Back on Blossom Street (24 page)

Colette Blake

C
olette had looked forward to her dinner with Elizabeth—and Christian—all week. She wondered how his aunt planned to coerce him into making an appearance; she could only hope Elizabeth succeeded. Colette felt an overwhelming urge, a
need,
to see him…and talk to him. Five months into the pregnancy she couldn’t keep it a secret much longer. It was time Christian knew. Time she found the courage to tell him. Perhaps this evening… Maybe if she told him about this new life, it would convince him to step forward and confess—do whatever was required.

His aunt Elizabeth had opened Colette’s eyes to so many things about Christian and, surprisingly, about herself. Hiding from him—and hiding the pregnancy—had been foolish, a mistake she wanted to rectify.

It wasn’t Doris who answered the door this time, but Elizabeth herself.

Pursing her lips, she announced, “Christian won’t come.” She shook her head. “I tried everything I could to persuade him, but he saw through my ploys.”

“It’s fine,” Colette assured her quickly, putting on a
brave smile. She was determined to look past her own disappointment and enjoy dinner and Elizabeth’s company.

“No, this just won’t do,” Elizabeth muttered. “My nephew is such a stubborn young man. He refuses to listen to reason.” She clasped Colette’s arm, drawing her into the house.

They sat in the formal dining room and despite the crisp, vivid-green asparagus, the wild rice and tender broiled salmon, neither had much of an appetite.

“You must go to him,” the old woman said halfway through the meal. That thought had apparently just occurred to her because she brightened instantly. “If he won’t come to us, then we’ll take action ourselves. We’ll simply make it impossible for him to ignore us.” She reached for her fork with renewed vigor.

“I…I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth countered. “It’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of it earlier? You
will
go, won’t you?”

Colette noticed the less-than-subtle shift from
us
and
we
to
you.

Justifications and excuses tumbled through her mind. She offered the first one she thought of, weak as it was. “I don’t know where he is.”

Elizabeth Sasser scoffed. “He’s at home.” She rattled off his address, which of course Colette already knew, although she’d certainly never been there.

“He doesn’t want to see me.” That was a far more valid reason.

The old woman laughed outright. “Contrary to what you think, I’m very sure he does. I know Christian. Go to him, Colette, and it will change everything.”

Colette
wanted
to believe her. Before she could actually accept or reject the idea, she found herself standing on
Elizabeth’s porch with Christian’s address clutched in her hand.

“Go now,” Elizabeth said, waving her away as if she were an unwanted salesman. “What is it those commercials say? Just do it! What are you waiting for?”

Good question. She had to tell him about the baby; she knew that. It wouldn’t be easy, though, especially after she’d lied—and lied more than once. She’d refused to have anything to do with him for fear of getting dragged into the mess he’d created. And now she was supposed to show up at his front door and gleefully announce that she was pregnant with his child?

He’d be furious. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d say.

“Colette.” His aunt sighed. “You’re being as difficult as my nephew.”

“I’m not sure…” she whispered, unable to hide her dread.

“Go to him,” Elizabeth encouraged.

His aunt made it sound so simple. It wasn’t, but she couldn’t possibly understand that, because she only knew half of what was at stake. And under no circumstances could Colette tell her the rest.

She suddenly had a mortifying thought. “He’s dating again, isn’t he?” What if she got there and Christian was with another woman? Based on his history, she wouldn’t be surprised to discover him seeking solace elsewhere.

Elizabeth glared at her. “Does it matter?”

It shouldn’t. Not really. And yet Elizabeth’s response didn’t exactly reassure her.

Still…

She would go to him, and the two of them would talk. Whatever happened, happened. If he went to the police
and turned himself in as she hoped, she’d stand by his side. If not, if not…she didn’t know what she’d do.

In an unexpected display of affection, Elizabeth stepped forward and hugged Colette. “Everything will work out,” she whispered.

“You promise?” Colette joked.

His aunt grinned. “Have him take you to dinner, my dear. You barely touched a bite.”

Colette walked down the steps and climbed into her car. Elizabeth remained outside until Colette had pulled onto the street. Through the rearview mirror, Colette saw her raise one hand and wave.

The drive took less than fifteen minutes. Colette’s heart pounded so hard she didn’t hear anything else—not the car radio, not the music that played, not the siren of the fire truck that blared and honked as it roared past. Only when she saw other vehicles pull over did Colette realize she had to move to the side of the road.

