Betwixt Two Hearts (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

His laughter prompted her to do it. His, While You Were Sleeping guess confirmed it. If he could remember a romantic movie when he’d only been into animals, war, and westerns told her there was a shot. “Okay… here goes.”

  The reply shot back a moment later. “Oh, dear. Oh, oh, dear. I might be in love already.”

  “Why?”

  “He just wrote back, ‘That’s it. You’re the one for me. I’m here ready to ‘eliminate lower back pain.’” Heath didn’t remember it, but she did—a two-week Hallmark Masterpiece binge with her mother when she was fifteen. “It’s Follow the Stars Home. Best proposal ever.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Tuesday morning, before he’d even made a dent in the email pile clogging his inbox, a message came in from Ann Weik’s assistant. “Ann wants you in her office in ten. Does that conflict with anything on your calendar?”

  Assistant speak for, “You’ll be here and on time, right?”

  “On my way over.”

  “Thank you. She’s in a weird mood today.”

  Uh, oh…

  With two minutes to spare, he found himself sitting in the chair opposite his boss again, unsure if he should feel like the guy vying for a promotion or the guy asking for a parent’s approval before dating her daughter. Both—nerve-racking.

  The last few letters of whatever she’d written down ended in a trailing scrawl. Heath couldn’t read it, and he could tell no one else could, either. “Sorry. Just finishing a few things. Now, first, about that promotion.”

  Job mode. Got it.

  “The board objected to your age and lack of experience for the head of the mammal department.”

  “I understand. It was—”

  “So, I told them that either they hire you or they find a new director.”

  How was he supposed to respond to that? A couple of stammers only earned him a look—one he suspected that meant more than, “Spit it out, man.”

  Heath tried again. “That is kind of you, but of course, they didn’t accept. I’m content where I am for now.”

  “They did not accept my resignation. They put you on a two-year probationary period. During that time, they’ll look for a candidate that will please all of us, and you have the chance to wow them with your efficiency and care of our residents.”

  Residents—he’d almost blundered the first time he heard her refer to the animals as “residents.” It had been his first hint that the seemingly cold woman who had hired him actually loved the creatures in their care.

  The meeting he’d dreaded for the eight and a half minutes he’d endured the wait had turned out great! “I can’t—wow. Thank you. If I can—”

  “You can. Prove me right. Now, the coffee…”

  So much for this being a great meeting…

  “That was genius. She’s so curious about who it could be. That note—perfect. I caught on right away, but I had inside information, of course.”

  “I second-guessed that choice of words all night. Too personal… too ambiguous? I mean, how could she possibly know I liked the freckles? But I made it possible to find me if she’d wanted to race out of there.”

  Something in Anne’s demeanor shifted. Her snowy blouse draped elegantly over arms that, seated like that, reminded him much of Jordan’s. I must have stared at her arms when I was trying not to stare at those freckles.

  “Well, let’s just say it’s good that you got around the corner before she could catch up. She stopped to talk to one of the local officers—see if he saw you. He did. He thought you were skulking around town. That almost got me in trouble.”

  “Why?”

  Ms. Weik gave him an enigmatic smile. “I almost laughed. She’d want to know why I thought it was funny. I can’t lie to her—not that she’s gotten all religious. But I can’t tell her the truth… Awkward.”

  Interesting. Your daughter gets “religious” so you decide that means you can’t lie to her. I wonder what that means in the bigger picture.

  “Heath?”

  His vision cleared and he nodded at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Don’t. Even. Think about calling me that. I’m not a ma’am kind of person. I keep meaning to tell you that. And now that you’ve been promoted, maybe you’ll stick with Ann like I told you to when I took over this position.”

  To his chagrin, Heath almost echoed, “Yes ma’am.” He stopped himself just in time. “Sorry, Ann. My mother’s from the south, so…”

  “Old habits die hard. So, what do you have planned next?”

