A question surfaced in his mind. Which still hurt more: the humiliation of Brenna getting engaged while he was dating her, or losing her?
He realized the answer with a jolt. He no longer missed Brenna. But the humiliation knotted his gut.
Jace reached down and picked up a wet, smooth stone the size of a golf ball, nearly black, shining like a seal. The beach was made up of rocks like this of all colors—green, red, translucent white, orange, yellow, gray, and black—worn smooth and rounded by the pounding waves. Occasionally bits of frosted blue, brown, and green sea glass would wash up. Less occasionally, glass float balls would come ashore. A film of green algae marked the slow tide line, layering everything the water covered as it rose and receded. The lower the tide, the more barnacles and mussels took over. Jace squeezed the rock in his hand and frowned.
This rut he found himself in was affecting his cooking. Just yesterday Reuben had asked him to come up with four original dishes for the menu to update it for the spring season and the Tulip Festival tourists. Jace knew he couldn’t botch this opportunity to show his boss that he was invested.
If only he could pin down something original to present. He had four weeks to come up with four dishes. Maybe he’d have to visit some of his favorite spots in the area again. Or something.
Jace felt completely uninspired.
Kit barked at gulls now, the piece of driftwood forgotten. He smoothed the stone in his fingers, remembering his one family trip to Disneyland when he was a kid. They’d visited the beach and tried to guess how long it took rocks to get to shore with the tides. Weeks? Years?
Jace threw the rock out past the surf. “There,” he mumbled. “Start over.” He set his hands on his hips and stared out at the waves for a long time.
* * *
Georgiana flickered her eyes open at the sudden brightness assaulting her from a window in her bedroom. Faye opened the other set of shutters, and Georgie pulled the thick blankets over her head.
“Time to get up. You’ve got an hour to get ready.”
“For what?” But Georgie knew the answer.
“Church, silly. It’s time you go.”
Georgie groaned. Warmth enshrouded her, and she snuggled further into the covers. She felt the weight of her aunt sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Georgie, stop this. Your mother’s worried, and frankly, I don’t understand either. How is not attending church helping you move forward?”
This was Georgie’s third Sunday with her aunts, and she’d stayed in bed the last two. Of course Faye was right. Not going to church had less to do with starting over and more to do with the fact that by Sunday, Georgie was exhausted. She didn’t want to put on a face and pretend everything was happy and normal and exactly what others expected it to be. The interaction at the restaurant was more than enough socializing.
“Georgie.”
She sighed under the covers. “I’ll go next week.”
“You said that last week.”
Georgie sat up and pulled the covers off her head. “Fine, I’ll go. But can I come home after sacrament meeting?” Three hours of church seemed insurmountable.
Her aunt paused. “Why don’t we just play it by ear.”
“Fine.”
Faye stood and closed the door behind her.
Georgie brushed her hair out of her eyes and took in the pretty room washed in sunlight. She hadn’t visited her aunts for years and didn’t remember what this room had been before, but when she’d arrived, they had led her here, and she’d had trouble fighting the cheer it offered ever since.
From the robin’s egg–blue walls to the old iron-framed bed to the painted sign hung above the headboard—HOPE—the room radiated cheer. Georgie pressed her hands into the substantial quilt printed with birds and branches of blossoms. An old bubble-glass lamp she did remember from a childhood visit to the house sat on the table next to the bed, along with a bowl of seashells and a picture of Christ calming the storm. The walls were covered with paintings in old frames. Floral still lifes, sailboats, and children with rosy cheeks.
Georgie took a deep breath, and a small smile graced her lips. Cheer won.
An hour later she pulled a cardigan on over her dress and picked up her scripture bag. She felt a pang of guilt. Her scriptures had stayed in their case since she’d arrived. She’d read them every night since she’d begun seminary as a freshman in high school, but she’d abandoned them as of late. Her fingers moved to the scar above her eye. Her headache hadn’t returned for a few days. Maybe reading wouldn’t be such a struggle, though the headache was only part of that.
