The Engagement Plot

by Phillips, Krista;

  Closing his eyes, he let her soft voice soak into his heart. “My dad just left.”

  “I was wondering if he’d planned to stay a few days or not.”

  “Nothing left to do. Doug’s in jail. Greg and I received word that we are officially cleared this morning. The evidence against Doug is staggering, now that a few lower-level department heads are talking and producing evidence in exchange for immunity. There will be a big turnover at F&J, let’s just say that.”

  “You never said what you’re going to do next.”

  He glanced up at the two-story ceiling, the starkness of it all settling on his soul. “I have no idea.”

  A moment of silence followed before she spoke again. “Why did you call, Will? Really.”

  A good question. He wished he knew the answer. “Have you ever read the book of Ecclesiastes?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “It’s been awhile, but I was sitting here in my condo, realizing just how pointless life is.”

  “Will, what are you saying? Are you okay?” Alarm invaded her voice.

  He smiled that she would care so much. “Don’t worry. I’m not suicidal or anything. I just—I was sitting here thinking about what to do next and nothing made any sense. The only thing I could think of was that verse in the Bible about life being meaningless. And the only desire I could find in my heart was to call and check on you. I figured if it was all meaningless anyway, I might as well call.”

  “I see.”

  She didn’t really. He could hear it in her voice. “I got three great offers on the condo this morning.”

  “That’s nice. Where will you go now?”

  He closed his eyes. “I have no idea.”

  “You could, you know, try praying about it.”

  That sounded like something the old Hanna would say, the one she’d been before he’d “corrupted” her in front of the world. “I’m not sure God cares about what I do next.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to try. You know, if everything is meaningless anyway, might as well give it a whirl.”

  He didn’t want to talk about prayer. Not right now. “Can I call you again?”

  “Call me?”

  “You know, push a few buttons, you answer on the little thing you have held up to your ear. We talk for a bit. That sort of thing.”

  He could almost see her eye roll. “I know what it means, goof. But why? We don’t have anything else to talk about.”

  The thought of never speaking to her again stabbed his heart until he felt physical pain. “Please, Hanna. No expectations. I promise.”

  “I guess that would be fine.”

  Relief flooded him. “Until next time, then.”

  “Good-bye, Will.”

  Hanna pressed END on her phone and sank down onto her bed.

  That had been the oddest, scariest call she’d ever had. At one point, she’d almost thought she would need to call Emma to go check on him, make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself.

  She had assumed she’d never hear from him again.

  The whole flight home her heart had begged her to turn right back around and go to him.

  But no. They were done. He had his life to figure out, and she had hers to piece back together.

  And now she had the prospect of him calling her again.

  How was she ever to put it all behind her?

  Dropping to her knees, she dug the shoe box from under her bed and dumped all the clippings and letters on the floor. One by one, she read them.

  Memories flooded her.

  Yet, the familiar pain in her heart was absent. The articles were just silly now, their untruths borderline comical.

  The letters from well-meaning Christians chastising her still weren’t fun. But they triggered something new in her now. A part of her heart hurt for them. What kind of junk must one be carrying in their own life to lash out in judgment in such a mean, personal way? Were they only taught about God’s judgment, leaving out the part about His grace?

  Grace. Such an amazing word.

  She fingered a particularly mean letter, one of the few handwritten ones she’d received. Ink in the middle was smudged where her tears had fallen months ago.

  Funny thing about grace. It was a two-way street. To be given and received.

  Shoving the box aside, she grabbed the letter and headed for her desk. Opening her laptop, she began to type a letter.

  Dear Anita,

  I received your letter a few months ago. At the time, I was angry with you. Your words, along with the words of thousands of others like you, wounded my soul to the point where I didn’t think I’d be able to recover.

  But this amazing thing happened.

  God showed me that I wasn’t beyond His love. That though I’m not perfect, He loves me still, despite what notes such as yours made me feel.

  I don’t know if you feel guilt over writing that letter, or if you feel totally justified.

  I wanted you to know, though, just in case, that I forgive you.

  God loves you, Anita, and He loves me, too. I pray that we can both fumble through this life, showing each other the same grace God has given us, and support each other instead of tear each other down.

  Blessings and love in Christ,

  Not-so-holy-but-trying…Hanna

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Will shifted the phone to his other ear and tore open the next box. Moving was not on his list of fun things to do. Talking to Hanna, however, was definitely up there. “How’s your dad doing?”

  “Pretty good. Glad that the snow seems to be slowing down. Hopefully, we’ve seen our last big one for the year.” Her voice, while still on safe topics like family and the weather, was more comfortable this time.

  Like she was getting used to talking to him again.

  He liked it.

  A lot.

  They’d been talking for almost a month now, just a few times a week. He called her each time, never the other way around.

  Whether he liked it or not, she had become his meaning. His reason for not going completely crazy. Being unemployed wasn’t something he was used to. It wasn’t the money. He had plenty saved to live on the rest of his life if he wanted, as long as he invested and spent wisely.

