Listen to Your Heart

by Irene Brand

  Seeing that Laurel was alone, he asked what had happened last night. She told him quickly, and he said, “We can’t let this go on much longer. We need to contact the police or at least get the telephone company to trace the calls.”

  She didn’t have time to respond as Debbie came out of the house carrying a plastic tablecloth from the house. “Hey, Micah,” she said, “help me spread this on the serving table.”

  Micah had his back to the garden gate when Pastor Jensen peered over the fence and beckoned his parishioners to come closer. In a loud chorus, they shouted, “Happy ‘Over the Hill’ birthday, Micah.”

  The surprise on Micah’s face was ludicrous as he whirled to face them. Astonished, he turned to Laurel.

  “How did you know?”

  Laughingly, she said, “The day you came to Oaklawn, you mentioned that you’d have your half-century birthday on the last day of June. It seemed like a good excuse to have a party.”

  “I haven’t celebrated my birthday for years, but thanks.”

  Eyes alight with an expression that made her blood tingle, Micah squeezed her hand before he walked to the gate and greeted everyone as they entered the garden. Not only did they bring food, but they had their lawn chairs, folding tables and two more grills. In a short time, more than fifty people had gathered in the garden area. While several of the women helped Laurel and Debbie organize the food, Pastor Jensen, Kevin Cooper and another man took charge of cooking the meat.

  Seeing that many people were carrying greeting cards, Laurel brought a basket and set it on the corner of the serving table to hold the cards. She had a feeling that Micah hadn’t had a lot of personal attention in his life, and it was heartwarming to see her church family gathering Micah into the fellowship. So much food had been brought that Laurel had Cousin Kevin bring out a folding table from the basement to display the food.

  The pastor’s wife had made a chocolate cake with dark chocolate icing, and she’d placed fifty black candles on it.

  It took four attempts before Micah blew out all the candles.

  No one seemed to be in a hurry to leave, but at four o’clock, Debbie said, “Everyone, I have to leave for work. Thanks for coming and continue to have fun.”

  Kevin looked at his watch and jumped to his feet. “Four o’clock!” he said. “I have an appointment in thirty minutes. Thanks for the party, Laurel. Happy Birthday, Micah.”

  In less than an hour, no one was left in the garden except Laurel and Micah. Since many of her friends had hugged Laurel when they left and thanked her for the party, Micah put his arms around her and drew her close.

  “What a nice thing to do for me,” he murmured into the fragrance of her soft hair. “And what a great group of people. I’ve never enjoyed a birthday more. When I’m on assignment I lose track of the date, and sometimes my birthday comes and goes before I remember it. But I won’t forget this one.”

  His strong arms around her gave Laurel such a sense of security that she would have been content to stay there forever. But she was in no position to start a romance. With the heavy suspense hanging over her, she couldn’t think any further than Debbie’s wedding.

  Reluctantly, she slipped from his arms. “Let’s sit down for a while and then you can help me carry things into the house. It’s been fun, but I’m bushed, and I’ll be glad for a little peace and quiet. Our congregation is a noisy bunch when they’re having fun.”

  “But it’s quite an experience for me to see the close fellowship you have. I’m beginning to realize what I’ve missed by worshiping in private. And the pastor’s message this morning changed my life. I want you to be the first to know that after we came home from church, I accepted Jesus as my personal Savior.”

  This time Laurel initiated the hug as she put her arms around Micah’s waist and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He pulled her into a closer embrace and tipped her chin. A tender smile hovered around his lips as he bent to her. Laurel made no attempt to avoid his seeking mouth, but lifted her face eagerly. The long kiss brought happiness too deep for words, but Laurel soon pulled away from him.

  She’d made up her mind not long after Jason died that she wouldn’t marry another person who didn’t accept her faith. And in the past few days when she’d considered her growing feelings for Micah, she couldn’t see any reason not to love him except the differences in their spiritual beliefs. That was no longer a problem.

