Love Starts with Elle (35 page)

Lights turned low. A quiet calm in the cottage. Heath roamed down to Tracey-Love’s room, the bare floor cold against his bare Fred Flintstones.

It’d been several nights since he woke up with her curled against his back. He prayed the returned to New York wouldn’t set her back but add to the strength of her lowcountry victory.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her, Heath pondered his decision. Not that he could change his mind, but once a child was involved, the ramifications were greater.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, we’re going back to New York,TL,” he whispered into the dark. “No, not right away, but in a few weeks, after Labor Day. I talked to Granddad. We’ll spend Thanksgiving with him and Uncle Mark, Aunt Linda, and the cousins.”

He shoved aside the emotion of missing Elle.

Straightening her covers, Heath wandered into the living room, then the kitchen. Without pausing to think about it, he reached for the letter, flipped it over, and tore open the envelope. Two pages fell out and he carried them to the living room.

Heath,

Babe, I’m in a hurry, but I have to write my thoughts before we
move out. I hated getting cut off in the middle of our discussion. You
were angry with me, and it’s unsettling to be at odds. Especially when
I’m thousands of miles away. Lately it seems we are trying to fight for
control. control. And, Heath, I don’t want that. Neither do you, I imagine.

Don’t be angry with me for being on this assignment. It’s just
something I have to do, and I believe God is with me. Pray to Him
for your peace and mine.

I wanted to tell you this news in person, but I can’t wait.
Besides, a man has a right to know he’s going to become a father,
doesn’t he? How and when he hears the news isn’t as important as
the news itself, right?

I’m pregnant, Heath. I wasn’t feeling well and just thought it
was fatigue from the hectic summer schedule, but then I got to
thinking . . .

A test confirmed it. I should’ve told you first thing when I
called tonight. Maybe we wouldn’t have argued. Maybe we would’ve
argued more. I’m sorry, babe.

I’m about eight weeks now, give or take. The last few months
have been so busy I’ve hardly noticed anything about myself.

Surprise, right? First we didn’t want any and now we have two.

Maybe this one will have my feet since our dear girl has your boxy
ones.

I’ll be home before the end of the first trimester. I know it’s
hard to believe, but this pregnancy only fuels my passion to raise
awareness for the medical conditions for women here in Iraq. Their
hospitals and clinics are raided. The villages are subject to attacks,
abductions, and intimidations. We are so free, Heath, and they are
still wanting and waiting.

I was thinking of a little brother for Tracey-Love? We could
name him Ben-Love. Ha-ha, get it? Been love . . . okay, I know, too
corny for a woman of my education and sophistication.

In three weeks, I’ll be home and celebrating our new child with
you. I hope he has your eyes, nose, and mouth—because they are so
perfect—and your athletic ability. But my brains.

Kiss TL for me. Tell her I love her and miss her terribly. I’ll call
you the first moment I can.

I love you, as you know I do, so very much.

Your girl, Ava

The pages fluttered from his fingers to the floor.

TWENTY-SIX

Billowing clouds with rain-filled bottoms mounted in an azure sky as Elle drove to morning prayer, a slight yearning to sit in His presence swirled inside her.

The chapel came into view, and Elle tapped the brake, turning into the parking lot. The maintenance crew had finally fixed the front window and removed the plywood cover so the old building no longer looked like a set extra from
Pirates of the Caribbean
.

The chapel floor moaned under her footsteps as Elle walked down the aisle. Miss Anna’s spot by the altar was vacant.

Elle set her Bible and notebook down, sitting where the woman normally knelt, drawing her knees to her chest.

Hey, God, it’s me, Elle.
For the first time in her life, she was beginning to understand why He was the Prince of Peace.

“Elle?”

She opened one eye.
Jesus?

“Elle?”

Jesus sounded a lot like Julianne. Elle opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

She stood at the end of the aisle, stiff yet trembling with a haunting stare. Her chestnut hair was scooped back in a loose, uneven ponytail, like she’d fix it on the run. A brown stain dotted her orange top.

“Jules?” Elle got up from the floor.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t eat.” Her sister twisted her hands together, then raked them through her hair, pulling more strands from the blue scrunchy. “My heart pounds so hard I can’t breathe. I’m nervous. I snap at Rio. Last night she tipped over her milk and I almost slapped her in the face.”

Julianne raised her hand in demonstration, then broke into a deep moan, sobs melting her frozen posture.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay.” Elle held her shoulders with her arms and led her to the front row pew. “Tell me what’s going on.”

For a long while Julianne wept against Elle. Tears fell to her lap, leaving large, dark spots.

When she lifted her head, Elle’s top was wet with sorrow. “Can you tell me what started all of this?” She snatched the box of tissues from the altar.

“You, that’s who.” Julianne ripped a couple of tissues from the box and wiped her naked cheeks.

“Me?” Elle thought back over the last few weeks. She’d barely seen Julianne.

“You just had to talk to me about Danny, about coming out with the truth.” The pink ring around her eyes deepened to crimson. “Couldn’t you tell him to mind his own business?”

“Julianne, did you want me to ignore him? ‘Oh, hey, Danny, thanks for stopping by and telling me about you, Rio, and Jules. How ’bout them Clemson Tigers?’ Sweetie, he wants to right a wrong. Give you and Rio his name.”

