A Journey by Chance (27 page)

“Brady,” she chuckled, “you don't have to steal them.”

Gina took another paper napkin from the stack on the table and wiped the last of the barbecue sauce from her fingers. She had given up on using a fork and knife after two bites into the delicious ribs. “Mmmm. That was great. I wish I had discovered this restaurant three weeks ago.”

Brady reached across the table and touched his thumb at the corner of her mouth. “All clean.” He smiled. “I'm glad you enjoyed it. The Rib House has been here since I was a kid. It's a landmark in Valley Oaks. People come from miles around.”

She smiled back at him. The place was down-home, just like Brady. No frills, no extensive menu, no breathtaking views unless you counted the four windows that looked out on the highway and silos beyond that. It was a room full of square tables, each with four chairs and paper placemats. But the food was homemade, tasty, and the real thing. The place was packed on Saturday nights, but he had managed to get them in without a reservation. She watched a dish of apple pie à la mode go by and she groaned.

“Want some?” he asked.

“Most definitely.” She folded her somewhat sticky fingers together and met Brady's gaze. The way he looked at her was unnerving. His eyes seldom strayed from her, and they danced as if he smiled at some secret. The corners of his mouth often slipped into his easy grin. She hadn't been able to think straight all day.

Of course that was partially due to Ruby. The horse's situation had blasted her fear to smithereens, leaving a
return to confidence in its wake. It was an ecstatic high, unlike any joy she had ever known. This attraction to Brady only intensified it, creating something akin to an emotional explosion that made her head spin. How could she love a farmer in Podunk, Illinois? She didn't know. She didn't know what it meant or where it would lead. What she did know was that she didn't want to come down from her present mountaintop.

But they had to make plans. “Okay, let's plan the week.”

“The frog choir will be in full swing tonight. Let's go back to my place and sit on the porch.” He winked. “There's paper and pen at the house so you can write it all down, Miss Organizer.”

She rolled her eyes.

A portly, balding, middle-aged man approached the table. “Brady!” His tone made the salutation sound like a command. “Need to talk.”

“Hi, Chuck. I'd like you to meet—”

“It'll take just a moment.” Ignoring Gina, he leaned toward Brady, supporting one hand on the table, the other on the back of the chair, and spoke in low tones directly into Brady's ear.

She watched, amused at the thought that she had met—or almost met—her first rude Valley Oaks citizen. Brady didn't look amused. He lowered his eyes from hers, listening intently. The tips of his ears reddened and his forehead crinkled. He nodded. His entire face turned crimson.

The man straightened, then nodded curtly in her direction. “Sorry for the interruption.” He walked off.

Brady's lips were pressed together. He lifted a hand, signaling to the waitress.

“Who was that man?”

“Village board president. Can we take a rain check on the apple pie? I have black raspberry cobbler at home.”

The man's words had obviously distracted him. He was ready to leave. “Sounds perfect.”

He counted bills out for the check and stood abruptly. “Ready?”

They made their way through the crowded room. A few people called out a hello to him. Once inside the truck, Gina slid across the bench seat and sat close to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” He swung his arm up and around her shoulders, pulling her nearer and steering with one hand. His color had returned to the normal tan, though his narrow jaw still appeared clenched.

She'd pry later.

“Let's talk about plans.” He kissed the top of her head. “How I'm going to treat you like a princess all week.”

She snuggled against his shoulder. Brady and Valley Oaks were getting under her skin, no doubt about it. Her future plans and this week's plans were not on the same continuum. They had absolutely nothing to do with each other, had nothing whatsoever in common. It seemed God had given her something she asked for and something she hadn't asked for. And the two were diametrically opposed. “Brady, maybe I should try it your way for a few days. Just wing it.”

He glanced down at her. “What got into you?”

She shrugged. “Tired of being a control freak, I guess.”

“Ah, giving God more room to work. I like that.” They rode in silence for a few minutes and then he chuckled. “I like that a lot.”