  Micah touched the soft curve of her cheek. “Should I apologize for being so impetuous?”

  She shook her head, and he heard a soft sniffle.

  “I’m fond of you, Laurel, or I wouldn’t have kissed you. You haven’t known me very long, but let me assure you that I’m not one of these guys who have a girl in every port.”

  “Please, Micah, let’s not talk about it. I’ll admit that I liked your kiss, or I wouldn’t have responded like I did. But I’ve got a lot on my mind this summer.”

  She was somewhat disappointed when he said, “I understand,” and started picking up dishes to carry inside.

  “You don’t have to help this time. Today’s your birthday. Look at your cards while I clear the table and put things in the dishwasher.”

  He was chuckling over Debbie’s card when she returned to the garden. A large 50 covered the front of the card, and the inside caption read, “But who’s counting?”

  “I can’t believe you and your friends would do all this for me,” he said. “I’m embarrassed by so much attention.”

  “They’re a wonderful church family. I couldn’t have weathered my many crises without their support. There comes a time when you can’t handle things alone.”

  He continued opening his birthday cards. He didn’t recognize all of the names, but he was touched by the warm messages the cards conveyed. Laurel directed a smile toward him when he read the last card aloud. “The more you have the sweeter they are.”

  Believing that Laurel wanted to be alone, he stood up, saying, “Would you like for me to leave these cards so you can read them?” he said. “These total more cards than I’ve received in my previous fifty years.”

  “Yes, I’ll read them before I go to bed.”

  “I’ve got a long trip planned for tomorrow, and I have some computer work to do.”

  Micah wanted the feel of Laurel in his arms, and he wondered if he’d be out of line to hug her again. Deciding it was worth a try, he took her hand and pulled her toward him. She came willingly, and holding her loosely in his arms, he said, “Thanks again. It’s been a wonderful day.”

  Her lips were slightly parted as she leaned back in his arms and looked up at him. Although wanting to kiss that sensitive mouth again, with a sigh, he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Micah’s eyes caught and held hers for a long moment before he released her and left the garden. He couldn’t promise Laurel anything yet, so he needed to curb his emotions.

  Chapter Eight

  Micah spent five days in New York, but he phoned Laurel each day to check on her. When she got up on Saturday morning, she saw that Micah had come home sometime in the night, and her pulse raced at the thought of seeing him again.

  It had rained most of the week, and she hadn’t been able to work outside. She’d spent her time refinishing the stair treads on the main staircase, and the house smelled of varnish and oils. She and Debbie had used the rear staircase to reach their rooms.

  She wanted to put another coat on the stairs today, but when the grass dried, she’d have to start mowing. So much work to do, so little time to do it. And she was worried about her finances, too, because Pete had called this morning saying that the barn roof needed replacing because a large tree had fallen on it.

  When Debbie came downstairs for breakfast and found Laurel tallying up planned wedding expenses, she finally put her foot down and demanded that her mother forget about buying new draperies for the downstairs.

  “Mom,” Debbie said in exasperation. “We don’t have the money to buy new draperies. Most of the wedding guest
s won’t even be in the house, and besides, they’ve all seen the house like it is. I’ve never known you to be so reckless in spending money. Don’t you know how guilty I feel that you’re spending so much money for a one-day event?”

  Tears welled in Laurel’s eyes, and she buried her head on the table. “It’s not a one-day event,” she said. “You’ll only have one first wedding day, and I want it to be one you will remember.”

  Debbie knelt by her mother’s chair. “Mom, I will remember it. But I won’t remember it with pleasure if you’re left with a lot of bills to pay. And, please, don’t buy that sterling silver flatware for our wedding gift. You’ve sacrificed for me all of my life. I appreciate that. It’s the only gift I want from you. Please.”

  Laurel nodded, and for one of the few times in her life, she felt like unleashing her anger on Debbie. She got up from the table and went out on the porch to prepare to varnish. If she stayed any longer, she’d say things she’d regret.

