Betwixt Two Hearts (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  “For the time being, I’d prefer not to know about other dates.”

  Heath made it around another sliding vehicle before he let out another relieved exhale and said, “And I’d prefer not to have had them.”

  “Deal… for now.”

  Lord, I’d appreciate some compatibility, some chance of romance, and perhaps a nice long fifty or sixty years together because You and she had mercy on me and let that whole falling in love thing happen.

  What he couldn’t decide was which was worse—that it might not happen or that it might not happen with her. It’s too soon to know, but it’s not too soon to hope. I hope…

  The zipper stuck just at her bra line. Selby wrestled, wriggled, and wailed until she gave up and did the only logical thing left. “Heath! Help!”

  As expected, Heath appeared in seconds. “Don’t tell me you ripped it. I’ll be dead meat—or fired.”

  “No… but the zipper’s stuck. I can’t get it up or down now!”

  His hands clung to the sparkling chiffon, and Selby spent the next minute praying he wouldn’t snag it badly enough to show. “My fingers aren’t made for tiny zipper pulls!”

  Nothing would budge it. Not up. Not down. Nowhere. It clung to that spot as if determined to stay put and look ridiculous. Selby thought of every trick she knew, but the risk of getting any lubricant on the dress—not helpful. “Let’s try heat. Maybe it’ll soften the plastic just enough to let it slide.”

  In the bathroom mirror, she watched as Heath fought to heat up the zipper without burning her. Instead, he rinsed his hands several times to cool them off and tried again. And again.

  The teeth moved up one… two… she could feel the slow crawl up the zipper. Then it shot upward, and the entire back popped open. “Noooo.”

  Heath just stared. “I better call Jordan.”

  “Your boss is going to kill both of us. Then Kevin will fall in love with Jordan, and we’ll have to watch them for eternity.”

  “Not sure about your theology there, but okay then.”

  He put her on speakerphone and Selby began the tale of a destroyed semi-designer dress. “It’s ruined. What’ll I do?”

  Jordan, however, had a perfect solution. “First, you just sew her into the dress. She won’t need it off before you get home, anyway. So, just sew her into it. Then we’ll take it to the dry cleaner’s, and their tailor will replace the zipper.”

  “Great idea. But I can’t sew, and I doubt we have what we need. What do I get and where, and how do I do this well?”

  Laughter hinted that he’d owe her… but after two weeks of daily flirting and three dates, Selby suspected that owing Jordan didn’t bother him in the least. Jordan promised to be there inside an hour if the roads permitted. “Just get your makeup and hair done and be ready to bolt. I’ll sew as fast as I can when I get there.”

  Selby slipped on a hoodie for modesty’s sake, making the ensemble look like gangsta couture. “I like it. Snap a picture, will you?”

  “Zip it up.”

  Her gut twisted into inelegant knots. “Is the dress indecent?”

  “No…” At her pointed look, he added, “Kevin’ll enjoy a bit of surprise when he gets here. Don’t give away the whole thing.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “That’s what Dad always says about modesty.”

  “He’s right. Some girls never get that, but even guys who aren’t in the church usually like something left to discover.”

  After snapping her picture and sending it to Kevin for her, Heath went back to dressing himself. Dressing and praying—a lot. He’d never taken so long to get ready for anything, but with each new thought, he’d pause, pray, and pray some more. Selby called out for him twice, but he ignored her.

  Never thought I’d be praying to fall in love with someone. Always thought it would be asking what to do about the fact that I did. If she’s not right for me, can I know it sooner rather than later? Because Jordan’s pretty awesome, and stupid as it might be, those freckles make a fool out of me.

  “Heath! Come on! I need help with this comb!”

  Grabbing his bowtie on the way out, Heath bolted for the bathroom where she stood stabbing the rhinestone encrusted comb into a controlled, curly mess of an upsweep. “How do you make that look good?”

  “Does it?”

  That moment of vulnerability? Adorable. While he centered the comb just as she wanted it, Heath wondered if Jordan had those moments. Maybe?