  Admitting he didn’t know—probably not the wisest plan, but especially after her comments about being honest due to her daughter’s faith, even evasiveness seemed out of line. “I don’t know. I just know it’ll be Wednesday night. Late-ish or immediately after work. It depends on if I can find her anywhere.”

  “She goes to church Wednesday nights—in Fairbury. They have an after-church thing. Coffee, snacks, et cetera. She tries to stay for most of them.”

  He’d stop… either on the way there or back. Hopefully, by then, he’d have some kind of inspired idea. “Thank you for being encouraging, Ms.… Ann. I know I’m throwing out blind long shots, but I keep hoping to get a feel for who she is while I do it, so I’m taking it slow. She was kind to an elderly man the other night.”

  “Arnie. A son he relinquished for adoption fifty years ago has found him. Jordan’s making sure he isn’t some kind of scammer.”

  Heath would have replied… somehow. However, Ann seemed lost in a thought that she’d eventually share with him, and something deep within his spirit prompted him not to distract her from that. And there it was—the shift. Ann looked up at him, leaned back with her hands folded in her lap, and met his gaze. “Can you tell me something?”

  “I’ll try.” What else could he say?

  “Why do religious people have to go to so many church things. Jordan’s there Sunday mornings and many nights, Saturday nights for some singles group, Wednesday nights for Bible study, a women’s study once a month, and I don’t know what all.”

  Sometimes, being a missionary kid had its perks. “We don’t have to be anywhere, Ann.” His eyes scanned the room, and the answer came to him. “You love art, right? Real art?” He pointed to a few pieces around the room—the magnificent painting of a mandrill behind her.

  “Obviously…”

  “So, when do you go to art museums?”

  “Whenever I get the chance—often on my lunch breaks if I’m downtown.”

  Heath didn’t have to explain further. He just needed to wait. And wait…

  Again, the tented fingers, her head resting on them. Her eyes piercing him. “So, you’re saying that religious people consider church kind of like a hobby?”

  He shook his head. “Christians consider ourselves a family. We love each other. We want to spend time together. We love Jesus. We want to spend time with Him—learning more about Him.”

  “Kind of like you want to learn more about Jordan, so you look for ways to see her?”

  “Exactly.” The question brought up one of his own—one he’d already talked himself out of asking. Twice. But he couldn’t ask Selby without telling her about the secret admirer plan, so he’d waited.

  “You have a question for me, don’t you?”

  “Sort of. It’ll probably get me orders to stay far away from your daughter, but it’s been bothering me. And if I should stay away, I need to know.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  The story emerged in sputters and spurts. Finding her car accidentally, looking all over town, seeing her with the old guy. “At first, I thought she was dating someone already. I was disappointed—a lot more disappointed than reasonable for having only met someone once. It…” He swallowed down several words that flew toward his lips and settled on one a little less intense. “…unnerved me.”

  “I can see why—if you thought you were already attached to Jordan. Do you really think it’s that? Or were you just looking forward to trying a differe
nt approach to getting to know someone who intrigues you?”

  Relief doused him and left him almost nauseated. “That’s exactly it.”

  Something in Ann’s features changed. She leaned forward as if to see through him. “You were ready to walk away, weren’t you?”

  “If I couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation, yes. I’m messed up enough without adding…”

  “Premature attachment?”

  “That’ll do it. That. I’d be trading one problem for another. But you’re right. I’m anxious to try this I want to get to know her better if I can. Losing the opportunity… I didn’t like that idea.”

  He thanked her again for the vote of confidence with the board and the semi-promotion and rose to leave when Ann stopped him. “You took a risk telling me. I respect that you did. Thank you, Heath. I’m glad to know I can trust you like I thought I could.”

  “Yes, ma—Ann.”

  “Just keep me in the loop. I’m already enjoying seeing two different perspectives on the same thing.”

  Silently, Heath said, Yes, ma’am. Aloud, he just agreed. “Will do. Thanks, Ann.”

  On his way back to his desk, Heath got the call—the Grevy’s zebra was foaling. “On my way.”