Later they sat side by side in the dark on his screened-in porch. He had moved the couch so that they faced directly out onto the pond. Moonlight reflected off of the water and a few stars were visible through the treetops. As he predicted, the bullfrogs' deep-throated song filled the entire outdoors.

Gina mimicked the noise and laughed with Brady until her sides hurt. She agreed with him that they were easily entertained. Tucking her legs up on the seat, she turned to him and stroked the crease in his cheek. His blond hair shone in the soft light. How could she feel so at ease with this man she barely knew? “Will you tell me about that man who made you so angry?”

“It's not important.”

“Brady, I only have a few days to get to know you. Is it about your land?”

He nodded. “The board wants me to resign. They say that as chairman of the Zoning Committee I have a conflict of interest and am doing a disservice to Valley Oaks by my stubborn refusal to vote yes on zoning your dad's property as residential.”

“It's not my dad's.”

“Sorry. You know what I mean.”

“I know. So are you doing a disservice to the town?”

“I told God you were a thorn in my side.” His grin softened the words.

“A thorn?”

“When we first met. I mean, you were a pain to talk to and, with all the wedding business, I knew we had to spend time together. I wasn't exactly pleased with the idea.”

“Hmm. Well, the feeling was mutual, you know.”

“It was? I had no idea.”

“Liar,” she laughed. “Come to think of it,
roses
have thorns. Maybe they're a good thing?”

“They're annoying.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “But they force you to pay attention.”

“I'd say you're diverting attention from the question at hand.”

“Right.” He took a deep breath. “Yes, I might be getting in the way of Valley Oaks' growth. I know growth is
inevitable and necessary for the town to survive. I just don't want all that growth adjacent to this place. There are plenty of other suitable areas for building homes. Two subdivisions are going up east and south of town. What we lack is a plan to preserve the history of the Crowley homestead, not to mention green space.”

“From what I can tell, it's all green space between Valley Oaks and Rockville. Miles and miles of farm land. Lots of green corn and soybeans.”

“That's not the same. I mean wildlife refuge areas. We have a state park up the river a ways. A zoo 90 miles away in Chicago. Nothing else in a 100-mile radius. These prairies used to be teeming with all kinds of animals. Hey, do you want to see some buffalo? There's a farmer nearby who raises them.”

“Buffalo? Really? I'd love to.”

“We'll put it on our to-do list.” He leaned toward her.

“We're not making a to-do list.”

“Oh, that's right.” He kissed her gently. “We'll just meander over there some time soon.”

Her thoughts floundered for a moment. “Uh, back to the subject at hand. Make this a wildlife preserve. Can you zone it for that?”

“We have the power, but there just isn't much interest. And since I own the land, I can't bring that idea to a vote. That's a definite conflict of interest. But if we did that, we'd have to provide access to it, declare the whole road and then some as part of the preserve.”

“Don't move.” Gina hurried into the kitchen and fished a dollar bill from her purse, then plopped back down beside him. “Here.” She stuffed the money into his shirt pocket and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I'll buy your land. Now go zone it for wildlife and stop complaining.”

With an absentminded gaze on his face, he smoothed her hair. “This isn't going to work.”

“What's not going to work?”

“This.” His whispery voice was lower than usual. “Us. Kissing while the frogs sing.”

Her stomach knotted. “Did I miss something here?”

“It's just that…” He caressed her cheek, then withdrew his hand and slid away to the other end of the couch. “You fit too perfectly, Angelina. You fit in my house, in my woods. You fit in my head, in my heart. You fit in my arms. And I want you to spend the night.”

Her head swam. Was he serious? She scrambled for a flippant tone. “Well, that ain't gonna happen, mister.”

“I take it back. You don't fit perfectly if you can say ‘ain't' without gagging.”

“It's in the dictionary.”

“But it's not acceptable.”

“Who says? I'd use it in Scrabble. Shall we play Scrabble?”

Brady jumped to his feet. “It's definitely time for Scrabble. I'll get the board.”