  “Looks amazing. Kevin’s a lucky guy.”

  “I’m calling it blessed. This was obviously a God thing. How else did two people just goof off with a profile application and end up together like this? It’s God.” She gave him a sheepish grin in the mirror. “And I might be falling for him. How do I do that and finish school, too? I promised Mom I wouldn’t let a guy mess up my studies.”

  Time for an older brother reality check. “Okay… first. How’d you do in school the past three weeks?”

  “Okay, okay. You’re right already. I get it. Fine. Deal. I’ll go wait for Jordan.”

  He thrust the strip of fabric at her. “Tie it first? Mine look dreadful.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  The doorbell rang as soon as she stepped back and said, “It’ll have to do. Let me go get Jordan while you go pray or something. You look green—about the color of a mandrill’s coat.”

  “I accept the metaphoric slap with gloves across my cheek and call you out. Beware, little sister. You’ll pay for that.”

  Her cheeky grin, her laughter at the door when Jordan came in, the sincere apology… the text from Kevin thanking him for sending the picture. It all combined into one truth he really wasn’t ready to deal with. My little sister grew up.

  Wearing denim blue silk the exact shade of her eyes, hair swept up, makeup that covered her freckles—unfortunately—Jordan stood on the coffee table, holding the neck of Selby’s dress and pulling thread through the layers at the back. “Wow.”

  “My sewing skills or my mother’s ability to just ‘happen’ to find a dress that isn’t at all too big or long for me and, oh… just ‘happens’ to match my eye color?”

  “Both. Not to mention the transformation from most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen to an even more amazing girl overnight.”

  “Stop flirting, Heath.” Selby glared at him. “She’ll get distracted, poke me, and we’ll have blood all over this thing, too.”

  Heath couldn’t stifle a grin when Jordan shrugged and said, “Well, she has a point…”

  The doorbell rang before Jordan finished, so Heath slipped out into the hall. “Sorry. Dress malfunction. Repairs in progress.”

  Kevin just nodded.

  “Nervous?”

  Another nod.

  “She doesn’t bite…”

  This time, he got a chuckle out of the guy. “This is it… crunch time. Can we spend an entire evening conversing instead of playing, ‘movie quote madness’?”

  Heath didn’t remember much of his English lit classes, but one thing he’d hoped to learn and never had. Selby and Kevin had perfected it. “Ever hear of a little thing called subtext?”

  Silence answered in the affirmative.

  “That’s what your flirting is, Kevin. All the movie quotes, the things left unsaid but spoken as well? Subtext. Trust it.”

  The door opened, and Jordan poked her head out. “Selby wants pictures.”

  He shrugged. “If Selby wants pictures…”

  Kevin agreed. “Selby gets pictures.”

  The lights, the music, the flowers—the gala couldn’t have been more beautiful. If the lack of tightness in her mother’s smile meant what she thought it did, it had also been a success. Jordan’s gaze swept the room and settled on Heath. For me, too.

  However, one thing marred the night’s perfection. She’d forgotten the worst part of being a date of the folks in charge. Stuck here for another hour at least. Heath would have to sign invoices, stow the donations in the safe, say goodbye to every singl
e last guest.

  A smile formed at a new thought. But Mom doesn’t have to.

  She wove through the lingerers—those people who used events like this for either business purposes or their rare social gatherings. People like that never wanted to leave. One man stopped to compliment her dress. Another woman asked for directions to the restrooms.

  Once she made it to her mother’s side, Jordan sagged against a column and smiled. “Did it go as well as I think?”

  “We may have an endowment from the Fillmores. A big one. It’ll be discussed at their trust meeting next month, and then we’ll hear.”

  Jordan hugged her mother and whispered, “I’m so happy for you. Go home. We’ve got this.”

  Mom just smiled and watched Heath. “What do you think the chances are that you guys will work out?”

