by Sally John
She rested her forehead against the steering wheel. “Lord, what’s wrong with me? I feel like an idiotic teenager again with a crush on a good-looking guy. For goodness sake, I’m thirty-six years old! My life was good and balanced and now all I can think about is some man I just met who doesn’t even live here! I’m afraid to take another step. I’m afraid to see him. I’m afraid not to see him!”
Do not be afraid. Trust in your Father.
It wasn’t an audible voice, only a distinct impression reminding her of what she already knew: She wasn’t walking alone.
“What am I getting into?”
Like He was going to tell her that one.
Adele wiped her tears and pulled down the visor mirror. She looked the wreck she felt. Maybe she should go home.
That thought felt comforting.
But it was the fearful way out and would only postpone the inevitable.
She opened her compact and did some repair work on her face.
He probably wasn’t even around. More than likely he was attending the service at Fox Meadow with Rand. Maybe she would see him tomorrow. Maybe not. Their paths didn’t necessarily have to cross at the nursing home. She could probably avoid him for a time. Maybe it would be wise to take that time…
At last she drove into the lot, parked, and walked toward the church, ten minutes after the music would have started. A lone figure stood inside the glass doors, looking out.
Adele stopped in her tracks. There was no mistaking that pewter gray caught in the sunlight, nor the broad outline filling the doorway.
She continued slowly.
When she reached the door, Graham pushed it open for her, and she walked in, scarcely breathing as she brushed past him. There was a tentative expression about his eyes that probably mirrored her own. They stared at one another for a long moment.
Then he extended his hand toward her as a friend would invite another…come, walk with me.
Adele reached out and placed her hand in his. He wrapped his fingers ever so gently around it, and they walked together into the sanctuary.
Sixteen
Adele sat in her living room, in the chair beside the window, staring through the parted curtains at the dark street. Her heart was in racing mode, thumping its wild beat into her throat.
She had never felt like this waiting for Will. She had never felt like this waiting for anyone. Eating and sleeping were things of the past. She could not foresee engaging in the everyday rhythms of life again.
Oh, that sounded so silly! Surely the surprise of it all would pass sooner or later.
The day had been one long adrenaline rush from the moment she saw Graham standing in the church doorway. The day had held no interest except in anticipating when she would see him again.
Oh my.
A car pulled into the driveway. It was Graham’s white four-door with seats that did not smell of leather.
The lights blinked off and he climbed from the car. Spotting her in the window, he waved and loped in that longlegged way of his along her sidewalk. She went to the door and opened it.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
There was an awkward moment as he shrugged out of his coat. She tried to help, and his elbow whacked her arm.
“Oomph.”
“Sorry.”
Together they hung his coat on the hall tree and laughed.
She asked, “Are you hungry?”
“No, not really. How about you?”
“No. But I made some salad.”
“Later?”
She nodded, took his elbow, and steered him into the living room. “Shall we sit?”
The room was cozy, with candles lit, the lamps low, Vivaldi playing softly in the background. A teapot and mugs waited on the coffee table.
She sat on the couch. “Tea?”
“Yes, thanks.” He sat beside her.
She filled the mugs. “How is Rand today?”
“It was a good day. Thank you.” He took the cup from her. “He keeps saying it won’t be long before Jesus will be taking him Home. Can you tell when it gets close to the time?”
“In cases like his, sometimes within a week or so before it happens we think, ‘it won’t be long now.’ Not very accurate. You haven’t gone through cancer before?”
He shook his head.
“How did your wife die?”
He glanced away. “She was murdered.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry.” How horrible!
“I’d rather not talk about it. Someday I’ll tell you the details.” He said it matter of factly, as if they could schedule it into the calendar. Then his eyes met hers. “I don’t know why I held your hand today.”
She swallowed. Was it all her imagination?
“Obviously I wanted to.” He gave her a half smile. “I haven’t noticed another woman since the day Sammi was killed. And then I sat down in your office. Suddenly I’m wondering who the guy is in your life.”
“He isn’t in it anymore.”
“Good. Saves me from having to hurt him.”
She laughed and he joined in.
He said, “I didn’t mean to tell him to get lost last night.”
“You didn’t!”
“No, I didn’t.” He hunched his shoulders in an exaggerated way and frowned. “I just kind of circled around him and he got the idea.”
She laughed again. “Well, he got the idea all right. Even before I did, I think.”
Graham touched her hair, brushing a strand from her temple. “There’s so much you don’t know about me.”
“That works both ways. We just met.”
“Adele, your life is an open book. You’ve created a real home here all by yourself. You have a lovely daughter, a responsible job that you relish, a place in the community, faith in Christ. You’re an artist.”
“Still, there are things.”
“I have more things. I have not always been what I seem.”
“Are you a weird psycho that I’m going to read about in the paper someday?”
He smiled. “No. But then I doubt that sort would answer yes to the question.”
