by Dianne Miley
“I have to be careful.” She patted her belly.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He waved a hand at her. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”
Laura couldn’t believe her ears. A man from heaven.
After dinner, they attended a play at the Springfield Theatre. A perfect gentleman, Brett opened doors for her and held her hand, giving her butterflies each time.
As he walked her to the front door at the end of the evening, a glint of sadness touched his eyes. The evening had been delightful, but she sensed his hesitance again. An awkward silence enveloped them under the warm yellow porch light. “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “And the play was wonderful.”
“You’re welcome.” He stared at her twitching lips.
Kiss me! Oh, please kiss me. But he took her hand instead. The innocent touch sent blood racing through her veins and not-so-innocent thoughts racing through her head.
“Thank you, Laura.” He paused, oh so long, searching her eyes with palpable attraction. He squeezed her fingers. She brushed her thumb across the fine dark hair on the back of his hand, and sensed him quiver. Magnetic heat rose between them, pulling her closer. Her lips parted as they lifted toward his.
“Bang!” A gunshot rang through the night.
They both jumped, and the moment was gone.
“Just Calvin,” Laura explained, pointing in the direction of the gunshot, toward the ramshackle house down the road. “Probably shooting at coons. They get into his garbage.”
“Oh.” Flustered, Brett whispered, “Good night, Laura.” But it sounded more like goodbye.
Her hand turned cold when he dropped it and walked toward his Corvette. Then it struck her. Ronny Tillman had the fastest Mustang in high school, and bragged about outrunning the cops. She’d thought she found a good boy in Alton Moyer, a college student with a respectable family. But he drove his vintage Jag out of her life and into the arms of a rich floozy.
Just like Rachel had a weakness for sharp-dressing charmers, Laura had a weakness for bad boys with hot cars.
Was Brett different? He believed in God for one thing. That was the most important thing, according to her mother. And it impressed her more than she cared to admit.
The shiny black car rumbled out the driveway and she wondered if it would ever return.
****
Kate James’ teakettle whistled through the warm summer night, out the windows of her tiny cottage next door to the farmhouse. Laura needed her grandma’s advice. She hadn’t heard from Brett in nearly two weeks, yet his eyes, his voice, and his touch constantly occupied her mind.
She had to forget him before he broke her heart. He was moving away, but she never would. Her family depended on her. Surely Grandma, who’d sacrificed for years to make Rosebuds a success, understood better than anyone. Laura sorely needed her wise encouragement.
Grandma Kate turned off the stove and spooned loose tea into a strainer. Any conversation with an old English lady required hot tea and scones. Laura pulled china teacups and saucers from an antique hutch in the tiny kitchen.
Kate shuffled across the linoleum in a floral print housedress that skimmed her still-curvy frame. A fat, white kitty rubbed her sagging orange support hose.
“Now scat, you hoodlum!” She stomped tiny orthopedic shoes to shoo the cat, but it hovered around her feet.
Laura picked up the long-haired feline with turquoise eyes. “You’re the prettiest kitty I ever did see,” she stated emphatically. “I don’t care if your Persian cousins reject your heritage. They’re just stuffy old grumps anyway. I’m glad your mama had sense enough to find you a daddy with real character.”
“Real character, huh?” Kate scoffed. White curls shook with her head as she pointed an arthritic finger. “She’s a character, all right. Ruined my lace tablecloth last night batting at a fly. Caught her claws in the fabric and tore it right off the table, planter and all. Sent wet dirt everywhere!”
Laura bent her head to whisper in the purring half-breed’s ear. “Guess she holds a grudge, huh, Daisy?”
Kate humpfed. She picked up the whistling teakettle and filled her teapot, the one with tiny pink roses that she’d brought from England back in 1945.
“The Mitchell boy, huh?” Grandma got right to the point. “Good Christian mother. Doesn’t take after his father, does he?”
“Oh, no!” Laura cringed in horror.
“So you’re in love, are ya?”
