Cedar Creek Seasons (29 page)

“If that’s the way you feel.” George paused then shrugged. “You win, Mueller. You win.” He shuffled away, waving one hand over his shoulder.

Eli patted the bench.

Claire sat beside him, her emotions roiling. So much to digest. Her pulse pounded, and a throb began behind her left eye.
A migraine
.

“Did you mean it?”

She massaged her temple.

“Dance partner?”

Her heart raced. “Yes.” She smiled. “We could ‘cut a rug’ as my mama used to say.” An aura skip-danced through her field of vision.
Not now, Lord, not now
. A light-headed, too-familiar sensation swirled around her.

Eli pressed her hand to his chest.

“Eli, I—I—” She pulled away and stood. “I have to go.”

“No. Not yet.”

Claire gulped back nausea and touched a trembling hand to her face. “Will you take me back to the inn?”

“What’s wrong?” His eyes narrowed. “You still have headaches?”

She tipped her head. “Not as often, but yes, they catch me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “At the worst possible moments.” Eli laced his fingers through hers. Worry crossed his brow.

“What can I do?”

She tucked her purse under her arm, her stomach flip-flopping. “I—I—I need to find my migraine medicine.” She turned and stumbled on the grass.

“Of course, I understand.” Disappointment colored his words. He grasped her elbow and guided her the two blocks to the door of the inn. “Claire.” He hesitated. “This has been a shock, I know.” His thumb caressed her elbow. “You’ll be here for a few days. We’ll talk.”

She stepped from his tender touch, her head pounding. “Yes. But not now.”

Eli stepped back. “Soon, I hope,” he murmured.

The stabbing pain caught her off guard, and a sob caught in the back of her throat. “Yes. Soon.” She turned toward the inn, her steps heavy.

Inside the inn’s hallway, she fished for the key and entered the cool room.

“Aunt Claire?” Melissa called.

Claire moaned and peered into the dresser mirror, her eyes reflecting the pain—from her head and her heart. Fumbling in her purse, she located her medication.

Melissa came out of the bathroom and motioned toward the closet. “Our suitcases are in the car. Aunt Sylvia has a room for each of us.” She leaned forward, a flash of uncertainty on her face. “Although your room won’t be inside the main house.” She chewed her lower lip. “It’s like a gardener’s cottage, where she paints.”

Alone. Privacy
.

“Yes, that’s fine.” Claire opened a water bottle sitting on the counter and slipped the pill in her mouth. A chime sounded in the depths of her purse. She slid her phone out and read a text.
Talk. Soon. Stay. Please stay.

Claire rubbed her finger over the screen. An intense longing overtook her before a wave of pain swept it away.

M
elissa tapped on the door and entered the gardener’s cottage, smiling. “You’re looking better this Tuesday morning.”

“I should, darling girl, with all your skilled care.” Claire lifted her head from the pillow, headache-free for the first time in two days. Despite pain medication, rest, and privacy, a fierce pounding and overwhelming nausea had kept her in bed. “Between Brad and me, you’ve been quite the Florence Nightingale.” She slowly slid from beneath the covers and reached for her robe.

Melissa giggled. “Brad’s fine. He just wanted the attention.” She cupped Claire’s elbow and pulled her into a hug. “I love you.”

Claire sniffled. “I love you, too.” She held her niece at arm’s length and peered into her eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Right as rain.” She gave Claire a gentle push. “Get moving and we’ll visit with Aunt Sylvia.”

“She’s been so kind to share her space.” Claire looked about the small room, the walls covered with canvases, the corners filled with paints on easels. “I’ll be over soon.”

Melissa slipped out the door. Claire perched on the edge of the bed. She’d spent her few waking hours in the last two days in tears—her father’s betrayal stabbed her heart. How could he have kept Eli from her? She shoved to her feet and paced the room, a deep burning in her middle. Light from the transom filtered into the room, and she centered herself in its beam. “Lord, I need Your help. Forgiveness doesn’t come easily to me.” She lifted her face to the light. “I choose to forgive my father for deceiving me.” She sighed. “Show me the path You would have me follow.” A smile flitted across her face. “And bless Eli, dear Lord.”