Once she arrived at his house, she sat in her car and stared up at it. Built of slate, it featured large picture windows that overlooked a bluff on Puget Sound. She could envision the panoramic view his home offered of the water and the Olympic Mountains.

Her nerve was about to desert her, but she remembered his aunt and the encouragement Elizabeth had given her. Fortified with new determination, Colette got out of the car, ignoring the other vehicles parked on the street.

After ringing the doorbell, she waited for what might have been ten minutes or a few seconds; she could no longer tell.

When Christian opened the door, he stared at her, as if uncertain who she was.

“Colette?”

“Surprise,” she said. Her voice rose like a little girl’s, embarrassing her even more.

After an uncomfortable moment during which neither of them spoke, he narrowed his eyes, obviously questioning her presence. He made no move to invite her in. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

This wasn’t the warm greeting she’d hoped to receive. “I need to talk to you.” Because this was so difficult for her—and no doubt for him—she added, “If you’d rather I left, I’ll understand.”

“Then leave.” He glanced quickly over his shoulder.

“You have a…guest?” So he
was
involved and this other woman was with him. Colette felt her cheeks burning; coming here had brought her nothing but anguish.

“I’ll come back another time,” she said hastily, about to turn away.

He leaned forward to take her shoulders. “It’s not what you think.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

They continued to stare at each other. When she could stand it no longer, Colette lowered her gaze. “Like I said, we need to talk.”

“Not now.”

“Fine,” she whispered. “We can do it later.”

His face remained unyielding. “Go now and—” There was a noise behind him and he threw another irritated glance over his shoulder. He seemed on edge and eager to have her leave and yet he still held on to her.

“Forgive me for interrupting your meeting…your privacy,” she said.

He nodded.

“Could we set up a time to talk, maybe tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “I leave for China in the morning.”
She had trouble identifying his tone—regret? Wariness? Resolve?

“Oh.”

“I’ll phone you when I get back,” he said as he released her.

She backed away and he did, too.

The urge to touch him, to kiss him was overpowering.

As if reading her thoughts, he reached for her again, and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were moist and fervent.

In the distance someone—a man—called his name and Christian pushed her gently away. “Go,” he said. “Just go.”

Confused, she stumbled to her car. That was when she saw the black sedan with a couple of muscular-looking Chinese men, obviously bodyguards, watching her. This could only mean that Christian was meeting with the people involved in the smuggling operation.

Shaking with fear, Colette drove back to Blossom Street. The first thing she did when she got into her apartment was lock the door. Then she made herself a cup of tea, sipping it slowly. Finally she called Alix. Her friend was expecting to hear how the evening had gone. So, of course, was Elizabeth, but Colette didn’t know what she could say to Christian’s aunt.

Alix answered on the first ring. “Did he show up?” she demanded before Colette could say a word.

During their lunch hour, they’d gone to Go Figure, and Alix had offered Colette a complete exercise circle’s worth of advice about tonight’s dinner.

“He wasn’t there.”

“You mean to say he
didn’t
come?”

“No…he had a meeting.” Colette swallowed against the dryness in her throat.

“And?”

“His aunt suggested I should go to him.”

“Good idea,” Alix said approvingly.

But neither Elizabeth nor Alix understood that this was the worst idea of all. Swallowing again, Colette continued. “He had…guests. He said he’s leaving for China tomorrow morning.” And whatever he intended to do there, Colette didn’t want to know.

Alix Townsend

M
onday was Jordan’s day off from his work at the Free Methodist Church. With so much to do before the wedding, which was two weeks from this coming Saturday, they’d decided to spend the afternoon cleaning up Grandma Turner’s yard.

Alix had brought the completed prayer shawl and looked forward to giving it to the woman who’d come to mean so much to her. She could hardly put into words the solace she’d found with Jordan’s grandmother after she’d broken off the engagement. Sarah had sat with her and listened while Alix spilled out her frustration and pain. Then she’d insisted Alix eat. She’d had her stay in the spare bedroom, looking after her like a cherished guest. It was just the pampering Alix had needed.

On Monday afternoon, Jordan waited for Alix to finish her shift at the French Café. The day had turned out to be gloriously sunny and warm, an exception to the cool weather May had brought so far. Although her fiancé had assured his mother the sun would shine for their wedding, Alix was pragmatic enough to suggest they rent a large
white tent. There was always the chance, she’d joked, that someone else with a connection to the Guy Upstairs had asked for rain to water his crops.

“Hi,” Alix said as she got into the car beside Jordan.

“Hi, yourself.” He leaned over and touched his lips to hers in a casual kiss.

