A Love Worth Waiting For and Heaven Knows (21 page)

“You should. She's a formidable woman. You should know that by now.” He winked in a friendly way. “Just be prepared, that's all I'm trying to tell you. She's going to insist. Personally, I think she's just looking for someone new to impress since we're all tired of complimenting her cooking. She needs you.”

“What can I say? I'm in demand. I guess I'd better stay for a little while.”

“You've got places to go and people to meet?” he asked, his gaze narrowing, as if he were measuring the truth of her.

“Something like that. I might hop down to Yellowstone. I've never been, and it's only a few hours away.”

“You'll be glad you did.” He paused while they moved a step closer to the minister. “I've got some old guidebooks for the park. I don't need them anymore, but they have campsites and information. Might come in handy.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are too helpful?” Alexandra twisted around to look at him, the wind tangling the cinnamon-brown wisps framing her pretty, heart-shaped face, making her look vulnerable. Her slim brows arched over her
luminous dark eyes in a playful frown. “There has to be something wrong with someone who's
too
nice.”

“I toss my dirty socks on the floor just like any man,” he quipped, keeping her away from the truth. She had no idea what she'd said, or what her innocent, light comment made resonate deep down in his soul.

The family on the steps ahead of them moved away, saving him from trying to come up with an easy answer, one that wouldn't reveal the pain deep within. His problems weren't anyone else's, and Alexandra looked down enough on her luck that the last thing she needed was to have to listen to his troubles. A wrong he could blame on no one else but himself.

“Pastor Bill.” John offered his hand, clasping the older man's warmly. “I'd like you to meet Alexandra.”

“What a pleasure.” Pastor Bill took Alexandra's slim hand, welcoming and warm. “I hope you enjoy our humble service this morning. We're short a singer in the alto section, if you happen to be willing to join the choir.”

“Me? No, but thank you.” Alexandra spoke as gently as lark song, her grace unmistakable.

John didn't feel it was good to notice that.

“Daddy!” Hailey called out, as she and Stephanie crowded their way onto the top step.

The girls were laughing, making Alexandra
laugh and the minister chuckle fondly. It was a beautiful morning, this day a gift from the Father above, as were the people surrounding him. The girls who tugged on Alexandra's hand, eager to sit next to her in the church, and Hailey calling to him again to get his attention.

He had more blessings than most. More than he deserved.

“Daddy, Alexandra's gonna braid our hair, so we've gotta hurry. There's Grammy in the front! They're gonna start singing. Hurry! Please!” Hailey's fingers curled around his own, holding on tightly. So very tightly.

Take care of our baby,
Bobbie had begged.
Promise me, John. Promise me.

Pushing down the guilt and a sorrow that had no end, he carefully tucked it away, down in his soul where it belonged.

Steadied, once again back to himself, he managed a smile and squeezed his daughter's hand. Trust glittered in her eyes.

Her hand in his gave him strength as he followed her down the aisle and into the row where Stephanie and Alexandra were already settled.

“Me, first!” Hailey collapsed onto the wooden pew. “Right, Alexandra?”

“Right.” She dug through her shoulder bag, bowing her head as she pulled out a comb. Cinnamon-brown wisps, silken and glossy, had
escaped from her braid, brushing the soft curve of her cheek.

She's a beautiful woman. The trouble was that he kept noticing that. Over and over again. He found the edge of the bench by feel and dropped onto it. The faint scent of her shampoo—something that smelled like apples and spring—made him dizzy with yearning.

With the wish for a woman to love. Alexandra was so incredibly soft and graceful and everything missing in his life, everything he'd been without for so long. It overwhelmed him. Sharpened the edge of a longing he hadn't felt since Bobbie's death.

The longing for companionship. For the deep, abiding connection of love and intimacy. For that incredibly strange and wonderful way of a woman, of her brightness, of her smile, of her magical softness in his life.

And it was wrong. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the longing, just as he'd forced away every other emotion. He tried to focus on the sounds around him—the familiar rise and fall of voices as families settled down into the pews, the strike of heels against the wood floor and the clatter of shoes as the children followed their mothers into the rows.

Hailey's elbow bumped him, bringing him back. He turned toward her, and there was Alexandra. Right there, in his peripheral vision, impossible to
miss. She could be an angel, with the colorful light from the stained-glass windows washing over her like grace.

Her slim fingers held and twisted and folded locks of Hailey's sunny-blond hair with deft confidence, fingers that were long and well shaped, feminine and hugged by several silver rings. Nothing fancy or expensive, just artful, and somehow like her.

Her fingernails were short and painted a light pink, hardly noticeable except that he couldn't seem to tear his gaze from the nimble way her hands worked, tucking and folding, and then winding a small lime-green elastic band around the end of a perfect braid.

