by Amanda Tru
“Oh! That’s awful! I… ew… ugh. You could get horrible infections from bites like that.”
“You should go to competitions, then, right? Take your cardamom?”
He saw it—just in time. If she hadn’t been as aware of her surroundings, or perhaps the fact that her coffee was still a dangerous temperature, Heath had no doubt that he’d be sporting it in his face. She jumped up, grabbed her purse, and without a word—an unexpected but enormous blessing—stormed to the door and out of the coffee shop.
At least I’m not burned. I’d deserve it, too. I bet she wouldn’t have even shared an oil for my injuries…
Before he got up to go, Heath shot a text message to Selby.
Heath: I did not tell any of my usual stories. In that respect, the date was a success. I did, however, insult her passion for essential oils, I think. She left in record time. She did not throw her coffee in my face. I’m calling it a win.
Selby’s reply left him standing by the door, blocking the way.
Selby: I met Kevin from Betwixt. Accident, but I met him. He thinks I’m pretty.
There was only one word necessary for a reply.
Heath: What?!!!
Selby: Tell you about it later. I’ll be late. Not with him.
That held some reassurance. He’d been all for the matching because he’d been confident it would take weeks for her to even consider a meet up—likely not until Spring Break even. A glance at the time said he could make it to Fairbury long before Jordan left the church—if he hurried. And if she didn’t decide to leave before the end of fellowship time.
All down the dark, winding road from Brant’s Corners to Fairbury, Heath reviewed the “date” and winced at the reminder that dates were reviewed. “Ouch. That’ll be a rough one. I deserve it, too. But could she be more stereotypical of a direct sales zealot?”
He may have asked himself the question, but sanity insisted that he not answer.
When a Fairbury officer passed him on the other side, Heath slowed again. Getting a ticket wouldn’t be worth it. Several glances in the rearview mirror showed the car disappearing in the distance. The cop wouldn’t turn around now. “Saved me with that one, Lord. Thanks.”
At First Church in Fairbury, Jordan’s Fit sat right under a light, making it unnecessary for him to even enter the parking lot. He pulled up front, car idling, and racked his brains for some idea—any. Coffee was his biggest strength. That sleeve could say a million different things, but he needed her to get one, first. And, she wouldn’t get one if she didn’t know he had one waiting.
Then it hit him. Inside ten minutes, he’d wedged a coffee sleeve into her door, just above the handle. Inside fifteen, he’d settled himself in a corner with promises from Aya not to tell Jordan he was there. If she recognized him, great—maybe. He sat head bowed over his Bible and tried to pay attention to the verses he’d failed to focus on during Bible study.
She entered half an hour later. Micro-gazes—just longer than a glance but not long enough to be an actual gaze—told him she’d hardly looked his way. Even when he heard Aya say Jordan’s drink had been paid for again, she looked out the front rather than around the room. Aya’s giggle didn’t even give him away.
I think that’s good. I’ll ask her mom if it comes up. Wish I could tell Selby. She’d know.
First Church of Fairbury had many things going for it—an engaged congregation, a loving minister, plenty of activities for the community to engage in, and no guilt over how many of those you did or didn’t choose to be a part of. However, as with every church, one glaring flaw occasionally overshadowed all the good. For First Church, it was their inability to serve a palatable or even bearable cup of coffee.
Swill. That’s what some old movie or book would call it. It’d be right, too. To The Grind and then home.
Something wedged in above the door handle caught her attention. Without touching it, she tapped the flashlight app on her phone and stared at it. Jordan blinked. “A sleeve? Coffee sleeve? From—” The memory of the guy and the coffee, of his slightly flirty comment about her freckles, rushed at her.
“It might get me blown up, but I’ve got to look. Find someone to teach Mom about Jesus if I die, okay, Lord?”
A voice nearby called out, “Did you say something, Jordan?”
Liz Whyte has the hearing of… whatever animal hears really well. A snicker followed that thought. I bet that guy from the restaurant… ugh. Heath. That’s his name. Don’t know why I always want to call him Keith. Anyway, I bet he knows what animals hear well.