“I’m not sure, Gram.” Accustomed to her bluntness, Laura was undaunted. “I can’t get him out of my mind. I thought he felt the same way, but I haven’t heard from him. I don’t know if I should contact him, or just try to forget him.”
“Well, he works with Chad, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. But he’s looking for another job, and he’ll probably move away to find what he’s looking for.”
“That surely sounds familiar,” Kate remarked as she placed two scones in the microwave. The elderly woman using that contraption, after years of banning it, made Laura smile.
“You know how your grandpa wanted to come to America after the war? He had such big ideas, him and his cronies.” Her grandma waved both flabby arms in the air. “Buy a chunk of America and build your own town. They acted as if they were buying a wagonload of potatoes!”
Laura stifled a laugh. “But it all worked out.”
“Yes, it did. But I did not want to go.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Oh no. When your granddad came home from the war, I was just relieved he survived. I wanted to settle down and have babies. America was a foreign country across the bloody ocean!”
Laura snickered and her grandma became even more adamant.
“I had my future all planned out, just like you. My family, my job, my whole life was there in England.” Her sad eyes looked heavenward. “But I loved your granddad, and it was the chance of a lifetime for him. I couldn’t stand in his way.”
“So you gave up everything.”
Kate nodded. “I never saw my mum again.” A tear glimmered in her eye. She blinked hard and turned to answer the beeping microwave. Almond and vanilla scented the kitchen as she put steaming scones on china plates that matched the teacups.
“I’m sorry, Gram,” Laura soothed. Her stoic English grandmother didn’t show emotion easily. She’d rarely let anyone see her cry, even over Grandpa.
“I’d do it all again, and that’s the truth.” Her face hardened. “My dreams came true. I loved that man more than life itself. I would have spent a lifetime pining for him.” She looked at Laura long and hard, reading her. “I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”
Laura nodded solemnly. Would she spend a lifetime pining for Brett? No, she barely knew him. Yet, he never left her mind. But to never see her mother again...
“It was a long, hard row to hoe,” Kate admitted. “We searched through New York and Pennsylvania and found nothing we could afford. Finally we came to Ohio. When the men found Crystal Falls, we women convinced them to buy it. The falls and the creek were more beautiful than we’d ever dreamed. And we were darn tired of roaming! We made it work.”
“But you and Grandpa were married,” Laura argued.
“Love doesn’t change with a marriage certificate. If you love this boy, you have to trust your heart.”
“But I barely know him, Gram. It’s too soon to know.”
“Then you find out before he goes. If you didn’t have feelings for him, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Her blue eyes blazed through the fog of cataracts. “And if he loves you the way your eyes tell me you love him, don’t let him go. Follow him wherever he leads you.”
“What about Rosebuds ? We’re in financial trouble as it is. Mama and Daddy need my help.”
“Money comes and money goes. Love is what’s important. I left my mum in a war torn country. But she told me to go, and yours would too. You do what you must for love. You may only get one chance.”
At Laura’s surpr
ised expression, she retreated, taking homemade lemon curd from the refrigerator.
“Devonshire cream?” she asked.
“Of course, if you made it.”
Her smile showed a tint of tea stains. “Only the best for you. And you can’t buy the real thing in this country anyway.”
Laura knew she shouldn’t be eating like this, not after her mama’s big dinner. But she needed Grandma’s advice right now, not to mention the comfort of her flaky scones.
“Sit now, dear, and let me serve you.” Kate set down the plates and poured tea. “I always enjoyed serving your grandpa, and I miss that. He so appreciated my cooking.”
“We all do, Grandma.” Laura dutifully obeyed, sitting in a Windsor chair at the polished antique table. She added honey to her teacup and stirred. Then she split the scone, breathing in its scented steam as she slathered on lemon curd and cream.
As soon as her grandmother sat, she tasted a bite of heaven. Tangy lemon mingled with cool, sweet cream. The light, flaky biscuit melted in her mouth, and she washed it down with a sip of hot, sweet tea. Warm comfort engulfed her. As long as her grandma fed her, Laura felt loved and safe.