The dishwasher hummed quietly, cleaning the remainder of the Sunday dinner dishes. Windows were shut tight against the early afternoon heat, locking in that blessed invention, air conditioning. Maggie sat with her cast propped on a chair and eyed the others sitting around her sister's oak kitchen table and sighed. No one noticed.

Marsha wore her midlevel frazzled expression and wasn't screeching. Lauren had cut a second serving of her mother's luscious cherry pie and now hunted in the freezer for vanilla ice cream, moaning about eating too much. Gina's eyes resembled a raccoon's.

Maggie's exasperation overflowed into one word, “Lauren!”

Blonde curls whipped around, brown eyes widened as if in shock, her jaw dropped.

Maggie couldn't help but smile at her niece. “The mean aunt is back. Now listen to me. You will
not
be able to fit into that gorgeous wedding dress if you eat that ice cream. Put it back and come over and sit down.”

Lauren did as she was told.

“All right, girls,” Maggie continued. “It's time to take our emotional temperature here. If we behave like this on Saturday or even at the Friday rehearsal, we will miss the moment entirely. Marsh, you have hair and massage appointments, a cleaning service coming three times this week and twice next week. You're done. You can stop now and enjoy the festivities.”

“But there are flowers, the cake, the food—”

“And a florist, baker, and caterer. Didn't you hear the same sermon I heard this morning?”

Marsha wrinkled her brow.

“Jeremiah 29:11 tells us that the Lord has good plans for us.”

“That doesn't mean everything will work out.”

“I understand that! But it's all part of the chance journeys you told me about. God knows what He's doing. You've prayed over every detail. Whatever happens or doesn't happen is
His
responsibility. Right?”

“R-right.”

Maggie turned to her niece and slid the plate away from her. “Lauren, honey, I know you're excited, but you've got to take care of yourself. Why don't you go play a Rachmaninoff piece on the piano?”

She swallowed and waved a fork. “Two more bites?”

“No! There's a bag of celery in the fridge. Marsha, you are forbidden to bake this week.” She looked at Gina. “Why aren't
you
eating another piece of pie? You've been eating like a horse, which means you've fallen head over heels for Brady—”

Marsha gasped. “I thought it was a crush!”

“You didn't see the way they looked at each other when he picked her up for their first date. We are not talking crush here. Oh!” She swiveled back to her daughter. “Sweetheart! You're not eating because you and Brady had an argument!”

“No, Mother, we did not have an argument. Leave me out of this lecture. I'm just a bridesmaid, low on the totem pole. Nowhere near the center of attention.”

Lauren touched her arm. “Gina, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Maggie recognized the distress in her little girl's crinkled forehead and asked, “How serious are things?”

“Things cannot
be
serious. Brady Olafsson is
not
my kind of guy. Valley Oaks is
not
my kind of town.”

Maggie's stomach somersaulted. “That serious, huh?”

“Oh, Mom!” The floodgates opened and her words tumbled out. “You can hang out in the pharmacy and be served
lemonade,
for goodness sake, like—like it's a family reunion! And have you ever met anyone like Aunt Lottie? I mean, she teaches me something new every single day. Then take Anne. She's an absolute blast, and she's basically a stay-at-home mom! She and Alec have their act so together with their kids and each other. I've never seen anyone more contented than Liz. Lauren is so happy, and her house is so cute. And Brady, well, he has a hundred acres of heaven, and he's—” She stopped to take a breath. “Just about perfect.”

The women stared at each other. Maggie finally broke the silence. “But there aren't any elephants nearby.”

“Exactly!”

Lauren nudged Gina. “What does Brady have to say about things?”

“He brought me home early last night so he wouldn't be tempted to ask me to…stay.” She glanced sideways at Maggie and Marsha. “The night.”

“Whew!” Lauren whistled. “Nicole never stayed. I doubt she was even invited.”

Marsha gasped again. “Lauren! How in the world do you know that?”

“Mom, it's Valley Oaks. Britte told Anne and Anne told me. Brady's always gone strictly by the Book. Capital ‘b.' Nicole had a bit of a problem with that. I mean she was a believer, but thought since they were engaged they may as well live together. Brady said no-o way.”