After a shower, Claire dressed and crossed the patio, ready to face Brad’s avant-garde relative. She and Sylvia had only shared quick pleasantries Sunday evening before Melissa tucked Claire into bed.

A clunky Schwinn bicycle propped against the garage wall caught her attention. It sported a frayed straw basket on the handlebars. “Just like the one I rode in high school.” A rusty silver bell hung beside the basket. Claire pulled the lever, and a tinny ring echoed. She and Eli had ridden the countryside on their bikes, her precious yellow Lab, Sadie, loping alongside. The covered bridge. How many Frisbees had they lost to the sweep of water at that park? Her mouth curved into a smile.

Eli
.

Claire touched her lips. The sweet kiss they shared on Sunday seemed a dream. Melissa had roused her Monday morning with news Eli was there, but in her state, she refused to see him. “Today.” She smiled. “Today I’ll see him.”

She grinned and stepped into the kitchen.

Sylvia swept around the end of the counter, silver mules clicking against the tile floor, a gauzy orange cloak fluttering in her wake, and fuzzy red hair caught in a clip at a ninety-degree angle. She air-kissed Claire. “Darling, so glad you’ve recovered.” She tucked a tiny muffin into a napkin and circled the center island. “Once I grab some coffee, I’ll be ensconced in your private space for the morning.” With a delighted laugh, she filled a cup. “I hate to inconvenience you, but my painting calls.” She swirled out of the room.

Brad snorted. “And that’s a dose of Aunt Sylvia.”

“I’m sorry I kept her room occupied.”

“Don’t be.” Brad shook his head. “She was too involved in closing out the Strawberry Festival to need the space until today.” He grasped Melissa’s hand. “Tell her yet?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Tell me what?” Claire leaned against the granite counter.

Her niece sidled closer, wearing a crooked grin. “Nothing much.” She brushed crumbs from the counter. “Except Brad has asked me to marry him.”

“What?” Claire squealed and grabbed Melissa. “Oh my.”

Red faced, Brad dipped his head. “I called Melissa’s parents and they gave their consent.”

Openmouthed, Claire plopped on a bar stool and clutched Melissa’s and Brad’s hands. “Then I consent, too.” She squeezed their fingers. “Congratulations.”

“My mother is coming tonight.” Brad laughed. “She decided not to wait until Saturday.”

Melissa slid an arm around Brad’s waist. “We’re planning a party this weekend.”

Claire raised a brow. “So soon?”

“Kind of.” Melissa eyed her. “Brad’s accepted a position. We’d like to get married in August so we can get settled before the term starts.”

“That’s wonderful! Where?”

Melissa beamed. “Can you believe it? Stanford!” The light in her eyes dimmed. “My only regret, Aunt Claire, is leaving you.” Melissa touched Claire’s arm. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“Darling girl, I will come visit every chance I get.” Claire hugged her niece’s shoulders. “You won’t get rid of me easily.”

Melissa kissed her cheek. “I should hope not.” She waved an arm at Brad, who chuckled and joined the group hug.

Claire released them and poured a cup of coffee then sat at the table.

The starry-eyed couple cuddled on the family room sofa. Claire watched them snuggle and kiss, her heart sinking in her chest.

Alone
.

Melissa was her only family in Indianapolis now that Tony had moved to Houston. And with the new changes in her church, she’d felt isolated for some time.

Eli’s words floated through her mind.
Stay. Please stay
.

“Melissa, where is my cell phone?”

“It’s in my room. It needed charging.” Melissa shoved from the sofa and returned, waving the phone. “Seems like you have a host of texts. Bet I know who from.”

Claire unfolded the phone and tapped the screen’s display. She read the first text.

S
TRAY

A smile crossed her lips, and she scrolled further.

H
OPE UR BUTTER
. T
ALL SLOONER
?

She slid the display to the last text and giggled.

E
LI WOULD LIKE TO TALK WITH
C
LAIRE
.

