Betwixt Two Hearts (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Which was it? Was he going down the wrong path, with the Holy Spirit trying to redirect him, or was he on the right path, with Satan trying to stop him?

  “Even the ones who don’t talk were singing!” Eleanor lifted a stack of papers from a chair and set them on her desk. “You can sit here. I’m trying to stay on top of the things I can do here. Uncle Gary is so positive and encouraging, but he must be worried. We missed a deadline the day after the accident, and now we’re trying to coordinate things between here and the nursing home and the job sites.”

  “Are you going out to job sites?” Brittany grinned. “I can just picture you with a yellow hard hat. You could take a selfie and send it to your sister-in-law. But tell me about your sing-along. I’ve read about music therapy for dementia patients. How does it work?”

  “I play the piano and they sing. I thought I’d have to lead singing, but Gary did it. They all came into the living room in their wheelchairs, an aide handed out songbooks, and I played. They’re all songs from the 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s. We sang all the songs, and then they left.

  She’d loved it. The best part—the very best—was Uncle Gary. He sang with gusto, waving his good arm as if directing a choir. He helped people turn the pages in their songbooks and introduced each song with enthusiasm. She could see why women were attracted to him. Gary Anderson was generous, easy-going, kind, and chivalrous. That’s probably how he’d ended up married so many times. He’d given her this job even though she wasn’t qualified and let her stay in his cabin. She had no doubt that if she’d made a mess of the take-offs, he’d have found her something else to do.

  “Are you going to do it every week, then?” Brittany asked.

  “That’s the plan, until Uncle Gary is healed up.”

  “So… have you seen any more of David Reid?” Brittany took a bite of her salad. “Did you set up a real date?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, we’re going out to dinner tonight.” She sat down opposite her friend. “I really like him, Brittany. He seems intelligent and sensible, and he’s a good listener. He’s good-looking, too, in a clean-cut, all-American kind of way.”

  “Meets all your qualifications, huh?”

  Eleanor ignored the edge of sarcasm. “He does, and not just for the anniversary party.” When he’d called to invite her to dinner, she’d forgotten all about the party. “I started thinking about that last night. It might be nice to get to know him and maybe even go out together, but I don’t want a husband right now.” It had kept her awake, listening to the wind, worrying about David’s expectations. “He must have filled out the application because he wants a real relationship.”

  “Ya think?”

  Eleanor dropped her gaze. “I know… I didn’t think about him at all. I was so wrapped up in my own situation.”

  “How are you going to introduce the topic of your immediate need for a date on Valentine’s Day, in Minneapolis? An overnight date, since I assume this party will last until at least midnight. You can’t come back here that late.”

  “Sure, I can.” She hadn’t been planning to, though. She couldn’t just take off like an ordinary guest.

  “David may not want to drive back here late at night, especially in winter,” Brittany said.

  “Then he can stay at my parents’ house or get a hotel.” The words lacked conviction, even in her own ears. Eleanor bit her lip. “It’s a dinner. It can’t go later than nine, can it?”

  “I don’t know how you folks do things down there in the big city,” Brittany said with an exaggerated drawl, “but around here, we can stay up till midnight for a good party, especially if we’re having a string quartet and a wine bar.”

  “Maybe I should just be honest with him,” Eleanor said. She picked up her apple and set it down again. “But what if he gets mad and leaves?”

  “Then you’ll be right back where you started and have to decide whether or not you should just go to the party without a date. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.” Brittany wrinkled her nose. “My parents would rather have me come alone than get a date with a stranger just for the party.”

  “They wouldn’t have to know he’s a stranger,” Eleanor muttered. “I don’t need a date. It’ll be fine. I’m making my family sound like monsters, and they aren’t. Not at all. They’re sincere, well-meaning people who love me and want the best for me.”

  “They sound egotistical and manipulative.” Brittany bit into her sandwich.

  “No, they’re not!” But maybe a little, subconsciously. “I’m pinning my hopes on a blizzard. Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”

  “Oh, tell me about your quilt. Did you get the fabric?”

  “Yes, and I like it. Aunt Violet really knows her stuff. She’s got it all charted out and even printed out a picture of what it will look like. She has a program for designing quilts.”

  “I didn’t know she was so computer-savvy,” Brittany said.

  “Oh, yes. She knows enough for what she wants to do—the quilts and her genealogy and writing. We’re making a quilt with hearts on it. She’s calling it a Swedehearts Glory Quilt.”

  “Swedehearts, like Swedish hearts? Why the Glory?”

  “I’m not sure. She made one she called Christmas Glory for my aunt in Florida.” Eleanor folded her paper napkin in half and then into quarters. “I don’t always know what she’s thinking. Sometimes she dithers around like an ordinary old lady, but she’s sharper than most people give her credit for. She talks a lot about the family in her generation and the one after that—my mom’s generation. I hadn’t realized that my mom grew up there in the farmhouse, at least until she was ten. Aunt Violet’s always talking about her.”

  “And then your mom went away to college and never came back. That’s a common story in rural areas. Kids can’t wait to leave the farm and move to the big city.” Brittany licked her fingers. “Not me. It’s fun to visit the cities for shopping or a special event, but I get all tense in traffic. And I like being able to see the stars at night.”