Gina frowned. “Get real, Lauren. No guy is like that these days.”

“Aaron is.”

“You mean…you're waiting?”

Lauren grinned. “Just till Saturday night.”

Maggie noticed her sister had turned beet red. “Marsha, isn't it great how open our girls are with us? They're nothing like we were with Mom.”

“Sure.”

Maggie read uncertainty on her daughter's face.
She's so fragile.
A heaviness of uncertainty nagged, and it wasn't just Gina. Reece hadn't returned her calls. What was his reaction to the last message she left? What did she hope it was? Would he even show up for the wedding? She addressed Gina, but knew she encouraged herself, too. “Gina, keep that Jeremiah verse in mind. God knows what's best, and sometimes, in order to get us to that best place, He has to take us on a detour. Let me tell you about mine.”

Monday morning Maggie sat in Aunt Lottie's car parked in the driveway, tapping her fingernails on the steering wheel. Gina was taking forever to leave the house. She had overslept. Then Brady had called, and they talked as if they weren't going to be spending most of the day together.

Maggie wondered about that relationship. What did she really think? Much as the young man impressed her, his being Neil's son was just too bizarre for everyone involved. In spite of the detour talk yesterday about letting God lead them down unplanned paths, Gina would never settle in Valley Oaks. She was too much her father's daughter, all bigcity-eyed. Big cities with large zoos.

Maggie glanced at her watch again and considered honking the horn. They were already behind schedule. Convincing her sister that things were under control meant, of course, that Maggie assumed responsibility to oversee the
thousand and one details not yet under control. The caterer was a nightmare. The florist—borderline hopeless. Oh, well, it didn't matter. The “mean aunt” could afford to be strung out. The mother of the bride needed some pampering at this point. And besides, the challenge and busyness kept her mind off of her own bizarre relationship with Reece. A week from today she would head back home…

Gina bounded from around the back of the house, waved to her, and continued on past the car. Maggie twisted in the seat. A FedEx truck blocked the driveway.

“Now what?” She climbed from the car.

The driver handed Gina a flat, rectangular package about a yard in length. “It's for you, Mom!”

“It'll have to wait.” John wouldn't send her a gift, would he? But it had to be from—“Stick it in the house and let's go!”

“Oh, come on. Take a peek anyway.” Gina disappeared through the front screen door.

Maggie sighed and followed.
Oh, Lord. This can't be happening. He never gave me a gift, only his friendship. A gift is too tangible. Too definitive. He knew the goodbye was final…

Gina glided a knife under the flap of the cardboard and sliced through the packing tape. “Mother, the label says it's from an
art
shop in Chicago.”

Maggie sank onto the couch, a fresh wave of guilt sucking air from her lungs.

“You should open it.”

She shook her head.

Gina smiled, eyes bright with anticipation, and ripped open the box. She shoved aside packing peanuts, tore apart butcher paper, and caught her breath.

And then Maggie caught hers. An exquisite piece of art glistened in the brown wrappings. Under glass, in a simple
black frame, vibrant red and purple irises bloomed against a gold backdrop.

“Mom, it's beautiful!”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” she whispered. “I can't accept—”

“This card says it's serigraph on gold leaf—”

“A silk-screened print on
gold?”

Gina handed her an envelope and whooped. “He sent you
flowers!”

“What?”

“Don't you get it?
Flowers!
But they're not
truly
flowers, because then they wouldn't count!”

With shaky fingers Maggie pulled out a gift card. Reece? This was from
Reece? I do love you, Margaret. More than ever. Reece.
She shook her head, as if the movement would dislodge some understanding. This was incomprehensible.

Gina propped the painting against a wall. “Way to go, Dad!”

“You knew?”

“He told me something was to be delivered this morning, and he hoped we'd be here. Couldn't you tell I was stalling?”

Maggie bit her tongue. This could have waited. She had waited for years. What was one more afternoon?