Tell Me About Orchard Hollow

by Lin Stepp

  She dropped her gaze in embarrassment. “Maybe. I don’t know. I have a lot on my mind, Charlotte, and I didn’t want you to think I was trying to say I was better than you or something. I like you; I didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

  Charlotte shook her head and sighed. “You’re still thinking everything’s all about money, aren’t you?” she demanded. “You were raised to think this is how people rate and value each other. That this is how a person’s worth is determined. Well, let me tell you, Jenna - not everyone was raised to think like that. And not everyone does. I wasn’t raised that way. I was taught to look on the inside, not the outside. I took to you right off; something drew me to you, even though I knew there were differences between us. And I never held back with you or tried to pretend. It wouldn’t have changed anything for me to learn you were rich or poor.”

  She stopped and laughed at herself. “Shoot, I thought you were rich from the first day with those sleek clothes and that gold Cadillac. I’ve already told you that. So why did you think knowing about this art job of yours would make a difference?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Jenna. “Maybe just because so many people have belittled me about my art, made fun of me for it, made me not value it much. I got to where I just didn’t want to risk being criticized about it, so I simply stopped mentioning it to anyone. Elliott and his friends used to make fun of me and it hurt. And Mother thought my art was so unimportant. Of so little value, almost something to be ashamed of. So I started thinking so, too.”

  Charlotte’s face softened. “Well, there, that’s an honest and true answer,” she said. “And it explains a lot. You seem to have so much, but in so many ways, Jenna, I’m richer than you. I’ve always had people to love me and believe in me and to tell me I’m fine. There were always a pile of relatives and friends to get excited if I even did the least thing of any merit or showed any talent or skill. I guess I was really blessed. I can’t think how awful it would have been if I’d married Dean and he’d belittled me and ridiculed me all the time for who and what I am. Maybe I’d have pulled in some, too, and lost confidence and pride in myself.” She considered that. “But maybe not. I’m pretty ornery and straight forward.”

  She laughed and reached over to pat Jenna’s knee. “You’re going to have to look forward and not back, Jenna. You need to be your own encourager, toot your own horn, and throw your own confetti when you do something good. Give yourself your own party. Tell yourself you’re something special and don’t wait on somebody else to do it.”

  Jenna exhaled slowly. “Somebody else told me something like that recently, ” she replied. “I guess I need to pay attention to it and think more about doing that.”

  Charlotte eyed her thoughtfully. “I can just about figure out who that someone was.” She paused. “But I’m not ready to get to that subject yet. For now, you tell me about your art, Jenna. I really want to know more about it.”

  “What do you want to know?” Jenna picked up a cookie to nibble on.

  “Well, for a start, despite all my talk about money not mattering, I’m just dying to know what you make doing that kind of work.” Charlotte grinned at Jenna. “And then I want to know all about how you got started in it and what your plans are.”

  So Jenna told Charlotte all about her art and about what she made, too. She even told her about the Press’s offer to let her branch out into more design areas when she got back to New York. With Charlotte’s enthusiastic interest and encouragement, Jenna even shared some of her ideas for new things. Feeling comfortably accepted, she found herself sharing some of her dreams, too, especially her dream to illustrate children’s books. Perhaps to even write one.

  “I’ve never told anyone that.” Jenna dropped here eyes. “About wanting to try a book. I don’t know if I even could.”

  Charlotte shrugged casually. “Everything worthwhile starts with a dream or a vision. Then even if it seems impossible or you don’t feel qualified, you just try your hardest. Who knows what might happen? Life doesn’t have any guarantees. But one thing is for sure, if you never try things, you can be for sure nothing at all will ever happen.”

  “That’s really wise,” observed Jenna.

  “Well, I’m going to be expecting to get a signed copy of one of your books for my children when your ship comes in.” Charlotte smiled warmly at her.

  Jenna returned the smile with affection. “And I’m going to expect to be one of the first people you call when you get ready to have that open house for your daycare center you told me you hope to open some day, Charlotte. I know it will be a good one. I’ve been watching how wonderful you are with your children. If I ever have children, I’m going to call you to get advice.”

  Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “If you play your cards right, maybe you can run right over and bring them to me to babysit while you do your design work. Then you can get all the free advice you want without a long distance phone call.”

  She gave Jenna a pointed look and a wink. “I know a pretty good man that, I think, has figured out which honey tree to buzz around. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, too. Hikes, dinners, visits to his mama’s, invitations to come to Easter church. I haven’t seen Boyce Hart pay this much attention to a woman for longer than I can remember. After the two of you were at our house for dinner, Dean and I both said we could generate enough electricity off the tension running between you to save ourselves about one hundred dollars on our next electric bill. If we could figure out how to harness it.”

  Jenna felt herself flush with embarrassment.

  Charlotte laughed. “Well, now I’m making you blush. What did you think, girl, that everyone was blind? This is small town USA. Remember, I told you there are no secrets here.”

  “I’m still a married woman.” Jenna was truly shocked at Charlotte’s candor. “And many obstacles lie ahead of me just to resolve this mess I got myself into. I’m not too eager to get involved with another man and to make another mess for myself right away.”

  An angry look crossed Charlotte’s face. “Now, that’s a real insulting thing to say about a good person like Boyce,” she snapped. “In fact, to even put him in the same category with Mr. No-Good Elliott Howell is neither fair nor nice of you. I’m disappointed you can’t see that.”

  “Men often change after they get married.” Jenna crossed her arms stubbornly.

  Charlotte got up to check on the baby while she answered. “Some do a little. Sometimes they start leaving their dirty socks on the bathroom floor or forget to bring you flowers. But it’s a rare man that turns out to be a Jekyll and Hyde like the one you hooked up with. Jenna, you can’t be afraid to think about ever caring for someone fine in the future just because you connected with a low-down, smooth-talking con like Elliott Howell the first time.”

  Jenna heaved a sigh. “Charlotte, how can I know if someone else won’t turn out to be a con, too? No matter how nice I think they are. I thought Elliott was good. I thought he was the right one for me, and look what happened.”

  Charlotte looked at Jenna thoughtfully. “Let me ask you something. Did you really love Elliott when you married him? Or did you just feel flattered by his attentions and delighted that your parents were so pleased with him for you?”

  “I thought I loved him.” Jenna searched her memories. “I really thought I did, Charlotte.”

  “You keep saying ‘thought’ here, Jenna. That’s important.” She frowned. “I think you already know that what was between you and Elliott was a poor substitute for the real thing. Making mistakes teaches us. Sometimes we learn what is right by what we do wrong. You’re an older and wiser woman now than when you were being courted by Elliott Howell back then. You can’t be afraid to love again because you were wronged once. It would be yourself you hurt most if you did that.”

  Jenna looked away from Charlotte’s candid gaze. “Well, the timing is just not good now for me to have feelings for someone and to get involved again.”

 
“Too late.” Charlotte wrinkled her nose playfully. “You already have feelings and you already are involved. That’s as plain as the nose on your face. And how do you know God wasn’t just smiling down on you to bring along a sweet man after you’d been involved with a nasty one? Maybe He wanted you to see right off, before you got too soured and bitter, that all the apples in the bunch aren’t rotten just because there’s a bad one out there.”

  “It’s confusing, Charlotte.” Jenna felt tears welling up behind her eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

  “No, I don’t reckon love ever is.” She patted Jenna’s knee with affection.

  Jenna looked up with shock. “I never said I was in love with Boyce, Charlotte, or that he was in love with me.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Charlotte eyed her candidly. “And I’m not going to get more pushy than I have been already. But here’s what worries me the most. And that’s Boyce Hart. I’m as fond of him as a brother. If you hurt him I’m not going to be happy with you at all.”

  Jenna blinked in surprise.

