Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Bayou Sweetheart\The Firefighter's New Family\Season of Redemption (13 page)

“Yes,” she said on a hiss of a whisper. “What should I do?”

“Pray?”

“Funny. I've done that already. A lot.”

“Well, God might have heard you. And maybe He's giving you the answer right now.”

“Not the answer I was looking for.”

“Hello, Tomas,” Alma said, smiling up at the man standing there, waiting for Alma to move over.

“Alma.” He looked past her to Callie. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” Alma replied before Callie could find her tongue. “In fact, I'm waiting for Julien. I'll just move down so you can sit here, by Callie.”

Callie wanted to throttle her sister, but she was in the Lord's house, after all, so she couldn't commit any acts of violence. Instead, she waited for Tomas to sit down then she looked straight ahead.

“Hello,” he said into her ear, facing forward.

“Hi.” She looked down at her hands. Her work-worn hands.

“You've been avoiding me.”

“Yes. I mean no, not really. I've been busy.”

“With your big garden behind the church?”

“Yes, that and well, it's that time of year. A new spring.”

“You don't bluff very well, Callie.”

She finally looked up and into his eyes. What she saw there tore through her system. He looked frustrated and confused. His eyes were an angry storm.

“No, I'm not good at hiding the truth. And...I was going to call you to thank you for what you did the other day. We've already started on tilling the new acreage. We hope to plant the garden on Good Friday.”

“I'd like to help out.”

“But...you have work of your own.”

“And I'm the boss, so I can take a few hours off here and there.”

“That's not necessary.”

“I want to help.”

“Okay.”

The organist started playing a loud rendition of “Love Lifted Me.”

Tomas leaned close, his breath tickling at Callie's neck. “We need to talk. Can I take you to lunch after the service?”

Callie didn't know what to say. Should she go to lunch with Tomas and tell him the truth? Or should she tell him she wasn't interested and watch him walk away?

“We'll talk later,” she replied, motioning to the choir.

So they sat in silence, Alma and Julien and Papa on the pew with them. Alma kept leaning forward to check on Callie, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. Callie tried to focus on the sermon, but Tomas was close, so close. Close enough that she remembered being in his arms, remembered kissing him, remembered how sweet and gentle he'd been as they'd moved through his house, as he'd taken her heart.

Reverend Guidry talked about a perfect heart, a heart for Christ. “This kind of heart forgives our sins,” he said, his tone low and dramatic. “But before we can have our own perfect heart, we have to be open to God's love and grace. We should have a gracious heart, a forgiving heart, a heart that understands, a heart that takes a risk for love's sake.”

A perfect heart.

A risk for love's sake.

Callie thought about that and wished she did have a perfect heart, but her heart was bruised and battered and scarred and hiding. Yes, she was hiding her heart. She couldn't take that leap of faith, that risk of opening herself up to pain.

Was she trying to protect Tomas? Or herself?

She didn't want her heart to be broken again. She didn't want to watch another man walk out of her life because of her illness. So she prayed that God would give her the strength she needed to get through this next phase of her life. Without Tomas.

I might not survive here on earth, Lord. But I'll fight until the bitter end. Don't take me yet. Just let me live to be around him. Just near him. For a little while. Like now, having him here in church with me, so near.

She inhaled the clean, soapy scent of Tomas and thanked God for getting him this far into the fold. Before she could get things clear in her whirling mind, the sermon was over and everyone was standing.

Tomas turned to her. “Well?”

She looked around for an excuse. “I... We usually have Sunday lunch with Papa, out at his house.” She swallowed, prayed. They'd have to be careful what they talked about. She hadn't told many people about her cancer.

Tomas frowned at her silence. “I really need to talk to you.”

Callie decided she had to talk to him, too. “Would you like to join us?”

Surprise sparked through his eyes. “Is that your way of avoiding being alone with me?”

Yes. “No, not at all. I just don't want to disappoint Papa. If you can't come—”

“I'd love to eat Sunday lunch with your family—that is, if you can stand me being there.”