“Cool! Thanks, Alexandra.” Hailey touched her new do, shimmering with happiness. “See, Daddy? I think you gotta hire her now 'cuz not even Grammy can do braids like this.”

“They aren't hard to do, not at all,” Alexandra argued, stepping in as if to save him from having to answer. “Let me grab one of these hymnals. I don't want to be flipping pages when the choir starts.”

Hailey jumped to help, and so did Stephanie on Alexandra's other side, as the organ music crescendoed, and Pastor Bill approached the altar.

With Hailey between them, it wasn't as if Alexandra was close to him. But she was. The apple
scent of her shampoo seemed to fill the air. He couldn't stop noticing her. The way she crossed her ankles, the left over the right. He saw that her left shoe strap was held together by one of those tiny brass-colored safety pins.

He ought to feel sorry for her, a woman alone, without family, without means, practically living out of her car. That's what he ought to feel. Obligation, duty and a sense of purpose in the chance to help, to right some wrong, since he had so much on his soul to make right.

But what he felt wasn't pity at all. Or charity. Or the sense of accomplishment that came from helping others. He felt…aware of her as a woman. In a way he hadn't taken notice of any woman since he'd met Bobbie. Shame pounded through him, like wind-driven hail, leaving him icy cold and stinging.

Stunned, he rubbed his hand over his face. This isn't good. It isn't right. He had no business feeling anything but duty toward anyone, much less another beautiful woman. He'd messed up his one chance at love, the beautiful blessing of marriage the good Lord had given him. He had no right to even notice another woman's beauty.

The congregation rose with a resounding rustle that echoed throughout the sanctuary. His cue to stand, too. He held the hymnal and tried to follow the hymn he knew so well. But couldn't seem to
remember the words because he heard Alexandra's sweet soprano, so quiet it was barely discernible, but to him, he heard only her.

This strange, warm flutter of emotion…it was something he had to control. Tamp down and extinguish, because he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve her.

Pastor Bill began the prayer. Bowing his head, John pushed away all thoughts of Alexandra and, with all his heart, concentrated on the minister's words.

W
as this the right place? Alexandra pulled into the long curve of gravel driveway that climbed lush rolling fields, and disappeared out of sight. Her tires crunched in the thick, soft gravel as she drove up the incline.

The house swept into view around a slow curve, a two-story log structure with a gray stone chimney rising up into the sky. Smoke puffed from the chimney, and every window facing her sparkled clean and pure with the sun's light. John's house, just as Bev had described it.

At least she was in the right place, although she wanted to turn the car around and speed straight to the freeway. Why? Because she was insane, that's why. She was attracted to John. Attracted—as in liking. As in noticing a man the way a woman noticed a man.

Warning. Danger. Didn't she know better? Remember what happened the last time she felt this way?

She shivered, despite the warm air breezing in through the open window. Trembled all the way down to her soul. If she closed her eyes and looked inside herself, she knew the memories of Patrick would be right there, close to the surface, frightening as he grew angrier and more threatening, his fist raised….

Don't think about it. She took a deep breath and gave the door a push. Warm, grass-scented air caressed her face as she climbed out of the car. The gravel crunched beneath her heels and the wind tousled her skirt hem.

Maybe it was the day, or the way Pastor Bill's sermon had lifted her heart, but she felt as if the world had never looked so beautiful. The sky was a dazzling blue—truer than any blue sky she'd ever seen before. The mountains jagged and snow-capped, awash with sunlight like a row of uncut amethysts, enduring and breathtaking. Like faith.

Good things were in store for her. She simply had to believe.

“Alexandra! Come meet Bandit!” a cheerful voice called out, drawing Alexandra's attention to the shadowed side of the garage, where Hailey perched on top of a chin-high wooden fence. She was no longer in her Sunday best, but in a pair of jeans, boots and a grape T-shirt. “Do ya like horses?”

“I'm sure I'll like yours.” John wasn't in sight, so Alexandra gladly headed straight down the cemented path that hugged the long wall of the garage. Lilacs lifted budding lavender cones, brushing her arm and skirt as she swept by.

She still didn't see John. He was probably in the house. Good thing. Considering how she'd been feeling this morning, aware of his presence, of his warm breath on her ear, it was best to avoid him as much as possible. He was obviously a nice guy, but she didn't feel comfortable being alone with any man.

“My horse is named Bandit and I can ride her really good,” Hailey called out, swinging her feet. “See how pretty she is?”

Alexandra hardly glanced at the horse. What she noticed were two very big, very male boots visible beneath the horse's belly.

John straightened up, knuckling back his hat to study her over the saddle horn.

She skidded to a stop, her dress swirling around her. She felt melty inside, the way Hailey had described her ice-cream cone the other day. Melty and aware and uplifted. Just from seeing John.

