It was a useful question. “Yes and no. Yes, I think I’m strong enough to go through with it. But if I do, it has to be for the right reasons and right now, the only thing feeding that strength is a desire to watch Frank and his cronies fall.”
“That’s not true.” She said it with an unsettling certainty. How could she know?
“What do you mean?”
Dinah pulled a large crockery bowl out from yet another cabinet and began dumping flour into it. No measuring spoons, no recipe, just handfuls of flour. More science than art?
“I mean if all you really wanted was to get this Frank character, you’d be waging war by now. Revenge is mostly an impatient business. Sure, you’ve got a tangle of motives in you, but come on, who doesn’t?”
She stirred the flour with her hands, considered it for a moment, then added half a handful more. “Who didn’t? Moses, David, Jacob—the Bible’s full of guys with mixed motives. David was rather eloquent in his calls for revenge, if I remember. The man had enemies.”
She looked up at him with an arched eyebrow. “Chocolate or peanut butter?”
“Huh?”
“Given our limited resources, you’ve got only two flavor choices. Chocolate or peanut butter?”
That wasn’t even really a choice. “Chocolate.”
She smiled. “Man after my own heart.”
Cameron realized he wasn’t really participating, just watching her bake, but that was fine with him. There was something completely mesmerizing about watching that woman in her element.
“You’re thinking, praying, trying to figure out what God wants and how best you can honor Him.” She pointed at Cameron with a white-dusted finger. “And you’re forgetting that if you really are seeking to honor God, He’ll honor whatever choice you end up making.”
“Even if I choose to sue just to watch Frank squirm?”
“You won’t, but if you did, I think God could do loads with that scenario. Pastor Anderson says we never learn half as much from the easy stuff as we do from the hard stuff.” Her hand stilled for a moment, lying limp in the bowl. “I must be brilliant this month.”
“It’s that hard?” He wasn’t doubting her—not for a moment—it was more like he was asking her to open up and talk about it.
She peeled the lid off the can of shortening and sent a dollop or two into the bowl. Not a calorie counter, this woman. Nor a big fan of watching fat content, either. “I’m trying to keep my head above water, but it just gets…harder.” She’d started stirring and the spoon clanked harder against the bowl as she spoke. “More papers, more memories, more loose ends, more stuff to try and figure out what to do with.” Her voice caught on the last few words.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. It wasn’t a gesture. It was more an impulse. He simply moved in and grabbed the spoon from her hand, taking up the stirring from where she left off. “Then let someone help out.” It didn’t matter that he almost whispered it, for he was right beside her now. “Community, remember? You taught me that.”
She let her head fall against his shoulder and it felt as if his whole body had just been waiting for her. Cameron tried to get his breath back from the place it had run off to when she touched him. He had known girls for years, pursued a certain woman for months in college, yet never felt what just shot through him…what he realized had been shooting through him from the moment he met her. Oh, Lord, don’t be cruel enough to let me want this if I shouldn’t have it. It’d be so easy to mess this up. To let it mess everything else up for both of us. He closed his eyes as he stirred, unable to stop the moment from seeping into him, from changing him somehow. Something deep down settled into place—without asking permission but welcome on such an essential level he was powerless to refuse it.
“Come home.” He’d tried not to say that even with all of Middleburg behind him wanting it. He was here to help her get through a tough time and he wanted badly to see her again, but certainly not to make demands or commands. Hadn’t she had enough people in her life demanding she “come home”? She stiffened and he knew it for the misstep it was.
She pulled away and looked at him warily. “This is my home, Cameron. I was born here. This is my house now.” Her words were low and clipped.
“Look, that was out of line, I know. It’s just that…well, you’re so…unhappy.”
She shifted her weight onto one hip like she always did when she was angry. “My mother just died. I think I’ve got every right to be unhappy.”