A voice called from down the hall. “You ready, Georgie-girl?”
Ah, a childhood nickname.
“Coming, Tru.”
As she entered the kitchen, she was met with smiles.
“There she is.” Tru leaned forward. “You put makeup on?”
Georgie smiled patiently. Aunt Tru had never married, had refused to date even when asked out and, aside from working three days a week in the kitchen of a retirement home, was a recluse. She watched movies and reality TV and daytime talk shows. Her daily attire consisted of loud flannel pajama pants and big T-shirts. She never missed church, though, and made sure she was dressed up and looking her best for that. Her skirts and blouses were quite pretty and her lipstick bright. Why couldn’t Tru find a place between pajamas and lipstick for everyday? It took very little effort for her to look more like . . . well, Faye.
So maybe that was why. Tru was definitely Tru.
“You look beautiful, Georgie.” Faye pulled her in for a spontaneous hug. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”
Tru put her hands on her hips. “Well, what am I, crab bait? I’m wearin’ makeup too.”
Faye let Georgie go and shooed her sister away. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m sure I don’t. Now let’s get going so your husband doesn’t give us the look when we walk in late. I swear that man gets meaner with every passing year.”
As Faye fluttered out the door, Tru threw Georgie a wink. Uncle Dar was about as mean as a daisy in a glass of water.
Georgie held out her arm. “C’mon, Crab Bait.”
Tru chuckled and took her elbow. “Was that a joke, Miss Gloomy Buckets?”
Georgie shrugged and smiled to herself.
* * *
Jace accepted a program from the fairly wrinkled old man and stepped into the Stanwood chapel. The small town was situated on the other side of the slough separating Camano Island from the mainland, and it was the location of the area’s only LDS Church building. He scanned the back rows for an inconspicuous spot and found an empty bench on the far back side. Taking his seat, he glanced around. The bishopric hadn’t come in from their meetings yet, but organ music played and a couple of speakers sat nervously in their seats. Parents arranged their children, and folks visited quietly.
He knew about the singles branch in this stake but needed the atmosphere of a family ward for now. He wanted a chance to get to know people living their lives in his own community. He didn’t need to be gawked at.
The bishopric took their seats behind the podium. He recognized one of them as a neighbor and watched him walk up to sit in the clerk’s chair on the stand. The man then gave a small wave in Jace’s direction. Jace turned as three women walked past. Two older women he’d seen before were followed by a younger woman with a ponytail. She turned her head to the side, and Jace’s brow lifted.
The expediter from work. The one Reuben had hired. At least, he thought it was her. Georgie. She always wore a ponytail, but it was different today, low and loose. Something else was different. Maybe it was the dress. She glanced around, and before she spotted him, he opened the program and concentrated on reading names he didn’t know. He hid behind the paper until the meeting started.
He hadn’t paid much attention to her, but he had full recollection of how short-tempered and impatient he’d been at work last week. After closing last night, Reuben
had pulled him aside and very gently told him that if he didn’t either pull out of his slump or leave the broken heart at home, he’d put him on full-time bread duty and have him mopping up bisque until he couldn’t stand the sight of it.
Jace had winced at that. There had been a particularly messy spill that evening when he’d carelessly rushed past the new girl, who’d been carrying a bowl of soup she had just filled. He hadn’t looked at her, only gone for the mop while she’d tried to clean up her station, and then he’d scrubbed the oven, feeling pretty lousy. By the time he’d finished, she’d replaced the salads and was quietly eating one of the less-ruined desserts in the back corner while Reuben covered for her.
Now that he saw her again, he realized she might even be a little afraid of him.
He hadn’t been able to look at her. And Reuben hadn’t looked at him. Until closing.
Jace felt a nudge on his shoulder and was startled to see the sacrament bread tray held out for him by a little boy whose family had taken up the rest of Jace’s bench. He looked around at the bowed heads. When had they sung the sacrament song and said the sacrament prayer? Guilt washed over him, and he took the bread. The boy grinned and handed the tray back to his father.
