Blue Ridge Setup

by Kimberly Rae

  Blue Ridge Set Up

  By Kimberly Rae

  Published by Astraea Press

  www.astraeapress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  BLUE RIDGE SET UP

  Copyright © 2013 KIMBERLY RAE

  ISBN 978-1-62135-215-0

  Cover Art Designed by FOR THE MUSE

  To every woman who believes that, even if the heroine isn’t magically cured of her illness by the end of the book, she can still have a happy ending.

  Chapter One

  Kayla Madison felt her mouth drop open into an unladylike O.

  No, no, no. Not him. Anybody but him.

  The man sitting in the front row turned his head back toward the front. Kayla stared at the back of it while someone at the pulpit gave announcements she did not hear.

  When the man, along with a group of teens, rose to exit the auditorium through a side door, Kayla gasped. Karl, Jainey, Elizabeth, Joe — all familiar faces from only weeks ago. Weeks ago when she called herself a missionary.

  Before Ryan Cummings walked into her world and destroyed her biggest dreams.

  And there he was, reaching to hold the door open for the group of teens, smiling at them as if he did not feel a shred of guilt for separating her from her highest hopes.

  Ryan Cummings. The last man on earth she wanted to see.

  As the announcer droned on, Kayla watched Ryan glance over the auditorium before following the teens. She had no time to duck before his eyes met hers. They widened. His eyebrows rose. She watched him mouth her name.

  He stood frozen, staring. Tears in her own eyes, Kayla turned away.

  “Let’s stand and sing hymn number seventy-six…”

  The congregation stood, blocking Kayla from Ryan’s view and filling her with relief.

  Her heart tightened. Her lungs ached, and she struggled to breathe. She had to get out of there.

  She leaned to her right. “Great-Aunt Lavender,” she whispered, tapping the arm of the well-dressed woman beside her.

  “Just Aunt Lavender will do, dear.” The white-haired woman adjusted her pastel purple hat and smiled. “If you’re staying for any length of time, which I hope you are, Great-Aunt is much too cumbersome.” She pulled her lace shawl closer around her shoulders and whispered, “Not to mention it makes me feel as ancient as the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

  Kayla had no breath to laugh. “I need to go, please. I’m not feeling well.”

  It was true. Ever since she’d seen Ryan Cummings, nausea had been building up. She was feeling lightheaded.

  Her aunt looked down in concern. “Oh, of course. After all that traveling, I should have thought to let you stay home and rest.”

  They quietly slipped from the building, the congregation singing about joy behind them. Kayla took in quick, shallow breaths and tried to sort through the questions jostling through her mind like a classroom of children just released for recess.

  Of all the churches in Lenoir, North Carolina, why did he have to be at this one? Kayla slipped into the vehicle. “Aunt Lavender, didn’t you say you just recently started coming to this church?”

  “Yes, only a few months now. But I really like it. Don’t forget to put on your seatbelt, dear.”

  Kayla shifted uncomfortably. “Do… you… happen to know the man who was sitting up with the youth in the front row?”

  The elderly woman’s words took away any hope Kayla had that she might have been mistaken. “Oh, Mr. Cummings? Isn’t he a doll? So handsome. And tall.”

  Kayla put her elbow up on the open window and leaned her head onto her hand.

  “Don’t you know him?” her aunt asked, glancing over at Kayla. “He led the group that just went out to Pakistan. I’m surprised you didn’t go right up this morning and say hello to all those teenagers. Surely you met them when they came.”

  “I met them.”

  “Oh, well, we’ll just have to return tonight so you can be reacquainted.”

  “No!” Kayla turned her head away from her aunt’s questioning gaze. “No, I — I’m really not feeling good, and I think I’ll just stay home tonight. Maybe next week.”

  “Certainly, dear. We don’t want you getting worn out.”

  The car trudged onto the driveway beside the century-old Victorian home. “Ah, summer in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Beautiful, isn’t it? I’m so glad you came here instead of going back to Michigan.”

  Kayla nodded. “Thanks for letting me come on such short notice.” Short notice thanks to Ryan Cummings, she thought bitterly. “I just couldn’t go back to Michigan. Dad… and the church… I just couldn’t face them right now.”

  “You know your father loves you.” The response was soft. “He’s just — he’s just…”

  “I know, Aunt Lav.” Kayla sighed. “I know.”

  They walked into the bright yellow kitchen. “So tell me, did you meet Mr. Ryan Cummings?”

  “I did.” Kayla felt her lungs tightening again. In her mind, suddenly she was back in Pakistan, looking up into Ryan Cumming’s deep brown eyes, eyes filled with concern for her, and knowing she could get lost there if she let herself. That was before she found out what he had done.

  Well, there was no getting away from the fact that Ryan had seen her. She would just have to find some way to keep out of that church for the rest of her visit.

  “Would you like a bite to eat, Kayla? I can fix something up — maybe a homemade chicken pot pie? Or some biscuits and gravy?”