  Curled up in her favorite hidden away corner of the campus library, Selby copied out citation references as she chatted with her match—Kevin. Between lulls of movie speak, they asked questions—about movies, of course. Actors, favorite lines, genre… so far, so good. After all, he hates horror, too.

  Heath’s text came through.

  Heath: Heading out. Pray for me.

  It might be an unfair test, but Selby couldn’t help but zip the message to Kevin.

  Selby: my brother is going on a date with someone from Betwixt tonight. Please pray he is calm.

  She hesitated, her pen in her mouth, her knee holding open the book to the copyright page, and her fingers hovering over the keys. Why not. We live once, right? And praying without ceasing is Biblical. Asking for prayers of the church when we’re sick. Well, dung beetle conversation almost fits. So here goes.

  Selby: he tends to spout bizarre, random animal facts that scare off his dates. He needs a bit of mercy.

  Little marching dots in a circle told her Kevin had begun to respond, but they stopped. Several seconds passed. Several more followed.

  Kevin: Wow. I thought my movie malady was a problem. Definitely praying for him.

  A snicker accompanied her fingers as she replied.

  Selby: Speaking movie quote-eese (or quotes with ease, I’m not sure which it is) could never be a malady. It’s a quality I wouldn’t want to have to give up for anyone or any reason.

  The lights flickered, signaling time for the library to close. Not for the first time, Selby almost hid. She knew exactly how she could, and as long as she didn’t go downstairs, no motion detector would send off alarms to security. So relaxing… just me and a world of books…

  Her stomach rumbled, and the bar glowed at the bottom of her screen.

  Kevin: Well, tutoring session is over. Library closing. Gotta go. Enjoyed our “movie date.” Chat soon? Tomorrow? Scarlett O’Hara claims it’s another day.

  What were the odds that he was at another library closing at ten instead of eight or nine? Slim—that’s what. She zipped back a quick, You’ll have me at hello, courtesy of Jerry McGuire and threw everything into her bag. He wouldn’t expect her there, but if she could get to the door…

  Selby flew. Down the stairs, past several people who protested at her one-woman stampede, and to the door. A small bench near the double entrance gave her a spot to pause, check her phone, and watch. His message popped up the minute she tapped the screen.

  Kevin: Good one. I consider it flirting, though. That means I can, too. Just gotta find a gin joint to get you to walk into.

  Selby: “You do that little thing.”

  She saw him just as he got the message, walking alongside the most gorgeous girl she’d ever seen. Skin like a sunset reflecting off onyx—dark but warm and welcoming. If anyone epitomized Selby’s personification of beauty, this girl did. Kevin didn’t even seem to notice. He paused and read the message, before calling after the girl. “Zoe? Does the line, ‘do that little thing’ sound familiar?”

  “Line? Like a movie?” The girl laughed. “No. It’s probably one of those old musicals or something. Gotta go. Jax is waiting out front. Night. And thanks. I think I’m slowly getting the hang of this class.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  He wandered past, repeating the line to himself, and despite the stupidity of it, Selby followed. Within two turns, she knew where he was going—The Hut. It took effort—way too much effort, actually, but Selby managed to pass him on the other side of the street and make it into The Hut first. Barely.

  She stood at the counter, mind blank. The bored guy behind the register just glared. “What’ll you have?”

  “Um… I—”

  “I’ll just get his order.” The guy looked over her shoulder. At Kevin, most likely, but Selby couldn’t afford to look. He might recognize her. “Know what you want?”

  “I’ll have ‘whatever she’s having.’”

  She didn’t believe in love at first sight, but Selby did wonder if love at first quote was a thing. Knowing she’d never be able to make a decision now, she turned, looked him square in the face, and said, “Meet Me in St. Louis.”

  His voice caught up with her just as she reached for the door handle. “No, When Harry Met Sally. Wait…”

  Again, Selby caught and held his gaze before slipping through the door and into the street. She backed into the first doorway and waited until her phone buzzed. Him.