Cameron groaned, angry at his choice of words but still desperate to say what he was now feeling. “It’s more than that. You have every right to be sad, to grieve. You lost your mom at the worst possible moment before you had a chance to put things right. I think what’s happened to you is awful. It’s unfair. It’s tragic—and most things we use that word for hardly ever qualify, but this does.” He walked away from the mixing bowl on the counter, away from her accusing eyes. “It’s so obvious to me that you don’t belong here that it’s making me nuts to watch you try and convince yourself.” He gestured around the bland kitchen. “This isn’t you. Okay, it’s your history, it’s your childhood home, I get that. But it’s not who you are. I stand in Taste and See and you’re everywhere. Your touch is all over the color of walls and the way the customers stay and talk and the crazy-hued sugar bowls you use. Your wacky-colored personality is so inside my head that I had to come find you because I couldn’t make this decision without talking to you.” He froze, completely unaware of that fact until it leaped out of his mouth. He sunk against the wall, stunned. “Look, I don’t know how it happened, but at some point I started needing you around. It may be for all the wrong reasons, but even that doesn’t change that it’s obvious staying here won’t do you any good.”
What did he just say? He needed her? Dinah’s head was swimming—she was surprised, angry and more than a little taken aback by what she’d felt when she put her head on his shoulder. “And how do you know me well enough to say something like that?” she asked defensively.
He looked at her. “That’s just it. I don’t know you that well, so I don’t have all the cartloads of emotional baggage you’re dealing with. You know what I see when I look at this house? I see why you left. Taste and See is who you are and Taste and See can’t happen here. Even if you painted this house eleven different colors, you don’t belong in a nice, tidy suburb like this. You belong in Middleburg. I wouldn’t need to know you a year to see that.”
“How do I know I can’t be here? When have I ever given it a chance?” Dinah thought about the day she left, the defiance that practically flowed in her veins as she piled the few possessions she cared about in her car and drove out of her past. She’d thought that way once, that New Jersey couldn’t ever hold her for long. Now the ache of her absence brought her nothing but a potent regret that clawed at her heart every moment since learning Mom was sick.
“You once told me,” he replied, “that the one thing you were sure about in life was that God drew you to Middleburg.” He took one step toward her and she felt herself bristle. “Your mom’s death doesn’t change that. The same God who drew you there drew you back here on His timing. Maybe…maybe all your mom needed was what she got. She didn’t need you to come back and play the noble caretaker. She just needed to know that you would have. What if she just needed you to come home once, to be willing, and God knew that?”
That had to be wrong. There was so much left to repair, so many things to settle. The God she knew didn’t take such shortcuts. “No.” She stood there, unable to say more, until finally she stared at him and said, “Cameron Rollings, you are so far out of line…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Yes, I’m out of line. Whatever motives got me on that plane may have been way out of line. I was out of line to delay the Cookiegrams, too. But the bottom line is, Dinah, I sat there and begged God to tell me what to do and all I kept hearing was ‘go.’ ‘Go to her. Go to the lawyer.’ I’m supposed to be here. I want
to be here. Didn’t you just say God could take a wrong motive and make a right thing happen from it?”
She did just make that argument to him. Why was God so skilled at turning her own words back on her? Still, she wasn’t ready to accept any of what Cameron was saying. Right now, she wasn’t sure she shouldn’t call him a cab and tell him to go home. Wasn’t he supposed to be helpful? That surely didn’t include stirring up doubt and frustration and confusion.
“I make…made deals for a living. Let’s look at the deal on the table for a minute.”
Dinah bit back the wisecrack that was sitting on the tip of her tongue about making deals with the Devil. “What are you talking about?”
“Humor me for a minute, okay?”
She wasn’t in the mood for this. As a matter of fact, she was feeling pretty exhausted all of a sudden.
“A minute,” he pressed. The guy negotiated on instinct, like breathing.
“A minute,” she relented.
