by Colleen Coble, Kristin Billerbeck, Denise Hunter, Diann Hunt
CHAPTER EIGHT
June marched by, and pruning took over most of Clare’s day. The nursery was burgeoning with flowers and customers, but the extra help allowed her more time in her own garden, doing what she loved best.
Planning for the bicentennial celebration ramped up, and the town vibrated with excitement about the coming parade and festivities. The celebration was all the more anticipated because of the hard work and faith that had transformed Smitten from a dying logging community to a thriving tourist destination. Railroad or not, they had much to celebrate.
Ethan had made himself indispensable at the nursery. Clare wondered how she’d gotten along without him. He’d taken over the deliveries completely. She was beginning to dread his leaving. How would she manage without him?
The feud between Grandma and Aunt Violet dragged on, but Ethan mediated like a pro. He had a quiet way of cutting through the tension—even if the women still weren’t talking except to bicker, Aunt Violet always getting in the last word.
Ethan was also full of ideas. He had come up with ways to improve traffic flow and a more efficient way to schedule deliveries. They were good ideas, but Clare hadn’t made the changes yet. Maybe later, when they weren’t so busy.
One quiet afternoon while they pruned suckers from the roses, he admitted to Clare that one of Pastor Walden’s sermons had gotten him thinking about some changes he might need to make. He didn’t expound, but Clare felt honored that he’d opened up enough to share his heart.
When she saw him talking privately with the pastor after church the following Sunday, Clare whispered a prayer of gratitude. It bolstered her faith to see God working in his life.
It also did her heart good to see Ethan in the pew with Aunt Violet or with Michael—their military history was a strong bond. Others from the community had taken him under their wing too. He’d met many members through the nursery, and Clare saw him talking with them before church in the parking lot. For a man short on words, he’d sure made friends quickly.
He’d been joining her family for lunch on Sundays, and Clare told herself that the ribbon of pleasure she felt at each appearance was relief at not having to be the fifth wheel. She told herself that providing a home-cooked meal for a homeless man was the Christian thing to do.
But inside she knew better. Knew that the flutter in her stomach was more than poor digestion, the thudding of her heart more than a circulatory issue. She liked Ethan. He made her feel things no one else had.
That was the direction of her thoughts the first Friday night in July. Her Lean Cuisine eaten, she settled onto the sofa and flipped on the TV, the night ahead stretching into the distance, long and lonely, like the Smitten railroad tracks.
Dixie plopped at her feet and laid her head on Clare’s lap, her eyes questioning.
“You’ll keep me company, won’t you, girl?”
Her sisters and mother were out with their true loves having fun, she was sure. Candlelit dinners, music on the square, or a carriage ride through town. She hadn’t asked. Maybe Clare should just rejoin Zoe’s dating service and get it over with.
A jewelry store commercial came on. A couple, the man on one knee with a ginormous diamond. Clare turned off the TV. She had to get out of here. Meet people. Have a little fun. She was only twenty-nine, for pity’s sake. Too young to sit home on a Friday night.
Dixie spun in two circles when Clare grabbed the leash off the hook. She locked up, gripping the leash tight lest Dixie drag her all the way to Burlington.
The temperature was balmy, the air still. Perfect for a nighttime stroll through the village. Maybe they’d stop at Wind Chill Creamery.
“How about some ice cream, girl?”
Dixie looked at her, eyes bright, ears perked. Bethany always gave Dixie a doggie cone.
The town looked beautiful. White lights twinkled from storefronts and spiraled up lampposts. Annuals of every color and variety burst from window boxes. Music floated from the town square, Grandma and her aunts harmonizing with their stringed instruments in a way they no longer could with words.
Couples crowded the brick sidewalks, browsing the gallery window, spilling from Sweet Surrender, waiting hand in hand to cross the street on their way to dinner in their sundresses and linen suits.
Clare sighed. Smitten really was the worst place for a single girl.