Like her, Jordan seemed a lot more relaxed since their confrontation.

“Grandma’s really excited that we’re coming to visit,” he said as he checked his sideview mirror and merged with the Blossom Street traffic.

“You didn’t tell her we’re doing yard work, did you?” Once Grandma Turner heard that, Alix was afraid she’d be out digging in the flower beds herself.

“I didn’t say a word.” He headed for the entrance to the Interstate.

“Good.” Alix laid her head back and closed her eyes. She’d been awake since three that morning, with the same questions chasing around and around in her mind. She’d tried to ignore them, especially those having to do with his mother. “I love you, Jordan,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“Any particular reason?” he asked, as if her statement amused him.

“Lots. Mostly, I love you for loving me enough to cancel the big wedding.”

“Oh. That.” His voice fell, and Alix opened her eyes to look at him.

“Is it bad?” she asked, biting her lip. It couldn’t be easy for any of his family. Susan was the one on the front lines. The curious questions from relatives and friends would all be directed at her. She was stuck canceling the arrangements, too, since she’d booked most of them.

“Mom will survive,” Jordan assured her.

“Does she hate me?”

“Alix, of course not! She understands.”

That comment produced an involuntary smile. The one thing Alix had gleaned from their meeting the week before was that Susan Turner most definitely did
not
understand.

When they arrived at Grandma Turner’s house on Star Lake, the sun gleamed on the water and the afternoon was about as lovely as Alix could have hoped for. After greeting them, Jordan’s grandmother insisted on serving them iced tea out by the lake.

“I thought that while I was here I’d mow the lawn,” Jordan told her.

“You don’t need to do that. I have a service that comes in every two weeks. I’ve already asked them to make a special trip right before your wedding.”

“Grandma, we don’t want you to do that,” Alix said. “We’d like to do it for you.”

“Nonsense,” she said, refusing their offer with an airy wave. “Getting the lawn mowed is the least I can do.” She urged Alix and Jordan to eat more of the oatmeal cookies she’d brought out with the tea. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re holding the wedding here.” She gazed wistfully out at the lake. “I’ve always loved this house. It’ll be wonderful to have all my children and grandchildren together.”

“I’m happy about it, too,” Jordan said, linking his fingers with Alix’s.

Jordan had described his visits to the lake when he was a child but Alix didn’t know how much he’d loved his grandmother’s home until she’d suggested getting married here. An elated expression had come over him and he’d immediately agreed it was the perfect place, a perfect solution.

This close to the lake, Alix could feel a light breeze.
She set her iced tea on the round patio table and saw Jordan’s grandmother glancing over her shoulder.

“Jordan, would you mind bringing me my sweater?” Sarah asked. “It’s hanging on the peg just inside the kitchen.”

Alix nodded to Jordan and instead of heading for the house, he went to his car and came back with a white box, tied with a red bow.

“What’s this?” Grandma Turner asked when he returned.

“A little something for you from Alix.”

“Alix?” Wearing a puzzled look, Grandma Turner turned to her.

“Just open it.”

“Why would you be bringing me gifts?”

The answer to that was simple. “Because I love you.”

“Oh, Alix,” the old woman said, sighing. “You’re the best gift I could ever have.” Shaking her head, she added, “I couldn’t ask for a better match for my grandson. I’m so happy for you both.” Her eyes filled with tears, which she blinked rapidly away.

Alix struggled not to cry herself.

“Open the box before we all start to boo hoo,” Jordan teased, pretending to wipe tears from his face.

Alix elbowed him in the ribs as his grandmother removed the lid and peeled back the tissue paper.

“Alix knit it herself,” Jordan explained even before his grandmother had the opportunity to lift the lacy shawl from its box.

“It’s the prayer shawl I mentioned earlier,” Alix said. “People knit them for other people who are special in their lives or in need of prayer or healing. You listened when I needed a friend and loved me when I didn’t think anyone in this family ever would again.” Alix looked at Jordan, who leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Those days with you meant a lot to me. I realize you’re not sick or in
need of extra prayers, but I did want you to know how much I love you.”

“Oh, Alix.” Grandma Turner breathed her name softly, reverently. “I remember you telling me about the shawl. I don’t believe I’ve ever received anything more precious. All the effort that went into this… I will treasure it for the rest of my life.”

Alix gently, almost ceremoniously, arranged the shawl around the old woman’s shoulders, and they hugged.

After they’d finished their tea, Jordan mowed the lawn over Sarah’s objections and clipped the hedge, while Alix tackled the flower beds, weeding and cultivating the soil. When they were done, she planned to spread beauty bark over the freshly tilled beds.

