Betwixt Two Hearts (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Still no mail. Maybe this whole business was a scam. It could be identity theft; they had a lot of information about her now. She navigated to the website and clicked on her profile. Still pending. She clicked on the About page, hoping for reassurance. Nothing new. She googled Betwixt Two Hearts and found mentions of it on a few blogs, but it was too new to have any reviews. She clicked on her profile again and sat up straight, nearly knocking the computer off her lap. Match found.

  “No!” Appalled, Eleanor gazed at the picture of David Reid. The man from the coffee shop. He was presentable, even good-looking, but could she trust him to carry on appropriate conversation? Her mother would drive to Milaca and pack up Eleanor’s belongings herself if she thought her daughter was involved with a religious nut.

  She continued reading. Mechanical engineer. He’d said he was an engineer. Eleanor wondered if he ever worked with Evergreen Services. She’d have to ask Uncle Gary. David was 30 years old, played the guitar, liked being outdoors and doing photography.

  “A seminary student? What kind of seminary does he attend?” She curled her legs underneath her and tugged the throw closer. He’d seemed normal before that conversation she’d overheard. Aside from the religious angle, he might work out. She could hint him away from church talk.

  He was exactly what she needed, otherwise. Her parents would probably approve of him. He had a respectable job and was continuing his education. She scrolled, and there it was… he coached basketball and worked with underprivileged kids. Her parents would love him. Laurie would probably plan a wedding, pleased that the matter of the nanny would be resolved.

  And there it was. Despite his previous impatience, it suddenly struck David that the matchmaker couldn’t have spent much time on it. He circled the email link with the cursor, reluctant to click, as if opening the email would be making a commitment. It was just a suggestion, right? The matchmaker had a girl for him to meet. That was all.

  He clicked on the email and again on the link inside. Then he had to sign in. Each little step seemed to be a little closer to commitment. He paused—again—before clicking on the little heart. What about her? Was this woman—his match—expecting him to contact her immediately? Did she think of this as a direct path to marriage? What if she was all wrong? He didn’t want to hurt her. What if he liked her and she rejected him?

  “Stop it.” He’d never thought of himself as insecure before, but this whole business was tying him up in knots. “Everyone’s doing it. It’s just a suggestion.” His words didn’t reassure him. Talking to himself was probably a bad sign, too.

  He clicked on the heart and saw her picture. His breath caught in his throat. The girl with the denim eyes. The one whose mouse Larry had broken. The one who’d been so shocked at their conversation that she’d run away. David groaned and leaned back against the couch cushions.

  Under different circumstances, he’d be thrilled. She was gorgeous, with thick blond hair and blue eyes, a smooth complexion and rose-pink lips. Rose-pink? David shook his head in disbelief. Where did that come from? But none of that mattered. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been practically running away from him.

  Eleanor Nielson, teacher. She looked elegant in her profile picture, but no prettier than she had in denim leggings and a long plaid shirt. Not that he’d noticed her clothing, of course. Not really. Was she a local teacher? She liked classical concerts, art museums, and reading. David frowned. None of those things had been on his list, unless you counted playing the guitar in the worship band at church.

  She was a Christian. Maybe that’s why they’d been matched. Or maybe there was no one else in the neighborhood. Why would a woman like her need to use a matchmaking service? And what was he supposed to do now? She must have received his profile, too, and recognized him. What was she thinking? Would she give him a chance, or would she email the company and tell them to try again? It would be rude to ignore her, though. He could email the company first, to see if they’d heard from her, or wait a day or so to see if they emailed him.

  David stood up and stretched. He had to pull himself together. He wasn’t a nervous adolescent anymore. He could handle a date with a woman. Or rejection. Whichever came first.

  Almost there. David lengthened his stride to avoid the appearance of running, but Angela had no such scruples. The girl was fast, and she knew he wasn’t really deaf.

  “David!”

