by Mary Manners
Her dad’s Bible.
It hadn’t been opened since his death; she’d simply packed it away in a cardboard box following the funeral. That box had been lugged from a dorm room to a rash of campus apartments over the years, and then, finally, unpacked and tucked away in her drawer.
She slid a hand over the cover, smoothing a crease along one corner. The leather was worn almost smooth from years of use; the book had been a wedding gift to Dad from his father, her Grandfather Joe, who’d left her with nothing but vague memories since he’d passed on before she entered kindergarten.
She imagined her dad in the porch swing, swaying gently and reading as sunlight spilled over him. Two lengths of chain that bound the swing to the porch ceiling wailed in a low, methodic melody as they pumped against the weathered planks. Dad favored the early mornings, reading while the world around him shrugged from sleep and came gently back to life. He rarely missed a day of reading, and she imagined he’d studied the book cover-to-cover at least half-a-dozen times.
Peyton opened the cover and gasped as a flurry of violet freesia blooms, dried and brittle with age, slipped from between the pages. Though their color had faded, a hint of familiar sweetness mingled with a light, fruity scent, bringing tears to her eyes. She’d come across the blooms during a walk along the river that final summer spent with her father, just before she’d left for college, and had brought them home to place in the center of the kitchen table in a pretty crystal vase. The floral scent had filled the house, adding a hint of happiness to the sad that welled in her heart.
She’d had no idea he’d kept some of the blooms, tucked them into the Bible for safe-keeping along with an envelope that had her name scrawled across the front.
“Oh, Daddy…” The words rushed from her lips as she crossed to the bed and settled on the edge of a cool cotton comforter. “What have you done here?”
The envelope hadn’t been sealed, and her fingers trembled as she untucked the yellowed flap. A single sheet of notebook paper, folded into neat thirds and then again to fit into the small envelope, fluttered into her lap. Drawing a single, deep breath, she opened the paper and began to read.
My Sweet Peyton,
Though it’s hard to fathom, my days here on earth are coming to a close. So much remains that I would love to share with you, yet it is not meant for this world. So, before I draw my final breath, I want you to know how proud you have made me, how happy. You have grown into a young woman that many fathers can only dream of—at once magnanimous, compassionate, intelligent, and strong. Life has dealt you a pocketful of difficult circumstances—losing your mother…and now saying goodbye to me. But, don’t lose heart. God never promised life would be without heartache and disappointment, only that He would remain close to your side to guide you. Let Him.
Remember Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Hold those words close to your heart as truth, Peyton, because they are just that—truth. Remember also that, above all else, in all situations, God’s timing is perfect.
Have a good life, sweetheart. Find happiness in the simple things, follow your dreams, and seek God’s guidance over your own free will. He is listening, even when the air is silent. Be mindful, faithful, and trusting in all your endeavors…through each step of your walk.
Your faith has suffered, I know. But it’s still there, buried deep inside you like the dormant seed of a flower. Nurture the seed and its bloom will grow strong and true.
I love you.
Dad
Peyton dropped the tear-stained sheaf, doubling over as she rocked forward from the bed. She wrapped her arms around her waist as the sobs came like water rushing through a fractured dam. It was just like her father to think of her, to shelter her even when he was at his weakest, with death looming. No one had sheltered her since then, no one…
Or had someone shielded her…brought her here to Clover Cove, to pursue a dream that was quickly becoming reality?
Was coming here part of God’s plan, or was it the result of her own free will? How would she ever know the truth?
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, filling the room with the wail of her sobs, but when she finally lifted the note from the floor and sat back, wiping her eyes, moonlight had faded into a sky veiled in clouds, darkening the room to shadows kissed by the muted light of the nightstand lamp.
The scent of freesia still drifted, calming her.
She slipped beneath the covers and plumped pillows against the headboard before scooting back to rest her spine against the cushion. Flipping open the Bible to Hebrews, her thoughts turned to Reese. His faith was so strong, so sure. She saw evidence in the way he walked, the slight smile that curved his lips and brightened his dark eyes. His laughter came easy and full while his touch was gentle.
She enjoyed spending time with him, and tomorrow they’d share the morning, welcoming the sunrise together as they groomed patches of earth in homage to those loved and lost. It was a simple act, yet one she found hugely satisfying.
Above all else, in all situations, God’s timing is perfect.
The words made her circle ‘round once more. Was God’s perfect timing what had brought her back to Clover Cove with a dream of planting roots and building a business? Is it what had forged her and Reese together in the venture…and in friendship that made her pulse drum and sing at the same time?
The thought chased the chill from her bones as she snuggled deeper into the blankets and got lost in the mystery by way of the Word.
7
Peyton shrugged from the flannel shirt she’d donned that morning to ward off the pre-dawn chill. Now, just before noon, sunlight fingered through clouds as a storm moved off to the east.
“Nice shoes.” Reese motioned to the hiking boots on Peyton’s feet. “So you own something besides stilts.”