  Kevin: Didn’t know The Hut sold gin. Maybe you’ll stay next time.

  No response seemed adequate. While Selby worked to come up with something, another one popped in.

  Kevin: Is it against the terms and conditions to tell you that your photo doesn’t do you justice?

  Movie quoting ability gone, Selby floundered, fizzled, and failed. An attempt at flirtation? Also failed. She tapped out a quick reply, just one word.

  Selby: Thanks.

  Espresso Yourself. He’d been there once when someone broke down at the church in Brunswick and needed a ride to Brant’s Corners. Being on his way back to Rockland, Heath had volunteered. The town only had half a dozen businesses, but one was a rather trendy and impressive looking coffee shop. The coffee—better than he’d had almost anywhere.

  He’d shot out of Bible study at The Assembly in Brunswick and pushed the speedometer a little to the right of legal to get to Brant’s Corners before Whitney would arrive. Only two cars were parked in front of the building when he pulled up, and if the people inside sitting at tables on opposite sides of the great window belonged to them, Whitney wasn’t there yet.

  The rich aroma of roasted coffee beans drew him inside the moment he cracked open the door. A table in the corner beckoned him. Visible to all but with a hint of privacy—optimal, wasn’t it?

  Heath just hadn’t expected the awkwardness of sitting at a table with nothing in front of him. If he got up and requested water, she could come in and think he was ordering without her. Lose-lose.

  The word reverberated in his mind until it blended into one, long, awkward cry of loser…

  A car pulled up, and as the side windows passed, Heath knew it would be her even before she stepped out of the car. Whitney’s profile had included her passion for essential oils. Large letters stretched across that back-side window. There’s an oil for that. The motto for a company he’d wanted to get his frankincense and myrrh from. Hard-sell sales tactics had sent him elsewhere. Please don’t let her be like that.

  Just in time, he realized he could open the door for her—and should. His mother would expect it. If the expression she gave him meant anything, he’d made either a very wise or terrible decision. Either way, she was pleased. “Hi! I’m Whitney. You’re Heath, of course. Thanks so much for
agreeing to meet so soon. I’m not good at online stuff.”

  What else she said, Heath couldn’t be sure. Between something about being constantly misunderstood on the internet, and something about her doubts that an internet dating thing could actually work, she ordered a drink he couldn’t have replicated if he tried. And when she asked twice if they’d remembered that she needed soy milk, Heath decided for the first time, that the dung beetle might be a blessing in disguise

  Or I could talk about kopia luwak. I mean, it fits the setting.

  Selby would kill him. He’d deserve the long, slow, torturous demise she’d have in store. Besides, with a voice like hers, it’ll probably be how squirrels can’t vomit or burp. I think I’m glad I can. I might need it.

  “—do you want? My treat.”

  That snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’ve got it, but thanks. I’ll just have a plain black coffee.” With a double shot of whatever will keep me awake on the way home.

  “I have some cardamom in my purse if you’d like it. I love it in coffee. So many health benefits, too. It’s an antiseptic, aids in digestion, helps with the aftereffects of chemo, and…”

  Lord, help me, I know what’s coming…

  “It’s even purported to be an aphrodisiac.”

  “Well, my digestion is fine, I don’t have cancer or an infection, and I like to trust my love life to the Lord.”

  They stared at each other, and while he suspected she was aghast at his opinions on cardamom, Heath simply celebrated self-control over his nerves. This probably means there’s nothing about her that will interest me and I wouldn’t have been weird at all, but I’m taking it.

  Ten minutes later—minutes that didn’t include a word about a single essential oil, in fact—Heath relaxed and laughed at a story about her ferret doing its “happy dance.”

  “They call them a war dance, but my sister says it looks more like the ferret is drunk—or that it is ferret legging, too.”

  “Legging?”

  “English sport where they put two ferrets in a guy’s pants, cinch them at the waist and legs and count how long he can endure the bites and scratches—” The girl’s horror stopped him—for once.