  He stopped, hand on his car door, beaten but not defeated. “Hi, Angela. You just caught me. I’m on my way to the Y for basketball.”

  “You forgot this.” She extended his phone.

  “Oh, Thanks.”

  “You have a UMD bumper sticker. Is that where you went to college?”

  “Yeah. School of Engineering.”

  “I went to Van Bramer.”

  Years of his mother’s training prevented him from escaping into his car. “Um… is that around here?”

  “No, in Connecticut.”

  Something was off. David shifted his weight from one foot to another, relieved when she broke the brief silence. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

  “No, I haven’t.” If he’d ever thought about it—which he hadn’t—he would have guessed community college, for a degree in cosmetology. She always looked nice. “What was your major?” It would be beyond rude to ask if she graduated.

  “Most people go there to get their MRS. My degree was in applied data management.”

  Computers. Huh. “Well, I’d better get going. Thanks for the phone.” He raised it in farewell.

  She turned and walked away before he finished. Had he offended her? He hadn’t meant to do that… he just wanted to get away. He was inside the car, starting the engine, before he realized the difference in their conversation. He’d never heard her talk about herself before. He knew practically nothing about her, except that she was Cal’s sister and always hanging around the office.

  He might not be a psychologist, like Larry, but even he knew she probably craved male attention because she was insecure. Their father died when she was a baby, and Cal wasn’t exactly a nurturing big brother. David sighed. He should invite her to church. But Eleanor…

  “I’m glad you came. You’re really moving since you lost so much weight. There usually aren’t so many guys here, and I was running late. I stopped by the office after church, and Angela caught me. I mean, I forgot my phone inside and she ran it out to me.”

  “I’ve only lost twenty pounds so far,” Larry said. “How’s Angela doing?”

  “Fine. Have you ever heard of a Van Bramer College, in Connecticut?”

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Angela said she went there. She got a degree in applied data management. I assume it’s a bachelor’s degree, but she said they have an MRS program. Do you have any idea what that is?”

  Larry gazed at him, head tipped to one side, until David had to break the silence.

  “What?”

  His friend reached around him and used a gloved finger to write “Mrs.” on the back window of David’s car. “Those credentials are usually listed before a woman’s name instead of at the end of it.”

  David blinked. “Oh. Well, then. Angela didn’t get that degree. She studied computers.”

  “You need to get out more,” Larry said. “You engineers have a very limited knowledge of the world outside your workshop.”

  That stung. He was going to be a pastor. He needed to be in the world.

  Larry continued. “Our receptionist has a degree in applied data management. She’s a bit overqualified, but she’s waiting for the administrative assistant to retire, so she can move into that position. A secretary. With another five or six years of experience, she’ll be looking for a job as an administrative professional. Then she’ll be running the place, but the world will still think of her as a secretary or bookkeeper.”

  “I wonder why Angela can’t find a job, then. It seems like everyone’s hiring right now.”

  Larry frowne
d. “She has a job. She works for Cal.”

  “Doing what? We have a woman who manages all that stuff.”

  “I dunno, but apparently she’s pretty important. Meg says Angela’s the real genius behind Ridgewell Mechanical Engineering.”

  David reluctantly quelled the smart-alecky comments that occurred to him. Too bad… there were some real zingers. Self-control, subdue the tongue. It wasn’t the first time he’d jumped to conclusions based on incomplete evidence, in science and in human interactions. He changed the subject.

  “Hey, I got a response from the Betwixt Two Hearts agency, and you won’t believe who it is.”

  “Angela?”

  “No! It’s that girl from the coffee shop. The one whose mouse you broke.”

  Larry laughed. “Really? That’s a coincidence. Have you talked to her yet?”

  “Not yet,” David said, “but she’s seen my picture, and I’m sure she remembers us. Her name’s Eleanor Nielson, and she’s a teacher. She’s from Milaca.”

  “That sounds promising. So now what? Do you exchange emails, or meet up, or what?”