“Jordan?”
“I’m fine. Just talking to the Lord. Have a good rest of your week, Liz.”
With that, Jordan climbed into the car and using the dome light, looked over the sleeve. No writing. “Maybe I’m supposed to go to The Grind? Is that dangerous? While she deliberated, she told her phone to call her mother. “Got another coffee cup sleeve on my car outside the church. This guy has to know me, or else he’s stalking me and I’m going to die. I’ll miss you.”
“Don’t die. What’d this one say? Send me a picture.”
“That’s the thing. It’s blank. Think it’s a hint to go to the coffee shop?”
“Maybe…”
Even as her mother speculated, Jordan tried to get a picture that didn’t have huge shadows or blown-out sections from the flash or lack thereof. “Hey, Mom?”
“Yeah? Got that picture?”
“I’m trying here. Anyway, think it’s stupid to go to The Grind in case it was a hint?”
Her mother didn’t even pause to answer. “Why would it be stupid? It’s a public place. There’s a cop on every corner there.”
Jordan started to agree when something inside caught her eye. “Wait…” she unhooked the tab from the slot and laid it open. “Oh! He wrote on the inside this time. It’s longer.”
“What does it say?”
“Um…” Jordan couldn’t help the smile that formed. “I hope this guy isn’t a creep, because I like him already. It’s from a Bible verse in First Thessalonians. It says, ‘Therefore encourage one another and build up one another, just as you also are doing.’ And then he added below that, ‘Your love of the Lord and His people shows. It encourages me. There’s coffee waiting for you at The Grind—tonight, tomorrow, whenever. It’s waiting. God bless you.’”
“Wow.”
Jordan had to agree. A shiver ran over her, prompting her to start the car, blast the heater, and bless the Lord for the invention of seat warmers. “I’m going.”
“Tonight?”
“Why not? Maybe he’s lingering around, and I’ll see him again.”
With promises to call as soon as she knew more, and a snapshot of the inside of that sleeve, Jordan shot out of the parking lot with more recklessness than she’d like to have to admit to any of the local officers. Instead of her usual parking spot behind The Fox, she allowed herself one right up front—just so Officer Joe couldn’t complain. And, knowing the guy had known where to find her, twice, did awaken caution bells.
A quick scan of the area didn’t show a man in a work overcoat or hoodie. “Maybe he’s inside.” She grabbed the sleeve and her purse, pumped a double shot of courage through her heart via a quick prayer, and strode to the coffee shop door. Half a dozen customers sat and stood around the room—none in work overcoat or hoodie.
It’s too cold for just a hoodie. Her reflection in the door gave her pause. My hair’s a tangled mess. I should have taken the time to straighten my hair tonight. Ugh.
Someone heading her way prompted her to pull open the door and hold it. “Hey, Todd. Did my book come in yet?”
“Should be here on Friday. My shipment got rerouted to Orlando. I guess the books wanted to be beach reads or something.” When she only gave him a pained smile, Todd continued. “Sorry. Anyway, yeah. Two-day delay.”
“I’ll come in Saturday afternoon then. Thanks!”
“I did get a few new audiobooks for the rental shelf.”
Todd nodded. “I’ve had a dozen people asking about it, so I took a risk.”
“Put me on the wait list.”
He promised. Something in his expression hinted he might ask her out again, and Jordan had a “three strikes, and then I tell you off” policy on date requests. This would be three. “See you then. Thanks. I’ve got a coffee date, so I’d better go.”
Truth stretched? Jordan decided that it depended on your definition of a date. And I do. I have a coffee date with a secret admirer. How cool is that?
Aya beamed at her but also seemed unable to look her in the eye. “Your usual?”
Jordan passed the sleeve across. “Do I have to give this to you, or just show it?”
“Just show. Jason’s making it. I took a chance that you’d want it.”
