“Leaded, of course,” Seth said. “I want to hear your whole story.”
Leah smiled. “I don’t think it’s going drag on into the middle of the night.”
“I’ll be ready, just in case.” Seth went to work preparing his gourmet coffee while Leah checked on Hula in the mudroom. She contentedly wagged her tail when Leah entered.
“You need some more water, girl,” Leah said, filling the bowl. Then she went out the back door to her car and brought in the basket of toys so she could soak them in the basin sink.
Returning to the kitchen, she found Seth loading her dishwasher. “You don’t have to do that. Come on, let’s sit down in the other room. Is the coffee ready?”
The coffee was not only ready, but it also was the best Leah had tasted in a long time. “What did you do to make this so good?”
“Nothing special,” he said. “You had good beans to work with.”
At first Leah thought he said “good genes,” and her sister’s comment about her having “neither the frame nor frame of mind to attract a stable man” sprang to her mind. If she had good genes, then she would have inherited the “right frames,” the ones her sisters had all inherited. Despite all that, she seemed to have attracted someone. A very appealing someone. He didn’t have to be here, making coffee for her, loading her dishwasher, and inviting her to accompany him on sunrise hikes. She had done nothing to coerce or lure him.
Leah leaned back as Seth made himself comfortable on her denim blue loveseat. Actually, it was her parents’ old avocado green loveseat, which had sat in the upstairs guestroom of their house and had very few visitors. Since it was such a sturdy piece of furniture, Leah had covered it with a denim slipcover that matched the blue in her recliner. It was the only furniture she had room for in her small sitting area, but it was all she needed. Instead of a coffee table, she had stacked two old brown suitcases she had found at a garage sale. The one on top still had the original antique travel stickers affixed and in good condition.
“Cairo,” Seth said, reading the sticker nearest him before placing his coffee cup on a coaster on top of the suitcase. “Now there’s a place I’d like to go someday.”
“Me, too,” Leah said.
“Where else would you like to go?”
“Anywhere.”
“Tell me why you never took off with your Amelia spirit and left Glenbrooke behind.”
Briefly, Leah told him about being the youngest of six daughters and how she ended up being the one to stay home and care for her parents.
“How did you finish college?” Seth asked.
“It took me seven years. All part-time. Driving back and forth to Edgefield. But that’s the only place I went. Edgefield. Not Paris. Not … what is that one?” she said, tilting her head and reading the stickers. “Roma.”
“Your parents have been gone a year, right?”
Leah nodded and sipped her coffee.
“Why don’t you go to Rome now?”
“I don’t know,” she said after a pause. “I might go. Later. Not right away. I bought this house, and I have all kinds of commitments and obligations here. I don’t think it’s my turn to leave Glenbrooke.”
“Or do you mean it’s not your turn to leave Bedford Falls?”
Leah gave him a quizzical look. “Bedford Falls?”
“You know, in It’s a Wonderful Life. Jimmy Stewart. Donna Reed. You sound to me like the female version of George Bailey.”
It took Leah a moment to make the connection. When she did, she laughed. “You think I sound like George Bailey?”
“A little.”
Leah shook her head. “I’m not that discouraged about my life in this small town. Just don’t try telling me you’re really my guardian angel, and I’m your ticket to a pair of wings.”
Seth laughed. “I don’t hear any bells ringing, do you?”
Leah laughed with him and felt captivated by the man sitting on her couch. Did he have any idea that he was the reason she wanted to stick around Glenbrooke?
Seth reached for his coffee cup and said, “I have a question for you.”
“Yes?” Leah felt open and unguarded.
“Tell me about the Glenbrooke Zorro.”
Chapter Eight
The Glenbrooke Zorro?’ ” Leah repeated. “What about the Glenbrooke Zorro? I mean, what have you heard?”
“I’ve heard someone in town loves to give. And that someone is generous and random and—” he leaned forward for emphasis—“has managed to keep his or her identity a secret for many years.”