  If she’d asked the day before, Jordan wouldn’t have known how to answer. Something had changed, however. Heath hadn’t paid much attention to her all evening, but not for want of trying. Twice he’d spouted some odd fact that told her exactly what she needed to know. “He’s still interested.”

  “Duh.”

  “I am, too. More every day.”

  After another look his way, and after giving Jordan a once-over, Mom nodded. “So, I didn’t blow it—helping him out, I mean?”

  She squeezed her mother in a hug that lasted longer than most. “Nope. Even if we don’t work out, you did the right thing—for both of us.”

  “But you want this, right?”

  Her gut told her it was too soon to know anything, but her heart sang an operatic, yes! Jordan opted for middle ground. “If everything stays about the same or gets even better, definitely. Two weeks and a few sweet attempts to make contact isn’t enough. Not for me.”

  “I’ve known him for four years, Jordan. He’s the real deal. If he’d been older…”

  “And you hadn’t already found Ron…”

  A sweet smile formed—that one Jordan had never seen her use for any other man. “Yeah… I might have chosen him over Ron. And for me, that would have been a mistake. But you…”

  “Ron’s back, isn’t he?” At her mother’s surprised look, Jordan shook her head. “I know you too well. You keep looking at that clock. Go home. We’ve got this.”

  It only took another fifteen minutes, but her mother complied. Then, Jordan went into hostess mode. She moved to Heath’s side, gave him a small smile, and turned to the husband of the woman Heath discussed zoo management with. “Do you understand any of this?”

  “Not a thing. It’s Adele’s passion. You?”

  “My mother tried to make me understand it, but little of it stuck. I do love to come see the animals, though. Always did.”

  The man stuck out his hand. “Ben Woitzel.”

  “Jordan Aylward. My mother is Ann Weik.”

  “And your boyfriend is Heath Karras. You’re set for free passes to the zoo for life.”

  Heath huffed. A glance at him showed mock indignation frosted with a layer of despair. “I should have known she only liked me for my animals.”

  “And your factoids.” She turned to Ben and grinned. “On our first date, I learned all about the bladders of mammals. Fascinating topic.”

  “She didn’t tell you,” Heath added, “that she also walked out the minute she could. It took patience, persistence, and prayer to get us to where we are today.”

  “I’m lousy with alliteration, so I’ll just add that his sorta secret admirer plan didn’t hurt.”

  The wife shifted her attention to Jordan. “Sorta-secret?”

  Just enough color filled Heath’s face to make her wonder if he was embarrassed or overheated. “I made myself visible and available. She just didn’t remember me—even after listening to me drone on and on about bladders that night.” He winked at her. “She even missed giveaway hints from guys who were supposed to be helping me.”

  Jordan eyed him with more than a little suspicion. “What?”

  “Jason? With the cup? He made a point of turning the logo around?”

  “Yeah…”

  “He pointed it at me, not you.”

  She and the woman spoke in unison. “How would anyone catch that?”

  Heath shrugged. “Someone determined enough?”

  “I’ll get you for that later.”

  It worked—her plan to hint to the stragglers that they should go without actually hinting. In less than three minutes, the couple left. Three others followed. In half the time she expected it to take, the room stood empty—except for them.

  “I just have to wait—”

  “To sign invoices, take donation slips and checks to the safe…”

  “You’ve been through this.”

  She slipped her arm through his. “A time or twenty. So, what do we do first?”

  A representative for the catering company showed up before he could answer. “Looks like invoices.” He pointed to a large staircase in one corner of the room. “That leads to a cool balcony overlooking the city. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but it’s amazing. I’ll be done here soon.”

  Climbing stairs, even a stunning curved case that really was overkill for a ballroom balcony, didn’t appeal to her after an evening in heels, but nighttime city views happened to be a favorite of hers. Still doing the Empire State Building at night someday.

  Halfway up, Jordan removed her shoes. Her feet enjoyed instant new life—at least for a few new steps. At the top, a look back showed Heath watching her as he signed something. Appreciation—what for, Jordan didn’t know—but she saw it in him. Perhaps he was too far away to be sure, but she chose to believe it.