  “Mom,” Debbie beseeched.

  “Leave me alone, Debbie. You’ve made your point, and I’ll do what you say. I won’t discuss it anymore.”

  Debbie turned away with a bleak expression in her eyes and went upstairs, and Laurel was sorry for her attitude. But Debbie didn’t seem to understand her position. How could she explain to Debbie the empty feeling that, after looking after her for twenty-two years, she would no longer be needed? Or how it saddened her that Debbie would be living in Colorado, and she’d only see her two or three times a year? Or how confining it was to be tied to Oaklawn, trying to maintain it for Debbie and her future children? Or how she dreaded the thought of being alone day after day?

  Maybe she’d made a mistake by not defying her in-laws and moving out of their house and making a life of her own. Cousin Kevin had often told her that she wasn’t being fair to herself or to Debbie by allowing Debbie’s interests to monopolize her time. More than once, he’d said, “Sell Oaklawn and forget about your promise to Jason’s parents. You devoted many years to them, and they should never have tried to control your future.”

  As Laurel carefully applied the final coat of finish to the broad stair treads, her anger cooled somewhat, and she supposed she would have to apologize to Debbie. Goodness knows, her daughter had never asked for much. Laurel had always anticipated Debbie’s wishes and provided them.

  Up until this moment, Laurel had believed that she was a strong-willed person. Now she wondered if she was weak—depending on others for her motivation in life. Was she always going to be a mirror reflecting the desires of others? Was it time for her to assert herself and do what she wanted for a change?

  Conscience-stricken over such a selfish thought, she remembered the Bible taught the way to serve God was to serve others. Well, she’d done that, and received little thanks for it, she thought rebelliously. She’d been a dutiful daughter-in-law, caring for her husband’s ailing parents as if they were her own. She’d tried to be both mother and father to Debbie. And she’d been active in the mission work of the local church. She couldn’t regret doing what she had, but was it time for her to become reckless? Her response to Micah’s caresses had convinced her that she could embrace a new life. After all, forty-two wasn’t too old for many things—love included.

  As her rebellious thoughts continued, she decided it was time for her to make a statement and change her old life. She was tired of red hair, and she daringly thought she might try a new color. She’d go to the beauty stop every week, instead of every few months when she needed a haircut. She’d start getting weekly manicures, maybe even have a pedicure. She wouldn’t even rule out a monthly massage. The idea of doing what she wanted to do was becoming more and more appealing. Applying the varnish with swift, broad strokes, she was impulsively considering a weekly massage when her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the porch door.

  “Who is it?” she demanded.

  “Micah.”

  “Just a minute,” she said, and her good humor was restored instantly. She laid aside the brush and went to the door.

  Micah was dressed in denim shorts and a sleeveless shirt that emphasized his muscular arms and shoulders.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” he said in a servile tone and touched an imaginary cap. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but ’pears to me your grass needs cuttin’. Could you furnish a meal for a poor man in exchange for a day’s work?”

  Micah had quickly noticed Laurel’s reddened eyes and her drooping lips. She brightened at his levity.

  “The lady of the house can provide a meal in short order, but she’s expecting to mow the grass herself this afternoon.”

  She unlatched the door, and he stepped inside. Sniffing, he said, “Painting something?”

  “Refinishing the staircase. I’ve been at it all week. I’m going to keep working so the brush won’t dry, but help yourself to a cup of coffee in the kitchen.”

  “No, thanks. I was joking. I just had a combined breakfast and lunch. I’ve had a rough week, so I slept late this morning. I’m serious about mowing the lawn. I’d enjoy it.” He held out his hand. “Give me the key to the outbuilding. The grass is dry enough to start now.”

  She searched his eyes and knew he wanted to help her. She was so unaccustomed to having people concerned about her that it was little wonder that she’d been drawn to Micah right from the start.

