Bluegrass Courtship (7 page)

D
rew found Janet sitting on the floor at the back of the cleaning products aisle, pricing a case of spray bottles with a marker. He loved that about this place. The store was cluttered, but in an organized, “got everything you'll ever need” kind of way. It had character and individuality. Narrow aisles lined with wooden bins and a real counter, not a check-out aisle. No bar codes, no price tags—everything had a price written on it by hand. By her, he guessed, for every product was priced with the neatly drawn numbers one generally attributes to artists or engineers. A sharp but decidedly feminine script.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and stood there until she looked up from her task. He didn't know what to make of her expression. It was softer than the glare she'd given him when he first arrived in Middleburg, but it was far harder than the looks she'd given him over pie at Deacon's Grill. “Hey,” he said, oddly tongue-tied for a further greeting.

“'Afternoon,” she said, picking up another spray can.
“Your blue paint came in. I had Emily look it over just as a precaution.”

All business. He supposed he deserved no less. “Thanks for that.”

She priced the can and picked up another without looking up. Drew moved over and sat down a foot or two away from her. “Look, I messed up. I knew better than to push like that. That's not the way God is supposed to work, and it's my fault, not His.
Missionnovation
invades enough as it is—it's not supposed to be shoved personally down your throat like that. I'm asking you to forgive my thoughtlessness and let us start over for the sake of the preschool. Can we do that?”

Her pen stilled but she didn't look up. He waited, saying a prayer that God could cover his dumb mistake and make things right between them. He needed Janet's cooperation if this thing was going to come off well. He needed Janet's forgiveness for a whole other bunch of reasons.

“Yes,” she said, finally looking up. Her eyes were softer now, but still very cautious. “We can do that.”

Drew started to say something clever and charming to cover the moment, but stopped himself. “Thank you,” he said simply, and turned to go.

“Drew,” she called as he started down the aisle.

He turned.

“Vern has your paint up by the counter. Why don't you ask Emily and Gil to come help you paint the door? Might go a long way with those two.” She nodded, and the faintest hint of a smile found its way to the corners of her mouth.

“Brilliant idea. I'll do that.”

 

That night, Janet dropped her mother off at the prayer meeting after they'd had dinner together. After the unavoid
able “you're sure you won't stay?” pleading, Janet let her mother out of the car and pulled her Jeep up over the hill towards home. Her cell phone slid and fell between the seat, and she had to stop the car to reach down and fetch it back. At that moment, she heard the sounds of the prayer meeting floating out into the night.

She heard Drew's voice as he spoke to the crowd. He was eloquent—as eloquent as Tony had been, if not more. Tony was a gifted speaker, one of those natural-born leaders who could inspire others to follow him. It wasn't hard to see where most of her suspicion of Drew came from; he was far too much like Tony—like Tony in the early days, that is—not to compare the two. Not being much of the leader type herself, she admired those gifts. She wasn't blind to how people naturally followed Drew's dynamic lead.

But it was precisely that “natural following” that made her nervous. She'd “naturally followed” Tony, and it had led to nothing but pain. She no longer trusted the tug she felt when she watched someone give an impassioned speech.

In some way, though, that was the difference between what Tony did and what Drew was doing. There was another side to Drew—one she saw when he apologized this afternoon—that wouldn't let her dismiss him as yet another “visionary” church guy stirring up support. She realized, as she listened, that she'd been so quick to see the “hype” that she'd dismissed the passion. They weren't the same thing. She'd expected a flamboyant, energetic speech—something to beget handclapping and shouting. Instead, she heard someone was picking on a guitar, lilting and soft. She realized she'd been envisioning the meetings as a sort of God-soaked pep rally, but this wasn't like that at all.

Drew's voice was different than what she saw on televi
sion or even on site. The voice she heard now was miles away from the frenetic show host—this voice belonged to the Drew she saw in the store this afternoon. For some reason, while she could easily dismiss the theatrical Drew, this quieter Drew made it impossible to drive away.

He began singing a hymn, and she heard the crowd join in. It was an extraordinary sound, to hear so many voices echoing into the fading light. No wonder they never showed these on television. Even from this distance, the meeting sounded too personal, too intimate to broadcast. It felt almost like church, and she was surprised that the sensation didn't cause her to bristle.

This wasn't hype.

This was worship.

Janet allowed herself to listen, just for a minute. Drew's voice sounded hungry for faith. It was hard to think of him hungering for more. He had enough faith for six people.

She'd grown comfortable with a life without faith. Learned to stand on her own in the practical, pragmatic world she made. She was never the kind of woman who pre tended to be something other than who she was—never dyed her hair or wore lots of makeup or needed to run off to college far away from Middleburg. She was who she was—always had been.

But they were both lonely.

She knew why he'd invited her, why he'd blurted that request before he could even realize that she wasn't ready for it. He'd felt it.

That thing she felt, that thing she was trying
not
to feel. There was something between them. Something so impractical, that it seemed ridiculous to entertain.

Janet shook her head and drove away. “Not a chance,” she told herself in the rearview mirror. “Not even the slightest chance.”

 

Janet meant to stay away from the work site; she wasn't ready to see Drew again. Theoretically, he was still the same man, but the sides of him she'd seen wouldn't mesh in her head no matter what she tried, and it seemed better just to stay away.

Vern, however, had gone to the prayer meeting for the first time last night and wouldn't stop talking about it. “No hoopla there,” he said as he and Janet opened the store that morning. “Just fine, upstandin' hymn singin'. Like the revivals we had when I was young.” Janet heard him mutter “good people” three or four more times before she couldn't stand it anymore.