Not good. It was best to ignore it. “You have a beautiful horse, Hailey.”

“I know. Bandit's my very, very best friend, next to Stephanie and Christa. Oh, and Brittany, but only sometimes.” Hailey flipped her bouncy ponytail
behind her shoulders. “Do ya wanna ride? I'll let ya, if you want. I only let my best friends ride Bandit.”

“I'd be honored, except I don't know the first thing to do with a horse.”

John strolled out from behind the mare, moving with the slow power of molten steel. “You can learn. It's easy enough.”

“Gee, thanks. I was hoping it would be really hard. I'm afraid of heights.”

“Then I won't torture you. I'll just take you mountain climbing instead.” Laughter flashed in his dark eyes. “Hey, I'm glad you found us okay.”

John hardly glanced at her. He doesn't feel this same zing of interest that I do, she thought. Why was she disappointed?

John's attention was on his daughter, as it should be. Capable and gentle, he swept the little girl from the high rail of the fence to the soft grass-strewn ground beside the horse. “Want a hand up?”

“Nope, I can do it. I'm big and stuff.” Hailey jabbed her toe into the stirrup, reaching high for the saddle horn. She stretched to her limit and struggled to mount up. John stood behind her, ready to catch her if she should fall.

Just like a good father should.

Her heart tumbled in her chest—a sign of doom. Don't start seeing a fantasy where none exists, she reminded herself. That's the mistake she'd made
with Patrick. She'd seen all the wonderful things he was, and ignored the not-so-wonderful.

Big mistake. One she wouldn't make again.

“Hey, Daddy! It's Grammy!” High atop her horse, Hailey pointed toward the driveway, already sending her mare into a run. “Gotta go, okay? Bye!”

They were alone. Just the two of them. She pretended to watch Hailey ride off, waving to her grandmother. But she was really trying
not
to notice John.

It was impossible.

Alexandra felt his presence, as if all her senses were honed onto him and nothing else. The sound his boot made when he placed his foot on the bottom fence rung. The whisper of his shirt sliding against the rough wood as he settled his forearms on the rail. The fall of his shadow across her feet.

“I'd better go see if Bev needs any help.” It was the only excuse she could think of, but it gave her reason to leave.

Except she felt the unmistakable weight of his gaze on her back, watching her walk away.

Watching her. That didn't sound good. But when she glanced over her shoulder, John was lifting a sun-browned hand to his mother.

Not to her. Heat fired across Alexandra's face. See? More proof that he isn't interested. This reaction to him was probably exhaustion. She was putting in long days on the road. She wasn't
sleeping that well at night. She was off-kilter and so were her feelings. Right?

Trying to make herself believe that explanation, she hurried through the shadows and into the blazing sunlight, leaving John behind.

Bev was unloading plastic containers from the back seat of her luxury sedan. “Oh, there you are. I'm so glad you decided to join us. I made my special potato salad, which I usually only make for special occasions, but I was in the mood for it yesterday. Now I know the reason why.”

Bev handed over the large container she held, reverently, as if it were priceless. “Heaven above must have known we'd have you for Sunday dinner. Hailey, go tell your father I hope he remembered to get propane for the barbecue.”

“But, Gram, I really,
really
need a cookie. I'm gonna starve or something.” Hailey leaned over the top rail, while her horse stood placidly.
“Please?”

“We can't have you keeling over from starvation, now, can we?” Pretending to be stern, although her eyes were twinkling merrily from behind her bifocals, Bev popped the top of a Tupperware container and held the bowl over the fence. “Just one, and it had better not spoil your appetite, young lady.”

“I'm as hungry as a horse.” Hailey bit the corner off a bright pink iced cookie. “I'll go tell Daddy.”

“That's my girl.”

Alexandra helped herself to a few of the containers on the back seat. Might as well be useful. See how easy it would be not to think about John?

“Providence has sent you to us, I have no doubt of that.” Bev gathered the last two bowls, tucking both of them neatly into the crook of her arm. “I want you to take a look at John's house. You'll see right off how much he needs to hire someone, and fast.”

“Ah, now I know why you invited me to Sunday dinner.”

“I confess to ulterior motives. But it just seems too perfect, is all. Hailey and you get along pretty well.”

“I think she's a great kid.”

“See? I knew I liked you.”

“I have great taste when it comes to people.” Alexandra didn't know how else to say it. “Thanks for inviting me today, Bev.”

“My pleasure.”

Alexandra's heart felt incredibly light. She'd needed this more than she'd realized. She'd been so unhappy with Patrick, and slowly growing unhappier with every day that passed, that she hadn't noticed how bad it was.

And how much of life she was missing out on.

“See?” Bev pushed wide the ornate front door to John's house and held an arm wide to the living room. “What can I say? Disaster. I've been trying to do what I can, of course, but what he really needs is a wife.”