“The whole point of a deal is about what each party brings to the table. What do you have that I need, what do I have that you need? Right? You need to grieve for your mother. And for that, in your own words, you need community. People around you who care about you. You don’t have as much of that here as you do in Middleburg. Also, you wanted to buy the bakery in Middleburg before I bought it, didn’t you?”
“You know I did.”
“You need assets to buy a bakery. Has it occurred to you you’re now standing in assets? Assets I could help you sell to turn around and buy the bakery?”
“From you? You just bought it yourself.”
“Future details. But right now, I need a tenant. And Middleburg needs a baker. Emily needs a baker. Howard needs someone who can stand up to him.” He stopped for a moment before adding, “I need you. I need you to help me get through this lawsuit without turning into someone I hate. All the people who would benefit from this lawsuit need you near me. And God must have known that, because He sent me to Middleburg just like He sent you. And now He sent me here with all the tools to bring you back.”
On one level, Dinah couldn’t have been more resistant to what he was saying. On another level, it made a perfect sort of sense. Not that it made any more sense out of how Mom died, but it put an odd harmony into everything. As if it were all pieces of a puzzle—some wonderful, some painful, but they all fit together in a whole. Which made it a lot like baking. Baking powder wasn’t pleasant to taste, but it was a necessary ingredient. Flour wasn’t tasty, but you couldn’t bake without it. Sugar was tasty, but you couldn’t eat it alone. She’d lost her mother, but before she died, God had managed to free her from the fight with her mother. Maybe Dinah never should have left, but she’d also found it within herself to return. Actually, she didn’t find it within herself. It was a true work of the Holy Spirit—that transforming power to change a heart. She pulled the potholder off the wall and held it. “I don’t know if I can bear to sell this place.”
“If it’s any comfort, I happen to know a lot about that whole leaving thing. I’ve got some experience ditching a painful past to do the whole risky future bit.”
Dinah felt something uncurl in her soul. She’d wound this tight obligation around herself, as if staying in this house was a penance for her leaving it in the first place. But it wasn’t leaving the house that mattered, it was leaving her mother, and God had repaired that. The reconciliation had been short-lived, but who was she to say that lessened its value? Could she get to the point where she saw it as God sparing Mom suffering instead of robbing Dinah of final goodbyes?
Would she even be considering it if Cameron Rollings hadn’t moved heaven and earth—and Cookiegrams—to be standing in her kitchen, daring to say things she didn’t want to hear?
Cameron was suddenly beside her. “I care about you. I can help you. And you can help me.” He touched her chin. “Community.”
She looked at him, at his tender eyes that held the same struggle she now knew, and realized that God had not only pulled her to Middleburg, but pulled him as well. Pulled them together before they even knew they needed each other. She did need him. It was okay to admit that. She needed Middleburg and that didn’t make her a traitor to her mother’s memory. She felt a sensation of release. Not of release away from something, as she had felt that day she left New Jersey, but release toward something.
Toward someone. She let her head fall on his shoulder again and all the pieces fit together. She didn’t need to leave New Jersey right away, but she needed to leave. “Only I could pull off something like running away from home by coming home.”
Cameron put one hand on her cheek and turned her face up toward his own. “You’re a frighteningly complicated woman, Dinah Hopkins.”
It sounded so amazing when he said her name. The release in her soul settled into something more intimate. “You’re not exactly simple yourself.”
She lost herself searching his dark eyes for a long moment. Then, moving his other hand around to the small of her back, he took a deep breath and asked, “Would it be totally inappropriate to kiss you right now?”
Dinah grinned and settled into the amazing strength of his arms. “Totally. But do it anyway.”