“Run this over to the church, will you?” she interrupted, handing Vern a tin of drywall compound. “Ask somebody if this is the kind they want.” Of course, no one had even ordered drywall compound. The outer walls were just barely up. Still, if she didn't get Vern and his green-bus-gushing out of here she was sure she'd go bananas. “We're more than covered for the morning,” Janet lied, “why don't you have some fun and hang around the site for a few hours. Let me know what you think of the way they've run the utilities over there.”

He jumped at the invitation. She knew he would. Besides, a morning alone in the shop seemed like just the tonic for her frazzled insides.

 

Drew looked at Vern and Mike as the pair of them hauled some equipment across the lawn. Side by side like that,
Vern and Mike looked like father and son. Like Mike—
Missionnovation
's long and lanky electrics expert whom punsters often called “wiry”—Vern hadn't a pound to spare on his tall frame. They'd obviously hit it off; they were absorbed in an animated conversation. This was half the fun of
Missionnovation—
watching folks make friendships. Drew himself kept up regular correspondence with several people from projects from each of the seasons—it had become an extended family of sorts for him. Despite the doubtful eye Vern had given the bus when it first pulled up, Drew liked the guy. They'd talked several times over the past few days. The old man had asked pointed questions, but he also seemed satisfied with the answers Drew provided. He was a straight shooter all right, honest but fair, and he had the wisdom of age Drew missed with his father now gone.

They were debating some technical point when Drew caught up with them. “Have you met Vern here?” Mike said, putting down the wheelbarrow he was pushing.

“I most certainly have,” Drew pulled off his work glove and shook Vern's hand again. Vern had come over just after nine, and it was well past noon, but still the man showed no signs of wanting to either go home or get back to Bishop Hardware. “Good to have your help, sir.”

“Your man knows his way around his pipes and wires,” Vern said, inclining his head toward Mike. “It's been a long time since someone showed me something I didn't already know.”

Mike beamed. He really was an expert with electrics and plumbing, but the general public wasn't always appreciative of the wonders behind their walls. Mike always grumbled, “People don't give a hoot about their wiring until it stops working. Then all they do is hoot and holler.” It was true.

“I was just showing him how we rigged the upstairs conduit boxes,” Mike started in. “He liked how we…”

Drew held up his hand before Mike launched into something highly technical. “I trust you with the details. And believe me, if Vern's impressed, then I am, too.”

Vern looked at Drew with a narrowed eye. “You know what you got in this guy? How good he is?”

Drew had to smile. It was grand that Mike found someone who truly appreciated his skills. Especially someone as frugal with their praise as Vern Murphy. “I do indeed, sir.”

“Well, you make sure you remember that. Fine young man. I reckon a hotshot like you would be sunk without the likes of him.”

Drew clasped a hand onto Mike's shoulder. “I thank God every day for Mike.” And he did. Drew could design anything a church wanted, but if the lights and plumbing didn't work,
Missionnovation
might as well be handing out tents and boxes.

“Vern agrees with my changes to the hallway lighting, you know.” Mike and Drew had come to a serious disagreement yesterday over the placement of some lights in the preschool wing.

Vern crossed his arms over his chest and gave Drew a pointed look. He knew that look—he'd seen it on half a dozen former hostiles. It was the look that said “I'm going to base my opinion of
Missionnovation
on what you say next.”

Drew's gaze shifted from Mike's defiant look to Vern's challenging stare. Hadn't his father had always taught him that sometimes you need to give to get? Drew was smart enough to see he was currently outnumbered. “So Vern thinks we ought to do it your way, does he?”

“Yep.” Mike's arms came up to cross his chest until he looked like Vern's younger mirror image.

Definitely outnumbered. “Well, then, I concede to Mr. Murphy's wise counsel.” Mike's and Vern's twin grins only exaggerated their similarities. Drew was just thinking about what an education in life this job was when he spied Janet coming across the lawn.

She stopped, put her hands above her eyes against the bright sunshine, and scanned the site.

“Vern,” Drew said as he caught Janet's expression, “Did you play hooky this morning, sir?”

“What do you mean by that?” Vern came up behind him.

Drew pointed to Janet, scanning the site with a hand impatiently planted on one hip. “I think Ms. Bishop's wondering where you've gone off to.”

Vern gave a low whistle. “Well of course she knows I'm here. She sent me. Told me to stay awhile besides.”

Drew gave Vern a look. “Maybe ‘awhile' didn't mean close to four hours. I'm obliged, Vern, but don't lose your job over us.”

Vern nudged Mike. “She cain't fire me. I got seniority.”

“Vern,” Drew replied, “I reckon you got more seniority than any of us. But even young upstarts like me know you've got to keep the boss happy.”

“Yeah, well if you'd seen her this mornin' you'd know nothin' was gonna keep her happy today,” Vern said. Then he turned to Mike. “Between you and me, I was glad to get out of there this morning.”

Lord, what is it about that woman?
Drew prayed as he put down the cables he was holding and began walking with the old man down the hill.

 

“It's nearly one,” Janet said as Vern came walking across the lawn with Drew. He looked like he'd had a grand time,
and she hated herself for coming over to fetch him back like some kind of disciplinarian. “I know I said ‘awhile,' but…”

“Thanks for loaning us Vern.” Drew interrupted. Those two looked in cahoots with each other. She didn't cherish the idea of Vern siding up with Drew Downing. Then again, there weren't even supposed to be “sides,” were there?