“How long has it been?” Kate inquired, sipping her tea.
“Well—” Laura cleared her throat. “Our date was over two weeks ago, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
Her grandma tsked. “I’d never condone chasing a man, but there’s nothing wrong with making yourself seen. Kind of jogs the memory.” Her eyes twinkled. “Think of an excuse to be where he is. Maybe visit your brother at work.” She winked.
Laura had expected confirmation that she didn’t need a man to ruin all her plans. Especially one who turned her heart upside down, gave her shivers with his touch, and made her weak in the knees. She had no assurance that he felt the same way.
“Trust your heart,” Grandma admonished.
“Yeah, that’s what Rachel did,” Laura blurted before she caught herself.
“True.” Grandma’s head shook sadly. “But trusting your faith goes with it, hand in hand. Rachel didn’t give much thought to that. She didn’t take the time to pray.”
“God doesn’t listen anyway.” Laura said without thinking. “So I stopped asking. He expects us to worship Him, but all we get is a bunch of rules to follow.”
“His rules guide us to what’s best. Don’t let your faith become a stagnant pond. God wants peace and happiness to flow through us like a river. Sometimes He skims off the algae or even dredges up the bottom to keep the water flowing freely. God is stirring up your waters. Let your faith flow with the love, peace, and happiness His living water offers.”
“Yeah, right! If God loves me so much, why doesn’t He answer my prayers?” Laura tossed down her cloth napkin. “He won’t even save our business, let alone my love life. If business doesn’t turn around, I’ll never get out of my parents’ house!”
Grandma’s smirk infuriated Laura and set her off.
“You know how many people came to my gardening seminar last night? None! I spent my own money running an ad because Mama wouldn’t condone it. I spent all week planning lessons and preparing the shop. What a waste of time! The tearoom donated refreshments and everything. It was humiliating.”
Undaunted, Grandma gave her wise-old-owl look. “Like any good father, God’s answer isn’t always yes. Sometimes it’s not yet, or even no. Because only He knows what’s best for you.”
Laura knew very well what was best for her. It was a future in Crystal Falls, like her parents and grandparents before her. And she was appalled that Grandma, of all people, would dare suggest it might be otherwise.
****
Under the hot July sun, Brett wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He walked away from the construction site and headed for Chad’s pickup, shining bright blue in the summer sun. The driver’s door stood open and Chad sat inside, writing out a check. He signed his name with a flourish and handed Brett his paycheck.
“Sure is a hot one.” With his thumb and forefinger, Brett tugged the sweaty T-shirt away from his chest and fanned it.
Chad’s indigo eyes reminded him of Laura’s. They reflected a hint of violet when he was happy or amused. Like right now. “How about a nice cool swim?”
“Yeah, that’d be nice. But the creek’s nearly bone dry from this heat.”
“Come on over and jump in the pond with me,” Chad urged.
“Well—” It sure sounded good. But Brett wondered what time Laura got home from work and if he’d be able to avoid her. Seeing her would only flame his desires. Keeping it casual didn’t work where Laura James was concerned.
“Come on, you sweaty beast, you could use a cool swim.”
More like a cold shower. “I’d better not. I don’t have my trunks and Mama’s expecting me for dinner.”
“What a pansy!” Chad roared with laughter. “You some kinda mama’s boy or what?”
That did it. “No, I’m not a mama’s boy. I just show a little respect and don’t want to worry her.”
Chad handed him the cell phone. “Then give her a call. And you don’t need your trunks. Those shorts are fine. It’s a pond.”
Brett scowled and snatched the phone. “Fine.”
Following Chad’s pickup away from the worksite, he drove up a winding hill. At the top, nothing but blue filled the windshield. Bright blue sky unmarred by clouds or trees still wasn’t as gorgeous as Laura’s eyes.
Dang. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. His mother’s words rang in his head. Trust your heart.
