by Lyn Cote
Jo had trouble breathing.
“No! I know where the person lives,” Tassie objected. “I’ll be there and back before you know I’m gone.” With that, Tassie picked up the arrangement and left via the front door.
Only inches apart, Bram and Jo looked at each other. The space between them vibrated with tension.
Jo felt frozen in place. She rarely let herself be alone like this with men. That must be why an overwhelming awareness of Bram lapped over her in waves. Everything about him shouted masculinity! His strength and the force of his personality rolled through her like thunder. It wasn’t just that he was a good-looking man. He was a man who loved his sister very much and was willing to put that love into action by caring for her.
Jo realized she was clutching a roll of floral tape like a life line. With trembling fingers, she forced herself to lay it down on the counter. She racked her brain for something to talk about, any topic. She closed her eyes. But her brain only taunted her as she imagined Bram pulling her close, leaning down and…kissing her. She opened her eyes. And found Bram’s lips only a breath from hers. “Bram,” she whispered.
“Why can’t I get you out of my mind?” he murmured in reply.
“I…I…”
He kissed her—softly. Just a touch of his lips over hers, the brush of a dragonfly’s wing.
Jo’s world stood on end. Don’t kiss me. Kiss me again. But all she managed was a sigh.
The kiss ended and Bram gazed into her eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that.” But he didn’t sound sorry, just…surprised. Did he feel the way she did—astounded?
“Jo!” Aunty Becky’s voice interrupted the moment.
Bram took a step backward and Jo swiveled her stool to face Aunty Becky as she walked in from the rear.
The woman stopped in her tracks and grinned. Jo’s flushed face and Bram’s guilty expression must have told her all she needed to know.
The next morning, Jo sat at Hannah’s table in her breakfast nook. Usually Jo felt at her best when spending time with her two lifelong friends. Now, however, she felt like a traitor to them. She couldn’t let on about her secret kiss. Consequently, she couldn’t relax. She felt as if she’d swallowed a beehive.
Her stomach buzzed and she wondered if she could keep down more than a cup of coffee. But only inches away, Hannah’s delectable pecan rolls beckoned with an indescribable fragrance. Jo gave in to temptation and reached for one.
“What’s up with you, Jo?” Elizabeth asked.
Jo stopped with the roll halfway to her mouth. Busted. Had Bram’s kiss left an indelible mark on her—only visible to her two dearest friends?
Stalling, Jo took a bite of the roll and savored its buttery caramel sweetness and rich pecan flavor while thinking of a good alibi. “I’m bummed about this ankle,” she excused herself. “I’ll be going into my busy season soon—Easter lilies, spring weddings, graduations, proms, bridal showers, Mother’s Day.”
“Hey! Spring is my busiest season, too,” Elizabeth, the most successful and sassiest Realtor in town, interrupted her. “But you look…I don’t know…different somehow.” Elizabeth looked to Hannah. “Is it just my imagination?”
“No,” Hannah said as she scrutinized Jo, “something’s got her upset. What is it?”
Acknowledging defeat, Jo dropped the roll onto her plate. “Well, if you must know—it’s Bram Dixon.”
“Uh oh,” Hannah intoned. “He isn’t getting to you, is he?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Elizabeth joined in. “What’s this I hear about him camping at your shop every afternoon?”
Leaning her elbows on the embroidered tablecloth, Jo put her head into her hands. Her thoughts whirled in her mind. “He haunts the place. I can’t get rid of him.”
“Doesn’t he trust you with his sister?” Hannah asked. “Everyone says he’s overprotective. He positively hovers over the poor child.”
“That’s not fair,” Jo snapped, putting down her hands. “He loves Tassie very much.”
“Are you weakening on us, Jo?” Hannah demanded.
“No,” Jo placed her hands on her hips and stared her friends down. “I have no intention of giving in to this sudden frailty. But I’m still human, aren’t I? And Bramwell Dixon is temptation spelled out in big bright-red capitals.”