“I suppose not. Have you committed some horrible, unconfessed crime?”
“No.”
“Do you trust in Christ?”
“Yes.”
“All right. That covers everything.”
“Not quite. When Rand is gone, my project will be finished and more than likely I will be on my way.”
“You already know that? That you’ll leave? Well, naturally you would. This isn’t your home.”
“His death is imminent. You and I will have only begun to scratch the surface of becoming acquainted.”
She studied the tea in her cup. Why the feeling that she needed to delve no further than the surface? She already knew… It was that safety that oozed from him.
“Adele?”
She looked at him.
“It’s such a risky business.”
She sensed that because his wife’s death had hurt him so deeply, he feared loving again. “Graham, there’s potential for hurt in any relationship.”
He set his cup on the coffee table and rested his arms on his knees, not facing her. “You’re right. I’m…I’m willing to take a chance.”
She swallowed, letting his words sink in. “Well, given the fact that we don’t have much time, I vote we jump right in and get to know each other and not waste any of it by worrying about what might not happen.”
He turned his head sideways to look at her. “There you go being straightforward again.”
“And there you go being moody again.”
“I’m not moody.”
“You most certainly are. And I won’t have it, not tonight.”
He sat up, leaned against the back of the couch and took her hand in his. “And what will you have tonight?”
A warmth encompassed her as it had that morning in church, and she sensed again a sensation of pure perfection.
His hand was la
rge, the palms wide, the fingers long, the strength implicit.
She said, “Pottery. Let’s go make some.”
Graham followed her down the basement steps to her brightly lit studio. The concrete block walls were painted white, as was the floor. It had been a good move to leave behind the candlelit room, soft music, and cozy couch.
Holding hands with her was crazy enough. Wanting to touch that gentle face and kiss the dimpled cheek surpassed crazy. It was out of the question. He reminded himself of his disciplined training. He could hold his emotions in check. He would. He had no business kissing her.
Maybe a hug. She was so…huggable.
“Here.” She held out a large man’s denim shirt with the sleeves cut out. “This might fit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ll get messy, trust me.”
He removed his flannel shirt and put the other one on over his T-shirt.
“No tattoos, as far as I can see.” She grinned, buttoning another denim shirt over her blouse. “Just getting to know you!”
She kept surprising him like that, sneaking up on his lighter side and urging him to smile in the face of approaching death.
“All right. Sit.”
She pushed him toward a strange contraption on the floor, some sort of wheel with a little stool beside it. He inspected it.
“It’ll hold you, big guy.” She went to a shelf and dug inside what looked like a trash bag. Out came a hunk of clay.
He sat, watching her throw the lump onto a table and begin kneading it as if it were bread dough. She talked the whole time about what she was doing, about different kinds of clay. He liked her chatty way. That lilting voice of hers carried him along, mesmerizing him.
She said, “This is off the subject, but I’ve been meaning to ask how you met Rand.”
“My father worked for him. When I was a little kid, he was the head of maintenance in Rand’s office building. The two of them hit it off for some reason. It’s not like they were golfing buddies. Dad’s the loyal type and Rand appreciated that. Dad even personally washed Rand’s windows. Nobody could do them like he did. One day the scaffolding gave way, and he fell three stories. His back was broken; he’s been on disability ever since. I was twelve at the time. Through the years, Rand always made sure we had what we needed. He paid for college for me and my two brothers. I’m the oldest, and he particularly took me under his wing. He’s been like a second dad to me. Tried to teach me investment banking, but I wasn’t interested.”
“He said you told him about Jesus.”
“That’s true. Rand was quite a rough character in his day, but I couldn’t give up on him. I owed him too much.”
“Did I mention my father’s name was Randall too? But I called him R.J. Everyone did. Not Randall or Rand and definitely not Randy.”
“Small world.”
“Speaking of names, he called me Addie one time.”
“I told him I had seen that name on a piece of your pottery in the living room.”
“You noticed that?” She sounded pleased. “I sign the name on my artwork, but I haven’t been called it since I was a little girl. Hearing it was like déjà vu.”
She brought the chunk over, put it on the wheel, leaned near him, and flipped a switch. The wheel began humming.
“You wouldn’t have really hurt Will, would you?”
“Well, I would have tried talking to him first.”
Smiling, Adele came around behind him. “Here. Dampen your hands in this water.”
He reached over to a nearby pail and did as he was told. She seemed to have that effect on him.
“Now put your foot there on that pedal.”
The wheel spun like a top.
“Not so much pressure. Put your hands here. We’ll make a bowl.”
She bent forward beside him and placed her hands on his, guiding them so that one was on the outside and one on the inside of what soon resembled a bowl. As it spun, she pushed on his hands, talking about keeping the pressure equal.
The thing soon grew lopsided. She giggled and he laughed. And then she gave up helping and stepped behind him, watching as he tried gallantly to reshape the bowl. Her giggles grew into uncontrollable laughter, and she buried her face in the back of his neck, hands on his shoulders.