Jace needed to snap out of it. The last thing he wanted was to look like a brokenhearted sap. He glanced over at Georgie. No, the last thing he wanted was for someone to be afraid of him.
After sacrament meeting, he considered going home. He watched Georgie out of the corner of his eye. She spoke to the women she’d come with, they hugged, and she left them, heading his way, watching the people and the floor in front of her. A member of the bishopric caught up to her and shook her hand, then asked her questions. Georgie answered with a small smile and gestured toward the women she’d left. He couldn’t remember seeing her smile before, and he watched for the expression to reappear. There it was. It changed her whole mouth into something . . . worth watching. With the greeting done, the man moved on, and Georgie turned—to catch Jace staring.
He quickly looked away, but that was stupid, so he turned back. She stood frozen; he couldn’t read her expression. She was much prettier than he remembered. Whisps of her honey-blonde hair fell softly around her face, and he noticed her blue eyes for the first time—like looking-at-the-earth-from-outer-space blue. But they weren’t friendly.
He gave her a quick nod of recognition, and she blinked, then moved out through the chapel door.
Great.
He stood to follow her out, thinking that now would be a good time to apologize, but he felt a hand on his arm.
“Welcome. I’m Dar Silva, the ward clerk.”
Jace took his hand. “Jace Lowe.”
“What brings you here today, Jace?”
“I, uh, live on the island. I’ve been attending a ward in Seattle with . . . some friends . . . and thought it was time to come to my own ward.”
The clerk looked at him a little harder. “Jace Lowe. Do we have your records? Are you here with the Burches, or . . . ?” He glanced at the couple who had occupied the rest of his bench during the meeting and who were now hurrying their kids to Primary classes.
“Um, no, to both questions.”
“Well, where can we make a request to get your records here?” The man was friendly and only doing his calling. Jace imagined they didn’t get many people moving into the ward.
“I gave my bishop in Seattle the information before I left.”
“Good, that makes things easier. Where do you live?”
“Off West Camano Drive. I think we’re neighbors.”
Dar grinned broadly. “Fantastic. We’ll have to come pay you a visit. You’ll be coming here regularly now, right? Or . . . did you know we have a singles branch? They meet at one.”
“Yeah, I know. But I think I’ll be coming to this ward.”
“Great.” The man slapped Jace’s arm. “Good to have you here. Sunday School meets in the gym.”
Jace nodded and let Dar move on.
Jace walked down the hall and even peered into the gym, searching halfheartedly for the girl. With no luck, he pushed the glass door in the foyer open and walked outside. He breathed in the cool, wet air laced with the scent of pine and mulch he’d come to love. After a quick look around for any sign of her, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and fingered them. He spotted his bike, then dropped his head and took long strides in that direction.
* * *
Georgie sat in the car, her scriptures open on her lap. She’d begged off having to sit through Sunday School alone. It was ridiculous, she knew, but with Faye teaching a youth Sunday School class and Tru in the Nursery and even Uncle Dar taking his place in the clerk’s office, Georgie didn’t feel like sitting alone in a room full of strangers just yet. She promised to meet Faye in Relief Society for the third hour.
But she stared at a page, not reading. Seeing Peter & Andrew’s sous-chef in her aunts’ ward had thrown her. She never would have expected to see Jace Lowe here. He’d looked just as surprised to see her. She couldn’t help but wonder why.
She’d learned the hard way that there were all kinds of people in the Church. Some had their own way of keeping the commandments, of interpreting the order of things and where they were placed in God’s kingdom on earth, even judging the faults of those around them and making it their mission to “fix” what was imperfect. As if they knew what perfection was.
Ian Hudson had had his own way of making sure life around him was his definition of perfection.
A lump grew in her throat, and she realized her fists were clenched.
She had to stop this. She had to stop thinking about Ian and move forward. She was alive and had a new chance, and she had good people helping her. The accident had definitely changed her, and she wanted to move forward, stronger, but her progress stalled whenever she remembered Ian and then attached him to the events around her.
