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EXCERPT
Zaire Breckenridge looked up from her computer and gasped. Was that really the time? She snatched up her car keys, flipped over the “closed for lunch” sign, and dashed to her car. “You had one job, Zai. Get the food to the church on time. One job.”
She fell in behind the wheel, cranked the key, and thrust the car into gear. Her tires spun gravel as she exited the parking lot behind her little store. She glanced in her rearview mirror. “Slow down.” She’d heard that Riversong’s new cop was out to make a point to the citizens that he took his job seriously. She slacked off the pedal and turned toward her best friend Salem Finn’s riverside home where many women from the church were cooking lunch for the workers who were at the church redoing the roof.
Just as she’d feared the women were frantically searching the road for her when she pulled into the driveway. “I’m sorry I’m late. I lost track of the time.”
Zai’s mother waved a basket of rolls at her. “Of course you lost track of the time. You always have your nose stuck so close to that computer that you can’t see anything else.”
“I can’t help it if you asked me to run deliveries for you on an inventory day, Mom.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue before she pulled the older redhead into a quick embrace, dropping a kiss on her soft, wrinkly cheek.
Mom returned the squeeze with one arm. “Do you see that, gals? I get absolutely no respect!”
“Here let me get that.” Zai took the basket of rolls from Mom’s hand and clicked the button on her key fob to open the back hatch of her little SUV. “We can load everything in here and I have all these towels to pack around the dishes so they won’t spill.”
It only took them a few moments to get everything loaded. Zai’s stomach growled loudly at the smell of the pulled pork in the two large crock pots.
Shiloh, Salem’s sister who had recently returned to town and was teaching the sixth grade class at Riversong Elementary School dashed out with one last large Tupperware. “We almost forgot Mabel’s orange Jello salad.”
Zai peeked inside the lid. “Oh man, that would have been a tragedy. I love this stuff.”
Shiloh chuckled. “Well at least somebody does. Hey, you haven’t forgotten about Friday, have you?”
“Not on your life.” Zai tucked the Tupperware into a corner, stuffed a towel around it, and closed the hatch. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Great! Me too!” Shiloh actually bounced on her toes a couple times. “I learned that there are these Indian caves with paintings and I’ve asked—”
“Oh, look at the time!” Salem burst through the door and wrapped an arm around her twin. “Zai better get going before we have an outright rebellion of all the church men. We wouldn’t want them to abandon the roofing project—especially since it’s only half finished.”
Shiloh gave her sister a funny look, but Zai knew she was right. “I really am late. I better run. I’ll see you bright and early in the elementary school parking lot Friday morning—I haven’t been on a school field trip since we all went to the Seattle Science Center with Mrs. Zeckman!”
Shiloh shuddered. “Oh, that was the time when Johnny Asher brought his pet mouse and dropped it down the back of my shirt.”
Salem and Zaire simultaneously launched into the dance they had patented over the years to mimic Shiloh’s actions from that day.
Shiloh folded her arms and did her best to hide her laughter beneath a forced glower. “Ya’ll have absolutely no sympathy.”
Zaire took pity on her and pulled her in for a hug. “Well let’s just hope there are no pet-mice-owning-boys who have crushes on cute little girls in your class this year.”
Shiloh’s eyes widened at the thought.
Zaire tweaked her cheek in a ‘guess you hadn’t thought of that, yet, had you?’ gesture before turning her gaze onto Salem, who was chuckling at Shiloh’s horror filled expression. “And then, I guess we’ll all see each other again on Saturday?”
Salem forgot about laughing at her sister and squealed out her excitement. “Yes! I can’t wait. Shopping for my wedding dress with you two is going to be so much fun!”
The reminder of the shopping trip had put a damper on Zai’s emotions. She waved goodbye and slipped behind the wheel. She only hoped that she could continue to keep her bitterness about the whole marriage process from Salem. The ceremony was only a month from now, she reminded herself. Surely after that they’d be able to spend more than two minutes together without talking about weddings.
She remembered how excited she’d been to marry Landon, and the thrill of each new step in the process. Little had she known that just two years down the road he would leave her behind like yesterday’s socks. That kind of thing tended to jade one’s view, but she’d been doing her best not to put a damper on Salem’s excitement. And she truly did hope that things worked out better for Salem and Jett than they had for her.
Zai, I’m home to stay. If she hadn’t been driving she would have closed her eyes in despair at the memory of Landon walking into her store out of the blue last month to inform her that he’d come home.
Thankfully the church was just a few miles down the road, so it only took her five minutes to get there and she didn’t have to dwell on him for long.
She pulled into the lot and parked near the doors into the fellowship hall. She knew that several other women were in the building setting up tables and tableware, mixing punch, and making coffee.