“He's looking to remarry?”

“Oh, I hope and pray. No, Bobbie's death broke his heart clean in two, I tell you. I keep hoping he'll find love again. Then again, who knows when it comes to the heart?”

Alexandra's throat tightened, and she couldn't speak. She felt sad for John and his wife, and surprised at Bev's words. Love like that didn't exist, did it?

“What happened to her?”

“A climbing accident. Something went terribly wrong. John blames himself. He cherished her, you know. She was his everything, and he hasn't been the same since he buried her.” Sadness etched into Bev's face, deep around her eyes and mouth, a measure of her own grief and loss.

Real loss. It washed over Alexandra like a tidal wave. Cold and powerful, she was left reeling as Bev tapped away through the foyer and along chinked log walls where framed pictures were the only decoration.

Pictures of family. Of Hailey smiling on top of her pony, her cowboy hat lopsided, grinning while she held a melting grape Popsicle. Pictures of Hailey as a toddler, so small and laughing, cradled in John's protective arms. Images of Hailey as a downy-haired infant tucked beneath a pretty woman's chin—John's wife.

It was impossible not to feel sorry for him. John's
heart was broken irrevocably, Bev had said. Did people really love one another like that? Or was it the fondness of the memory, the sorrow of loss that made the past seem better than it was? She didn't know.

“I'm ready to start grilling.” John strolled through open French doors and into the impressive kitchen. “Mom, you're making Alexandra work, and she's our guest of honor.”

“Oh, I don't mind—”

He stole the bowl from her arms, standing so close to her that she could smell the comfortable scents of barbecue smoke and mesquite chips clinging to the sweatshirt he wore. Standing this close, she could see into his eyes. How dark they were, instead of filled with light. From grief?

Alexandra remembered the picture of his wife, and how gentle her smile had been. She didn't know what to say as John stepped away and snapped off the plastic lid of the container.

“Mom, you are a wonderful woman. I was hoping you would make this.” He inhaled deep. “I'd better sample this. Just to make sure it's good enough for everyone else to eat. I'm a pretty good taste tester. I'm going to get me a spoon—”

“Stop that.” Bev playfully slapped the back of his hand as he pulled out a cherry-wood drawer in the center island. “I know what you're up to, and you'll wait to eat like everyone else. Really, John.
You'd think you were a boy again. How is that going to look to Alexandra, when she's trying to decide if she wants to work here or not?”

Uh-oh. Alexandra stepped forward. As gently as she could, she tried to say, “Bev, I'm not—”

“You are?” John interrupted, turning with the bowl in the crook of his arm. “Great. I'm glad you're reconsidering. Look at the mess I'm in. Wait. Don't look. It might scare you.”

“I wish I could, but I can't—”

“Just give us a chance, dear.” Bev snapped open one container after another. “You could go other places and work for other people, but who could need you more than us?”

“You're pulling my leg. This place is immaculate.” Alexandra's throat tightened, looking around at the cozy, well-appointed home.

“Hailey needs you.” John scavenged through a drawer for a spatula. “If that makes a difference.”

Alexandra didn't know what to say. She'd been looking for a new start. The chance for a new life.

Could it be true? Is this what the Lord had in His plans for her?

 

“What do you think?” John squinted across the outdoor table at her, shaded by a big yellow umbrella, as she took her first bite.

“Heaven with mayonnaise.” Alexandra couldn't help a tiny moan of appreciation.

“See, Mom? I told you.” John reached for the serving spoon. “Since it's been officially tested and approved, I'm done waiting. I'm digging in.”

“Serve your mother first.” Bev winked, holding out her plate, fully aware she was torturing her grown son. “Two big spoonfuls, please. How about you, Hailey?”

“Yep. I want lots.” She held out her plate, too.

“In some houses, it's the man who gets served first.” Good-natured, John winked, and dumped a heaping serving of potato salad on Bev's plate.

“In some houses, in the fifth century. Don't forget to serve your father. Gerald, only one scoop. We're watching his cholesterol.” Bev leaned close to confess. “Alexandra, go ahead and start passing the chicken. Take a nice big piece. You'll love John's marinade. Hailey, honey, pass the biscuits, please.”

John and his father were talking about a tractor engine, their voices pleasant rumbles as Alexandra selected a piece of deliciously fragrant chicken and set it on her plate. There was no strained silence, as she'd grown up with. Or the pretense of rigidly polite manners that had been so important to Patrick.

Hailey was chattering away to her grandmother about her horse, and Bev was filling both their plates with wonderful food. Sweetly spicy baked beans and a green salad and biscuits so fluffy they looked like miniature clouds. Ice tinkled in a crystal pitcher as John refilled his glass with iced tea.