Carnations in January (10 page)

She had to admit he was right about one thing. If she were in the flat, she wouldn't rest. And while it was only his couch, nothing more, Joel would be there, too. Perhaps it'd be safe. Trust had to start somewhere, right?

~*~

Elliott let himself in just after seven. He'd finished work a lot later than usual, but wanted to make up some of the time he'd lost today. No point being the boss if he didn't set a good example, was there? He hung up his jacket and toed off his shoes. The house smelled of fish. At least he didn't have to cook.

He slid his feet into slippers and padded down the hallway to the kitchen.

Joel smiled as he opened the door. “Hey, El. How was your day?”

“Had better. How's Grace?”

“Still sleeping. She hasn't stirred since she laid down. Whatever the doc gave her did the trick.”

“Just her normal meds, I think.” He took the plate from Joel and shoved it into the microwave. “Thanks for cooking and watching her.”

“Least I can do.” He leaned against the dresser. “Are you really all right?”

Elliott closed his eyes, seeing Grace lying on the floor, then the other image replacing it. He wouldn't lie anyway, but there would be no point lying to Joel. His twin knew him almost better than he knew himself. “I saw her lying there and it brought it all flooding back. I thought…” His voice cracked, before he pulled his emotions back under control. “Sorry.”

Joel hugged him. “Don't apologize, El. You were only twelve when you found Mum. There was nothing you could have done. No one blamed you. Not then and not now.”

Elliott still struggled with the guilt, although he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even his twin. “At least Grace is all right.”

“You really like her. So, have you told her how you feel?”

“No, and I'm not going to either.”

“Why not?” Joel shoved his hands into his pockets.

“You're the one who's divorced and you're asking me?”

“Don't let my failed marriage put you off women.”

“Joel, I watched Caroline destroy you little by little, and you just expect me to open myself up to the same kind of hurt?” He shook his head and took the plate out of the microwave.

“No, El. I expect you to let God give you the kind of life He wants for you. Not to run scared and hide.”

Elliott opened the drawer and picked up a fork. He perched on the stool at the table. “I am
not
hiding.”

“Of course you're not. When was the last time you dated a woman?”

Elliott bowed his head while he said grace. He took a mouthful of dinner before answering. “No idea.”

Joel smirked. “You need to get out there and live, El.”

“You can talk. You haven't dated anyone since your divorce was finalized—years ago.” He took another bite and changed the subject. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. And think about it, please.”

“Marriage?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, dating. Join an agency or pick some random woman off the street or from the church directory. Just don't give up.”

“I'll think about it.” He took another bite, too hungry to discuss his love life, or the lack thereof. The problem was he had come to care for Grace, far more than he was comfortable with and way more than he was ready for or prepared to admit to anyone.

“Hi.” A quiet voice came from the doorway.

He turned and smiled. “Hello, you feeling better?”

“A little.”

“Come and sit.”

Grace slowly crossed the room and sat beside him.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Joel asked. “I saved you some fish if you fancy it.”

She shook her head. “Just water, please.”

The phone in the hall rang, and Joel went to answer it.

“You should at least have juice,” Elliott said. “How long has it been since you ate or drank anything?”

Her face creased in thought. “Last night.”

Elliott stood. “Then you need to eat. I'll make you some tea and toast.”

“Don't let yours get cold. When you're finished is fine.”

He sat again. “OK.”

She rubbed her temples and pushed back against the wall. “I'm sorry for worrying you and the others. I didn't mean to. I felt so awful—just wanted something to take away the pain, but stupidly lost my balance and knocked my head on something before I could take one of Aunt Tilja's pills.”

“You should never take someone else's medication,” he chided gently. “How often do you get migraines?”

“Too often. Normally I take the meds as soon as I get the aura and then go to bed. But that wasn't possible this time. And, Aunt Tilja and I had the same migraine medicine. I just hoped...”

“I'll make you an appointment to see my GP, get you set up with more meds. His name is Jackson Parker. You'll like him. He also goes to our church.”

Grace gave him the look he'd come to know so well. Her do-you-have-to-keep-bringing-church-into-the-conversation look. “Thank you.”

He rose to make her toast. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

“I can't. The shop…”

“The shop is fine. I checked this afternoon. Shana locked up and she's opening tomorrow. She and Mandy have everything covered.” He looked at her. “Next argument?”

“It wouldn't be right,” she whispered.

“What wouldn't be right?” Joel asked, coming back into the room.

“I told Grace she needed to sleep here tonight,” Elliott said. “She shouldn't be on her own in case she passes out again.”

Joel nodded. “It's a good plan, and I promise I'll protect you from any wicked scheme my twin brother may have.”

Elliott groaned. “That isn't going to help, you brat.”

Joel grinned. “Takes one to know one. And that was Guy on the phone. He's had a look at the laptop, and it's fixable, despite the mug of coffee spilled on it. He'll have it done by Friday.”

“Oh, thank you,” Grace said. “How much will it be?”

“He said no more than thirty quid, maybe not even that much. And he says the files are salvageable, too. So no harm done, really.”

Elliott looked at Grace, pulling the conversation back to her staying the night. “You can have the couch. I would offer you my bed, and I'll have the couch, but you'd only say no and run a mile.”

She rubbed her head. “I need to sleep, but I can't…”

He brought over a mug of tea and plate of toast. “Yes, you can, soon as you've eaten this. I promise, you'll be perfectly safe and besides, you can't get in the flat 'til Shana comes back with the keys in the morning.”

She sighed in defeat. “OK. The couch it is.”

9

The rest of the week passed slowly, with Grace's routine not changing. She'd get up and open the shop by half eight.

