A Journey by Chance (11 page)

“Do you have a job?”

“No. I went back and lasted a week. They gave me assignments I couldn't possibly keep up with even in good
health. It was their way of creating a reason to fire me. My father hired an attorney. They want to file a lawsuit because it would help the animals get the attention they need, but then again it'd probably jeopardize my potential future with any zoo. Was this more than you asked for?”

He leaned back then so he could look her in the face. “Maybe a little.” He smiled. “But at least now I know why you didn't want to help with my horse.”

She returned his smile. Her eyes felt almost swollen shut. Her throat ached from her earlier sobbing.

“Thank you for telling me.” He brushed a finger gently across her cheek. “Tear tracks. When did it happen?”

“About eight months ago. It has been the worst eight months of my life. I'm even living back home with my parents. I feel like such a loser.”

“Of course you do.” He grinned. “It'll get better. Now for the important question. What do you want to do with the rest of your life's journey?”

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “I thought I wanted to be a vet…until I saw your horse.”

His laughter sang out over the cornfields.

Gina didn't mind because while he laughed, he drew her back into the circle of his arms.

Maggie squirted a dab of cream into her palm, then worked it into her hands as she climbed onto the bed, all the while smiling to herself.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd had as much fun as this evening. Goodness, it was after 1:00 A.M. and she was still wide awake. Of course the pot of coffee she drank at the restaurant might have something to do with that.

But no, this was more than caffeine. She felt energized, as if an old pilot light was relit somewhere deep in her being, igniting youthful emotions. Not only emotions, but whole thought processes as well. If the room were larger, she would attempt a back flip.

Well, a cartwheel anyway. She giggled, envisioning how less than an hour ago she and her friends had performed a cheer in the restaurant parking lot.

She turned off the lamp now and slid to the foot of the old twin bed so she could look out the window. Stars flickered through the tree tops. A gentle breeze out of the west promised relief from the heat sometime before dawn.

They had all been there tonight—Susie, Jane, Rita, Judy, Lynn, and Donna. Her closest and dearest friends through school, all members of the cheerleading squad that graduated 35 years ago, gathered together the night before the official class reunion.

They had met for dinner at a landmark restaurant in the city. “City” was a bit of a euphemism for Rockville, the large town 20 miles down the highway situated along the river
bank. It boasted factories, an airport, movie theaters, restaurants, a junior college, and a shopping mall. Compared to Valley Oaks it was a city. Compared to Los Angeles it was simply a midsize town and Valley Oaks was a village. At any rate, it had been and still was the “happening” place.

The old friends' rapport was instant, sweeping away the years in the time it took to exchange hugs. Laughter erupted and didn't subside until someone noticed dimming lights and the waitress's yawns.

It was their common background. A startling realization occurred to her now. She had more in common with them than with anyone she knew in California. Granted, any group of women her age would find the same similarities these friends had found: at least half would be divorced, some remarried, some would be grandmothers, most would have in-depth knowledge of various weight-reducing diets, most would have colored the gray, and 99 percent would know that adolescent unsettledness didn't hold a candle to this stage of life.

Beyond that, though, only these friends knew as she did what it meant to grow up in Valley Oaks. Each other's mothers had a hand in molding them. They shared the same influential characters, from school staff to family doctor to pharmacist to librarian to pastor to county sheriff. Between them they had cried a river of tears and filled every nook and cranny of Valley Oaks with their giggles.

Soaking up the past nourished her. She felt a twinge of the overall contentment and joy that had accompanied her through childhood. Had she known them since? The contempt of Neil's mother had whittled away at them. When Rosie died, they fled completely.

Then she met Reece, and he had helped her pick up the pieces. Although they were happy together, it was never quite
the same. There was always guilt and fear hanging about the fringes. She assumed it was part of growing up. Baggage.

Come to me as a little child.

What were those words? They sounded like something from…church. Did Jesus say them? Children didn't have baggage. Is that what He meant? To be like that with Him?

But what do I do with all this grown-up stuff? I can rationalize all I want, but I should feel guilty according to God's law. I conceived a child out of wedlock. I'm thinking of leaving my husband. My second husband. I'm afraid of making a mistake. I'm afraid of death.

Maggie inhaled deeply. She had never admitted so much to herself in one sitting. What was it her sister kept telling her about guilt and fear? If we tell Jesus about what we do wrong, He forgives us, which means we don't have to feel guilty. The future is in His hands, so we don't have to fear it.

The stars blurred.
Dear God, I'm sorry for the wrong things I've done. I'm sorry for Rosie. I'm sorry for considering divorce. But you know how lonely I am! Help me to figure out my future. Take away my fears.
She paused.
Help me to figure out my past and be like a little child again.

Odd. Reece wasn't part of her childhood. He didn't fit in here. If she became Maggie again, albeit a responsible version, would he like her?