“I know how to dress for the occasion.” It had dropped a sprinkle of rain earlier, turning her hair to a mass of frizzy waves that escaped a ponytail to dance around her face in an irritating tickle. “Did you leave any dirt on the ground?”
“Sure.” Reese swiped soil from his T-shirt as he adjusted his ball cap, shielding his eyes from the sun. “You pull your weight, you know.”
“Glad you noticed.” She turned to reach for a memorial vase, set it into place in a holder along the side of a wrought-iron bench overlooking the pond and majestic willow. “What do you think of a few blooms here?”
“Nice. Perfect.” He watched her clip the ends of a dozen freesia stems, slip the blooms into the vase. “I’ll get some water.”
When the flowers had their fill of drink, Peyton settled onto the bench to admire the pond, shimmering as sunlight skimmed the surface. Reese joined her.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Peyton sighed as her shoulder brushed his. She settled against him as he rested his arm across the back of the bench, draping her. “Who ever thought a graveyard could be so…peaceful?”
“I come here sometimes to clear my head.” Reese gazed out over the pond. “I don’t know…the willow, the water, they have a calming effect. It usually helps.”
“With your free will?”
He laughed. “Yes, with that.”
“Has it ever gotten you into trouble?”
“More times than I can count.”
“Even now?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I’m more careful in my actions.”
“How so?”
“Deep breaths, prayer.” He turned to face her. “But you saw how much good that did me when I got riled up over the brownstone.”
“You were pretty hot.”
“I let me temper—my will—get the best of me. I almost blew it.”
“So you’re admitting you think my shop is a good idea?”
“I think it’s got merit.” He brushed a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his knuckle. “I also think I’d like to help you make it successful.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
“If I told you, I’d only scare you away.”
“I don’t scare very easily.” Something inside her slipped into place. Was it one of the missing pieces she’d been searching for?
“Even so…” He sighed and motioned away, toward the willow and what was nestled beside it. “It was nice of you to make a special arrangement for Dad’s grave. My mom was so pleased and touched by the gesture. Me, too. It looks great.”
“It’s the least I can do. If it weren’t for your dad starting the nursery, and for Hattie’s generosity in all of this, I’d never have been afforded the opportunity with the floral shop.”
“Funny how it all comes together, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Dad would be pleased to see the results of his venture…how far the business has come. He’d be happy to know Wyatt has finally come home, and that Maddie and Dillon plan to return, as well, as soon as they finish school.”
“You have a big family.”
“Big enough. It gets messy sometimes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You’re lucky. I wish…”
“What do you wish, Peyton?” Reese plucked a bloom of freesia from the vase, handed it to her. “Tell me. What about your dad? He’s proud of you, isn’t he?”
“I suppose he would be. I don’t know for sure.” She dipped her head as tears clouded her vision. “He died just after I started college, and before he had a chance to see what I would become—what I am.”
“Your mom and dad, then—both of them are gone?” His tone, so tender, woke emotions that slept deep inside her.
“That’s right.” The tears spilled over as her voice grew thick. “Now, Kami and Anthony are the closest thing to family that I have. That’s why I want to work here, live here.” She drew a sharp, jagged breath and finished with, “Stay here.”
“I’m sorry.” He drew her in, smoothed a hand over her disheveled hair. The band loosened, and strands spilled free to swirl around her face and stick to the salty tears drying on her cheeks. “No one should be all alone in this world.”
“I’m not alone. I have friends here.”
“You can count me into that group.” He tucked a finger beneath her chin, tipped her head slightly so her gaze connected with his. “And more.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re growing on me, Peyton.”
His gaze held tight to hers, and her pulse skittered at the depth of emotion she found.
“There’s something about you that sticks, and it’s more than the outrageous shoes.”
She managed a slight smile. “Well, I see your compliments have improved by leaps and bounds since yesterday.”
“Seriously. I mean it.” He took her hand, sheltered it in his. “I enjoy spending time with you…very much. I’d like to do more of it, if you feel the same.”
She went stock still, drinking in his words as her heart danced against her chest.
“Nothing?” He leaned in, his breath warm on her cheek. “Not even a murmur in reply to that?”
“I…” She slipped from the bench, put distance between them as she swiped at her eyes. “You shouldn’t get too close. I’m not a very good bet, Reese, at least as far as the relationship department is concerned.”
“I’m not a betting man.” He stood and faced her, his jaw firm as his gaze refused to budge. “And I’m comfortable—more than comfortable—with what we share heading toward something more. Are you OK with that?”
“I want to be, but it depends.” She turned, paced a few steps toward the pond before swinging back. “Is that God’s will talking—or yours?”
****
Reese spent the better part of the next week mulling over Peyton’s words. He threw himself into his work, spending two days sculpting the landscaping around a new pool at the Shelton’s, including a waterfall feature complete with koi pond, and another pair of days at Mom’s readying the grounds for Wyatt and Kami’s wedding.