  The nausea fought its way back up Kayla’s throat. “No thanks, Aunt Lav. I think I’ll just go take a nap, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, honey. Get some rest.”

  Her steps slow and weary, Kayla found her way to the bedroom she’d barely looked at yesterday through the fog of jet lag and fatigue. In the background, she heard her aunt calling someone on the phone, asking if she could leave a message for the new assistant pastor.

  She closed the door behind her and rested her head back against it. Of all people, why Ryan? Why that church?

  And even if she did manage to keep away from the church, from the man’s physical presence, how was she going to manage to keep from thinking of him?

  Chapter Two

  Ryan had a headache. What was she doing there, at his church? Why wasn’t she home in Michigan? “Okay, everybody, pipe down and let’s get started.”

  The teenagers began to file into their seats. “He sure sounds crabby this morning,” eighteen-year-old Karl commented from behind the bangs hanging halfway across his face. He turned to Ryan’s young cousin, Jainey. “What’s eating at your cuz?”

  The sixteen-year-old shrugged. “He’s been sour ever since we got back from that missions trip.”

  “Oh.” Karl smirked. “You mean the one where he met that girl and got her sent home from the field, and now she hates him?”

  Ryan, who was trying not to listen, now tried not to wince. “I didn’t get her sent home from the field.” Why was she in North Carolina? Had he just dreamed her up?

  Jainey shrugged again, her hands smoothing down her skinny jeans. “Sure looked like that to her. Remember that night she came back from the mission meeting, crying her eyes out? She said you ruined her life.”

  Ryan gave up trying not to wince. The pic
ture of Kayla Madison’s dark, silky hair falling down over her face as she held her head in her hands and cried filled his body with an almost physical ache. “Look, for one, you all shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, and for another —”

  “You were eavesdropping?” Karl raised his eyebrows toward Jainey. “I’m impressed.”

  “Well, come on, we were all worried about her. When she yelled about you ruining her life, I mean, really, like we were going to stay in our rooms and miss that big scene?”

  “Man, I must have been asleep already and missed it.” Karl looked up at Ryan with a gleam in his eye. “So what’d you do to her anyway?”

  Ryan rubbed weary fingers over the bridge of his nose. His headache was worse. “I didn’t do anything to her.” He may have admired her, may have even half-fallen for her, but he hadn’t done her any intentional harm. “I was trying to help.”

  “She was really nice,” Jainey put in.

  “You didn’t think so at first.” Fifteen-year-old Elizabeth sat beside Jainey. “Remember our first day there, when you stomped your foot like a two-year-old and said you wouldn’t put on the big, baggy outfits she said we girls had to wear?”

  “Big? Baggy?” One teen in the back snickered. “Didn’t think those words would dare being in the same room with Jainey.”

  “Get over yourself.” Jainey crossed her arms and flipped back her dyed-black hair. “The clothes were ridiculous. I felt like I was doing a dramatic presentation of Jonah and the whale, and I was not playing Jonah!”

  “But then Miss Kayla took her aside, and put on this long black gown with a piece that even covered her head and face, and told her something, and next thing you know, Jainey’s marching up and telling us all to wear the outfits and not complain about it.” Elizabeth turned to Jainey. “What’d she say to you anyway?”

  Jainey put her head down. “None of your business.” She heaved a deep sigh. “But she really cared about us. And those street kids, too.”

  Ryan felt that familiar ache that had followed him off and on since the day he’d first seen Kayla Madison walk toward their group like a ray of sunshine. The two-week missions trip, with her as their guide and helper, had turned out better than he’d hoped. He had watched in slight awe as Kayla’s contagious enthusiasm and genuine love for the street children brought his often unmotivated teens to the point where even the most resistant among them was playing with children and giving hugs.

  In two short weeks she had changed them all. Maybe him especially.

  Karl leaned forward. “Dude, you’re like, off in space or something.”

  Jainey pulled her hair away from her eyes and glanced up at him. “He’s thinking of her.”

  Ryan did not argue. It was true. He asked Cindy, the assistant youth leader, to start the group in a few songs, and Ryan went to stand at the back of the room, away from pestering questions and guilty reminders.

  He did not need any reminders. He remembered everything vividly. Especially that one night, the one Jainey had mentioned, when Kayla had come into the room crying…

  ****

  “How could you?” Her voice had been only a whisper, full of hurt.

  Ryan had been sitting in a hard, wicker chair in the main room of the missionary guest house, double-checking the packing list for their flight home from Pakistan. All the teens had retreated to their rooms for the night, but Ryan had stayed up to pray about this new, unexpected feeling he needed to shake before they left the following day. This new feeling about Kayla Madison that he had no right to have.

  When she’d stood in front of him, in tears, Ryan remained still and stiff as she had backed away, retreating to the kitchen. He’d heard cupboards opening and closing, and he had closed his eyes for a quick prayer.

  A confrontation was coming and he had no idea why, or how he should respond.

  Lord, I’m seriously confused here. Could You help me out, please?