“That’s what I’ve heard, too,” Leah said, pulling her coffee cup to her lips. She downed the last sip and stood up. “Is there more coffee?”
“Let me get it for you,” Seth offered. “Would you like me to fix it the same as the first cup?”
“Yes,” Leah said, fidgeting in her chair. All her happy, secure feelings had flown.
What is this man doing in my house? What does he want? It’s one thing for me to entertain the thought of an innocent little crush on him. But it’s something else for him to pry into my personal life.
Leah couldn’t sit still. Hopping up, she joined Seth in the kitchen. “I feel funny having you serve me. Why don’t I get that?”
Seth was pouring the thick, dark brew into her cup. “Is it hard for you to let other people serve you?” he asked without looking at her.
“No,” she answered immediately. “It’s just that you’re my guest. I should be serving you.”
“All done,” he said, holding a mug in each hand and heading back into the other room. “Come on.”
“Would you like to watch a movie?” Leah asked, trying to sound casual.
“I’d rather talk. I want to hear your take on the Glenbrooke Zorro.”
Leah sat down on the loveseat this time, thinking Seth would take the recliner. Instead he sat on the loveseat with her. She didn’t know how she could feel so at ease with Seth one minute and so uncomfortable the next.
Sipping the fragrant brew and drawing up her courage, Leah decided she had no reason to be nervous. This was her house, her couch, her good coffee beans. This was her life he had stepped into, uninvited. She didn’t have to make room for him. She could, should, and would stand her ground.
“Look,” Leah said, “you obviously have a point you want to make. Go ahead and make it.”
Seth looked surprised. But not too surprised. “Okay, here’s my point. I think you are the Glenbrooke Zorro.”
Leah looked at her coffee cup and ran her finger around the white ceramic mug’s rim. She had met her match when it came to standing her ground. Lifting her eyes to meet his, she said, “Why do you say that?”
“Oh, no. Uh-uh. No,” he said, shaking his head and giving her a subdued smile. “If I can’t be coy with you, you can’t be coy with me. Come on, George. Level with me.”
“George?” she repeated. As soon as she said it, she realized he was making reference to their George Bailey-Wonderful Life conversation. Did he just give me a nickname?
The small gesture warmed Leah in an unexpected way. While she was growing up, she always wanted her dad to give her a nickname to prove his affection. She thought a boy’s name would be the best because then she would know he had come to consider her equal to the son she should have been. But her father only called her Leah. Everyone only called her Leah. She didn’t even have a middle name.
“You’re the Glenbrooke Zorro, aren’t you?” Seth pressed her again.
Leah impulsively decided to risk everything for the sake of being honest with this man. “Yes, I am.”
Seth slapped his knee. “I thought so! I was almost positive.”
“Why?” Leah asked. “Why do you even need to know? What does it matter?” It struck her that she had just confessed to him something she had never told anyone. Was this level of vulnerability the price she had to pay for a relationship with someone “stable”?
I don’t know if I’m ready for this.
“Some guys were talking about it at work today. One of them said his sister just had a baby, and her husband had surgery a few days later. He said someone left groceries for them on their doorstep and that the Glenbrooke Zorro was back. That’s when they gave me the history on this invisible superhero. Or should I say superheroine?”
Leah felt as if Seth, who was practically a stranger, had just run in and stolen something vital to the core of her identity. Her secret deliveries all these years had been her one private, silent source of delight. The secrecy allowed her to feel that even though she was only a “Leah” she could do noble things.
This is my secret. What is he doing sharing my secret?
“You probably feel pretty proud of yourself, don’t you?” Leah said, pulling back and crossing her legs in the other direction to put a definite distance between them.
“Why?”
“Because no one else has figured it out. You come to town, and three days later,” she snapped her fingers for emphasis, “you solve the mystery.” Leah crossed her arms and gave him an angry look, which was not completely in jest.