  Thus the reason he’d downsized to a townhouse in the suburbs that was much less ostentatious. It suited him better anyway. More comfortable than breakable.

  “I was thinking—”

  She laughed. “Oh no. The great and powerful William Preston has been thinking. Should I sit down for this?”

  “Ha. Ha. And yes, you probably should.”

  Rustling sounded over the phone. “Okay, so what’s up?”

  “I, uh, thought maybe I could come up and visit. This summer sometime. Maybe.” Oh great. He sounded like a fifteen-year-old asking a girl out on a date for the first time. At least his voice didn’t do the whole puberty crack.

  “Um. Wow. I mean—”

  “You don’t have to say yes. I promise I won’t be mad.” Much.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to, but—Will, what’s your goal for all this? I know you. You always have a plan. I just want to make sure that plan doesn’t include a future with me. Because, to be blunt, mine doesn’t include a future with you. I need to move on.”

  Move on? “Then why have you let me call you?”

  “Because you needed a friend. And I thought I could maybe be that friend as long as we were long-distance. I see now I was wrong.”

  Thoughts ping-ponged in his head. Was she finally, officially, breaking up with him?

  And was he really being that stalkerish boyfriend who wouldn’t accept no for an answer?

  Why, yes. Yes, he was. There was just something in her voice. A note of hesitance that said she was trying to convince herself just as much if not more than convince him. “Okay. So you need to move on. I get that. But what do you want, Hanna? What does your heart say?”

  “My heart is what got me in this mess. I no longer trust i
t or give it a voice.”

  “What about God?”

  The line was silent for a moment. Finally, she cleared her throat. “What about Him?”

  “God’s in the heart business, isn’t He? If you aren’t trusting your heart, does that mean you aren’t trusting Him either?”

  “That was a low blow, Mr. I-haven’t-gone-to-church-in-a-decade.”

  He glanced over where his Bible lay on the side table. He’d actually read it now and then over the last month. There was something about life being ripped from underneath a guy that made him turn back to the idea of a God who was an unmovable foundation. A foundation he’d stepped away from many years ago. “I’m not saying God and I are on buddy-buddy terms. But—let’s just say I’ve been making a few calls His way, just like I have you. Testing the waters.”

  “That’s—amazing. Really, Will. I’m excited for you.”

  “If I promise not to mention visiting anymore, can I keep calling you, then? As a friend?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “What if I said God told me to call you.”

  “You’d be lying, and God would have to bring out the lightning again, buddy.”

  Will stilled his hand on a box and pressed his forehead to a nearby cabinet. “Please, Hanna. Please let me call.”

  “Of course. I gotta go though. Dad needs me outside.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Clicking END on his phone, Will let out a breath. At least she hadn’t said no completely.

  Because like it or not, his heart was officially attached to a blond-haired beauty in Northern Minnesota. He didn’t care if he had to sell everything, move up there, and start a career in ice fishing, he’d find a way to show her he was worthy.

  He was in love with her, and nothing was going to change that.

  As he started to slip his phone into his pocket, it vibrated, announcing an incoming call.

  A glance at the caller ID sent every kind of doubt flinging through the air.

  The number was a familiar one, belonging to an extension at Foster and Jones.

  “William, I’m sure you know why we’ve asked you here today.”

  Sitting in the conference room with his former board of directors, Will shifted in his seat and nodded, trying to look like he knew exactly what they were talking about, when in reality, he was as clueless as he was yesterday when he received the phone call inviting him here today.

  What the board would want with him at this point, with the company crumbling around its ears and, by all accounts, going under, was anyone’s guess. They had been less than forthcoming in their message delivered by, of all people, the receptionist.

  “We’d like to formally offer you your job back.”

  A strange buzzing sounded in William’s ears. Was he having a stroke? He could have sworn he’d just heard them offer him his job back, but that made no sense.

  He glanced around the room, older men and a few women sitting in suits, eyes all trained on him, expecting a response.

  A few weeks ago, he would have jumped at the shot. And if he were smart, he still would.

  But all he could think of was Hanna’s face, her voice that said she wanted nothing to do with him, yet the tone implying the exact opposite. He’d even called her back and told her about the call.

  She’d said she would be praying for him.

  A few months ago, he would have laughed at that.

  But right now, he felt honored and thankful.

  Sam, sitting to his right, cleared his throat. “William? What do you say?”

  “I—” What did he say? Words caught in his throat like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. If he accepted, he’d have meaning again, right? He could turn the company around, without the fingers of Doug making it impossible at every turn. He could get back his reputation, have his name cleared once and for all.

  He finally understood why Hanna had agreed to be pretend engaged with him. To be known as someone you weren’t, someone you’d never want to be, was horrible.

  To clear his name and right the wrong would be the smart thing to do. The wise thing, even, in the eyes of a lot of people.

  But why was his heart screaming at him to tear up the employment contract being handed to him?

