by Lin Stepp
Jenna caught her breath. “Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry,” she began.
Her father waved away her apologies and stopped her from saying more. “Don’t apologize, Daughter.” He frowned. “I’m the one who needs to apologize to you. The man was right. I guess it took another man laying-in to me for me to realize it. I admit I’ve always liked Elliott, but that shouldn’t have blinded me to the wrongs he’s done to you. And as Boyce so flatly told me, any real man who was a real father to his only daughter, would have done some major damage to Elliott for what he did to you – or at least would have sincerely wanted to.”
He scowled. “He told me only a weak and spineless man would care more about social reputation than his own daughter’s welfare. He said I ought to be ashamed for suggesting you stay married to a man like Elliott Howell - who would cheat on his wife and dishonor countless women in careless adultery. He wouldn’t even shake my hand when we met. He said it shamed him to meet me.”
Jenna winced at Boyce’s stark honesty. “Well, then … how did you end up here with him tonight?”
“Eventually, your friend Boyce settled down a bit, but not much. I thought for a time he might hit me, and I didn’t look forward to that much.” He chuckled, much to Jenna’s surprise.
Noticing Jenna’s shocked expression, he added, “I don’t think I’ve met a real man like that in a long time. And he was right about everything he told me, even though it made me as mad as a hornet at the time.”
He stopped and drank a little more of the coffee the waitress had brought. “After all the anger boiled off of our discussion, we got to talking. About our work. About the New York Yankees’ last season. About you. And about your mother.”
“About Mother?” Jenna almost choked on her own coffee.
He nodded. “Yes. He said I was out of line to let Evelyn ‘have at you’ the way she did and to never step up to bat about it. Actually, he used some other terminology to describe my manhood at this point, but the explanation I gave you will do.” He chuckled again.
Jenna wondered if she would wake up from this moment if she pinched herself. She hadn’t heard her father laugh in years! He had just been a serious presence away at work or in the background of her life since she was a young girl.
“Is Mother here?” Jenna suddenly asked, wondering if she, too, would suddenly come wandering in.
“No, and she doesn’t know I’m here, either,” he told her, shaking his head. “That scene will come along later.”
Jenna struggled to make sense of everything. “But how did you end up here with Boyce tonight? I still don’t understand that.”
He leaned back in the booth. “Well, after we finished our talk, Boyce said I could start making up some of the wrong I’d done to you by coming with him to see you get this award tonight. He said you wrote him you might get an award, and that he’d flown up to see you receive it.”
Jenna’s father’s eyes caught hers. “Boyce said when you cared about people you made sure you got to their significant events if you possibly could. He said, pointedly, there was no reason why I couldn’t get myself here if he could.”
She felt a flush steal up her face.
Jenna’s father smiled at her before he continued his story. “Your friend Boyce stood up about that time and told me he’d pick me up in front of my office building at seven o’clock. He said he expected me to be there waiting.”
He laughed. “Before he left, he turned around and said, ‘Oh, and be sure to wear a tux; it’s a dress event.’ Then he added, ‘Don’t bring your wife. I’m not ready to deal with her yet, and I want this to be a nice night for Jenna.’ And that was that.”
Jenna was incredulous. “How did you get your tux and get ready in time?”
“I rented one,” he admitted, laughing again. “I knew if I went home, Evelyn might get wind of my plans.”
Looking at Jenna across the table, he reached over and took one of her hands. “I wanted to come, Jenna. At first my anger at your friend’s insults clouded my decision. I was mad at your friend for all he said. I had no intention of coming with him tonight, of letting him tell me what to do. But as the day wore on, I thought more and more about it and decided I really wanted to be here.”
He sighed then. “In addition, I called Maury Berkowitz and talked with him. He referred me to your detective, Jake Saunders, and I had a talk with him, as well.”
He shook his head. “Truly, Jenna, I wasn’t aware of all Elliott had done to hurt you. I admit to being truly shocked by what I learned today. Elliott convinced Evelyn and me he only had one minor indiscretion and that he deeply regretted it. He said he wanted to try to make it up to you and that it would never happen again. He seemed so sincere, and I believed him.” He looked down repentantly then.
Jenna leaned forward to put a hand over his on the table. “Elliott is a very artful liar, Daddy. No one should know that more than me. He is easy to believe, and he can be very charming. I believed in him for a long time, as well. It was hard for me at first to accept the truth about him.”
“Thank you for that kindness,” her father replied. “But as your friend Boyce Hart told me, it was my job as a father to find out what sort of man you were marrying, to have him checked out. And then when there was trouble later, I should have been more willing to support you than to condemn you.”
Jenna grew thoughtful. “Boyce shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I mean, it’s not as though….” She stopped in mid thought and caught herself before she said more.
Her father laughed. “Mr. Hart made it perfectly clear to me, Jenna, that there was only friendship and affection between you.”
“He offered kindness to me when I badly needed kindness and friendship when I needed a good friend,” Jenna told her father honestly.
Her father ran a hand through his dark hair. “Well, I’m glad he was there for you - since I wasn’t and should have been.” His eyes met hers. “I admit I questioned Boyce about your relationship, but I didn’t get much out of him. I’ll be honest in saying, though, that in my opinion, a man that flies off at another man on behalf of a woman must care deeply for her.”