  He had thought of their first week together, when he’d decided his immediate attraction for her must be just admiration for her love for the children and ability with his teens. True, her bright green-brown eyes had kept him glancing her way, but he’d tried to remind himself that Pakistan was on the other side of the world from North Carolina, and after the two weeks were over, he would likely never see her again. No sense allowing his feelings to get involved.

  His feelings, however, had not seemed to listen to his reason.

  By the time she’d returned, cup of steaming tea in hand, he was sitting — for all appearances — calmly in his chair, holding a book in his lap.

  Waiting.

  She’d walked halfway toward him, stopping several feet away.

  Ryan watched her take a deep breath. She’d stood with quiet dignity, but when the cup in her hands shook so much that some tea overflowed, scalding her thumb, the calm demeanor vanished.

  “How could you?” She’d hopped backward once, flinging the scalded hand and spilling more tea before setting the cup down with a thud on a side table.

  Ryan stood. “You should run that under cold water.”

  She’d blown on her thumb, tears threatening. “What do you care? You just ruined my life! Who cares about my hand?”

  Ryan heard doors opening. “Could you lower your voice a little?” He’d tried to be calm, despite the whole baffling situation. Somewhat forcefully, he’d escorted the teary-eyed, hand-flinging woman back into the kitchen, turned on the cold water, and physically held her hand under it while watching the clock to make sure she stayed the full two minutes necessary…

  ****

  “Hey, Pastor R., you coming or what?”

  Ryan shook himself from his thoughts to see the entire group turned and looking his way. Connie’s quizzical expression let him know they must have finished singing and were waiting on him to take over the service, while he sat in the back, pining away for a girl he thought he’d never see again.

  He had to get a grip on himself.

  “Sorry.” He pushed his weight from the wall and headed toward the front of the room. “Let’s get focused.”

  No need to say that to the group. They were all staring in fascination at him, Ryan Cummings, the guy who never got distracted. The guy who was always focused.

  He had to find out what she was doing here. Where she was staying. If there was any chance…

  “Get focused,” he said again under his breath. This time the words were for himself.

  Chapter Three

  Laverne Bloom hummed as she weeded the outer edge of the front garden. Everything was working perfectly. Even better than she had planned.

  When a junkyard-worthy pickup truck pulled into the drive, and Ryan Cummings emerged from it, still dressed in church clothes, Laverne’s smile spread. He was just right. Tall. Well-built from his work in construction. Well-built spiritually as well from his work in the church. She was the first to rejoice when he had accepted the position of part-time associate pastor. His work with the youth had been effective, but he was so gifted, it seemed a shame not to spread his good qualities around the whole church body.

  Besides, teenagers just could not appreciate him as well as, say, the seniors in the church. Older folk, now they knew a good thing when they’d found one.

  And Ryan Cummings was a very good thing.

  “Afternoon, Miss Bloom!” Ryan called out from the driveway. “Pastor O’Conner told me you wanted to see me about a job?”

  “I sure do.” Laverne leaned on her garden hoe like it was a tiny cane as she rose from her kneeling position. “I’m wanting some work done on my house and landscape and wondered if you could do the job.”

  “I’m interested.” Ryan was already pulling tools from the flatbed of his truck. “Tell me what you want done, and I can get together a team to do it.”

  “No team needed.” Laverne put on her sweetest voice, removing her soil-covered gardening gloves. “Just you.”

  “Well, ma’am, depending on what you want, things can take a long time
if you don’t have a team of guys working together.”

  “Time isn’t of my concern. I know a young man like you needs to earn money to start setting aside for the future, when you decide to settle down.”

  Ryan grinned. “Now don’t you start on me, Miss Bloom. You’re the only woman at Lenoir Baptist Church old enough to be my grandmother who hasn’t tried to set me up with someone.”

  Laverne giggled when his face turned red. “Not that you’re old, of course —”

  “Don’t worry, dear.” She flapped her gloves in his direction. “Having never married, I have no granddaughter to set you up with. Now you wait right out here on the porch while I go inside and get us both a nice glass of sweet iced tea, then we’ll talk about my project.”

  ****

  “So tell me about your missions trip,” Miss Bloom said. Her southern drawl came out slow and easy as they drank their sweet tea on the porch of her sprawling Victorian home. “You just got back — when was it — about two weeks ago now?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It was good. The teens did a great job with the street kids. I think the experience was life-changing for several of them.”

  “And for you?”

  Ryan swirled his glass until the ice had made his tea completely cool. He hated taking a drink that was half-cool, half-tepid. “What do you mean?”

  Laverne Bloom was smiling down into her own glass. “Did you experience anything, or meet anyone, particularly impressive to you?”

  His eyebrows knit together. Had someone told her about Kayla? “There were… a lot of interesting people there.”

  “Hmm.” Mrs. Bloom was still smiling. “I have a feeling there’s more than you’re telling me, son.”

  He felt his jaw tightening. Was there anybody in the church who would leave his personal life alone? “Why do you say that?”