“Oh,” Gina groaned and leaned closer toward the mirror. “You look great this morning.” Yesterday's crying jag in the cornfield plus a late-night reading session were well documented in her puffy eyelids. Who would have thought the bursting point her mother warned her about would come in the presence of Brady Olafsson?

She sat down at the old dark wood vanity table in what used to be the bedroom of Aunt Lottie's daughter and brushed her hair. Although she looked a sight, at least she felt rested and of a mindset to sort through a myriad of thoughts that seemed to be fighting for attention.

For one, last night's couples' wedding shower had been a disaster. Absolute disaster. Lauren had gotten upset with Aaron and left early, pulling Gina in tow.

Just when Gina was getting used to being with Brady.

Being with Brady?

That phrase wasn't right! Totally inaccurate. Back up, girl.

Brady had been…a gem, really. He brought her back to Aunt Lottie's after the cornfield incident, whatever
that
was. Catharsis maybe? Emotional tensions had obviously erupted and flowed away in a flood of tears. It had drained her, but left her feeling stronger than she had in a year. She probably should have seen a counselor sometime in recent months. Instead she saw a terrified horse and a friendly farmer-turned-author.

But it seemed to be just the right therapy.

After that there wasn't enough time to do the other thing Brady had planned, and so they stopped at Aunt Lottie's house. Thank goodness no one was there to ask why her slacks were grass stained. He waited while she changed and washed her face. They arrived at the shower a few minutes late. Gina thought she detected a raised brow or two in the crowd. Maybe it was her imagination. Or the fact that nothing escaped the collective small town's notice.

Or was it the fact that her own mental brow was raised at herself when she realized she liked walking in with Brady Olafsson? And then there was the moment when she caught his attention across the crowded room just to smile at him. Later he walked up behind her and whispered in her ear, asking if she were all right. That tickle went down her spine again now, just remembering. And then there was her profound disappointment when Lauren begged her to leave with her, which meant she couldn't ride home with Brady.

Good grief!

Gina vigorously brushed her hair, yanked it back, twisted it up in a clip, and ignored her hunger pangs.

Anyway, she was thoroughly intrigued with his book. The story was the most thought-provoking thing she had ever read. Jesus jumped off of the pages. Had He really been like that in life?

She had always imagined Him somewhat of a pious, know-it-all who told people to believe in God or else they'd be sorry. Actually, God's Son would have a right to that attitude. But if that were the case, why would thousands flock around Him? Why would they invite Him to parties?

Why would He cry over someone who couldn't walk?

Because He was God's Son, then in some supernatural, spiritual way after He died, He came alive again. She had always heard that, even believed it could be true, but it didn't make a difference to her everyday life.

Until now. Would He cry over someone who couldn't walk quite evenly?

“Okay,” Gina spoke aloud to the hairbrush in her hand. “Jesus, if You're there, I mean here, I want to get to know You better.” She closed her eyes. “May I? And will You help Lauren and Aaron deal with their problem? Amen.”

Her stomach rumbled. She hurried out to the hallway, hoping Aunt Lottie had prepared a megabreakfast, like blue-berry pancakes and bacon and eggs. Halfway down the stairway she stopped.

Uh-oh
.
The last time she was this hungry for a meal it was the beginning of an extra ten pounds…and of a relationship with Steve.

One large breakfast and a medium-size lunch later, Gina peddled the old bicycle across town toward Aaron's office.

Her mother had tried to persuade her to stay out of what didn't concern her. Gina disagreed. After Lauren's second tearful phone call, not to mention last night's dragging her away from the party, she was convinced it did concern her.

Problem was, she sided with Aaron. In her opinion Lauren was being downright silly. And she was on her way to tell her cousin's fiancé to stick to his guns.

Gina turned a corner, fairly certain she couldn't get lost in the small, flat town. She'd never be able to bicycle this far at home. The hills were too steep and the traffic too thick.

Valley Oaks was an old town with a town square in the center. She rode through the business district, much of which was turn-of-the-century brick buildings. All the basics were housed within a couple of blocks of each other: post office, pharmacy, bank, hardware store, florist, café, barber shop,
sheriff's office. The library was in a newer brick building. The grocery store was close by, housed in something called a Morton building. From the outside it looked to her like a huge blue tin box. There were homes of all shapes and sizes and ages, filling every street that branched out from the town square.

To Gina the town had the feel of a movie set. Everything was so compact, and everyone spoke or waved to everyone they passed, including her. People could probably walk to take care of any kind of everyday business. Unreal.

She turned another corner and followed Aunt Lottie's directions to the doctor's office. The sight of Brady's pickup parked in a small lot caught her attention first, then she noticed behind it was a low building with a sign in front that read Valley Oaks Clinic, Aaron G. Thompson, MD.

She wondered what Brady was doing here and tried to ignore the sensation that she was glad at the thought of seeing him again so soon. As she braked near the sidewalk, he walked out through the door.

“Gina!” He smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi. How did Aaron survive last night?”

He shook his head and flipped on a white cap. “Let's just say the man has lost his bedside manner. I'd hate to be in need of medical attention right now. I hope that's not why you're here.”