He hoped they’d make pottery again sometime soon.
Seventeen
Cell phone pressed to his ear, Tanner stood at his Denver hotel window and admired a view of the snow-covered Rockies. Sunlight touched only the highest peaks, dazzling white steadily chasing away the deep purple shadows. He couldn’t decide which was more spectacular: the view before him now or last night’s moonlit view. God certainly knew how to have a good time.
“Hello.” Rusty’s gravelly voice answered on the other end. “Valley Oaks Times.”
“Knew I’d catch you there.”
“Tanner? What are you doing up already?”
“The mountains are calling my name. I’m spending the day on the slopes.”
“Well la-de-dah.” She chuckled. “You must be playing pilot today.”
“Flew into Denver last night and have to hang around while my charges attend some business meeting. Is the little elf in yet?”
Rusty barked a laugh. “I knew she reminded me of something! No, not yet.”
“Then I’ll give the scoop to you.”
“I’ve got one for you. Mind if I go first?”
“Not if it’s really good gossip.”
“It’s not gossip, and I don’t want anybody hearing about it.” Her tone was dead serious.
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Moral support.”
Rusty was asking for moral support? Further proof that God was real. “My lips are sealed.”
“Thanks. I’ve got a shot at a job back in Chicago. The political sands have shifted. Long story short, I’m leaving.”
He whistled. He knew she had considered her chances of returning next to nil. “Congratulations, Rusty. That’s got to feel good.”
“It does. Now for the moral support.” She hesitated.
He knew she had no family and was getting up in years. What could the problem be?
“I’m leaving next week. I need the little elf to become editor for the time being.”
“That’s going to be a problem.”
“Tell me about it. She’s fully capable, but she only has one foot in the door here as it is.”
“Any prospects on hiring someone else?”
“No, and there’s no guarantee the owner can find one in two months.”
“What can I do?”
“You could marry her.”
Tanner hooted. “That’s a bit drastic, don’t you think? And you don’t really believe that would tie her down.”
“Nah, probably not. You two seem like friends.”
“We are.”
“Will you just be on hand when I break it to her? Keep her from slugging me? Or worse yet, crying?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. Oh, here she is now. Kate!” Rusty’s voice grew fainter. “Tanner’s got a scoop for us. Why don’t you take it from him? Tanner.” She was back on the line. “Don’t be a hotdogger and break a leg now. Okay, here’s the elf.”
“Elf!?” It was Kate on the phone, the timbre of her voice threatening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Uh.” He owed Rusty one. At least she hadn’t repeated “little,” which was probably redundant with the word elf. “You just…just kind of remind me of one. In a good way. You know, energetic, fun-loving…”
“Keep going.”
“Cute. Irrepressible. Big pointy feet. Into making toys.”
“You’re burying yourself, Carlucci. It’s a good thing you’re in Denver. What’s the scoop?”
He looked again at the mountains. A reminder? “I’m going through with it.”
Kate whooped. “Yay! Rusty, he’s buying the video store!”
He imagined Rusty’s express
ion of disbelief.
“When?” Kate asked.
“I sign the papers Friday. And…” He took a breath. “I’m moving into the apartment.”
She laughed loudly. He thought her incredibly easy to delight.
“Want to help me on Wednesday?”
“I’d love to. Why don’t you call me that morning? I’ll get my schedule figured out.”
“Okay. So go ahead and put the sale in this week’s edition.”
“But it hasn’t happened yet, which means it’s not news. We’ll get it in next week with photos of you inside the store.”
“But if it’s in black and white, I…” His voice trailed off. Maybe if he didn’t voice his fears out loud, they’d go away.
“Tanner, you need to hire people, right? Take out an ad. They can pick up applications on Saturday at the store. We could put in a tentative opening date.”
“Put my money where my mouth is.” His breathing returned to normal. “Okay. That sounds good. Say late March.”
“Maybe a Saturday? That’d be a good grand-opening day. The thirty-first?”
“All right.”
“What size do you want?” She gave him a range of sizes and prices.
“You’re better at this. Go ahead and choose something.”
“Rusty can probably get you a good price. No, never mind. She’s giving me a thumbs-down on that thought.” She laughed. “We’ll take care of it and try not to break your budget.”
“All right. Thanks, Kate.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good time hitting the slopes. And, Tanner?”
“Yeah?”
“People always believe the ads they read in the newspaper. You will go through with this.”
Kate, his personal cheerleading elf.
“Katy-girl, you handled that well,” Rusty said. “This is a huge step for Tanner. I didn’t have a clue anyone was buying the place. He must have mentioned it to you?”
“He swore me to secrecy.” She carried her coat to the pegs next to the door. “He’s moving into Lia’s apartment too.”
“Things are changing for our boy. You two are getting to be good friends.” There was a hint of pleasure in her voice.