“Wonder how long that took him?” She sipped her coffee and stared at the colorful display of hydrangeas and petunias in Sylvia’s garden. Sunlight glinted from something—

She set her cup on the counter. “Brad, do you think Aunt Sylvia would mind if I borrowed her bike?”

Eli placed the last jewelry order into a brown envelope and slid it into Marie’s lockbox. He’d finished the morning’s accounts, paid bills, answered e-mail, and chatted with his mother. His cell phone never left his side. Why hadn’t he heard from Claire? Tuesday, already. He’d left three messages on her phone and she hadn’t called.

His revelation about the letters—“Lord, was it too much too soon?” He settled on the stool and reached for his well-worn Bible. Only time in the Word had gotten him this far, and he needed comfort in its pages. He flopped it on the counter and it spread open. Proverbs 3.

Eli scanned the familiar passage. “Trust in the Lord with all my heart. Isn’t that what I’ve tried to do?” He chuckled. “‘And lean not on your own understanding.’ Maybe I’m not so good at that part. Yet.” He shut the book and replaced it on the shelf.

“Patience.” He opened the refrigerator for a bottle of water. A blue plate heaped with cookies sat center stage. “Oh, Marie.” Another twinge of guilt pierced his gut. He twisted the bottle cap off and tossed it toward the garbage can. It bounced against a wall calendar and ricocheted to the clock on his desk. Frustration roared through his middle. “Yeah, Lord, the clock’s ticking and days are passing.” Loneliness enveloped him. It seemed this feeling had been with him for so long. What would he do when Claire left town again?

Eli reached for her ring and slid it on his pinky. The repair done, he needed to return it. He popped the ring inside a special blue velvet box. He’d take it by Sylvia’s this afternoon. He had to see Claire—to know. He raked a hand through his hair. What should he say?

He needed to think. “Bridge time.” He opened the workroom door. “I’m leaving for a while.”

Marie waved and returned her attention to a customer.

Eli lifted his bicycle from the stand and trundled to the sidewalk. Pushing off, he pedaled down Washington Avenue, a nod or two at friends. He sped up—he had no desire to fraternize at the moment.

Within minutes he reached the park. A silver van and a Mercedes sat in the small parking lot by the covered bridge. Three children lobbed a Frisbee between them while their parents watched. Eli smiled. A pleasant scene. Claire’s Lab had fetched quite a few Frisbees in this park.

He propped his bike against a large boulder and meandered to the creek. Soothing burbles began to calm his racing pulse. He squatted and tossed a rock into the water. His knee began to ache. Halfway into a stand, a Frisbee caught him in the back of the neck. He grabbed it just before it flew into the water. He clutched it to his chest, a rumble of laughter rolling out.

“Sorry, mister.” A towheaded, wide-eyed youngster stood before him twisting his hands. “Me and my brother didn’t mean it.”

Eli handed the Frisbee to the boy. “No problem. Enjoy.” He rubbed the back of his neck and wandered toward the covered bridge.

It was cool and dim inside, and Eli’s steps thunked across the boards. He reached the middle and leaned against the railing. What would’ve happened if Claire had gotten the note with the daisies? Would she have come to the bridge? Would they have lived happily ever after?

Laughter rang outside. He bent over and peered out a diamond-shaped knothole. He could see the river and edge of the park where the children played.

“Eli?”

He closed his eyes. He
heard
his dreams now?

Footfalls sounded on the bridge. “Eli?”

Eli swung his head around and froze.

Claire
.

A flood of love welled up, and he spread his arms wide. When she stepped into his embrace, he bent and grazed her hair with his lips. “You’re here.” He brushed hair from her forehead and let his hand slide down her cheek. He tilted his head and met her lips. She leaned into his kiss.

“Claire.” The word was sweet on his tongue.

She traced his jaw with a finger. His eyes burned with unshed tears. Oh, how he’d ached for this moment. His throat tightened, and he gave her a gentle hug. Releasing her with one arm, he reached for the velvet box in his pocket.

“Your promise ring is repaired,” he whispered. He slid it on her finger.

Claire held her hand aloft. A ray of sunlight tapped the silver and glistened atop the sapphire. She looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”