“I don't mind,” she said, warming to the idea even though her hands were cold with fear. “You did us a big favor and your good deed deserves a good meal, at least.”

His eyebrows lifted like the wings of a hawk. “That's mighty gracious of you, but I didn't do it to impress anyone. I did it for you. You don't need to repay me.”

Callie didn't know what to say other than a whispered “Thank you.” His eyes told her he wanted more than gratitude.

A gracious heart. Yes, she certainly had that. She wanted to take Tomas by the hand and run away. Run as fast as she could to a place that was safe and gracious and comforting and without pain or illness. A place where they could walk through the garden, hand in hand, with no worries.

But instead, she nodded to him. “I can never repay you for what you did, but...I'd like you to come and eat with us.”

He followed her out of the pew, seemingly unaware and untouched by the prying eyes all around them. “Will you and I have a chance to talk? Alone?”

She hoped not. “Maybe. We'll have to see.”

“Yes. We certainly will.”

* * *

Tomas felt out of place in this long, mismatched cottage by the water. The house was an interesting maze of add-ons and porches. Rather charming if he weren't so nervous and edgy. This was a family house, full of love and laughter and life.

While his stone mansion up on the hill was a cold, drafty museum of a place—lovely but silent. Unless Callie was there, of course.

“More mashed potatoes?” Mr. Blanchard gave Tomas a pointed look then shoved the bowl toward him. “You don't need any fancy manners here, Tomas. Just need to be hungry.”

Tomas slid a sideways glance toward Callie. “The food is wonderful, as usual. You have a lovely home.”

Mr. Blanchard grunted a reply. “It suits my needs.”

The tension threading through the sparse conversation made Tomas think he probably shouldn't have crashed this meal. Everyone in the room seemed coiled and ready to snap. Mr. Blanchard's expression was etched in sadness. Maybe worry? Julien and Alma, both usually talkative and pleasant, only spoke in muted tones and glanced toward Callie.

Did they resent him being here?

“The roast beef is good,” Julien said to no one in particular.

“Alma always cooks a mean pot roast,” Callie replied with a forced smile.

Tomas noticed the portrait over the fireplace. “You resemble your mother,” he said to Callie. Then because he didn't want to offend Alma, he added, “You all do.”

“
Oui,
dey sure got dere
maman's
genes,” Mr. Blanchard said on a low chuckle. But his eyes held a hint of grief.

Julien filled in the silence. “And her spirit.” He winked at Alma. “Independent thinkers, are these Blanchard girls.”

Alma shook her head and looked down at her plate. “We're trouble, that's for sure.”

“So I've noticed,” Tomas said, giving Callie another glance. “Sweet but stubborn.”

Mr. Blanchard let out a hoot of laughter. “Well, you've met all of my daughters so now you know.” His smile disappeared while his gaze moved to Callie.

Tomas smiled, glad Callie's father had lost the mantle of sadness. “Yes, I have. Talented bunch.”

Callie frowned as she stood. “Okay, time for dessert.”

Mr. Blanchard's smile softened. “What did Daughter Number Two bring for us today?”

Alma grinned at her father's question. “Strawberry shortcake—freshly baked sweet yellow cake with strawberries straight out of Tangipahoa Parish. Whipped-cream topping.” She followed Callie into the kitchen.

“Wow-wee,” Julien said, pumping his fist. “I'm so glad I married the cook.”

Alma laughed out loud. “
Oui,
and your stomach is beginning to be glad, too. Which is why this dessert is low-fat.”

Both Julien and Mr. Blanchard looked shocked.

“Make mine a double,” Julien said in the voice of gloom.

Tomas saw the love shining through in their banter and figured their solemn moments came because they missed Lola, the matriarch of this family. He stole another glance at Callie. She was busy cutting cake and piling on strawberries. She looked natural, standing in the kitchen, still in her Sunday dress but barefoot now, her hair curled in a loose chignon, so prim and proper. Except for the stubborn golden strands that refused to be contained. Those loose tendrils framed her face with a curling, beckoning rebellion.