Seeing Jenna’s blush and confusion, he added, “But that’s your own business, Jenna. All I can say is that he seems a fine man.” He cleared his throat. “However, if you should ever get further involved or committed with him - or with any man again - I’m going to have him thoroughly investigated before I give my approval to a serious commitment.”
Jenna felt appalled. “You wouldn’t really do that, would you?”
His eyes narrowed. “Absolutely, and I should have done it before. It might have saved you hurt and heartache. I’m going to be a lot more careful in future about accepting many things on face value alone. Your friend Boyce gave me a lot to think about.”
“Will Mother be angry that you came tonight?” Jenna bit her lip in worry.
He lifted her chin with one finger. “You leave that to me, Jenna. I was proud to be here. I took pictures, too. I’ll send you some copies when I get them developed. While I did my shooting, I sneaked a few of Boyce Hart. That seemed a memory I wanted to capture, too. Even if I never see him again, I’ll sure never forget him.”
Jenna murmured, “Yes, he has that way about him.”
They visited at length, she and her father. Afterwards, he hailed a cab for them and took her home. She shyly invited him up to see her apartment, and, to her surprise, he said yes.
After climbing the stairs, they found a note from Carla stuck on the door. It read:
Dear J.C. …
Come down when you get home and tell me about everything! And come get your beautiful roses, too. They arrived at the bookstore for you right before we closed. I’ll enjoy them until you come to claim them.
John and I are so proud of you. Congratulations, … Carla
“You sent me roses?” Jenna asked her father, smiling at him.
He shook his head regretfully. “No, but I wish I’d thought of it.”
Later, as he prepared to leave, he turned to tweak her on the cheek. “Do you need anything, Little Daughter?”
Hearing her pet name from childhood touched her. “No. I’m fine, really.” She smiled at him. “You being here tonight means everything, though. Thank you.”
He took her hand in his. “I’d like to be around more,” he confided to her. “Come have lunch with me one day soon, will you?”
“I will.” She walked with him to the door.
“And, listen,” he added, regarding her steadily. “Regarding that business about our disinheriting you; don’t pay any attention to it. I told your mother I would never agree to that. If you need money for anything, you contact me. Will you do that? I don’t want you going without. You’ve had enough problems already. I don’t want you having more. Your friend Boyce told me, ‘family is everything.’”
He hesitated, evidently thinking of something else.
Jenna was curious. “What else did Boyce tell you?”
“That loving is our obligation before God. He’s right about that, too, you know,” he answered thoughtfully. “Did you know his father was a preacher before he died?”
“Yes, he told me.”
“I think the man taught that boy well,” her father commented. He leaned over then to give her a light kiss on the cheek. “Take care, Daughter. And lock up after I’m gone.”
She watched him leave in a daze, then closed the door and started to lock up before she remembered Carla’s note and headed downstairs.
A short time later Jenna walked back into her apartment with her roses. They were from Boyce. He’d signed them ‘from one heart to another,’ the way they always signed their letters. They were a mixed bouquet of colors - pink, yellow, red, white, and peach. Boyce wrote, ‘I figured an artist needed more than one color.’
She loved them. From a cabinet in the living room, she retrieved a cut crystal vase to put them in and kept burying her nose in them while she arranged them.
Then, of course, she sat down at last and wept. Her day had just been too filled with raw emotions not to. Her eyes moved from the roses to her award plaque, still lying on the entry table. What a wonderful thing to be recognized for her art!
She paused, thoughtfully. Jason had noticed her too, not only as a colleague, but as a woman. That had been unexpected - but a nice compliment. To be pursued as a woman in her own right.
“However, everything paled when I saw Boyce and Daddy there.” Jenna spoke her thoughts out loud as she often did. “Daddy acted so kind. I still can hardly believe that. And Boyce was responsible for him coming. He stood up to Daddy. That’s incredible. He even rebuked my father. I can’t believe someone would do that for me, care that much about me.”
Tears dribbled down her cheeks now. “If I entertained even a thought about exploring a further relationship with Jason Brantley, it flew right out the window the moment I saw Boyce tonight. He still has a hold on my heart. Even after all this distance between us. How can that be?” She sniffed and reached for a tissue to blow her nose.
“I wish he’d stayed.” She hugged a sofa cushion to her as she said the words. “It tore at my heart to see him tonight and not talk to him, touch him or hold him.” This last admission brought on a new sweep of tears.
“But he did come.” Jenna marveled. “All the way from Townsend, Tennessee. And he honored his promise to me by not even staying to speak to me.”
She wept then for that wretched promise she made him agree to. And she cried bitterly that she had kept Boyce away from her all this time. For at this moment, Jenna knew she would give every rose in the world, every award she could gain, to just have him here with her.
Jenna considered calling him, but realized she didn’t know where to find him. He might be in a hotel in the city or on a plane flying home. Knowing Boyce, he probably headed right back to the mountains. He didn’t like New York. But he had come for her. She would remember that forever, that moment of looking up and seeing him standing at the back of the room.