  Sam cleared his throat. “I know this comes as a shock. But we felt you were the right man for the job two years ago, and we still feel that way. I don’t have to tell you, Will, we’re in a bad spot. Publicity was horrible, and the stock has tanked. It won’t be easy, but you have just the right charisma to get us back on track.”

  “Why me? I thought you’d want to separate the company from scandal, not invite it back in.”

  A few exchanges in expressions told him the vote probably hadn’t been unanimous. Sam adjusted his tie, glanced at a few others and then back at Will. “You’re the right man for the job, Will.”

  Too many unanswered questions hung in the air. But still, his head screamed, Take the job, idiot, while his heart tuned a violin, crooning, Go get your woman and show her that a heart knows best.

  His heart really needed to learn how to sing in tune.

  He pushed back his chair and stood, pushing the employment contract to the middle of the table. “Gentlemen, ladies, I appreciate the offer, but I’m sorry. I must decline. Best of luck to you all.”

  And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the conference room.

  Emma stood in the hall, leaning against the wall. “So?”

  He blinked. “What are you doing here? I thought you left when I did.”

  “Yeah, they asked me to come back, assumed you’d want me for your assistant when you reassumed your position.”

  Great. He’d not only turned down his own future but hers as well. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t realize. I turned them down.”

  Her lips tilted into a grin. “Good. I was only coming back to help an old friend, anyway. So, when are you headed to Minnesota?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Woman’s intuition. Want me to book your flight?”

  “You aren’t my assistant anymore.”

  She pushed off the wall and winked. “I know, but I’m your friend. And a friend who is dying to attend the wedding of her former boss. But that won’t ever happen if her former boss doesn’t turn up the charm and whisk the lady off her feet.”

  He glanced at his watch, his heart pounding at the prospect. Sometimes, one just had to listen to their heart. And assistant. “Think I can still make a flight tonight?”

  “Yeah, but you might want to get a hotel in Duluth before heading to Embarrass.”

  “Could you—”

  She winked and pulled out her iPad from her purse as they walked to the elevator doors. “Already on it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  The only thing worse than Minnesota in a blizzard was Minnesota in mud season.

  Hanna gripped her hands on the steering wheel, trying not to frown at her new shoes she’d just splurged on. She wasn’t one of those women who had a thousand pairs of shoes in their closet. She had six at most. But that didn’t mean she didn’t admire them.

  And today, she’d made a special trip into town to buy a new pair.

  It was all Will’s fault and that dad-gum phone call yesterday. He’d talked about hearts and Jesus, said all the right words, and befuddled her mind.

  Her made up mind that was determined to shut up that heart of hers.

  But her heart wasn’t so nice. It had pounded and thudded and made its presence known.

  To appease it, she’d bought shoes.

  Cute little flats with a girly little bow on them and everything. And they were red. Hearts liked red, right?

  Her sole purpose was to get her heart—and subsequently her mind—off William Preston.

  But then she’d been happily walking out of the store and stepped right into a large pile of Minnesota post-snow-melt mud.

  It was so something Will would have done.

  A
nd there. Her mind was right back to the man she needed to forget, like, yesterday.

  Driving down Highway 21 toward home, she tried to think of anything but him. If Carly wasn’t in school, she’d just call her and that would solve the problem. If only—

  Suddenly, a flourish of movement bound across the road in front of her.

  Air caught in her lungs as she slammed on the brakes, but the deer stood unmoving. At the last moment, she swerved hard to the right.

  The truck bumped and slid down the ditch to a stop.

  She looked back. The buck, complete with eight-point antlers, looked at her for a moment then took off in the opposite direction.

  Her hands shaking, she shifted the truck into REVERSE, hoping she could get enough traction to get back up the ditch.

  But her wheels just spun, jerking the cab back and forth with their efforts.

  Flinging open the door, she eyed the mud and her new shoes. Eh, they were dirty anyway. She hopped down, ignoring the cold oozing into her shoes.

  $59.99 down the drain.

  Grabbing a few scraps of wood from the truck bed, she jammed one under each back tire, wedging them as tight as she could.

  Climbing back into the cab, she put her hands to the steering wheel and prayed. Lord, please. Just let me get unstuck and get home. I’ll never overspend on new shoes again, I promise.

  She shifted into DRIVE and stepped on the gas, praying all the while that the boards offered just enough traction to get her moving again.

  The truck lurched for a foot but then sank and sputtered mud.

  A car horn honked behind her.

  She looked in the rearview mirror to see an SUV coming to a stop, her pieces of wood resting on its now cracked windshield.

  Crud. She knew the spinning would send them flying but had forgotten to check for cars.

  More money to come out of her nonexistent savings account. She could just imagine explaining this to her insurance guy.

  Opening the door, she slid out, ignoring the mud and turning to face the probably ticked-off driver.

  Blood rushed to her head at the sight of a man in jeans and adorable flannel standing at the side of the road. “Will?”

  He smiled, his hands tucked in his pockets. “You need a little help?”