“This garden used to be the pride of the neighborhood,” Grandma Turner said as she stood beside Alix. “I do what I can now, but it isn’t enough.”

“We never had flowers at our house when I was growing up.” Alix kept her voice matter-of-fact. She remembered that the house had gone without more than flowers. Several times it lacked a window and once, the front door. Her mother had thrown a beer bottle at her father, who’d ducked; the bottle had broken the living-room window. Another time, when Alix was around six, her father had kicked in the front door.

Alix had always envied people who had yards with flowers. Her own yard was an embarrassment, not that Alix spent much time worrying about grass and stuff like that. It was a much higher priority to stay out of range of both her parents when they drank. That was the reason she’d found a safe haven in her bedroom closet, where she’d created her fantasy family.

“I want you and Jordan to stay for dinner,” Grandma Turner said.

“I don’t think Jordan has any plans. Let me ask.”

Jordan, done with clipping the hedge, drank a second glass of iced tea and then joined Alix in weeding the flower beds. She told him about Sarah’s invitation.

“Knowing my grandmother, she’s already inside fixing a meal,” he said, moving close enough to kiss Alix’s sweaty neck.

“Jordan!”

“Would you like to stay?” he asked.

She nodded.

It’d been so long since they’d spent time together like this. Alix hadn’t fully understood how much strain the wedding had placed on their relationship. Once they’d made the decision to take control of it, the stress was gone.

Dinner was a simple affair of soup and sandwiches, which they ate on the patio facing the lake. Grandma Turner fell asleep soon after Alix had carried the dishes inside. Jordan saw his grandmother into the bedroom and then helped Alix clean up the kitchen.

“Not every girl enjoys spending time with a guy’s grandmother,” he said as he took a dish towel from the rack.

“You know what I was thinking?” Alix murmured, washing by hand the few dishes they’d used.

“That you’re crazy in love with me,” Jordan responded quickly. “In fact, you can’t wait to drag me into your bed and have your way with me.”

Alix grinned. “Well, other than that.”

“Tell me.” He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle.

“I was just thinking how peaceful it is, being here with you.”

“Mmm.” He dropped a kiss on the curve of her neck. “Well, this place isn’t going to be so peaceful on June second.”

Alix leaned against him. “Tell me the truth—has it been a problem for you at church?” She guessed that Susan’s concerns about what this might do to Jordan’s career were valid. Changing the wedding to a small, private affair so close to the date was likely to cause speculation.

“Some,” Jordan admitted.

“Like what?”

He hesitated. “Pastor Downey, my dad and I had a heart-to-heart.”

Alix wasn’t sure what that entailed nor was she sure it was her business to ask. She waited for Jordan to volunteer the information.

After a brief silence he sighed and released her, then rested against the kitchen counter. “Dad asked me if I’d gotten you pregnant.”

“What?”
she exploded, and watched as a grin spread slowly across Jordan’s face. “Did he really ask you that?”

“Yup.” Jordan nodded. “And I enjoyed telling him I looked forward to doing exactly that.”

They’d talked about starting a family but not for several years. “Your mother put him up to it, didn’t she?”

Jordan shrugged. “I assume so.”

Alix knew she faced some damage control with Susan Turner. As soon as the wedding was over, she’d begin to repair their relationship.

“Actually, it’s a good thing Pastor Downey, Dad and I talked,” Jordan went on to tell her. “We don’t do that enough. Male bonding.” He pounded his chest in a Tarzan imitation. “Me like bonding.”

She rolled her eyes, loving him all the more for making a joke of it.

“We all felt better afterward,” Jordan said in his normal voice, “and I have you to thank for that.”

Alix hoped it was true.

“What about Jacqueline and Reese?” Jordan asked her.

Alix assured him they were fine. The funny part was, neither Jacqueline nor Reese seemed especially upset about the wedding plans being overturned. If anything, Reese found his wife’s wedding fixation rather comical.

As Alix had suspected, it all went back to Paul and Tammie Lee’s wedding. To Jacqueline’s horror, not only hadn’t she been included, she hadn’t even been invited. She’d felt cheated, and as a result, she’d turned Alix and Jordan’s wedding into a substitute—and then some.

“You know what?” Jordan murmured. “I’m much happier with what we’re doing now.”

They hugged and Alix closed her eyes. In a little more than two weeks she would be Jordan Turner’s bride. June second couldn’t come fast enough.