“We all pledged to keep away from men,” Hannah said. “Year after year, I host weddings in the house and my gardens. And year after year, I watch those marriages break apart.” Hannah frowned, but she seemed to be inside herself, deep in remembrances.
Jo waited.
Hannah looked up. “You have a good life, Jo. Do you want to ruin it by getting involved with a man just because he’s good-looking? And you know he almost went pro. He must have an ego the size of Alaska.”
“He does not,” Jo defended him in spite of herself. “Bram was irritating at my cousin’s reception, but since then I’ve found him to be kind and caring.” The truth was the truth.
“Honey, don’t get sucked in by his finer qualities.” Elizabeth gripped Jo’s arm. “Just remember no matter how pleasant it feels in the beginning, it will only bring you tears and regret in the end.”
Jo’s intransigence crumbled. Her hands slid from her hips and she took Hannah’s hand and one of Elizabeth’s and gave her friends a tremulous smile. “That’s what I needed to hear.”
“You’re not giving in to this, right?” Hannah met Jo’s eyes.
“No, not an inch.” Jo said staunchly, feeling hollow all the same. Bram had devastated her with just one kiss.
Hannah squeezed Jo’s hand and so did Elizabeth.
“Just remember what happened to our mothers,” Elizabeth reminded her. “Our daddies all betrayed them.”
“Yes, it’s unpleasant, but true,” Hannah pronounced, “in the end, men bring only trouble. We learned that from our own families and from Johnny….” Hannah’s voice faltered and she looked away.
“So are we standing by our pledge—no men, friends forever,” Elizabeth asked.
“Right,” Jo assented. But that kiss possessed an unforeseen power over me and that makes it all the harder. This is going to be tough, Lord. But help me to keep my emotional distance from Bram, especially at church tomorrow. It wouldn’t work out between him and me. I’m sure Bram will make some woman a great husband someday. I can’t be untrusting and have a marriage turn out right. That alone would doom us to failure for sure. And I just don’t have the faith it takes to trust a man with my heart.
“Amen,” the congregation said together at the end of the pastor’s prayer. And they all sat down, rustling and whispering to children and spouses. Jo sat in her usual pew halfway up the aisle on the west side. She liked to have a good view of the stained-glass window depicting John the Baptist baptizing Jesus in the Jordan River. Jo had always loved Christ’s sweet expression as he looked heavenward. Today, she drew as much peace as she could from it.
On one side of her sat Aunt Becky, as usual. On the other sat Tassie and Bram. Did they have to sit with her? Didn’t Bram realize that this would start the gossip grapevine churning out all kinds of foolish speculation about them being a couple?
At that moment, she glanced toward him and their eyes met. She felt her face flood with a warm blush. All she could think of was how his lips had felt on hers. I shouldn’t be thinking about that in church of all places.
Bram found he was having a hard time keeping his attention forward. Jo’s short, spiky red hair acted like a beacon in the church. His eyes kept turning to her.
Why did I kiss her? What was I thinking? I shouldn’t mislead her into thinking I want to start a relationship with her. I don’t have what it takes to keep a woman. I learned that years ago.
Bram shut down his mind and focused on the pastor. That’s what I’m here for anyway—to listen to the sermon. It felt good to be in the house of the Lord again. Throughout his childhood, his grandmother and aunt had herded his sisters and him to church every week. This would
be good for Tassie, too.
“Our scripture today,” the pastor said, “is found in Hebrews 11:1, ‘To have faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see.’” The man at the pulpit looked out over them. “Our trust in God is crucial to our joy and outlook in this life and our relationships with those around us. Christ promises us a peace that passes all understanding, but only if we keep our hearts turned to him, only if we have faith in his ability to work for our good—no matter what the circumstances. What men tear down because of their imperfection, God can rebuild. Do you believe that?
“What problems are you trying to solve without God’s help? What sorrows have you found yourself unable to heal from? What areas of your life haven’t you surrendered to God?”
