herself as she watched the flames dance in the fire. “It’s been a good thing for me. I’ve met good people and I’ve learned that I can live by myself and be happy.”
And, of course, there had been Boyce. She frowned over that thought. She knew one of the reasons she’d known such happiness here was because Boyce had been so attentive to her and made her feel so special. Loveable.
“I can’t remember feeling for anyone what I feel for Boyce.” She shook her head as she thought about it. “But my emotions about Boyce are just too complicated to sort out right now. Sometimes I don’t know whether my feelings for him are all tied up with how much I simply needed someone to be kind to me right now or if my feelings for him run deeper.”
Jenna sighed softly. Boyce had made a lot of allusions to the idea of a long-term relationship recently. “But I don’t know if I want that right now. I’m not even out of my last relationship; I’m still married.”
A troubling thought slid over her mind. “Probably by the time I sort everything out, Boyce will meet some nice girl and settle down. It’s amazing he hasn’t already.”
It depressed her to consider that, to imagine someone else sitting by the fire with Boyce in the evening, enjoying his warmth and humor, holding his babies. She hated the idea of him being with someone else. But she hated worse the idea she might keep him from the happiness he deserved. He was such a good man. What a contrast that she should meet someone like Boyce Hart after Elliott. With that thought still stirring in her mind, she climbed the stairs back to her bed. Rain poured down outside in a to
rrent, and the sound of the rain helped Jenna slip back to sleep.
She woke feeling rested and, after breakfast, she settled down to work in Sam’s study upstairs. A cocky bluejay on the feeder outside the window had inspired a new design idea. Jenna sketched him on a tree limb and wrote a birthday verse for the inside of the card that seemed to fit the drawing. After making her rough sketch, Jenna worked on the finished card design of the bluejay she would send to Park Press. She had ten designs to mail tomorrow that she’d completed this last week. It was so easy to work here, and ideas came freely from the natural scenes all around her. Jenna pulled out several of her recent photographs to look for more ideas. Soon she got lost in creating and the morning flew by.
At about one o’clock, a knock came on the door. Jenna could hear Patrick barking outside and knew it was Boyce.
She went over to the front window of the upstairs office and knocked to get Boyce’s attention below; then she motioned for him to let himself in.
“Can I come up?” he called.
“Sure,” she called back.
In a few minutes, he ambled in the doorway looking fantastic in a shirt and tie, his hair tumbled from driving outdoors in the jeep.
“You look good,” Jenna told him. She leaned down to pet Patrick, who had followed Boyce up the stairs and was weaving around her chair now, eager for a welcome.
“Been to church.” He smiled. “And I decided I’d come see if you’d like to hike up to the Oliver cabin in the Cove with me this afternoon. It’s not far from here, and I want to do some sketches of the cabin. A dream for a painting idea came to me last night during the rain with the Oliver cabin in it. Do you ever do that? Just dream an idea and see exactly how you want a piece to turn out when you paint it?”
“Sometimes.” She let her eyes rove over him, enjoying seeing how handsome he looked in dress clothes. “But usually it’s when I start to work that the ideas start rushing in for me. Like today. I accomplished so much. I’m really pleased.”