“Oh, come on,” Seth said, playfully tagging her shoulder. “Do you mean to tell me that no one has ever challenged the identity of this anonymous gift-giver?”
Leah shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Seth sat back and in a more serious tone said, “You know what? Your secret is safe with me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
Leah tried to relax. This was what she wanted: a close friendship with someone she could trust, someone with whom she could be open and honest. If self-disclosure and vulnerability were the price she had to pay, maybe it was a fair price.
“About a year ago,” Leah began, leaning back, “Kenton at the Glenbrooke Gazette wrote an editorial. He was the one who used the term, ‘Glenbrooke Zorro.’ ”
“Is that right?”
Leah nodded.
“And how did people react?”
“Everyone was talking about it and coming up with all these ridiculous speculations as to whom the Glenbrooke Zorro could be. I felt like telling some of the people at work that it was me, just so they would stop with the dumb guesses. I don’t know if they would have believed me. Your great-uncle was one of the candidates. They said Franklin inherited a fortune from Cameron Madison and used his riches to help others.”
“Was that in the paper?” Seth said, leaning forward.
“No, it was just what people said at work and at the grocery store. You and I both know your great-uncle is far from wealthy.”
“Right,” Seth said quickly.
“It was terrible around work and church for a couple of weeks,” Leah continued. “Everyone assumed the phantom was a male. And then people started writing letters to the editor. You wouldn’t have believed it. Actually, I kept some of the letters.” Leah rose and went over to a bookshelf in the corner and picked up a photo box. She pulled out a few pictures and some newspaper clippings.
“Look at this one.”
Seth read it aloud. “Dear Glenbrooke Zorro, Please bring me $447 so I can have my terrible leaking kitchen sink fixed. It keeps me awake at night.”
He looked up. “Did you give her the $447?”
“No, I didn’t do anything. I found out later that a guy from our church went over and fixed it for her for free.”
“Cool,” Seth said with a smile. “What’s this one?” He read another newspaper clipping. “Dear Glenbrooke Zorro, I am a fifty-two-year-old gentleman through and through. I’m hoping you can send me a new wife.” Seth burst out laughing.
Leah pointed to the clipping. “Read the rest of it.”
“She must be a nonsmoker who likes to cook and do crossword puzzles. My preferences on height are over 5′6″; weight, under 130 pounds; brown hair and green eyes. No visible scars and no pets. Please have her contact me at the P.O. box number listed below. With appreciation, Mr. X.”
Seth shook his head. “Mr. X. Now there’s a real clever guy for you. Did he get his ideal wife?”
“Who knows!” Leah said. “I had nothing to do with it. I’m not Santa Claus. Or the Tooth Fairy. I’m not even Zorro! Wasn’t Zorro a sword fighter? What does that have to do with giving?”
“What happened with all these letters?” Seth asked.
“I guess when none of their expectations from the Glenbrooke Zorro were fulfilled, they gave up. The letters to the editor dropped off after about two weeks.”
“But you went back to giving.”
“Eventually.”
“May I make an observation here?” Seth asked.
Leah laughed. “As opposed to keeping your opinion to yourself as you’ve been doing the rest of this evening?”
Seth gave an open-armed shrug. “What can I say? I tend to be opinionated.”
“Oh, really?”
“And it’s my opinion that you have the gift of giving. Or maybe the gift of service. It’s definitely a spiritual gift when you feel compelled to continue even though it isn’t as easy or as uncomplicated as when you started.”
Leah asked Seth what his spiritual gift was and that prompted a discussion on their spiritual journeys for the next hour. Leah found that she and Seth had similar backgrounds. Both of them were raised going to church and made decisions to ask Jesus into their hearts when they were in grade school. Seth described himself as being in a growing season in his relationship with the Lord. He paused, looking at Leah gently, as if waiting for her to express her view of her current walk with Christ.
“For me, everything with God has been the same for a long time,” Leah said. “He’s there, I’m here. I don’t ask much of him. He doesn’t seem to be asking too much of me. I think everything is okay.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. Seth was, in every way, right there with her.