A movement in the parking lot caught her attention, and she pressed against her seat as Jace crossed the lot to his motorcycle. A motorcycle just like Ian’s.
She wondered if Jace was an active member. He wasn’t staying for the rest of the meetings. It didn’t surprise her.
As his motorcycle growled away into traffic, she felt more guilt for judging him over leaving church early when she had wanted to do the same thing that morning. And now here she sat in the car skipping Sunday School and resenting judgmental people. People who would judge a person by their chosen mode of transportation. She rolled her eyes. This was the downside of the new Georgie: jumping to conclusions about things and people. The change was one of the main reasons she’d had to leave home. Too many people she loved were trying too hard to bring the old Georgie back, and she’d hurt them in her struggle to figure out who she was now. She’d had to go where no one knew her. Even her aunts hadn’t really known who she was before. Her father was quite a bit younger than his sisters, and Georgie’s interaction with them while she’d grown up had been rare. The Georgie they were getting to know was pretty much all they knew, and except for nudging her to go to church or a movie, they weren’t trying to “fix” her. And she needed that.
She readjusted her scriptures on her lap and vowed to concentrate.
Chapter 3
“What do you mean ‘somebody’s coming over for dinner’?” Georgie tried to keep the distress out of her voice.
Faye tied her apron around her waist. “It’s been three weeks since you’ve come to stay with us. You’ve said very little about what happened. I respect that and pray you’ll be able to find peace here and that I’ll be sensitive to your needs, but because you won’t or can’t talk about it, I have no idea how you’re coming along, although I have to say you look improved. But Dar and I have a tradition of inviting people over for Sunday dinner, and, frankly, you’re putting a crimp in our style.”
Georgie’s eyes grew wide with the idea of being such a disruption.
Faye smiled. She touched Georgie’s hair. “I already have one recluse in th
is house. As much as I love my sister, it hurts to see her spirit and beauty holed away in her room or sat down in front of that TV. Now, she has her reasons, just like you do, but let me tell you right now that holing yourself up hurts nobody but yourself and those who are delighted by your presence.”
Georgie looked down, but Faye lifted her chin. “I don’t know if it’s right to say, but the world does go on. Life goes on. You’re alive. And by no small miracle.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad to hear it. But that doesn’t explain why you went white as a sheet when I mentioned dinner guests.”
Georgie hesitated and tried to gather the right words. “I . . . calling off the engagement, the accident, losing my memory . . . Meeting people brings questions, questions I don’t have answers to. I feel like I’m in limbo, like a kid lost at a bus station. And I’m not sure how that comes across to strangers. I’ve gotten some odd looks at work.”
Faye’s brow wrinkled. “I do understand that in a way.”
Georgie nodded. “It’s a little better now, but those first weeks after the accident were kind of a nightmare, especially when I couldn’t remember what had happened. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be anywhere near my fiancé. Then he was . . . gone.” She rubbed her forehead. “And now, so many things keep reminding me of Ian and how he made me feel. I want to move on, but his memory keeps dragging me back, and I can’t shake it.”
Faye patted Georgie’s leg as they sat on the bed in silence. Finally, she spoke. “I can only imagine how confused you must be at times. Maybe you’re reminded of him as you try to move on because you don’t want to make the same mistakes again. It’s a protection thing. But, honey, you live in a world full of people, good and bad. You can’t hide from all of them. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to them.” She shook her head. “It’s not what you’re here for.”
Georgie couldn’t look away. A spark ignited in the empty space she felt inside. It wasn’t that long ago when she thought she knew what she was here for. She missed that naïve certainty. A lot had happened since then. She had lost trust in herself—and in others. Even in the idea of falling in love, something she had always imagined would be definite and sure, like all those romance stories. But it wasn’t definite. It could be frightening. Deceitful. In a world full of black and white, right and wrong, she’d found herself engulfed in gray.
Kisses in the Rain Page 3