  Charlotte wagged a finger at her. “You see, you’ve been so focused on you - on your pain and your past hurts and your problems - that you haven’t even given much of a thought to Boyce,” she said. “How he might be hurting or how he might hurt and have pain and disappointment after you go. How he might suffer. You’ve wanted the martyr seat all to yourself. I’m just saying love thinks about the other person’s heart as much as their own. You need to consider that. Boyce could be hurt, too, in all this. And to be quite frank, I don’t want that. I truly love and care for Boyce Hart, and I’m not eager to see his heart broken.”

  Before Jenna could even think how to answer, Tyler Dean ran over to get them to push him in the swing. And Jennie Rae started to cry.

  Charlotte hugged Tyler Dean and gave him a drink from his toddler cup. “Let Jenna push you one more time in the swing, Tyler Dean, and then we’ve got to start home.” She stood up. “I’ll take care of Jennie Rae. She’s probably wet, and she’s probably hungry again, too.”

  “Come on.” Tyler Dean pulled at Jenna’s hand. “Push me real high,” he ordered. “So my feet can touch the sky.”

  “I’ll push you real high if you’ll hold on real tight,” Jenna promised him. And while she played with Tyler Dean, she thought about Boyce in the back of her mind. Would he be hurt when she went away? Would she cause his heart pain like Elliott had caused her pain? It was true, in part, what Charlotte said, and it made Jenna ashamed to admit it to herself. She had been thinking almost exclusively about herself and her own problems. She’d only thought about her feelings and her heart. That seemed natural to her with the mess she was in. Boyce seemed so strong and confident that she hadn’t really given much thought to his heart at all.

  When Charlotte and Jenna pulled up in the driveway of Sam’s cabin a little later, Boyce was out in his front yard with Patrick. He wandered over to see Tyler Dean and the baby, and they all stood talking a bit before Charlotte left to take the children home.

  “Sounds like you girls had a good time,” observed Boyce.

  “We did,” said Jenna. “Charlotte’s become a good friend.”

  “Wanna have dinner at my place?” Boyce asked her. “I have steaks for the grill, because it’s so nice outside tonight, and some sweet potatoes to bake.”

  “All right. If you’ll let me bring the salad.”

  “Sure thing. Come over later about six.” Boyce pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed for his car. “I’m going down to the gallery for a little while to go through the mail. Then I have some prints to take to the post office and a few errands to do. I’ll see you later.”

  Jenna watched Boyce walk back over to his place and decided she would be careful with him tonight. She didn’t like to think she might hurt him. What did she know about his heart, anyway? He’d never told her anything about other girlfriends when they talked or even if he’d ever been serious about anyone before - or if he had ever been hurt before. Maybe she would ask him.

  She turned back to the cabin and, suddenly, felt a sweep of emotion hit her. She would be going back to New York in less than two weeks. So many problems waited for her there. She hated to think of facing them. And of leaving this peaceful place. Her life here had started to become precious to her.

  Chapter 13

  Boyce looked, instinctively, toward the calendar hanging on his refrigerator as he put up groceries later in the day.

  His face fell as he noted the date. “Jenna goes back to New York in less than two weeks. Lord, I ache to think about her leaving and I’m sure the pain will only get worse as the time draws closer.”

  He put the last of the perishables away and sat down on the kitchen stool, reaching down to scratch his dog’s back. “I stay constantly torn up when I’m with her now, Patrick. One part of me wants to beg her to never leave me, to let me take care of her, to let me go to New York with her to get everything resolved, and to see that no one ever hurts her again. But another part of me believes it’s important for her to go back by herself, to face her own problems and to deal with them on her own, to get more personally strong and sure of herself in doing so.”

  Boyce dug out a dog treat for Patrick from one of the grocery bags. “I stay constantly torn up about how much to commit to Jenna, too. We’ve both fallen in love with her, haven’t we, Boy?”

  Patrick swished his tail as if in agreement. Boyce laughed.

  “I don’t know when I realized I’d fallen in love with her. I think it swept over me almost from the first, like an unexpected rainstorm. I didn’t even have enough warning to protect myself from the onslaught.” He rubbed a foot against the dog’s side. “I hate myself for my feelings sometimes, but there’s not much I can do to change them.”