Marlene Kaufmann was standing in the doorway with one hand shading her eyes. She gave Zai a narrow, pinch-lipped look.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Zai hopped out almost before the SUV had come to a complete stop. “I have everything here. And it’s a feast that will ensure forgiveness from the men.”
Marlene didn’t look convinced, but she called over her shoulder, “Girls, she’s here!”
A hoard of women descended on her SUV and absconded with the contents of her back end before Zai even had time to lift one tub. “Well that was easy,” she murmured.
She really should get back to work, but she was starving. It had been a long time since the half a cup of coffee that she’d had for breakfast. She’d forgotten to stop and eat today. Maybe she could just sneak a small plate before all the men descended like scavenging barbarians.
She realized she hadn’t even looked to see how far the crew had gotten today. Pushing her hatchback closed with one hand, she curled the other over her eyes to see the roof.
And there, bent over with a nailgun in his hand, and jeans stretched tight was her ex. She pulled in a breath. What was Mr. Wife-Abandoner doing here? And why did he still have to be so good-looking? Faded torn jeans and an organic cotton t-shirt had never looked so good on a man. Especially since most men didn’t have biceps as cut as Landon did from his many hours of rock climbing.
The hatchback thunked down onto her thumb. “Ah!” She snatched her hand away and shook the pain, doing every mental exercise she’d ever practiced so that she didn’t shout a curse word right here in the church parking lot. Giving the lift-gate an angry shove that sent it satisfactorily into the latch position, she spun in a circle, sucking on her throbbing thumb. There really ought to be a rule. The heartbreaker should never be allowed to move back to town.
“You alright down there?”
Drat. She must have made more noise than she thought.
She looked up and forced a perky lift of her chin. “Yes. Fine, thanks.”
“You sure? Cause it sounded like you were doing the backwards counting in French that you used to do when you were trying not to swear.” There was a decided glint of humor in his eyes when he squatted casually at the edge of the roof and rested his forearms across his thighs.
He was perching there with al
l the ease of a man settling into a hammock, like he wasn’t six inches from a twelve foot drop.
Zai narrowed her eyes. “If you must know, I slammed my thumb just now.”
His face turned serious. “Is it bad?”
Zaire pushed away the wave of warmth that spread through her at his concern. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
The devilish gleam was back. “You were surprised to see me up here, weren’t you?”
‘Surprised’ was an understatement considering she’d hardly been able to talk the man into special services like Easter or Christmas during the last year of their marriage.
She glanced toward the door into the fellowship hall. “I should get inside to help.”
His face turned serious. “I know you don’t believe me, Zai, but I’m going to show you that I’m a changed man—only by God’s help.”
Yes. And that was what terrified her. She didn’t want him to be changed. She liked him classified right where he was in her “terrible person” box. Yes, there definitely should be a rule.
He was still looking at her like he was waiting for a response.
“We’ll see,” she offered in a clipped tone, before scurrying inside.
She didn’t look away fast enough to avoid the hurt that crossed his face, though, and it frustrated her that she felt bad to have caused him pain.
She gave a low growl as she stepped through the door.
The first thing she saw was the cross hanging on the wall straight ahead. Okay, God, I’m trying. But You do know you are asking a lot from me, right?
And the second thing was Mrs. Robinson’s big smile.
Zai’s guilt increased tenfold. Mrs. Robinson had one of the hardest lives Zai had ever witnessed anyone live. She and her husband had been in a severe car accident early on in their marriage that had left Mr. Robinson in a vegetative state and had damaged several vertebrae in Mrs. Robinson’s back. Zai knew she was in constant and severe pain, and yet Mrs. Robinson had faithfully cared for her husband for all these years, and she always had a smile and was the first one to offer a hug.
Even now she stretched out her plump arms. “Zaire, so good to see you, dear. I know it was a sacrifice for you to take time off of work to do this today!”
Zaire’s guilt mounted as she allowed herself to be enfolded in the soft arms. Mrs. Robinson had likely spent much of her morning bathing and feeding her husband, Bill, and then getting him from his bed into his wheelchair—all while suffering herself. And yet she never complained.
Zai pulled away. “It really isn’t that much of a sacrifice. I’m on my lunch break, and who could complain about getting free pulled pork for lunch?” She winked at the older woman. “And how is Bill today?”
She glanced over at the man whose wheelchair sat in the corner of the room.
Mrs. Robinson’s smile broadened. If that were possible. “Bill is doing just fine. At his last appointment with Dr. said he was fit as a fiddle.”
“And how has your back been recently?”
Mrs. Robinson waved a hand. “Oh, you know… About the same as usual, but I really have nothing to complain about. The Lord has blessed me with so much over the years. Now how about we grab you a plate before all those men get in here?”