As promised, the coffee was paid for, but Jordan dropped a couple of dollars in the tip jar. “Who is this guy?”
Aya clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. From the back counter, Jason called, “She promised she wouldn’t tell. And it’s killing her. Don’t tempt her.”
Well, if I get desperate, I know I can get her to talk. But this is fun for now.
A group of teens—from the youth group, if she knew her local kids like she thought she did—burst through the door, laughing and talking. Jordan just stood there, reading the sleeve and marveling at something as old-fashioned as a “secret admirer.”
But it’s not, I guess. Schools still do secret Valentine fundraisers. Same thing…
“Jordan!”
One thing that had always amused her about The Grind was how the owner trained employees to face the cup label and sleeve outward. So, when she reached the counter and saw it turned toward the back of the room, she turned it around and smiled at the message. Thanks for playing my silly game. Hope you have a nice week.
“Thanks, Jason.”
Two steps from the counter, she turned. “Aya? Did he know my name or…”
“I think he said Jordan Aylward the first time. Maybe. But just Jordan today.”
Hmm… so he does know me. Has to be from church, then. Who else? Unless Todd… No. Todd was not the guy from last week, and Aya had specifically said it was the guy she’d bumped into on the way in. That’s a relief.
She’d regret it later, but Jordan couldn’t resist standing out front and watching for Mr. Admirer. Where’d he meet me? It has to be church. How else would he know I’d be there tonight?
A man stepped from the shop and strode her way. Dress coat, beard, cropped hair—dark. He nodded at her as he passed. “Good evening.”
“To you, too.”
The response came automatically, but her mind spun. Something about the voice sounded familiar—a minute trace of an accent she couldn’t place. Movement in her peripheral vision distracted her. Just down the block, a man in a work overcoat passed under a street light. Beanie. And if shadows didn’t create what wasn’t there, a beard.
Gotcha.
The man drew closer—similar build… everything. His next pass under a street light also brought his head up. He smiled at her. Terry, from the farm store. Of course, it is.
A shiver ran through her, announcing that it was time to give up and go home. Next time.
She’d made it halfway to Primrose Lane before the idea struck her. “Call Mom.”
Her phone informed her that the call had been made just seconds before her mother answered. “Well? Did you meet him?”
“Don’t think so. Well, for a minute, I did. Saw a guy in a beanie and work coat and thought it was him, but it’s a guy I’ve met a time or two—happily married with teenaged daughters. But he bought me another coffee. I’ll send a picture of this sleeve, too. Oh, and he knew my name—maybe my full name the first time. But he knows it. So, he has to have met me somewhere. I’m thinking church.”
Her mother made noncommittal noises that could mean anything from “definitely” to “are you nuts?” The final verdict came as Jordan neared Primrose Lane. “It’s possible, I suppose. Makes as much sense as anything.”
“What do you think of me stopping in tomorrow and asking Aya to make his next cup on me?”
“What if Maya’s not there when—”
“Aya—without the M.”
“Right,” her mother continued. “What if she’s not there when he comes in? He might not get it.”
That was true, but someone else might give the guy up. Aya had her wannabe boyfriend to help her keep her word, but the others… “Well, I can try. I’ll sleep on it.” A yawn escaped. “And speaking of sleep, I’m home and tired. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Let me know if you decide to tell him.”
“Okay. Love you, Mom. See you Saturday night for dinner.”
The expected protest came. “You should reserve Saturday nights for your dates.”
“Well, maybe when I have regular ones, I’ll consider it. For now, you’re my date—best one I’ve ever had. You never stand me up, you laugh at my jokes, you tell me how amazing I am, and despite being a zoologist, you do not spend all your time chatting about the bodily functions of animals. So, thanks for that.”
“High praise…”
Jordan shivered out of the car and to the front door. “Sure is. Trust me. Night, Mom.”
Even without opening her eyes, without looking out a window or checking a weather report, Jordan knew it—a fresh dumping of snow meant a morning of shoveling—away from the foundation, off the sidewalks, out of the driveway. “D.C. needs to spring for a blower. He’s never been here in winter.”