  “The website has a kind of messaging system. I’m hoping she’ll initiate that, but I don’t know. She got up and left, remember? You were talking about my professor being married, it sounded like you were talking about God. I think you scared her off.”

  “Sure, blame me. Let me know how it works out. Maybe I’ll try it myself.” Larry looked up at the heavy sky. “I think we’re going to get more snow tonight.”

  “All day tomorrow, from the sounds of it. I went out skiing on Platke Lake yesterday, but it was a pretty wet snow. A few more inches and some colder weather will help.”

  “I hope to get back to skiing,” Larry said as he tossed his duffel bag into his car, “but it won’t be cross-country. That’s more work than fun. Does your Eleanor ski?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.” But her profile hadn’t listed outdoor activities. David hoped that was an oversight. He didn’t have anything against classical music and art museums, but that kind of thing wasn’t his first choice for how to spend his limited free time. “She likes music.”

  “Music is good. Does she know you play guitar?”

  “I put it on my profile. I wrote that I play on the worship team at church.”

  “Speaking of worship,” Larry said, “you’ve got the over-sixty crowd singing louder than I’ve ever heard before, with those old songs of yours. Where do you get that stuff?”

  “The sixties, man.” David pointed upward. “The great revival of the seventies. The Jesus People. That’s where contemporary Christian music began.”

  “I hadn’t realized it was that long ago.”

  “My grandparents were in it. Jesus People, Jesus Freaks… My mom says Grandma was a Keith Green groupie.”

  “I’ve heard of him,” Larry said. “We spent a lot of time studying that whole time period in my last year of school. It wasn’t just the Jesus People… there was the Back to the Land movement, the hippies with free love and communes, new secular music, drugs, student protests, Vietnam and all sorts of rebellion, set against the backdrop of space exploration, the invention of the computer, the assassinations of President Kennedy and Martin Luther King, civil rights, Watergate, Cuba, the Cold War.” He shook his head. “That’s what will keep me in business for a few more generations.”

  He’d never seen Larry so animated. “I hadn’t really thought about it in that bigger context,” David admitted. “Just the revivals and the Jesus music. I’m glad my grandparents went that direction instead of into LSD and free love, but I have a feeling my grandpa would have been one of the men in horn-rimmed glasses, building giant computers in bunkers rather than wearing bell bottoms and beads at Woodstock.” The image made him chuckle and then laugh out loud. “I can’t imagine that at all. Grandma, maybe, but not Grandpa.”

  “Paradox,” Larry said with relish. “It was an age of exploding ideas and change. Psychologists were the new super scientists, experimenting on prisoners and college students with exotic drugs and weird tests. MK-Ultra.”

  “Yeah, those were the days,” David said. “Now, you just listen to girls complain about their wedding planning.”

  Eleanor pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen in disbelief. Seriously? She tapped the speaker button and tossed the phone on the passenger seat.

  Her sister-in-law continued, as placid as ever. “I wanted a cruise to Alaska, but Zack insists they’d rather go to St. John. It’ll have to be in the summer, though, and who wants to go to the Caribbean in the summer? That’s definitely a winter vacation.”

  “A cruise? For a thirty-fifth wedding anniversary?”

  “No, that’s what I’m saying.” Was there the faintest hint of impatience in Laurie’s voice? “Zack didn’t want the cruise. We found a good deal at an all-inclusive place in St. John. And now Soren’s mad because he was just getting them a weekend in Chicago, to see Wicked and that Japanese exhibit at the Art Institute.”

  “What’s Robert getting them—a new car?” She regretted the sarcasm even as the words escaped. “I can’t afford an expensive gift, Laurie.”

  “The biggest gift you could give your parents would be to come back -”

  “Stop!” Eleanor shouted at the phone. “No, I’m not doing that. Not now, anyhow. I didn’t know we were going to be giving them gifts at all.”