He still cared about her, still wanted to be with her, but he had to understand why she'd become so distant. Maybe because he'd held her in his arms, felt the current that swirled around them with the strength of a tugging tide. Maybe because she'd turned away and seemed determined to stay away and he needed to understand why.

Callie and Alma whispered in sisterly conspiracy in the kitchen while Julien and Mr. Blanchard plied Tomas with questions about the shipyard and his other properties here.

“Are you buying up dis town?” Mr. Blanchard asked with a glint of dare in his eyes.

“Not all of it,” Tomas replied. “Just the parts I want to own.”

“Why do you want to own property here?” Julien asked while the women passed out the dessert and poured coffee.

Tomas studied Callie to see her reaction. She gave him a quick glance then sat down beside him. The woman was certainly hard to read.

“It's what I do,” he finally explained. “I wound up in Texas and acquired a lot of property near Dallas and then moved on to San Antonio. It kind of became my thing. I made a profit and kept at it. Now I buy companies and turn them around.”

“Then sell them again, for a profit?” Julien asked between bites of cake and strawberries.

“Yes. That's the American way.”

“Are you going to sell Fleur House?”

Tomas turned at Callie's question.

“That depends,” he said, his fork resting on his dessert plate.

“On what?” Alma asked, her tone challenging. She glanced from Tomas to her sister.

Tomas stared over at Callie. “On a lot of things.” Then he bit into the rich shortcake and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “This is good,” he managed to croak.

Callie gave him a measuring gaze then dug into her own dessert.

Did she realize everything depended on her?

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Tomas stood out in the backyard waiting for Callie. She'd told him after dessert she'd show him the rest of the property. Mr. Blanchard had gone to his bedroom for his Sunday nap and Julien and Alma had gone home so Alma could rest. She was getting tired a lot more these days, they'd explained with smiles. Because of the baby.

A baby. Tomas was happy for Alma and Julien, of course. But he had to wonder if he'd ever find a family of his own. He thought of Callie and pictured her holding a tiny infant.

His heart did a spin of longing.

Callie would make a wonderful mother.

“Hey.”

He turned to find her walking toward him, still barefoot, her floral dress whispering around her long legs like wildflowers unfolding in the sun.

“Hello.” He waited for her to join him out by the bayou waters where he'd found a black bistro table and two wrought-iron chairs.

“Want to sit?” she asked, her head down.

“Yes. If you want to. Or should I go? I don't want to disturb your father's nap.”

“No, stay awhile. Papa's a heavy sleeper.”

Tomas waited for her to sit then did the same. “You have a nice family.”

She gave him a direct stare, her eyes full of some mysterious something that he couldn't pinpoint. “Yes, I do. We're close.” She glanced across the water to the shoreline on the other side. “Tell me about
your
family.”

That question threw him off balance. He didn't like to talk about his so-called family. “Not much to tell.”

“But you said you grew up near here. You must have moved away when you were young.”

“I was thirteen when I went to Texas.”

“Just you?”

“My mother had died. Remember, I went to live with my uncle.”

“I see.”

But he could tell from her questioning eyes she didn't see.

“That didn't work out so well, so I came back and stayed with Margie and Bob for a while. It's a long story and...right now I'd rather talk to you about something else.”

She leaned forward, held her hands folded in her lap. “You want to know what happened with us, right?”

“Yes.” He watched her, wanted her to explain. “Callie, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry I pushed too hard, too fast. But...don't be afraid of me. I...I enjoyed being with you. I'd like to see you again. Don't avoid me, okay? If you're not ready, if you're not interested, I'll understand. But don't shut me out. I...I value our friendship.”

She looked shocked at first, but then her expression changed to somber and quiet. Resolve. He saw a quiet resolve there in her high cheekbones, in her determined eyes. He also noticed a dark fatigue around her eyes. “Callie, what's wrong? What are you not telling me?”

She sat back and took a deep breath. “I value our friendship, too. I'm sorry I pulled away. I just needed to think this through. I don't want to make another mistake.”