  Her next thought whisked away on distracted wings at the sight of the cityscape. Lights dotted the night sky, and in the distance, between two of the city’s tallest skyscrapers, she could see the pink lights of the Steele Building. Next month, green. Blue in July. Orange in October. Red in December. I wonder who thought of that.

  The cars, even near midnight, kept a steady stream up Waterbrook in an odd display of “running lights” that looked much like the Christmas displays they’d had as a girl. Ambulance lights flashed as cars parted to make room—well, most of them. One idiot stuck to the center line of the four-lane road as if oblivious to the oncoming emergency vehicle. And then, just as the ambulance changed lanes to go around, the car shot over and nearly took off the bumper.

  “Idiot!”

  “Well, I am…” Heath’s voice near her left ear almost sent her through the ceiling. “But you don’t have to shout it to the world.

  She turned and eyed him. “Did you see that jerk?”

  “The one being pulled over by a cop right now?”

  A second look showed the guy being escorted to the side of the road. “Good. Serves him right.”

  Heath didn’t respond to that. Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and old music she’d heard somewhere began. He tucked it in his front jacket pocket and offered his hands. “Dance with me? You missed your ball, but one dance?”

  “I’ve never been much of a dancer.” Despite the protest, she put her hands in his. “I’m more of a sideline watcher. Especially with dance music. People do some funky moves. It can be pretty funny.” This guy, however, could dance. “You must dance a lot. You’re good.”

  “Uh… it’s more like my mother and her cultural literacy lessons. She made us learn to waltz and to sway in time to the music.”

  “You waltz? Who waltzes anymore?”

  “The son of a woman on a mission to ensure her missionary kids don’t hate her for not knowing every cultural nuance her kids might have encountered had they been brought up in America.”

  The music swelled around them—some guy singing about not being able to take his eyes off her. The voice wasn’t great, but if the look Heath gave her meant anything, he’d chosen it deliberately. Hope, uncertainty, confidence, connection swirled with each note, each step. I want to fall for this guy. I’m teetering at times already.
<
br />   His chuckle brought her back from her reverie. “Um… so your mom did what? Got you dance lessons?”

  “Made us watch movies and go to dances. I had to ask a girl every time we were home on furlough.” Heath’s jaw set. “Other kids came home on furlough and got to travel around the country doing school out of the back of a car. We had to go to school at Grandma’s house and immerse ourselves into American culture—with after school and holiday ‘enrichment classes.’”

  The memory of Selby’s many movie-quote riddled texts. “Like movies?”

  “From the beginning of the talkies through each year we were there. Third grade, seventh grade, eleventh and twelfth grades… Quizzes—you name it.” Heath pulled her close and swayed. “All the times I had to go to some school dance with some girl who went to church with us and whose parents forced their daughter to go with the missionary kid.”

  The picture of a miserable Heath trying not to talk about bumbling baboons or velociraptors tugged at heartstrings that were already singing along with a song she didn’t know. “So, your random facts things… we can thank your mother for that?”

  “Blame would be more like it.” Heath grinned down at her. “Not that I’m bitter or anything.”

  “Thank.”

  He gave her a spin at the end of the song and punctuated it with a questioning look. “Huh?”

  Stepping back, she explained her thoughts. “Your mom put you in awkward situations.” Jordan ticked off one finger. “That prompted you to formulate a defense mechanism.” The next finger wiggled as she tapped it. “Your awkwardness focused on girls.” She ticked off a third. “Which only intensified your social awkwardness with them.” This time, Jordan wiggled her pinky finger.

  For a moment there, Jordan was certain he’d kiss her. Soon or not, she was ready for it—more than ready. Eyes locked, Adam’s apple bobbing… the epitome of awkward boyhood in an otherwise confident man. Heath broke their connection with one word. “And…” He tapped the phone again and “Unchained Melody” began. That song she knew.