The work had given him time to think—and allowed him to keep his distance from Peyton while he unscrambled the mass of weird feelings that plagued him. If he could stay away from her for a week without missing her, he’d know for sure that what he felt was just a passing tug of emotions, nothing more.
By the third day, he found excuses to walk by the floral shop, but managed to toss them aside and hold his ground. Finally, though, he gave in to what he’d known from the start.
He liked Peyton too much for his own good.
So, winded and aching from four solid twelve-hour days, he holed up in the nursery office with a supper that consisted of a can of soda and a to-go tin of lasagna from the pizzeria.
“What’s eating at you?” Wyatt strode into the office and rounded the desk to settle into his rolling chair. “It’s not like you to hang around indoors on such a nice day. Besides, you look like the playground bully just nabbed your favorite swing.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“I don’t know.” Reese shrugged. “It’s sort of personal.”
“When has that ever stopped you from spilling your guts?”
“Good point.” Reese wiped his mouth on a napkin, tossed the tin and empty can into the trash and then crossed to the bookshelf. He poured two cups of coffee from the carafe Kami had sent over earlier and considered them one of the bonuses for having her as a soon-to-be-sister-in-law…fresh coffee on demand. “Is Mom around?”
“She’s at the pizzeria, talking to Anthony.”
“Been doing a lot of that lately.”
“I suppose they’re working on details for the wedding.” Wyatt dropped his car keys on the desk along with a song list in Kami’s handwriting that Reese assumed was for the wedding DJ. “You know how Mom is…everything down to a science. She’s trying to coordinate her dress with Anthony’s suit. The details are more drawn out than the war plans for the Battle of Gettysburg.”
“Are you kidding me?” Reese glanced over his shoulder and saw the hallway outside the door was empty of prying ears so he continued. “Poor guy. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
Wyatt switched on the computer, filling the office with the light hum of the hard drive. “What does this have to do with your…thinking?”
“Life goes around, doesn’t it?”
“What?” Wyatt glanced up, scratched his head. “Oh, if this is going to be one of your deep, philosophical conversations that I’m drawn into, I’m going to need one of those cups to bolster me.”
“Yeah, right.” Reese handed him a coffee, then slipped into a chair across from him. He leaned back, propping his feet on the corner of the desk, mindless of the dried mud that fluttered to the floor like breadcrumbs. “Do you think we can build a grafting house here on the premises? There’s room back toward the south end of the lot, behind the rose greenhouse.”
“I’ve crunched the numbers. It’s not—”
“Before you dive into that mumbo jumbo, I’ve crunched some numbers of my own, and drafted a plan.”
“Really?” Wyatt shoved Reese’s feet from the desk, brushed the dirt off with a grimace. “Well, I’d like to see. Hand it over.”
“I knew you would.” Reese pulled a folded slip of paper from his shirt pocket. “So, here you go.”
“That’s it—a piece of crumpled paper?”
“I may not be as neat and orderly as you, with your fancy hanging files and color-coded tabs, but I get the job done.”
“Yeah, right.” Wyatt took the paper. “Let’s see what you’ve come up with.”
“Take your time.” Reese settled back in the chair once more, content to bob one knee in lieu of propping his feet on a corner of Wyatt’s work space. He sipped his coffee as his proposal was scrutinized with a fine-tooth comb. “I think you’ll like what you see.”
“Maybe.”
Two cups of coffee and a dozen questions later, Wyatt set the paper on the
desk, sighed, and flashed a smile.
Reese nudged him. “Well?”
“Good work. It’s definitely doable.”
“I knew it.”
“So, it looks like you’re giving up the brownstone to Peyton for good?”
“Looks that way.”
“I assume she’s planning to stay, then?”
“She’s determined to.” Reese ran a hand along his jaw. “I hope so.”
“You do, huh?” Wyatt drained his cup, eyeing Reese over the rim. “Your change of heart puzzles me. Is there anything more I should know?”
“When the time is right.”
“Not yet, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then…” Wyatt took Reese’s proposal and began to type notes into his computer. “I suppose we should run this by Mom, just for formalities, though I know she’ll be all in. When do you want to get started?”
“Early next week, if I can line everything up. I’ll make some calls this afternoon to get the ball rolling so we’ll be finished before the wedding. A lot of the work I can do myself, if Marcus can handle the bulk of the deliveries for the next few weeks.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll put him on it.”
“Thanks.” Reese glanced through the window, saw Peyton crossing the lot. His pulse kicked up a notch, though he tried his best to tame it. He’d made it a full four days—well, three-and-a-half—without seeing her. That, in itself, was a marathon. “I have to go. Looks like Peyton needs something.”
“And the plot thickens.” Laughter rumbled from Wyatt’s chest. “Go get her.”
8
Peyton rounded the corner of the parking lot as Reese stepped from the office. “Have I done something wrong?”
He put on the breaks before he stumbled into her. “No. Of course not.”
“Then, why are you avoiding me?” Both hands went to her hips as she narrowed her gaze at him.