D.C. was also from Arizona where the wind just swept away the few inches of snow he got in one of those sleepy suburbs outside Phoenix. He didn’t know about an overnight dump of a foot… Her phone powered up and blinked at her. Make that a foot and a half of snow in ten hours.
“It better be stopped.”
She shivered from her covers, dashed to the window, checked out the sky, and dove for the bed again. The clock on her phone rolled over to eight o’clock, and the furnace kicked on. “Should’ve waited fifteen minutes.”
She did wait this time. Facebook greeted her with several memories, a “friendaversary” and twenty notifications of things she couldn’t care less about. A cousin posted cute pictures of her daughter on Instagram. Her mom posted pictures of the polar bears actually enjoying themselves. It would mean more visitors on a day when people might have ignored the zoo. There it came. The reminder. Animals get bored when they don’t have visitors. Use those new passes you got for Christmas to keep our residents happy. Be sure to stop and see our polar bears and Siberian tigers. They love the cold!
If she didn’t have house maintenance to do, she might have gone herself. The memory of polar bears rolling and playing in the snow propelled her out of bed and into several layers of clothes. A cup of hot coffee, double stocking hats, and her puffiest coat. Inside thirty minutes, she began the attack on the walkway to her door.
A text came in after she had finished sidewalks, driveway, and front walk. Standing in the kitchen sipping her second cup of hot chocolate, Jordan read the message from Bookends.
Bookends: Reminder, your book is here. I’ve got Guernsey here for you as well. Liz Whyte is concerned for your soul. Reading trashy novels, are we?
“If you count something other than Pilgrim’s Progress and the Bible as trashy like she does…”
The reminder did spur her to dig faster around the foundation. No, she shouldn’t have to do it, but an older house didn’t have the same features to protect the basement that newer homes did. So, gloves on and a scarf added to her “outfit,” Jordan braved the snow again and thanked the Lord for small bungalows.
I’m going to get this done, take a hot shower, get ready, and after I go into town, I’ll go see Mom. I’ll listen to that audiobook on the way. And if I work quickly enough, I’ll stop and see the
polar bears. The giraffes would be inside, but maybe they’d be in the public enclosure. Something about those tall, graceful creatures pulled at her. Yes… I’ll get Dave to take me back if they aren’t. Sandy gets so lonely in winter.
He’d awakened at five. Laundry done, bathrooms scrubbed, kitchen mopped. Heath also needed groceries, but that could wait until he got back from Fairbury. He did, however, make a shopping list.
A glance at his phone showed nine-fifteen—perfect timing for arriving at ten o’clock in Fairbury if traffic didn’t slow him down. A second glance at the phone prompted a double wince. Another Betwixt notification from Camille. It wasn’t that she didn’t sound interesting. She did. But it didn’t hold the appeal that his game with Jordan did. The way she’d responded to him, even when he could see that she was looking for someone else… it fit what he’d guessed of her.
She’s truly kind.
Another glance at the phone confirmed the cause of his second wince. It really is January nineteenth already. How does that happen? I just gave Selby her last gift yesterday. Or the day before, maybe—at most.
Selby hadn’t awakened, even as he scrubbed the bathroom. She’d probably been up until the wee hours chatting with Kevin. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d read their messages—ninety-five percent movie quotes. Four percent filler. One percent emojis—on her part, of course.
And more subtext than any book or movie I’ve ever read or seen. His sister was smitten—or as much as she could be with someone, she’d never actually conversed with, much less met.
An accident in his apartment building’s parking garage dragged out his escape, but despite all temptation, and the fear he’d be too late, Heath managed to keep his speed at two miles over the limit. He didn’t even regret it—not when the sign for the Fairbury turnoff appeared.
Fairbury itself bustled with shoppers—tourists out to get a “deal” on this year’s after Christmas sales. Almost four weeks after Christmas, and they’re still shopping. It’s crazy.