Bram felt each of the pastor’s gentle words burn him like a fiery dart. The problem he was trying to solve was how to help Tassie grow up and have a good future. As the last few weeks had passed, he’d tried to keep his focus on that. But his unruly mind drifted back to his ex-fiancée Marsha, to his last year in college when they’d been engaged to marry. The same year he’d been forced by an injury to give up any thought of a pro football career. That old ache hadn’t released its hold on him. And it still gripped him painfully. He nearly rubbed the area around his heart.
What a fool I was to think that I was lovable and that Marsha loved me. She saw right through me. I wasn’t anybody special even if I could run with a football. He glanced once more at Jo. Could he trust her? Why am I asking myself that? I’m not looking for love. I just want to do a good job with my team and in raising Tassie. That’s enough.
Finally, the pastor signaled them to rise for the closing hymn, “Under His Wings.” Bram shared a hymnal with Tassie and sang, “Under His wings I am safely abiding, though the night deepens and tempests are wild. Still I can trust Him. I know He will keep me; He has redeemed me and I am His child.” Bram let bittersweet memories of singing this hymn with his grandmother, aunt and all his sisters around him come. His family had splintered and now he only had Tassie, but for such a short time. Then he’d be alone again.
The song ended with the chorus, “Under His wings who from His love can sever?” Not alone. I was forgetting you, God. Bram’s heart swelled with a sudden feeling of God’s pleasure. Sorry I’ve been away so long, Lord. But I’m back. “Under His wings—” Bram filled his lungs with air, letting the joy of finding God again come up through him with the song’s melody “—my soul shall abide, safely abide forever.”
The organ swelled with the postlude and then chatter broke out all around him. “Hey! Coach!” Adam Norton, one of his freshman players, bounded up the aisle and grabbed his hand. “Great to see you in church today, sir.” But Adam’s gaze merely grazed Bram and settled onto Tassie.
“This is my sister, Tassie,” Bram said.
“Hi,” Adam said, his gaze not wavering from Tassie’s face.
“Hi,” Tassie returned, blushing bright pink.
Bram tried to figure out if Adam had said something to embarrass his sister. What was upsetting about “Hi?”
“You should come to our youth group, Tassie,” Adam said, his voice coming out in a rush. “It’s on Wednesday evenings at six-thirty. I never miss it.”
“I’ll th-think about it,” Tassie stuttered and blushed more.
Bram finally got it, and was amused. Puppy love at first sight. And in church. What could be safer?
He looked over Tassie’s head and made eye contact with Jo for the first time that day. He read his assessment of Tassie and Adam reflected in her eyes.
This gave him a swift kick. He’d asked Jo to help him with Tassie, but he hadn’t realized how nice it would feel to have someone to share his sister with. It was almost like having a real family.
Chapter Six
Late the next Saturday afternoon, Jo reclined on her sofa while Bram ran the vacuum back and forth over her living-room carpet. Bram was free to come over because Tassie was at the brand-new library with a friend doing homework. Jo clutched her mug of tea with both hands which itched to yank the vacuum’s cord out of the wall socket. Why wouldn’t the man take no for an answer?
The wail of the sweeper cut off suddenly. “Thank you, Bram,” she said, steel in her tone. “You’ve done enough. You don’t have to do anything more. This is your day off.”
Her words evidently fell on deaf ears because with a snap, the man wound up the cord and put away the vacuum in the broom closet. Then, with intense concentration, he began swinging the sagging door to her bedroom back and forth, watching it as it scraped the carpet.
She in turn couldn’t stop herself as she also concentrated on the way the muscles of his back moved under his shirt. She clutched the mug so tightly her fingertips felt numb.
“This door needs planing,” he said, completely unconcerned about his effect on her, “I’ll go out and get my planer from the truck. And I need to tighten the hinges.”
“Bram!” Jo called to his back already in the kitchen, “you don’t need to do this.”
He halted and turned around. He braced his hands on both sides of the door frame, leaning toward her. His broad shoulders filled the doorway. “Jo, just relax and drink your tea. Why fuss? You’re helping me. I’m helping you. What’s the big deal?” He left her, running down the wooden steps outside, making them rattle.