  “It would be strange to have a party in their honor and not give them gifts. We wrote ‘no gifts’ on the invitations, of course, but that doesn’t apply to us. But if you don’t have a gift for them, they’re not going to be upset. They’ll just be glad to have you at the party.”

  Eleanor wished she could afford a new phone. She’d throw this one out the window, just for the satisfaction of watching it smash into a thousand pieces. She’d been home three times since leaving three months ago, including extended visits at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

  “Okay, Laurie. I’ll come up with something. I’m driving now. Talk to you later. Love you. Bye.” She jabbed at the disconnect button on the last word. Would the party issue be better or worse if she lived there? Just different, she decided. Her parents would be happy, but she’d be coming home with headaches after school every day, wishing she’d chosen a different career. Anything. She’d make a good mechanical contractor, like Uncle Gary, if she didn’t have to work in the field. She could have been an engineer, like David. No, she liked what she saw of Gary’s job. He didn’t just design things; he built them. He made them happen. Her mother would have a meltdown if she knew Eleanor liked the idea of going into construction.

  Her amusement faded at the sight of her uncle. Gary sat with his back against the picnic table, his head down, leg extended, arms were wrapped around his midsection.

  He looked up as she slammed the car door and ran toward him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I work here.” The idiotic response slipped out.

  “It’s going to snow again. You should have stayed home.” He started to shake his head and groaned. “I fell, getting out of the truck. Slipped on the ice. I think I broke my ankle.” He gave an unexpected snort. “Just like Aunt Violet. She’ll love that.”

  “Did you call for help?”

  “Phone’s in the truck. I just needed to sit down for a minute.”

  “Wait here.” She winced, glad she couldn’t see his reaction to that as she hurried to her car. She tapped in 911 on her way back to him.

  “Give me that.” Gary reached for the phone, and his left arm fell to his lap. Moaning, he curled forward, cradling it against his body.

  Eleanor conveyed all the information to the operator, ignoring her uncle’s interruptions.

  “The ambulance will be there in 15 minutes, ma’am. Can you stay on the phone?”

  “No, I can not. I need to get my uncle some blankets and something hot to drink.” She was freezing, and Uncle Gary had been out longer than her, injured.

  He looked terrible, all pink
and white, shuddering with every breath, and he hadn’t spoken in several minutes. Eleanor tried not to jar him as she tucked her emergency blanket around him. “I know it’s not very warm, since it’s been in the back of the car all winter, but it’s all I have. I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you some coffee. Is the office locked?”

  He grunted. “Keys. Under truck.”

  Eleanor squatted, glad the truck’s big tires lifted it higher than her SUV. She couldn’t see the keys in the shadows; they must have skidded across the ice when Gary fell.

  “Couldn’t reach the phone. Couldn’t reach the keys. I’m just going to rest my eyes until the ambulance gets here.”

  “No!” Eleanor grabbed the door handle as she rose, sliding on the ice. They’d be in trouble if both of them got hurt. “Don’t go to sleep.” What if he had a concussion? He could have internal injuries, too, and he was on his way to hypothermia.

  She turned back to the truck and took a deep breath of icy air. “Okay, I can do this.” She got down on her hands and knees and then scooted forward on her stomach, groping blindly for the keyring. It was here somewhere.

  She jerked upward at the sound of a car engine, banging her head on the undercarriage. Her shriek was lost under the call of the new arrival.

  “Hey! Are you okay?”

  Too soon for the ambulance. Eleanor caught sight of the keyring and stretched. Her bare fingers, wet and cold, pushed the keys further away. She growled.

  “She’s under the truck. Ambulance coming.”

  Suddenly Uncle Gary could talk? A bubble of hysterical laughter rose in her. The man would think Gary had run her over. Eleanor wiggled sideways and hooked the edge of the ring.

  “Can you hear me?”

  The voice was uncomfortably close to her legs. So embarrassing. “I’m fine.” Eleanor tried to scoot backward, but the man grasped her boot.