“No, I just wanted to talk to him.”

Brady raised his brows. “Help smooth things over?”

“Not exactly. Lauren's a basket case, but what can I say? She's brought it on herself.”

“You mean all that business last night was
her
fault?”

“Yes, I do. She wants me to tell him that he can come apologize anytime he's ready and remind him that yellow roses are her favorite. I told her I would, but I also said she owes him an apology, not vice versa.”

“Don't women stick together in cases like this?”

“Gender has nothing to do with it. Lauren reacted illogically and irrationally. Pure and simple. Is it all right if I park my bike in the grass here?” She pushed it off of the sidewalk.

“Illogical and irrational?” He sounded perplexed.

“Yeah.” She propped the bike against the kickstand and looked back at him.

There was amazement in Brady's raised brows and slack jaw. His hands were on his hips. “A woman is not supposed to accuse another woman of being illogical and irrational.”

She crossed her arms. “She's not? Oh. And exactly where do you get your information, Mr. Olafsson?”

He pursed his lips. “That's not the point. Let's take a ride.” He strode past her. “I'll get your bike.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. I'm here to talk to Aaron—Brady!”

He perched the bicycle on his shoulder and headed toward his truck.

“You can't do that.”

He tossed the bike into the truck bed where it clattered. “I just did.”

“I'll walk home.” She stomped down the sidewalk toward the medical office.

“Gina, I already reminded him that yellow roses are her favorite.”

“Fine,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I'll leave out that part.”

“I also told him,” he raised his voice, “to go apologize.”

She whirled around. “You what? He didn't do anything wrong!”

Brady took a step toward her, his eyes narrowed. “This is none of your business or mine.” His voice was low and threatening. “If you go in there, then I'll go tell Lauren she has every right to be angry, even call off the wedding, until my cousin stops behaving like a—” He clamped his jaw shut.

She stared back at him. “Is that blackmail?”

“No. It's what I told Aaron I was going to do. But I won't if you're with me.” He held his hand out toward her, imploring. “Please. Come and take a breather with me.”

Well, she definitely didn't want Lauren hearing Brady's opinion. It would only encourage her to continue in her silliness. On the other hand, here was Brady Olafsson, persuading her once again to follow him into his truck. “Don't you have writing or farming to do?”

“I'm ahead of schedule in the writing department and waiting for the corn to grow in the other.” He winked. “And Ruby's fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do all women just hop in your truck when you wink at them?”

“Usually.”

She shook her head and walked ahead of him toward the parking lot. She could always call Aaron later. And besides, being nice to Brady was becoming less of a chore. Actually it was becoming downright enjoyable.

He'd show her the oaks.

Brady glanced at Gina. She stared through the windshield, a slight frown wrinkling her forehead. He wondered if it mirrored his own.

He wasn't that far ahead of schedule in writing, but that wasn't what was bothering him. He had to get his mind off of fixing Aaron and Lauren's dilemma.

No, that wasn't quite it either.

He had to get his mind off Nicole's leaving him four years ago. He had to stop asking himself if he had listened better, if he had not done what Aaron was doing, would they be married today?

He had said as much to his cousin. It was all the advice he could offer. He certainly had no business going off to comfort Lauren. His spontaneous coercing of Gina to divert his attention from all this had been a bit extreme. The phrase “any port in a storm” came to mind.

But on the other hand, why not? The porcupine quills had softened into silky feathers. He enjoyed talking with her. She was great to look at, even when tears streaked her face and hid the Miss America smile. The damsel in distress scenario in the cornfield had surprised him, as did his response. It must have been God's response. With almost any other woman it would have been a natural to hold her, but not Gina. Maybe he could become friends with a Lindstrom after all.

“Brady,” she interrupted his thoughts, “where are we going?”

“It's a surprise. It's what I wanted to show you yesterday. Do you have something planned for this afternoon?”

“No. Actually, I think I've given up on my agenda for this month. Sitting still and reading want-ads is simply not on the calendar. Maybe it's Lauren's influence. She's like a whirl-wind flying from one activity to another. And now this fiasco from last night. You really think Aaron should apologize?”

“Well, they probably both should. But he did arrive late, after promising not to.”

“He's a doctor! He can't predict how many really sick people need to be squeezed into the day's schedule. The guy didn't even eat or change his clothes, and he would have gotten a speeding ticket if he didn't know the sheriff.”

“He has office hours. His receptionist should be able to juggle things a little more efficiently.”

“Brady, that's unrealistic. I worked with animals, from 7:00 to 4:00, and I can't tell you how often at 3:45 one of them got sick or hurt. Waiting until the next morning allows a more serious condition to develop.”

“Stop me if I'm getting too personal, but this begs the question: Did you have a significant other waiting patiently for you?”

“No.” She bit her lip. “Not waiting. He was the head vet, usually working with me.”

“Ahh.” This answered one question he didn't realize he had until just this moment. “Your boss?”