“The big deal, Bramwell Dixon, is that you are a constant temptation to me,” she muttered to herself. “This is wearing me out.” And worst of all, she felt herself weakening under wave after wave of Bram’s tender care over the past week. One by one, he was repairing all the little things around the shop and apartment that had long needed the attention of a handyman. Now, none of her sinks or faucets dripped. She had new electrical switches. Today he’d mopped her floors and vacuumed her carpeting. And now he was doing something to her sagging door. It was more temptation than she could bear!
Whistling, Bram came back inside, letting the door slam behind him. “It’s a lovely day outside. April is almost here. It’s too bad you can’t get out for a walk. How’s that ankle doing? Any better?”
His jaunty whistling did things to the hair on the back of her neck. She ignored his question. Did he have to be concerned about her health and happiness into the bargain? Was he trying to drive her stark raving mad?
She again stared helplessly at him as he began removing screws from her bedroom door hinges with a whirring electric drill. When he finished and put down the drill, he turned to her. “Did Tassie say anything to you about youth group?”
She tried to block out the high wattage of his smile and how it sent shivers through her. “You mean did she say anything to me about Adam Norton?” she asked archly.
“Well, did she?” Bram picked up his drill.
“She enjoyed it very much, and yes—” Jo watched how his deep-brown eyes didn’t leave hers as he listened to her “—she had a few nice…very carefully chosen words to say about your freshman quarterback.”
“Which were?”
She hesitated, feeling herself warm under his gaze.
He grinned suddenly. “Come on. Don’t make me beg, just tell me, okay?”
“She said that he introduced her to everyone, that everyone was very nice to her and that Adam was a gentleman. Evidently, he opened a few doors for her.” Jo smirked in spite of herself.
“You women are so easy.” Bram chuckled and turned away. “We open a few doors for you and you fall at a man’s feet.”
Jo tried to analyze his tone. It was in part teasing and in part something else. What? Bitter?
Bram lifted the freed door off its hinges and then stood it up against the wall. “I’ll take this outside into the alley. I don’t want to get wood shavings on this rug.” But, making no move to leave, he leaned his shoulder against the vacant doorjamb. “This is okay, right? I mean Adam and Tassie getting to know one another. He’s a good kid. But…” He shrugged. “Help me out here.”
His
sincere love for his sister whirled, swirled through her, taking no prisoners. “Why aren’t you married?” Jo blurted out and then felt like clamping her hands over her mouth. Where had that come from?
Bram eyed Jo. Why had she asked him that? It didn’t sound like her. And not all women had marriage on their mind. Some just liked to add another name to their list of conquests. He’d learned that sobering fact long ago. But he wouldn’t talk about that to an innocent like Jo. “I’m not much for romance.”
“Me neither.”
Bram nodded, feeling solemn. The little she’d revealed to him about her father abandoning her family gave him a pretty good idea why she agreed with him on this subject. When she didn’t look away, he dredged up some words to satisfy her. “I guess I got…I think jaded is the word. You know, when you’re a football player, women act strange around you.”
“You mean they throw themselves at you?” Jo’s mouth quirked into a wry smile. “What does it feel like to be a rock star?”
He grinned back at her, but felt the familiar dull sadness inside. “Mick Jagger—I’m not. But I did feel often that they didn’t care anything about the man inside the jersey. They didn’t care about Bram, just the quarterback. It’s a humiliating experience.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Jo looked abashed. “I guess I thought men don’t care about a how a woman feels about them—”
“As long as we’re getting what we want?” His light tone had converted into harsh sarcasm.
She blushed and lowered her eyes. “Sorry. I should know by now that you’re not a taker. You’re a giver.”
Her words blessed him. “Thank you, Jo.” His voice thickened with feeling. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received.”
She shook her head as though shaking off his thanks. “Tassie needs new clothes.”
“What?” Jo’s swift switch of topics caught him unprepared. “What do you mean?”