  “My hands are sticky, but you’ll find the key hanging on a hook in the kitchen. It’s labeled Garden House. Thanks, Micah.”

  Laurel was busily stroking the steps with the brush and humming a hymn when he returned from the kitchen. She dimpled at him. “I’ll have your meal ready when you finish your work.”

  He shook his head. “I was joking about that. But I do expect to be paid,” he said in mock severity.

  “How’s that?”

  “If I mow the grass for you, that should buy you some extra time. I’m going to research another home near Knoxville on Monday. I want you to go with me.”

  Laurel opened her mouth to refuse, but she suddenly remembered her resolution to start living recklessly.

  “I’ll do it,” she said, “but I’ll still expect you for supper.”

  “You’ve talked me into it.”

  As he turned toward the porch, she said, “By the way, I’m going to dye my hair brown.”

  Micah’s jaw dropped and he gasped. His response amused her. “I take it you don’t approve.”

  “If you dye your hair, I may have to turn you over my knee…”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she said, and her eyes glinted dangerously. He dodged instinctively as the varnish brush winged toward him, but he reached out a deft hand and caught it by the handle.

  “How dare you throw a brush at me,” he said as he struggled to control his laughter. “That was an idle threat intended to intimidate you, but I see it didn’t work. I wouldn’t dream of striking you, but why would you want to dye your hair?”

  “I’ve decided to live recklessly.”

  “If you want to live recklessly, take a raft trip down the Grand Canyon or climb Mount Everest. Please don’t dye your beautiful hair.” He took a step toward her and handed her the brush. “I can’t imagine you without red hair.”

  Ashamed of her sudden burst of temper and touched by the distress in his strong face, she said softly, “I promise I won’t dye my hair. I’ll find some other way to prove my independence.”

  He moved toward the door, and when he was a safe distance from the lethal varnish brush, he said, “On second thought, maybe you should change the color of your hair. I’ve always heard that red hair and temper are interlinked. If you have brown hair, it might be more peaceful around here.”

  He dodged out the door, but he heard her call, “Coward!” Micah grinned widely because he’d detected the sound of laughter in her voice.

  They started at nine o’clock on Monday morning. As they drove through Knoxville, they saw Kevin entering his office. Micah tooted the horn. Kevin turned from the doorway and returned
Laurel’s wave.

  “I didn’t see him at church yesterday,” Micah said.

  “He left a week ago to visit one of his daughters in Florida. I didn’t know he was home.”

  Micah’s goal for the day was to research and photograph one of the oldest brick houses in western Tennessee. The house, now operated as a museum, had been built when the area was still endangered from Cherokee threats. It resembled a fort more than a dwelling. The outer walls, eighteen inches thick, had portholes, and the attic had windows designed to be used by sharpshooters. The near-flat roof originally had a lookout post. Massive double shutters were designed to protect the great windows in time of attack, and a place of refuge had been constructed in the cellars. For emergency escapes, there was a trapdoor on the second floor leading to a hidden closet at ground level, and an underground passage providing access to the barn.

  Laurel stayed close to Micah as he took numerous photos on several different cameras. She didn’t want to break his concentration, so she spoke very little as he made notes and took measurements of some features of the house. Laurel was naturally interested in seeing historic houses since she’d lived in one for so long. She welcomed a chance to see other old dwellings, especially when it provided an opportunity to spend the day with Micah. They left the old landmark at four o’clock.

  “I’m hungry,” Micah said. “That package of crackers and can of iced tea at lunch didn’t satisfy my hunger. It’s early, but let’s stop at a restaurant.”

  They lingered long over their meal, enjoying being together, and it was almost eight o’clock when they got home.

  “It’s been a wonderful day,” Laurel said as Micah turned off the highway into Oaklawn’s driveway.

  He laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. “It’s always a wonderful day when I’m with you,” he said softly. “I—” He braked sharply, forgetting what he’d intended to say.