Despite her desire to do otherwise, her thoughts returned to Ethan. They were doing that a lot lately. She was both dreading and anticipating his nearing departure. Dreading because she’d miss him. And not only for his role at the nursery. He’d become a friend. She enjoyed her time with him.
A little too much. He hadn’t touched her since the day he’d swiped dirt from her cheek. Sometimes she found herself wondering what it would be like to be in his arms, to be kissed by him. If one simple touch had made her knees buckle, how wonderful would his kiss be? She shouldn’t indulge in the fantasy, she knew that.
The one touch should’ve served as a warning. Notification that he’d somehow wormed his way into her heart, filled a spot she desperately wanted filled.
But not with him.
He’s all wrong for me, God. He’d make me fall for him, only to leave me.
Who was she kidding? She was already falling for him. But the only thing worse than being thirty and alone was being thirty, alone, and heartbroken.
He was too big a risk. Why did she have to fall for a man who didn’t know the meaning of the words home or family? A man bent on a mission that she really couldn’t criticize, not if it was God’s will for his life.
If she were smart, she’d stay as far away as she could until he left. Send him on errands, deliveries. Because even though he may have let the people of Smitten in, he’d leave it all behind, just as he had the other towns.
And then where would she be?
Dixie surged forward, pulled hard on the leash.
Clare pulled back, to no avail. The eighty-pound dog dragged her through the crowd, making her bump pedestrians. “Sorry! Excuse me! Dixie, stop.”
” But the dog rushed on, pulling Clare until they were under the green canopy of Outdoor Adventures.
Ethan stopped and turned when Dixie nudged his hand with her nose. “Hey, girl.” He rubbed her head behind her ears.
Clare was breathing hard. Even so, her stomach fluttered at the sight of him. Blue T-shirt, fitted jeans, overgrown dark hair falling in his eyes. Sigh.
“She chased you halfway through town.” Just in case he thought she was the one chasing him down.
Pedestrians jostled by until they moved aside.
“What are you doing in town?”
“What brings you out tonight?”
They spoke simultaneously, then laughed.
“We’re going for ice cream,” she said. “Aren’t we, Dixie?”
“That’s where I was headed.”
Reese exited her outfitters store, locked up, and greeted them. “Hey, Clare. Heard from a little birdie you have a big birthday in a few weeks.”
“Shh, I’m in denial.”
Ethan’s crooked smile beckoned. “The big 3-0?”
“Her sisters are throwing a big birthday bash at Mountain Perks.”
“A small, intimate gathering,” Clare said.
Reese winked. “With fifty of her closest friends.”
Clare groaned.
“You should come, Ethan,” Reese said.
“Sounds like fun,” he said, not taking his eyes off Clare.
“Sounds like my worst nightmare.”
Reese laughed, then waved, dashing home to her hubby. Her happily-ever-after.
Clare and Ethan began walking again, Dixie wagging contentedly beside them.
“It’s just a number, boss.”
“A big number.”
He nudged her shoulder. “Not so big.”
They walked in companionable silence for a moment, Clare admiring the sights and sounds of the village.
“I was just listening to your
grandma and aunts playing on the square. They’re pretty good.”
“Grandma used to play for the Boston Symphony. Hard to believe they can make such beautiful music together when they’re in such discord. I just don’t know what we’re going to do. How can they go on like this? They don’t know what tomorrow will bring. What if something happens to one of them? It would be so awful.”
“It’ll work out.”
“I have sensed a softening in Aunt Violet lately. Ugh! I had no idea they were so stubborn.”
He smiled, his eyes dark in the shadows. “All you can do is pray for them, you know that.”
They left Dixie leashed to the bike stand, waiting for her cone. The bell tinkled as they entered the creamery.
After they ordered, they carried their treats from the crowded shop and found an empty parlor table on the patio overlooking the square. Dixie downed her cone in one gulp, then stared at them with pitiful brown eyes.