  “It’s nice out here,” Eleanor agreed, “especially in the winter. The snow stays whiter.”

  “We’ve had so much snow this year that it probably stays pretty white in the cities, too. It gets freshened up every day. Maybe you’ll have your blizzard after all.”

  He always scanned both sides of the road for deer, watching for eyes reflecting the truck’s headlights, but David never saw the one that raced from the woods straight into the side of his SUV. He recognized the jolting thud. Of all the rotten timing… why now? Grateful the plow had cleared the shoulder, he eased the truck to a stop.

  The animal was nearly invisible in the dusk—a gray-brown lump in the middle of the road, where the next car was bound to hit it. Pulling on his gloves, he examined the damage to his truck. Stupid deer. Hopefully, it was dead, because he didn’t have a way to put it out of its misery if it was suffering.

  David pulled his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight app as he walked back toward the deer. He squatted by the still animal and shone his light over it. No visible blood; it must have broken its neck. One eye opened and glared at him. David groaned. Another time, he would have felt more compassion. Right now, he just wanted to drive away and not be late for his date with Eleanor.

  He couldn’t do it. David turned off the flashlight and put a hand on her heaving ribcage. Her eye closed. He stood up when the dispatcher answered. “Hi. This is David Reid. I hit a deer out here on HWY 23, about 5 miles west of Milaca. Actually, she hit me. But I don’t have a gun or anything, and she’s still alive. Do you have someone who can come out and take care of her?”

  The doe lifted her head and stared at him as if outraged. Three seconds later, she staggered to her feet, took a few dizzy steps, and then leaped off into the woods.

  “Uh, never mind. She took off. She looks okay. Thanks anyhow.”

  Shaking his head, David got back in the SUV. He’d be late. Not a good start for a relationship, but su
rely Eleanor would understand; even in the city, people hit deer. He tapped out a message.

  David: Hit a deer. I’ll be about ten minutes late.

  Eleanor: Are you okay?

  Nice.

  David: The deer and I are both fine. The truck has a dent.

  Eleanor:Be careful. See you soon.

  He smiled as he restarted the SUV. His mother said that—”be careful”—every time he left. He wished the Betwixt profile had some information about what kind of family Eleanor wanted. 2.5 children? Six? Maybe they could talk about that tonight, in a casual sort of way. No, there was nothing casual about conversations when you met through a matchmaking agency. Everything mattered.

  Eleanor was drop-dead gorgeous and seemed like a nice person, but there was something confusing about her, too. He didn’t even know if she was a Christian—at least, not really. She’d talked about church in a positive way and knew enough to be concerned about his doctrine, but… He’d have to ask her more openly tonight.

  And what about her job—her career as a teacher? Was she just passing through here, restless and still trying to decide what she wanted in life? If so, why did she sign up for the matchmaking service? The goal of the agency was traditional marriage, not casual dating. Not friends.

  David pushed the CD into the slot, and the sweet voice of Larry Norman filled the air. Edgy songs, more so than most contemporary Christian music, with blunt words of truth and calling Christians to love one another. To lift up the fallen and lost, instead of stepping over them. When some people were talking about free love, the Jesus People were telling everyone about the only real free love. David wished he’d been there, to see the Christian hippies and the men and women of the Jesus People movement, revolutionizing Christian culture in America. Evangelizing with abandon, his Grandma said. A grand adventure.

  Eleanor sat on the bench to stop herself from pacing. He’d said he was fine, but how could you hit a deer and just continue on to a dinner date? She’d be a wreck, whether the deer was hurt or not. But if David hit it hard enough to put a dent in his truck, how could it be okay? At least he wouldn’t arrive with it strapped to the top of his truck. She jumped to her feet and peered out the window.

  “Are you sure he’s coming?” The lone waitress, hands on her hips, joined Eleanor and scanned the parking lot. “You can sit at a table if you want to.”

  “No, thanks. He’ll be here soon.”

  “If you say so. You can seat yourselves whenever you’re ready. Menus are on the table.” She sashayed toward the kitchen, and Eleanor resumed her watch.

  How did wives and mothers do it… worry and wait for their children to get home, when something didn’t feel right? Even little things, like this, when you knew it was really all right, but you just had to see for yourself?

  Fifteen minutes, not ten. Eleanor ran into the parking lot to meet him as he stepped out of the black SUV. “Are you okay?”

  “Hi! I’m fine. It wasn’t a big collision.”

  Eleanor examined the front end of the truck. No broken glass. The parking lot lights reflected from the shiny paint and smooth chrome. She looked at David, who’d followed her. “I don’t see a dent.”

  “Keep going.” He walked around the SUV. “It’s on this side. I hope I don’t have to replace the whole door.”

  “The door? The back door? How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” David said. “I was driving along, minding my own business, and this dumb deer ran out and threw herself at my truck. Just ran right into it.”

  “No way. You were driving in a straight line and it ran into you from the side?” Eleanor asked, incredulous. “What happened to the deer?”

  “I think she heard me calling the sheriff’s office, asking them to come out and kill her, and she got up and ran away.”