Chapter Nineteen
It must have been something like two in the morning. Cameron had every reason to feel wiped, but kissing Dinah gave him such a rush he thought he could take on the world. Sure, it was an extraordinary kiss and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what it would be like to kiss her any number of times since their embrace at the mailbox the day she left, but it was so much more than that. Half the stuff he’d said to her tonight he’d barely figured out as it left his mouth. As if the ideas weren’t even his own. It felt like such a corny thought to believe that God really had drawn them together, but then again, it was the oldest thought in the universe. Who was God if not capable of such things? Who could redeem such misguided motives and tragic circumstances but God? It made every sense and no sense at all, but Cameron found himself at such peace he couldn’t begin to sleep—which, he thought to himself as he looked at the pale orange numbers on the hotel room clock, makes no sense, either.
Lord, he sighed into the darkness, I’m so lost here. I think I’ve found the path You want me to take, but it’s so far from what I thought I was doing. When I left New York. When I left Kentucky. I’m going to have to lean completely on You, because I haven’t the foggiest idea how to play this from here.
But he did. The strangest thing of all was that Cameron knew exactly what to do from here. It was just so outrageous he could barely accept it as the wisest option. In the last eight weeks all his ideas of plans and career paths, his concepts of right and wrong had been twisted into knots. For the first time in his adult life—the life he’d built upon his sharp skills and sound reasoning—Cameron realized he couldn’t trust his own judgment. You’re going to have to take it from here, Lord. I can’t begin to say where You’re taking me, but maybe that’s the point. He smiled to himself. That is the point, isn’t it? I’m sitting here worried if I can take on the legal battle, but I can trust You in that. I’m unsure what will happen with Dinah, but I can trust You in that, too, can’t I? I’m only beginning to guess why You’ve got me in Kentucky, but Your reasons are trustworthy. You’ve got the better plan, so it’s okay if I can’t grasp mine yet.
Cameron thought about all the people praying for Dinah. He’d spent the last year building a career, doing all the right things, but Dinah had spent the last year building a life—even if some people felt it was doing all the wrong things. For both of them, the past year had become a jumbled mix of running away and coming home. To the point now where he could no longer say which was which.
But I’m sure of her, Lord. Of the person I am when I’m with her. Even if he couldn’t tell what the future would hold for them, he knew that right here, right now, they were meant to be together. He had strengths she needed and she gave him boldness he hadn’t realized he’d lost. You kne
w, didn’t You Lord? You knew all along. And even if I don’t know what to do next, You do. You always will.
Cameron must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he knew, his cell phone went off and he opened his eyes to see daylight seeping through the hotel curtains. He groped around the unfamiliar nightstand until his hand found the phone and flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Hey, sleepyhead. It’s past seven. I’ve been up for hours.”
Dinah’s voice was a cascade of low husky tones. He really did need to hear her sing one of these days. He was sure he’d find it irresistible. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Not a morning person?”
He squinted into the sunlight. “In my defense, it is six in the morning Kentucky time.”
“Well, then, I’m glad I didn’t call at six like I wanted to.” She chuckled, and even half-asleep, it rumbled down his spine.
“Thanks for that.” He sat up and found his glasses. “How are you?”
“I’m starving. Uncle Mike is, too. So we’re going to meet for breakfast.”
“We?” Cameron was so tired he was finding even the cheap in-room coffeemaker suitable for instant caffeination.
“I want you to meet Uncle Mike. He’s going to help me decide what to do about the house. And after breakfast, I want you to come with me to the real estate office.”
Forget the in-room coffee, Cameron was fully awake now. “Real estate.”
If you could hear someone smile over the telephone, Cameron heard Dinah smile. “Yep. I’m ready to consider selling the house. I haven’t decided for sure yet, but I’m okay with talking to someone. If you’ll help.”
“Count on it.”
“We’ll pick you up in twenty minutes?”
He was already fumbling through his case for his razor. “Make it fifteen.”
It was a clear February day—brisk, but with a stunning wash of sunshine. Dinah squinted one eye, shot and sent the basketball sailing through the old rusty hoop still hanging above her mom’s garage door. “I was so sure I’d have to rush it to market, clear it out faster than I was ready to.”
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