Clare glanced at Ethan. She wasn’t sure how this had happened. One minute she was determined to avoid him, the next she was having ice cream with him at a table for two under twinkling white lights.
He held up a spoonful. “Bite?”
Clare wrinkled her nose at Ethan’s ice cream boat. “No thanks.” Razzmatazz topped with hot fudge, strawberries, rainbow sprinkles, and whipped cream. It looked nasty, but you had to admire a guy secure enough to order sprinkles.
She thought of Josh’s disapproval of her flavor choice and took a defiant, swiping lick of her vanilla. Wind Chill really did have the yummiest vanilla.
“I noticed we’re fairly light on deliveries on Monday,” he said. “How about if we start moving things to change the flow of traffic like I was talking about? We could work into the night if we had to.”
Something about the idea made Clare uneasy. His idea was good, but changing everything . . . “Why don’t we wait on that? I’ll probably do it at the end of season when things slow down.”
“It’ll be easier if I’m there to help.”
And he wouldn’t be there in the fall—her brain made note of the mention just in case her heart had missed it. “I hate to shake things up midseason, you know? The customers are accustomed to the layout.”
Ethan scooped up another bite. “They might like the change.”
Clare gave him a look. “Or they might not,” she said firmly.
Ethan studied her until her face grew warm. Maybe he just wanted to be there to see the plan implemented, but it really wasn’t a good time.
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Clare licked her dripping cone. Dixie, giving up on table scraps, lay down on the brick patio and heaved a sigh.
The creamery’s bell rang as a couple exited the shop. Josh Campbell, razzmatazz cone in hand, scoped out the patio tables. He had a date, a pretty brunette she didn’t recognize.
Clare ducked, glancing at Ethan.
He had followed her eyes and gave a sympathetic smile.
She licked her cone. It wasn’t that she wanted to trade places with the woman. The breakup had been for the best.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, watching her closely.
“What, do I have ice cream on my nose?”
That little half smile. Mercy, he had it perfected. He leaned in, weight on his elbows, until she could smell his musky cologne. His bangs fell over his forehead, kissing the corners of his eyes.
“We could pretend we’re on a date, if that would make you feel better,” he said.
Her heart rate ramped at the thought. If this were a real date, she might lean a little closer. He might kiss her right here, over his razzmatazz sundae.
“Why—why would we do that?”
“So he realizes what an idiot he is.”
She wasn’t going to lie—it felt nice to hear that.
His gaze, as tangible as a touch, swept over her face, stopping on her lips.
She swallowed. She should say something, but she couldn’t think with him looking at her like that.
“Or we could go on a real date,” he said softly.
“A real . . .” She cleared her throat. “A real date?”
His lips twitched. “You know, where the guy asks in advance, the girl says yes, he picks her up . . . a real date.”
She knew the kind. Imagined them on a moonlit boat ride on Timber Lake. Just him and her and his sexy, crooked grin. When they reached the middle, they’d set their oars down and listen to the sounds of nature, then he’d lean close and kiss her.
Bad, Clare. Bad idea. Awful, stupid, reckless idea.
“We could, I don’t know, rent one of those bikes for two and ride over to the lake, have a picnic or something.”
Or something. Have a kiss or two, fall in love—and she could love him. That was the problem. She could see herself falling so deeply for him, and it would be good . . . for a while. Where Josh’s breakup had only bothered her, Ethan’s would break her.
“What’s the point?” she asked.
“The point?”
“The point of going out—you’re leaving soon, as you said.”
He blinked. Looked confused, endearingly so. He probably hadn’t thought that far ahead. Well, she had, and she didn’t like what she saw coming.
“I could stick around awhile,” he finally said.
Stick around long enough to fall for him. And then what? Didn’t sound like a safe plan to her. It sounded like the fast track to heartache. He’d move on to the next adventure, and she’d be left here to pick up the pieces. No thanks.
“I like you, Ethan, I do.” She hesitated, weighing her words. “Maybe too much. But I think it’s best if we keep things as they are—simple.”