Jules blew her nose. “I’ve told him a hundred times, I can’t do it to Daddy and Mama.”

“Is this really about Daddy and Mama? They love you, want the best for you and Rio.”

Julianne lowered her head. “I’m such a disappointment to them.”

“Where are you getting your information?”

“Come on, Elle. Mama didn’t want another child after you.” Julianne tore at the wadded tissue in her hand. “I’ve heard her say it. Daddy wanted a son—”

“Jules, that’s not fair. To you or them. Mama didn’t want another child after Sara Beth came screaming into the world. And Daddy’s never even so much as hinted at being disappointed in having girls.”

“I know, I know, but it got stuck in my mind somewhere along the line, maybe when Mama ranted about not having a life of her own, or when Daddy ranted about too much estrogen in his house and where could a guy find a full roll of toilet paper?” Jules did a great imitation of Daddy searching for toilet paper.

“He’s just a grumpy ole bear. You know he never meant it to sound like he’d rather have sons.”

“He loves sports and none of us could care less. You, maybe, the only one remotely interested in listening to him talk about golf handicaps.”

“Jules, Daddy loves you. I’ve always suspected you were his favorite since you look the most like Mama. And any one of us could’ve been a son. Don’t throw yourself on that sword.”

“I was the only one who didn’t go to college. The only girl who didn’t pledge Phi Mu.”

“Okay, now you’re playing the martyr.”

The sobs cycled around again, and Julianne fell against Elle’s shoulder, pressing a fresh tissue over her nose and mouth. Elle brushed her hair from her eyes and whispered under her breath,
God, I cannot, butYou must deliver her. Please. Reveal Your love.

Beautiful, elegant, commanding Julianne could no longer protect her Achilles’ heel. Shame.

“I’ll go with you,” Elle finally said.

Julianne lifted her head and blew her nose again with a fresh tissue. “I know.” Her voice was soft with tears. “But it won’t change how I feel.”

“Can I pray for you this time?”

Julianne tears pooled in the shallow crevasses of her face, around her nose and lips. “Do you think God will ever forgive me? I’ve done such a horrid thing.” She cut a fast glance at Elle. “When we met, his wife was on the verge of coming back to him.”

“Sin is sin, Jules. When and how much doesn’t change God’s ability or level of forgiveness. Only thing we deal with is the consequences. Your sin is not unforgivable. All you have to do is ask.”

Julianne dropped to her knees with a thud, her weeping gentle at first, then nearly violent, her repentance vibrating through every word. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, please, please, I’m so sorry, so sorry. F-f-forgive me, please. I can’t, I can’t take this shame any longer.”

Tears rolled down Elle’s cheeks as she stood in witness of her sister’s redemption.

“Is this breaking and entering?”

“Maybe, but I
do
have a key.” Elle had told Heath the first day that it unlocked her studio as well as the cottage. He stepped aside for Darcy Campbell to enter, reaching around for the light switch on the inside wall.

After Elle refused to give her paintings to Darcy, Heath had looked her up and asked if she was willing to do a little stealth work. Darcy cackled. “You’ve come to the right woman.”

The plan? Wait for the right moment and steal the paintings. Okay, borrow them. This afternoon Heath stopped by the studio to say hi, see if he could figure out her coming and going.

Pay dirt. Dinner at her folks with Julianne. Tonight.

Darcy paused, taking in the studio, hands on her hips. “She lives here?”

“Temporarily.” Heath tucked his key in his pocket. “Her paintings are over there.”

For a long five minutes, Darcy studied each painting, shaking her head with an
um-um-um
. “You did right to call me, Heath.” She picked up the
Feathers
painting. “This is fabulous.”

“If you want them, let’s go.”

Darcy grabbed two of the six paintings she wanted and hurried to the door. “She’s going to be mad, isn’t she?”

“As a hornet.” Heath carried the two largest paintings down the stairs to Darcy’s waiting SUV. “But this is for her own good.”

“Let’s hope she sees it that way.”

Heath slipped the paintings into the back, careful not to bump them. “I’ll take the heat for this, Darcy. If she gets mad, blame me.”

“What? And let you get all the glory?” Darcy’s sandpaper laugh told him she liked a good fight.

“Have it your way.”

“I like to think positive. Let’s just call it delayed gratitude.”

In Mama’s burgundy and oak dining room, the only sound was the clink of flatware against Pfaltzgraff dinner plates and the slurp of tea followed by, “This is good chicken, Mama” and “Can you pass the corn bread, please?”

Elle tried to think of a funny, distracting story to replace the suspecting silence, but her mind could conjure nothing.
Blank.

On the drive over, she’d talked strategy with Julianne, who seemed oblivious to anything but her demise as a Garvey Girl.

“They are not going to disown you.”

“I can hear Daddy now: ‘You are dead to me.’”

“How many times have you actually seen
Fiddler on the Roof
?”

“Hundreds. Rio loves Tevye.”

Elle took the opportunity to remind Jules that they lived in South Carolina and were in no way connected by faith or culture to nineteenth-century Russia and she should trust in the love of God if she couldn’t trust in the love of her parents.

Halfway through his plate of dumplings, Daddy tossed his napkin to the table. “All right, what’s going on? Elle, Julianne? I lived in a house full of women for forty years and it’s never been this quiet. Only thing talking is the plates. Elle, is it Jeremiah? Is he still calling you?”