  Patrick licked his hand in sympathy.

  “She’s so skittish right now about commitment and marriage. I’m afraid she’ll shy away from me if I share my heart fully.” Boyce frowned at the thought. “Considering Jenna’s track record when faced with tough situations, she might bolt and run straight back to New York. I don’t want that. I need all the time I can finagle with her to show her I’m different from Elliott.”

  He hated the fact that he even needed to prove to her he was different from that man. Sometimes he could almost see her mentally comparing him with Elliott. She’d get a faraway look when she did. It made him want to grind his teeth in frustration.

  “I don’t want her committing to me because she’s looking for a way out of her problems, looking for someone else to take care of her because she’s afraid to be on her own. I want her to love me because of who I am and that only.” He scowled. “Is it wrong of me to want that?”

  He got a cola out of the refrigerator and sat down in a slump on the stool again. “What if I continue to play noble and she goes back to New York and finds out she doesn’t need me? That she’s just fine on her own? It could happen. She’s overdue to learn how fine and capable she really is. How talented and beautiful.”

  He got up to pace restlessly. “It makes me sick to think that some other man besides me might tell her these things. That another man might kiss her, touch her, or awaken her more. She’s my sleeping beauty. I want to be the one to love and awaken her. I don’t want anyone else to have her, Patrick.” The dog lifted his ears. “But I can’t claim her yet. I just can’t; it isn’t the right time.”

  Boyce ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He knew that deciding to keep the pressure off and letting Jenna go back to resolve her own problems was the choice he had already made. But his choice terrified him. He didn’t want to lose Jenna, and, yet, he had to love her enough to let her go. And hope she might come back.

  He whistled to Patrick, and headed outdoors to the studio above the garage. It was too early to think about dinner just yet. Maybe he’d work on some of his sketches or paint a little. He climbed up the stairs and opened the door into his work area.

  At his desk, Boyce stopped to look thr
ough the stack of preliminary sketches he’d made for the new paintings he planned for the Atlanta gallery. They looked good, and he thought he had some firm ideas in mind of just what he would do for the wildflower show.

  Boyce flipped through the sketches of the wildflower close-ups he’d done so far, and then paused and shook his head. A group of sketches of Jenna from their hike in Greenbrier lay mixed in with his flower drawings. He smiled looking through them and remembering that good day.

  He stopped to study one in particular of Jenna looking up at the sun with a joyous smile. She stood in a clearing in the forest, a sweep of spring beauties covering the ground as thick as a summer snow beneath her feet. Maybe he could show Gregor Haldeman a painting idea based on these sketches for the Atlanta show.

  “Since I can’t get the woman out of my mind, I may as well paint her. Maybe it will help alleviate some of the tension I carry all the time.” He flipped open a sketchpad and started to work.

  Boyce felt more relaxed later when he was back at the house getting ready for his dinner with Jenna. His art always did that for him. He could lose himself in it. It was always so satisfying to see his inward visions take shape on paper and then on canvas. Simply working with color gave him an incredible high; he even liked the smells of paint and pigment. For a long time, his art had been enough for him. Enough, most of the time, to keep him happy and fulfilled. And then Jenna walked into his life.

  “I remember the first night we met. She mesmerized me from the first with her gypsy looks. I wanted to paint her even then.”

  Boyce shook his head, remembering. “I saw her watching me and thought she might flirt with me, but she acted shy, almost awkward. It took me a while to realize she was practically an innocent –even after two years of marriage.”

  Out the kitchen window, he heard Patrick bark a welcome to Jenna as she walked across the yard. He spied on her through the kitchen window, watching her reach down to pet his dog, to talk to him sweetly. Coming through the yard, she stopped to study and notice things. He loved that about her. They had that in common, that sense of wonder about their world. He walked out on the porch to meet her and found her picking a handful of golden, yellow dandelions.