His eyes seemed to see right into her.
Well, look all you want, Ethan. I’m right about this. Save us both a bunch of heartache.
Finally he looked away. He nodded toward her dripping cone. “Might wanna lick that.”
She caught the drips on her tongue, but suddenly the vanilla cone had lost all its appeal.
CHAPTER NINE
Ethan was halfway to the campground when he realized he’d left his jacket in the work truck. He thumped his palm on the handlebar grip. It wasn’t cold yet, but it was supposed to get down into the forties tonight. A fire would warm his bones until bedtime, but it would be a long, cold night without his jacket.
He swung his bike around in the middle of the deserted country lane and headed back toward town. Night had fallen, and the nursery had long since closed.
After work he’d treated himself to a meal at the Country Cupboard Café. Of course, it wasn’t like the homemade meals he’d had with the Thomas family . . .
He’d run into Miss Violet at the café, and they’d shared a table and talked. The woman was taking some steps in the right direction. Clare had been right about her softening toward her sister.
Clare. Things had been awkward since he’d asked her out two weeks ago. She’d thrown up a great big wall and wasn’t letting him over. He was a risk, he got that.
But it was a risk for him too. This was the first time in years he’d met someone he was willing to take a chance on. Loving was always a risk—and Clare was someone he could love. He was halfway there already. His feelings had grown, date or no. He fell for her a little more every day, watching her patiently assist the customers, lovingly tend her plants, calmly mediate between her grandma and aunt.
But his job here was nearly over. He’d stay for Clare’s birthday, the bicentennial, but he couldn’t see himself staying much beyond. The past two weeks had been difficult enough.
Besides, he didn’t know how long it would take to find work. He’d learned to stretch his money as far as he could. Where to next, God? Providence? Hartford? Boston?
The pause brought no answer, no quiet whisper to his heart or strong feeling about his next move. None of the towns even sounded intriguing. In fact, packing up, scoping out another new town, begging for work . . . none of that sounded appealing either.
&n
bsp; What was wrong with him? He was usually eager to hit the road after a couple months in one place. Ready to shake the dust of the town from his feet, ready to meet new people, see where God was working and join him there.
Was it Smitten, or was it Clare? Maybe it was both. Maybe he was smitten with Clare. And maybe the fact that he didn’t want to leave meant it was past time he did.
Is that it, God? Am I through in Smitten? I don’t feel like I did anything worthwhile here.
But in his heart, he knew what his reluctance to leave meant. He missed having a place to call home. People to call friends. He thought of Aunt Violet, Michael, Griffen Parker. Good people, all of them. People he wouldn’t mind being neighbors with.
But then there was Clare. He could always stay awhile, see if she’d come around. He’d been wrestling with his nomad lifestyle, had even spoken to Pastor Walden about it. Maybe God was telling him it was time. Maybe if he stayed, he could make Clare see that he was more than a drifter. That he was someone worth taking a chance on.
He turned into the gravel lane, passing the old Red Barn sign, then accelerated up the hill through the woods. When he reached the lot, he spotted Clare’s truck. He’d never known her to stay this late. Maybe she’d decided to start moving things around.
Not likely.
Maybe someone had picked her up. Maybe her car hadn’t started. Or maybe something had happened. She could’ve fallen or hit her head. He was being paranoid, but he was going to check just the same. Better safe than sorry.
He retrieved his jacket from the truck, tossed it across his bike, and followed the cobbled path. The air smelled like a blend of pine sap, lilacs, and mulch. A fragrance he’d come to associate with this place. He drew in a lungful as he neared the barn. The windows showed a darkened interior.
The shed door was closed, the lock fastened. No sign of life in the gardens either.
Farther down the path, past the towering pines, the greenhouse glowed dimly, the windows fogged. He followed the walkway, his heart kicking up into his throat. Clare babied the tropicals. They were expensive and fetched a good price at the local flower shop. But why would she be checking on them this late?