Dakota Love (2 page)

“Yoo-hoo, Rodney,” Mildred called.

A tall, slender gentleman, head shaved clean, turned from the group of people he’d been chatting with and waved. Caroline didn’t recognize this man. How long had he attended their church?

As Mildred pulled her down the cement stairs, Caroline said a silent prayer of thanks for the January thaw that blessed this South Dakota winter. The balmy forty-degree weather was a respite from the below-zero temperatures in December. The church stairs were free of snow and ice, so it was easy for Caroline to descend two steps at a time and keep up with Mildred to prevent her arm from being dislocated. Actually, Caroline didn’t remember the sidewalks, stairs, or parking lot of the church ever being this clear of any residue the South Dakota winters dealt them. She wondered who the church custodian was now that Mr. Carter had passed away.

Mildred stopped beside the man and released Caroline’s hand. “I’m so glad we caught you.” Mildred, puffing from her exertion, patted Rodney’s arm.

Caught him?
Caroline frowned. It hadn’t looked to her like he was going anyplace.

“Rodney, this is Caroline Baker, the woman who repaired and completed the quilt I showed you.”

Caroline started to replace her frown of confusion with a practiced smile, but when she looked at Rodney, she just naturally smiled.

“I’m Rodney Harris. I’ve seen you many times in church. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Rodney held out his hand to Caroline.

She grasped his hand. “Finally meet me?”

His fingers tightened around hers. His warm touch and welcoming smile made her wish she’d taken care with her appearance today. How long had it been since she’d worried about being attractive? Oh, she’d combed and ponytailed her strawberry blond hair. She’d brushed powder on her face to eliminate shine. However, her height matched his, and they stood almost face-to-face. With her minimal makeup and the direct sunlight, he was sure to see the effects of her age.

“Yes, I’ve been attending church here for the last nine months, and I think you are the only congregant I haven’t met.”

Nine months and she’d never noticed him. Really, that didn’t surprise her; she’d only been going through the motions since Ted’s death. She arrived at church with minutes to spare and snuck out the side door whenever possible.

“Well…” Caroline began to stammer an excuse, then stopped. She owed no explanation, even if his caramel-colored eyes sent a warm shiver through her. She cleared her throat. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” She opened her purse and pulled out a business card holder.

“Mildred says you have a quilt in need of repair.” She slid out a powder blue card and handed it to Rodney. “You can reach me at that number or stop by the shop during the listed hours.”

Rodney read the card before unzipping his coat halfway and tucking it in the pocket of his gray-and-white-striped polo shirt. “That’s a residential address. Do you work from your home?”

A slight wind chilled Caroline’s hands. She pulled her gloves from her coat pocket and put them on. They were her insurance against chapped hands that might crack and snag delicate fabric or leave soil on a quilt.

“Yes, I live in a split-level with a side entry that makes easy access to my basement workshop. Although my business is new, I learned early on that I had to set regular hours or people would expect me to be open at their beck and call.”

Why had she rambled? A simple
yes
would have sufficed.

Laugh lines crinkled the olive-toned skin of Rodney’s face as he chuckled at her remark. “I can relate. My house, well, garage actually, is my main business base. I get calls at all hours. Thank goodness for answering machines.”

Caroline grinned and nodded her head knowingly. Normally during a break in conversation, she’d focus on something else, but Rodney’s face captivated her. Blond eyebrows accented his brown eyes. Full lips revealed straight teeth. Deep parentheses semi-circled his mouth when he smiled. A firm jawline not yet affected by age met at the cleft in his chin.

“We just firmed up breakfast plans. Would you care to join us?” Rodney motioned toward the group of people he’d been visiting with when Mildred interrupted.

For the first time in months, she wanted to accept this invitation, yet she hesitated. She’d stopped socializing when Ted died, uncomfortable being a third or fifth wheel. She glanced toward the group. She knew all of them, and most were single or widowed. Dining with a non-couples group might feel different. Maybe she could try it just this one time.

“I guess it’d be all right.”

“Great!” Mildred said. “I’ll ride with you, dear. We don’t want you to change your mind.”

At the restaurant, the hostess seated the large group. Caroline planned to sit by Rodney to discuss his quilt. Her business had slowed about a week before Christmas. She needed to fill her time and bank account. Good health insurance came with a hefty premium.

Thanks to Mildred’s interference, her plan came together. Rodney sat in clear view across the table from her. She guessed his age close to hers from the telltale lines that settled in to stay on a person’s face, a fact she knew from the mirror’s reflection of her own etchings.

As he discussed the breakfast choices with the gentleman who sat to his left, Caroline studied Rodney. He wore no wedding band. Hard to imagine he wasn’t taken, because he was cute. Mature men probably appreciated being called handsome or dashing or good-looking. Rodney was all of those and cute, too.

Mildred lightly touched Caroline’s arm. “See anything you like, dear?”

Caroline turned her head to respond to Mildred’s question concerning her breakfast choice. Mildred’s raised brows and grin clarified the double entendre. A flush, which had nothing to do with menopause, warmed Caroline’s face. She’d been staring at Rodney. Thankfully, their waitress began to take orders, giving Caroline the diversion she needed to recover her composure.

Orders taken and drinks served, Caroline lifted her mug. “So, Rodney, you said you have a quilt in need of repair?” She blew across the top of the cup, then sipped the rich brew.

“Yes.” Rodney dipped his herbal tea bag into his cup. “I have to be honest. It’s in bad shape. Although Mildred assures me that you are a magician in this area, I just don’t know.” He shook his head.

Caroline laughed. “I wish I could wave a magic wand to restore a quilt. Unfortunately, it’s not quite that easy, and sometimes only portions can be salvaged. Tell me a little bit about it.”