They turned onto Route 3 and drove south toward Crystal Falls. He passed big red barns, knee-high corn, and cow pastures. Around a curve sat a tractor, dead in its tracks. The old farmer leaned against the faded red hood, sipping from a jug in the stifling heat. His baler stood at the ready behind the idle machine while acres and acres of uncut hay waved in the breeze, shining golden in the sun like Laura’s hair.
She wouldn’t leave his mind. But trusting his heart meant risking heartbreak. He wouldn’t stay here, and she wouldn’t come with him. Or would she?
Her devotion to family, dedication to tradition, and loyalty to her business and heritage set her above the petty materialism of the social-climbing girls he’d met in college. The very things that attracted him made their future impossible. It wasn’t fair to ask her to give up her dreams. But he couldn’t give up his. And she’d become the sweetest dream of all.
Letting that soak in, he followed the blue GMC onto Rose Hill Drive. In Chad’s driveway, he lingered in the car. Looking at the farmhouse next door, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.
“Let’s go!” Chad slung his T-shirt over his shoulder. There was no backing out now or he’d never hear the end of it.
A minute later, he shoved Chad off the end of the dock.
When his friend came up spewing pond water, Brett laughed and shouted, “What a pansy!”
Chad made a grab for his ankles, but Brett dove in first. And it felt great. Cool water quenched him head to toe as he sailed underwater and surfaced in the middle of the pond. He flung his head back, wicking water from his hair.
Then two strong hands plunged his head under water. Chad held him under only long enough to rile him.
“Payback.” His buddy held out a hand as Brett coughed and spit. “Truce?”
“Yeah, truce.” Brett gripped his hand and yanked him under. So it went until they were too exhausted to continue.
“Okay, I give!” Chad signaled time out and backed away.
Basking in victory, Brett swam toward shore. Climbing up the bank of the pond, he came face to face with two horses looking anxious for a drink. Between them stood Laura.
She took his breath away.
It was useless. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he’d never be happy if he didn’t see her. Not in a million years. Did she feel the same way? If he won Laura’s heart, was there any chance she’d leave town with him? At last his breath seeped out.
Her cheeks pinked and her hand flew to the mass of golden hair piled atop her head. Bits of straw clung to her ragged clothes, and she smelled of horse. She was beautiful. “I was cleaning the barn.” She blushed deeper. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”
“You’re not the only one.” He motioned to his dripping shorts and pulled pond grass from his wet hair. Staring at his bare chest, she appeared not to mind.
Her blue eyes reflected the sky as they darted up to his. They deepened as he drew near, almost turning violet. He loved the way they changed color with her mood.
Just like her brother’s. Brett glanced toward the dock, where Chad was quietly sneaking away.
“I’ve been wondering why I haven’t heard from you,” she said tentatively. Her eyes paled.
“I’m sorry.” He paused, looking into her sad face. If this was ever going to work, he couldn’t lie to her. He had to come clean. “I’ve been wanting to see you again, but...but I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll have to move away to find a job.” He let that sink in for a moment.
She didn’t speak, didn’t blink, didn’t step away.
He was drawn to her, needing to touch her. He stepped closer and current zinged between them like static electricity. He reached for her hand and she gasped with the zap.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he blurted.
Her eyes deepened, nearly violet again, but with the longing was fear. She let out a pent-up breath. He had to quell her fears, prove how much she meant to him.
“You are everywhere,” he said. “Your golden hair is in a hayfield; your blue eyes are in the sky. And your lips...” He leaned close and felt her breath, coming hot and fast, on his mouth. His lips touched hers, moist, warm, and tingly. Fireworks sparkled in his brain. He pulled back reluctantly, not wanting to frighten her. “Your lips are in my dreams.”
“So romantic...” Reluctance and fear haunted her expression. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
“I’m glad that didn’t happen,” he said with feeling.
A tiny smile graced her luscious lips.
He squeezed her hand. “Tomorrow’s the Fourth of July.” Like she didn’t have a calendar. He cleared his throat and tried not to sound stupid. “Would you like to see the fireworks with me?”