  “Asking them to kill her?”

  “She was lying in the middle of the road, but she was still alive,” David said. “I didn’t want to leave her suffering.”

  “Oh.” That made sense, but it sounded horrible. She couldn’t imagine having to kill an animal you’d just hit with your car. “I suppose she was just stunned.” Eleanor looked at the dent. Did deer get concussions? “I hope she’s okay.”

  “She ran off just fine once she woke up. I wouldn’t have left if I thought she was really injured.”

  What a nice guy. Eleanor nodded toward the restaurant door. “Should we go in? It’s cold out here.”

  He glanced at the flickering “open” sign in the window. “Do you come here often?”

  “Never been here before. I found it in the yellow pages.”

  He raised his brows. “The yellow pages? As in, a real phone book?”

  “Yep. There was a phone book on the shelf in the office, and it seemed easier than searching online.” She bit her lip. “It is kind of a dive. I don’t know my way around here yet.”

  “Well, I saw a Subway and a Dairy Queen on the way into town, but I’d rather have a hot meal. I’m sure this is fine.” He opened the door. “After you.”

  “He showed up!” The waitress’s voice was loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the restaurant. “You folks sit wherever you want. I’ll be right there.”

  “Sorry,” Eleanor said. “Next time, we can find something in St. Cloud.” Would there be a next time?

  “Larry said there’s a good place on 169 north of town—Rough Cut. He says it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it’s got the best food in town.”

  “I go by there every day! I thought it was mostly just a bar and liquor store.” Eleanor sipped her water. “I live a few miles north of there.”

  “North? You really do have a long commute.”

  “It’s a pretty drive, though. I’ll have the Milaca Burger without cheese, with the chicken dumpling soup instead of fries, please.” Eleanor handed her menu to the waitress, who tossed it on the next table.

  “That sounds good to me,” David said, “but I’ll have the cheese on mine, and fries, too.”

  “Soup and fries?” The waitress accepted his menu and put it with the others. “Both? Are you sure?”

  “Right now, I could eat a horse.”

  If he’d smiled at Eleanor like that, she’d have melted into a gooey puddle. The waitress just rolled her eyes and walked away.

  “I wish they’d pay waitstaff a regular wage,” Eleanor said. “They could just add it into the price of the food. Then a tip would mean something instead of being an obligation.”

  “And the absence of a tip would mean that you got bad service, instead of meaning that you’re a jerk.”

  “Exactly!” She beamed at him. “As the system works now, the tip reflects the quality of the customer instead of the quality of the service.”

  “Huh.” David nodded. “You’re right. I hadn’t heard it put that way before. I always try to extend grace and maybe give a little more when the service is bad. I fold it up inside a tract.”

  A tract? She kept forgetting he was in school to be a pastor. They’d spent most of their last conversation talking about her, as he peeled away her half-truths and evasions. It was his turn.

  “Have you always lived around here?”

  “Yes. I grew up in Mora. It’s only about an hour away, so I can go home pretty often, to see my family.

  “Mora’s that little Swedish town, right?” Eleanor asked. “The one with the big Dala horse?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Are you Swedish?” He didn’t have the classic icy blue eyes of the Andersons and Nielsons. His were warm. Hazel eyes, brown and green and gold. Warm, with dark brown lashes and eyebrows.

  “…grandpa. I think we’re mostly northern European, but not all Scandinavian.”

  With a start, Eleanor brought her attention back to the conversation.

  “I’ve never thought of myself as specifically Swedish… just American. Aunt Violet is all about our heritage and family tree, but Mom and Dad aren’t interested in that
kind of thing. They’re pretty proud of being Minnesotan, though.” She stretched the third syllable, and he laughed.

  “Minnesota nice?” He suggested.

  “They made up that term to describe my parents,” Eleanor said. “They epitomize Minnesota nice. They make Canadians look rude.”

  He really did have a nice smile. When his lips turned up like that, he had little parentheses curling around the corners and just a hint of a dimple in his left cheek. What on earth was he doing with the matchmaking agency? There must be something wrong with him… something she just hadn’t seen yet.

  “Here you go.” The waitress set a large tray on the next table and began unloading it. “Two Milaca Burgers, two bowls of soup, and one order of fries. You want anything else?”

  No, Eleanor wouldn’t need anything else to eat for three days. The hamburger had four patties, separated by ruffly lettuce and thick slices of tomato and onion. Bacon strips protruded from the top and bottom. No toothpick would have held it together; the cook had stabbed a knife through the top bun.

  “Wow. How big is this thing?” David gazed at his burger, apparently awestruck. His had cheese between each patty, too, just melted enough to ooze off the edges. He pulled out the knife and set it on his plate, not taking his eyes off the hamburger.

  “A pound. It was on the menu. Didn’t you read it?” The waitress picked up one of their discarded menus and flipped it open. “Four quarter pound patties. You do the math, it adds up to one pound.” She snapped the menu shut. “Anything else?”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I think we’re good.”

  “Thank you,” David said. “It looks great.”

  Oh right. He was going to be a pastor. He had to be nice. She pulled a fry from the basket and held it up. “This is the biggest french fry I have ever seen.”