Later, her dress clothes put carefully away, Jenna curled up in the middle of her bed and wondered how she would ever sleep. She hugged her pillow to her, thinking of Boyce as she used to think of youthful boyfriends - embracing her pillow and imagining it to be him. But the fantasies she indulged in were not girlish ones.
She bit her lip. “I wish I knew how Boyce felt. He never told me he loved me. He hinted at a future relationship a few times, but he never actually said he wanted to marry me, either.”
She punched the pillow, frowning now. “I’ve been gone a long time. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same about me. Maybe he doesn’t want to be more deeply involved with a divorced woman. Maybe that’s really why he didn’t stay.” She sighed. “He only signed the roses ‘from one heart to another.’ He didn’t even sign them ‘Love, Boyce.’ That’s not a good sign.”
Doubts crowded her mind in the dark, depressing her. “I guess I won’t know until I get to Orchard Hollow and see him again. I certainly don’t want to be foolish and say anything to him until he says something to me.”
After tossing and turning for an hour, Jenna decided to get up and call Boyce’s house. Maybe he would be home. His answering machine spoke to her after the fourth ring. With a sigh of regret, she gathered her courage and left a short message: Thanks for the roses. Thanks for touching my father’s heart. Thanks for being there for me tonight, Boyce. I wish I could have seen you, but I will see you soon. Sam and Henry and I will be there on the 28th.
She could have said more, but she didn’t. She would be in Orchard Hollow in a week. She would know then - from how Boyce acted - how he felt.
Jenna climbed back into bed and, with a sigh, decided to try the game she and Sam so often played together – the game that always calmed her and helped her forget her problems. Only this time she wove herself stories about Orchard Hollow.
“The mountains never look the same in the Smokies,” she murmured. “There are all shades of blue and purple on the far horizon, and closer up is every shade imaginable in the spring time. There’s a sort of yellow green color at the first hint of spring …”
She told stories to herself until she finally fell asleep. And in her dreams, she lived them.
Chapter 23
Boyce realized he had reread the same order sheet several times and still didn’t have a clue as to what he’d read. He pushed the papers on his desk back with distraction and ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. He looked at the clock. It was late. He needed to go home.
Here it was Saturday night, and he was still down at the office in the gallery trying to catch up on his correspondence and accounts. Or so he told himself.
“What a lie.” He admitted out loud. “The truth is I’ve been avoiding Jenna Martin all day.”
She, Sam, and Henry had left to go back to New York this afternoon, and he just wasn’t up to the goodbyes. He fabricated excuses about the need to go to Knoxville today for unavoidable meetings – just to avoid telling her goodbye in person. He actually drove into downtown Knoxville and met with some contacts of his at several of the galleries so he wouldn’t be caught out a liar.
Jenna arrived in Townsend last Friday, and Boyce had been miserable the whole time. She, on the other hand, had been cheerful, loving, and kind - to him and to everyone. A whirl of activity commenced from the moment she arrived. Sam, of course, wanted to go everywhere and do everything. They took sightseeing trips, visited relatives and old friends of Sam’s, and entertained an endless stream of guests at the cabin.
Boyce popped a pencil in half. “I think every danged person in Townsend and the surrounding area heard Sam Oliver would be in town and headed this way. Even strangers called asking if they could come by to have Sam sign a copy of one of his books.”
It didn’t help that Sam’s newest adventure book had just come out. Everyone wanted to bring one over and have Sam sign it.
The cabin buzzed with people - a con
stant zoo. Jenna, with an easy, gracious charm, cooked and entertained for everyone like a pro. Raynelle, Zita, and some of Sam’s other relatives and friends drizzled in and out of Sam’s place in streams, bringing pies, casseroles, salads, cakes, and home-canned pickles, jellies, and vegetables.
“I never saw so much food,” Boyce grumbled, remembering it. The presence of ongoing, home-cooked food actually drew more people in.
Boyce stood up and slammed a closet door shut in the shop. “There wasn’t a danged time I dropped over that someone wasn’t there - visiting, picking and singing, eating, and enjoying themselves.”
At any other time, Boyce would have been delighted with all this activity, but this time was different. He wanted to have Jenna all to himself after all their time apart. To steal sweet times alone with her. And it just hadn’t happened.
He looked out the gallery window toward the half moon hanging in the darkened sky. “Part of the reason I didn’t have any time with her was my own danged fault.”
Boyce kicked at a cabinet in frustration. “I wasn’t sure where I stood with her after all this time. That message she left me on the answering machine after I’d been in New York sounded pretty casual.”
He mimicked it. “‘Thanks for being there for me … I wish I could have seen you.’ It was pretty informal. I hated to make a fool of myself professing my love like some lovesick swain and have her look at me like I was crazy. So I made a bargain with myself to keep a little distance from her when she came down.” He snorted. “As though I needed to make an effort.”
Boyce raked his hands through his hair again. “I knew she was only going to be here for a week before going back to New York.” He walked over to the window to look out at the moon. “And why shouldn’t she go back? Her illustration work is taking off now. She has her own place and her own friends there, like Carla and John. She’s thrilled about Carla expecting a baby - all excited about being an aunt.”