Zaire gave the woman a pump of her brows. “I can’t say as I would complain about that at all.” She chuckled and followed in the woman’s steps to grab a plate. She filled it, feeling only a little guilty when she took enough to ensure that she could have it for dinner, also. And then she grabbed up some plastic utensils and a napkin, quickly dropped a kiss on Mrs. Robinson’s cheek, thanked her for letting her grabbed a plateful, and hurried back to her car.
Landon Breckenridge stood on the peak of the roof and rubbed his cheek across his shoulder as he watched Zaire’s white SUV pull from the church parking lot. He propped his hands on his hips, feeling the weight of all his mistakes settling into the pit of his stomach. He angled a glance at the sky. When You asked me to come home and make things right, I didn’t think it was going to be such a difficult task. The heavens remained silent as though chiding him for not expecting this. What had he been expecting? Had he thought that he’d tell her he’d moved back and that she would just invite him back into her life as though nothing had happened between them?
He sighed and leaned back into the angle of the roof as he carefully made his way toward the ladder at the back side of the church. When he reached the ground Jett Hudson was waiting for him.
Jett clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t give up on what you feel the Lord has asked you to do, man.”
Landon scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Not sure she’s ever going to forgive me.”
A sympathetic sock in the arm was Jett’s only response before he tipped his head toward the Fellowship Hall entry. “Let’s grab some lunch.” As they walked, Jett continued, “One of my coaches used to say trust is like a bridge. It’s a lot easier to tear down than to build. And once you’ve torn it down, it’s a whole heck of a lot harder to rebuild then it was the first time around.”
Landon thought about that. He’d certainly done a doozy of a job of tearing down any bridges they’d had going. Two years. That was all he’d given it. Then at the first financial crisis his business had faced, he’d tucked his tail between his legs and run from everything. He’d been terrified at the thought that it was his responsibility to refloat the sinking ship that was taking not only him to the bottom of the sea, but the woman he loved most in the world, as well. If only he’d had his priorities right. But he hadn’t. His sole drive had been making more money. And he’d only seen his value in that. So when everything had fallen in the tank, he’d been sure that Zai could never keep loving him. He hadn’t been able to handle facing her disappointment, so he’d barricaded himself behind a wall of retreat, falsely believing that if he left first, he wouldn’t feel so much pain.
The stupidity of it all was that he should have known from his own mother’s experience that leaving wasn’t the answer. His own father had left the year he’d turned ten. And Mom had nothing but struggles after that.
But he’d deceived himself into believing that he was doing the right thing for Zaire because they didn’t have any kids yet. He wasn’t leaving Zai with three kids to take care of. He’d told himself it was better that he leave right away and give her a chance to find a guy who wouldn’t fail her.
And then he’d had that fall. He’d been hired by the Wyoming Parks and Recreation to climb some of their toughest peaks for a series of promotional advertisements they’d started running last summer. He’d been halfway up Devil’s Tower with his cameraman, Byron Shelton, when a perch had broken off beneath his foot and his whole life had flashed before his eyes. He’d been saved by an anchor, but not before he’d dislocated and fractured two fingers. And not before he’d tossed up a prayer that if God would save him, he’d come back home and do his best to do right by Zaire.
He chuckled to himself now as he scooped the last spoonful of salad that his plate could possibly hold and turned to see where Jett had seated himself. Landon hadn’t known how much that prayer would change his life. Never one to go back on his word, he’d spent the days leading up to the surgery that had saved his fingers reading the Bible his grandmother had given him when he graduated high school. The book had sat untouched for years, buried at the very bottom of one of the trunks that he’d never unpacked after leaving home for college. But in its pages he’d discovered a God who valued so much more than money and “perfection.”
He grinned at that, as he sank down across from Jett. What he’d thought of as perfection had been so far from God’s idea of perfection that the two could barely be spoken of in the same sentence.
Jett eyed him. “You seem to be feeling better suddenly?”
Landon shook out his napkin. “Just pondering how far the Lord has brought me in the last couple years. And believe me”—he held up one hand in a scout’s-honor pose—”when I say it is far.”
&nbs
p; Jett smiled, but his gaze dipped to the scar Landon knew creased his palm between his third and fourth fingers. “Looks like the scar I have on my foot. Had to have surgery one year after a cleat from a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound Panther lineman crushed my third metatarsal.” There was a knowing look in his assessing gaze.
Landon rubbed the offending palm against his pant leg. “Yeah. Climbing injury. Two fingers fractured and dislocated.”
Jett tilted his head. “You going to be able to go back?”
Landon felt his jaw tighten. “Going through PT now. I’m sure it will be fine.”
Jett’s look said he understood the ramifications of that. “Mine was my knee. Didn’t know what to do with myself when the doctors said I’d never play football again. But with lots of prayer, and some intervention from God that brought me here to Riversong, I’m going to be just fine.” He paused for a beat. “You will be too.”
Landon wished he could believe him.
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Angel Kisses and Riversong Page 17