“I’ll tell you something,” Seth said. “We all go through different seasons in relationships. Including our relationship with God. Things are rarely what we imagine them to be; our understanding is too limited.”
Leah nodded.
“I say that because you definitely weren’t what I imagined.”
Leah waited for an explanation.
“When I was at my great-uncle’s last weekend, he said I should meet you because I’d find you ‘delightful.’ That was his word. Delightful. He said, ‘For twenty years she’s been bringing me flowers on May Day.’ With all those clues, I thought for sure this delightful woman he adored must be at least sixty, maybe seventy years old. Especially when he said your name was ‘Leah.’ ”
Leah felt herself drawing inward.
“Hey, I’m trying to compliment you here. I’m saying you weren’t an old lady like I thought you would be. Why did you pull back?”
Leah waved her hand for him to disregard her actions. “It was nothing.”
“You’re not a very good liar, you know. Obviously it was something. What did I say?”
Leah was beginning to learn that if this man wanted to drag the truth out of her, he could be rather convincing. She saw little point in trying to cover up what she felt.
“It wasn’t anything you said. I mean, it was, but you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just my name. I’ve never liked my name. And when you said that Leah sounded like the name of someone who was sixty, well, that’s what I was reacting to.”
Seth sat back and didn’t say anything for a moment. He sipped his coffee and seemed to be considering Leah. She felt as if he were looking at her the way a painter sizes up his subject before attempting to tackle the task of transposing one reality into another form.
“The name Leah comes from the Bible, doesn’t it?” Seth asked.
“Yes,” Leah said sharply.
“So does my name.”
“But Seth was a Bible hero, wasn’t he?” Leah said.
“I suppose. He was Adam and Eve’s third son. The blessing of God was on Seth and not on Cain. And of course, Abel was murdered. That left Seth to carry on the godly heritage. What do you know about t
he Leah in the Bible?”
“Enough,” Leah said flatly.
“Tell me. I don’t remember.”
“Her father tricked Jacob into marrying her first, instead of Rachel, the one Jacob really loved.”
“Is that all?”
“That’s all I know about her.” Leah didn’t want to quote the verse that prompted her name, but it was fresh in her mind. The pain from it must have shown on her face because Seth reached over and took her hand. The gesture surprised her yet she didn’t pull away as she had when he had taken her hand to check for doggy teeth marks.
The tender look on his tanned face reflected sincerity. “If you don’t like the name Leah, then how about if I just call you George?”
Something inside Leah broke, and she burst into tears.
Chapter Nine
And then what happened?” Jessica asked Leah. The two of them were in the far corner of Jessica’s huge backyard the next morning, tucking Easter eggs into the tufts of grass.
“I bawled like a baby for two minutes straight, and then I somehow turned off the tears. He said he should get going, and I apologized for falling apart. Of course he told me not to worry about it. Then he left, and I sat up half the night worrying about it.”
Leah bent down, leaving a blue-and-green-striped egg next to a clump of wild daffodils. “I’m telling you, I was scared. I can’t remember ever crying like that. And never in front of someone I hardly knew, all because he held my hand and called me, ‘George.’ Do you think I need counseling, Jess?”
Jessica left the last of her eggs and plucked several fresh, yellow daffodils. She linked her arm through Leah’s, and the two women headed toward the house across the newly mowed, spring grass.
“I think the same thing I told you at church last night,” Jessica said after a pause. “God has scooped you up and plopped you into a pocket of grace. You can’t exactly control what happens.”
“That’s for sure,” Leah said, gazing at the pastel streamers and balloons that adorned the back deck of Kyle and Jessica’s Victorian home. Tall, canvas umbrellas were opened above the two patio tables. Curls of smoke rose from the covered barbecue where Kyle was cooking the first group of the two hundred shish kebabs Leah had helped him assemble earlier that morning.
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