Elliott would appear about ten with coffee and news on where they were with the insurance. This update usually consisted of nothing happening, or still waiting on the insurance or the surveyor's report.

Her flower arrangements were gradually beginning to resemble what they should, and the thought of the wedding on the twenty-eighth of January was no longer quite so terrifying.

Saturday morning, Elliott appeared with a tray of coffees. “Morning, ladies.”

Shana grinned. “You got some for all of us this time? What's the occasion? Is it your birthday?”

Elliott laughed. “Not quite.” He handed Grace a letter. “This came.”

“What is it?” She glanced at the envelope. “It's addressed to you.”

“Read it. Your copy is in the post, most likely.”

Grace opened the letter and read it. Her heart pounded and she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. “They said yes?”

Elliott's grin widened. “They said yes. All of it. Attic room, conservatory—all exactly as you wanted.”

Grace squealed and impulsively hugged him. “Thank you.”

He hugged her back. “We start Monday with the foundations. It's a timber frame so won't take long for the shell to go up once the foundations are in, but lasts years.”

She grinned. “That's good.”

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

Grace swallowed her amazement. She'd overheard part of the conversation he and Joel had had about women the other day and this was the last thing she'd been expecting. Perhaps she was the “random woman off the street.” But he was offering dinner, and she had to eat at some point. “OK, thank you.”

He smiled. “Do you like Chinese?”

She inclined her head slightly. “Yes, but I haven't had that in ages.”

“Chinese it is then. I'll pick you up at seven.”

~*~

Grace sat opposite of him in the small restaurant on the High Street. She'd ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, and hoped he hadn't noticed. The talk had turned to color schemes for her house. “Lime green and orange,” she suggested.

It was worth it for the look of horror on Elliott's face. “You can't be serious.”

“With a sparkly silver disco ball and those hanging chairs—” She broke off, laughing. “No, I'm not being serious.”

“Good. Otherwise I've completely read you wrong.”

She tilted her head, moving the chopsticks through the noodles. “And don't go painting everything magnolia either.”

“What's wrong with magnolia?” he asked straight-faced.

“What's
right
with magnolia?” she replied.

“Everything. It's bright, makes the rooms look bigger, and doesn't clash with your sofa.”

“It's boring. And I don't have a sofa.” She twirled the noodles around the chopstick. “Maybe I'll just decorate myself. And then buy the furniture to match.”

“No.”

She looked at him, the food pausing in front of her mouth. His firm tone surprised her. “No?”

He grinned. “I've seen you decorate. Destroy is more like it. Curtain poles, shelves…so maybe I should do it.”

Grace widened her eyes and tried to appear indignant at his teasing. “I'm quite capable of putting a bit of paint on a wall, thank you.”

“No paper?”

“No. Paint.”

He winked. “No paper and no paint? Just bare plaster walls, then?”

She stabbed a chopstick in his direction. “You, Mr. Wallac, are incorrigible.”

“Joel's been telling me that for years.” Elliott sighed as the noodles fell off the chopsticks again. “Will you come with me tomorrow?”

It didn't take long to work out what he was talking about. “To church? Why?”

“Because God hasn't given up on you and neither have I.”

“Maybe I've given up on religion.”

Elliott studied her. “Religion is good news for good people. A list of do's and don'ts they can keep.”

“Like the Pharisees?”

“Exactly.” He smiled slightly. “Whereas Jesus is good news for bad people.”

Shock resonated through her. “I'm sorry?”

“Simply put, we've all messed up, right? A list of rules, in other words, religion, isn't going to do us any good. I'm preaching tomorrow morning if you need an incentive to come.”

“You preach?”

“Sometimes. When they ask me to.”

“Is there no end to your talents?” she asked wryly. “You cook, build houses, fix the gas and broken shelves, preach…”

Elliott shrugged. “A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.”

“And does that include nagging people into going to church?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes for a moment before he hid it.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I have plans for tomorrow. Now I have the laptop back, I need to finish the website.”

“OK.” He turned his attention to his meal.

Grace looked down.
Nice one, Gracie. Way to go to ruin things. May as well just kick him hard and run
.

“Do you want dessert?” he asked as she finished.

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

He signaled the waiter. “Then I'll get the bill and take you home.”

~*~

Elliott sat in church the following morning, looking at the notes in his hand. His stomach still churned at the thought of the previous evening.

Forgive me, Lord. I pushed her too far and probably did more harm than good. I'll stop asking her to come, just be there for her in other ways. I don't understand why I'm so attracted to her. If that's even how I feel. I saw what Caroline did to Joel and maybe he's right. Maybe I am scared of letting that happen to me—or have her leave me like Mum did
.

He buried his face in his hands. He was so lost in his own petitions that the corporate prayer went over his head.
Please, work in her. The things she said gave me pause. Perhaps she never really knew You at all. Whatever is bothering her is huge, and it seems much more than just losing her sister. It's preventing her from coming into a proper relationship with You. I want to help her, but I'm not the only man…the only person who can do that. As long as she finds You, that's all that matters
.

The sound of the organ playing made him look up. He rose to sing the hymn, intending to go up to the pulpit during the last verse.
Safe under God's almighty hand, protected as a child He loves; I cast my cares and fears on Him, and safely leave them there
.

Elliott stood and went into the pulpit, attaching the microphone Pastor Carson handed him to his tie, and sliding the battery pack into his jacket pocket. He read the text again and then started preaching on first Peter five verses six and seven.
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you
.

As he spoke, he glanced around the chapel. His gaze fell on a figure that sat right at the back by the door. Grace. His heart leapt for joy.
Thank You
. He didn't let his gaze linger, but carried on preaching with renewed vigor. At the end of the service, he looked for her, but she'd left. He was about to set off after her, but got waylaid and the chance was gone.