Rodney shrugged. “It’s yellow with white flowers on the back. Some of that material is used in the design on front, but there’s also white and yellow in the front.”

The waitress cut short their conversation with the delivery of their breakfast. Caroline noted Rodney had ordered oatmeal with whole wheat toast versus the large egg, meat, and potato platters Ted always used to order. Had Ted been more health conscious, he’d be alive today. Rodney’s mindfulness of his health was obvious, not just because of his food choice but also in the visible fitness of his body.

After Mildred said grace, the table quieted as everyone began to enjoy their breakfast. Caroline had eaten at home, so she’d ordered light. She halved her banana nut muffin and buttered the top.

“I found the quilt in a trunk in the basement, wrapped in tissue paper, so it must have meant something to my mom. I’m certain the damage was done prior to that storage. Nothing else in the trunk showed signs of spoil.” Rodney took a bite of dry toast.

Since dry toast was usually only eaten to calm an upset stomach, this seemed to push fitness a little too far. Caroline swallowed a bite of muffin and washed it down with her coffee. “Is the quilt soiled or has the fabric rotted?”

“Not stained. Some of the seams are coming apart, one area is ripped, and the fabric looks like something chewed on it.”

“You don’t remember seeing it or using it as a child?”

Rodney smiled and shook his head. “I don’t remember it at all.”

“It’s not something your mother pieced together?”

“Mom was a cook, not a seamstress. She seldom mended. I don’t know where she got it.” Rodney shrugged.

“My curiosity’s piqued. There’s a story behind every quilt made, you know. I’d love to see the quilt even if you don’t commission me to repair it.”

“It’s a deal.” Rodney patted his shirt pocket. “I’ll take a look at my schedule and the weather forecast. Maybe I’ll be able to bring it into your shop this week.”

“Weather report? Are you going somewhere?”

Rodney shot her a surprised look. “No, if it snows, my crew and I’ll be working.” He held up his left hand and crossed his fingers. “I know everyone else enjoys this January thaw, but it’s giving us quite a bit of free time.”

“But Mildred called you her yardman.” Caroline wrinkled her brow in confusion. “I just assumed—”

Mildred laid her hand on Caroline’s arm. “Dear, Rodney runs a lawn care and snow removal business. The church hired him last summer, at a significant discount I might add.” Mildred smiled approvingly at Rodney. “It was in the monthly newsletter.”

A flush of heat crawled up Caroline’s neck and settled on her cheeks, giving away the fact that she didn’t know. She’d stopped reading the newsletters. She scanned them for death notices, then pitched them into the trash.

Not missing a beat, Mildred added, “It just must have slipped your mind. You’ve had a lot going on, opening a new business and all.”

“Yes,” Caroline managed to croak out, avoiding eye contact with anyone. She reached for her cup and took a long drink, trying to gain composure.

This was a bad idea. What had she been thinking, accepting the breakfast invitation in the first place? Her social skills were too rusty. She wanted to make a professional impression; instead she’d managed to show her lack of interest in her church. Thank goodness Mildred stopped her before she’d made a complete fool of herself. Attending the same church and not even knowing the caretaker work Rodney did for them. She needed to pay more attention.

Or did she? She’d done all the right things, and what did she have to show for it? A lot of worries and nothing else, that’s what. No husband. No future. No steady income. God forced her to let go of her security by taking Ted from her. Maybe it was time for her to let go of something else—what little faith in God she had left.

Rodney caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he gathered dirty towels. He’d worn a grin since leaving the restaurant. His awareness of that fact widened his grin into a smile. He’d admired Caroline from afar for quite some time. He always preferred strawberry blonds with ivory skin and pert noses. When he’d inquired about her, he learned she’d recently lost her husband. As one month turned to the next, her grief seemed to deepen, not ease. He prayed she’d find solace. Her acceptance of the breakfast invitation and the few times her blue eyes sparkled briefly before the dull fog of sadness settled back over them were a good sign.

Those beautiful eyes, unencumbered by makeup, showed the love of her work. Her face lit up at the mention of the quilt. He’d wished he’d had more information on it to keep the conversation flowing and her eyes shining.

He also wished he knew what caused her to bite at the corner of her lip and withdraw from conversation half-way through breakfast.

Rodney carried the basket down the basement stairs, past his elliptical and treadmill, and set it on the edge of the washer. Caroline’s questions about the origins of the quilt got him thinking. Where
had
it come from?

He stuffed the load of towels into the washer, added detergent, then selected the water temperature and wash cycle. He set the laundry basket on the floor and closed the washer’s lid. His baby sister, Michelle, would be making her monthly trip to Riverside to check up on him. She might remember something about the quilt.

He headed back to the main floor to the guest room and retrieved the quilt from the trunk. With care he laid the blanket across the extra bed to avoid additional damage. Rodney ran his fingers over it. Whatever was in between the back and the front of the quilt bumped up in some spots and felt nonexistent in others.

The back door opened, and the rustle of plastic sacks announced Michelle’s arrival. He walked down the short hall of the ranch-style home and into the kitchen.

Michelle stood at the counter. She pulled individual storage containers from the discount store bags.

At forty-seven, five years his junior, she still remained petite. She favored their paternal grandmother, small framed and fair skinned. With her blond hair held back in a headband, dressed in jeans and a USD Coyotes sweatshirt, she looked like she should be the college freshman, not her oldest son.

“What’d you bring me this time, sissy?”

Michelle turned and wrinkled her nose at Rodney. He laughed. That was the exact reaction he’d expected when he called her by her old nickname.

“Don’t be giving me the evil eye. You are my sissy.” He exaggerated the hiss of her nickname as he walked over and gave her a one-armed hug, then leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

“Of all the big brothers in the world, I had to be blessed with you.” Michelle pulled a face to emphasize the sarcasm in her voice.