Love Starts with Elle (2 page)

Elle’s smile broke. “Slob. Talk about it later?”

“It may be too late.”

“For who? You or Coffin Creek?” Elle backed up the sidewalk in the direction of her car.

“You.” Huck hollered between his wide grin, spinning off in the opposite direction, disappearing around the corner.

Elle held the sanctuary door so it closed quietly without squeaking or thudding. She paused for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, then spotted Jeremiah up front, striding across the stage as he rehearsed his sermon, his lips moving in silent recitation.

His movement was graceful and controlled, an extension of his inner being.

“He can preach up a storm, that one.” A slight, round-shouldered, snowy-haired Miss Anna Carlisle emerged from one of the sanctuary’s dark pockets, jabbing her finger toward Jeremiah.

“Then we should bring our umbrellas tomorrow,” Elle said, giving Miss Anna’s shoulders a hug.

“Best to be prepared, I suppose.” Miss Anna’s pushed open the sanctuary door. “I’m praying for that boy,” she said with a wag of her finger. “And you.” Her words were intentional and steady.

“For me?” Elle asked.

“For you.”

Elle regarded her for a moment. “Are you walking? Can I give you a ride?” Elle went with the older woman through the foyer to the outer doors.

“I do believe it’s a fine, crisp evening for walking.” She buttoned the top button of her blue sweater and buried her hands in the frayed pockets. Elle thought the garment’s spacious weave would do little against the night’s chill. “Good night, Elle.”

“Are you sure you want to walk, Miss Anna?”

“I’m sure.”

Elle watched her until she disappeared between the trees and night lights. Then, back inside, she slipped into the back pew and watched Jeremiah practice his message. She’d never met a man like him—one who breathed in confidence and exhaled all doubt.

Her emotions tugged between the man she knew and Arlene’s slipup.
What’s going on, Jeremiah? If anything?

Even for a Saturday-night sermon rehearsal, Jeremiah wore gray slacks and a starched cotton button-down. For the hundredth time, Elle wondered how he’d survived three years in the National Football League, three years of Bible college, and seven years of full-time ministry single.

But she wasn’t complaining. God had saved the best for her.

Under the low stage lights, Jeremiah paused as if waiting for a response. He acted out a laugh, making his way to center stage with an even gait. At the podium, he gripped the sides and leaned toward the empty sanctuary, bobbing his head to the beat of internal words.
Can I get an “Amen,” somebody?

Why not oblige? “Amen.” Elle rose from the pew as Jeremiah squinted beyond the spotlights into the shadowy sanctuary.

“Elle, babe? Is that you?” He came off the stage with a touchdown power stride. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, fine, but”—she met him in the middle of the aisle—“I heard a rumor.”

He growled, teasing her. “Is that ever good?” He touched his lips to hers with the passion that came when they were alone. “What kind of rumor?”

“Something about you and my breaking heart, Jeremiah.”

“And who delivered such almost horrifying news?” He locked his arms around her waist, his hazel eyes searching hers.

“Arlene Coulter, though she stopped herself when she saw I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“She heard from her husband, one of our trusty elders?”

“Who else?” Elle broke her gaze from Jeremiah’s, smoothing her hand over the crisp surface of his shirt.

“You’d think the man would know better after twenty-five years of marriage.”

“And what should I know after two months of dating?”

He brushed her hair away from her shoulder, letting his fingertips graze her skin. “Can it wait for dinner?”

His touch was fiery to her. “You tell me. Can it?”

“Are we answering questions with questions?”

“Are we?” Some time in the past week they’d started this new back-and-forth questions-with-questions dance.

“Did I start this, or you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Only if we want to get off this ride.” He pressed his lips to hers again, breathing deep.

His kisses defied all bad news.

“Tell you what.” He held up his wrist to see his watch in the stage light. “I’m almost done here. Another thirty minutes. What time does the gallery close?”

“Nine.”

“Can Julianne close up for you? We’ll slip off to dinner.”

“If I pay her.” Elle brushed her hand down the sleeve his oxford shirt. “That girl’s all about
moh-ney.
” She eyed him. “Monet.
Mo-net
. . . Get it?”

“Yes, I get it. Artist jokes. So, meet me here in thirty?” He walked backward to the stage. “Remember, I love you.”

“What’s up, Dr. Franklin? If I have to remember . . .” She caught the high and low contours of his face as he stood under the lights. “Not a good sign.”

His smile dried up the beginnings of her self-pity. “Just remember, Elle.”

TWO

Elle followed Jeremiah’s Honda down Hwy 21, surprised when he turned on Fripp Point Road toward her Coffin Creek cottage.

Coffin Creek. The environment Huckleberry claimed was dying. But as Elle parked alongside Jeremiah under the drooping branches of a live oak, she could hear the dissonant song of life thriving in and along the creek’s murky water.

“This is where you’re taking me to dinner?” she asked, approaching Jeremiah as he waited by the backyard gate in the silver light of the “starry, starry night.”

“Yes, but”—he swung her into his arms—“you don’t have to cook.”

“Please tell me you’re not cooking.” She laughed against his chest. The first and last time Jeremiah cooked for Elle he served his house specialty, mac-n-cheese with cut-up hot dogs.

“Never fear.” He fastened his arm around her waist and walked with her to the back porch. “Close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes?”

“Yes, close your eyes.”

Elle made a face. She didn’t liked surprises. “Okay, but I’m counting to ten, then opening them.”

“Give me twenty.”

Standing with her eyes closed, she could hear Jeremiah fumbling around, running across the sun-washed boards muttering, “Hot, hot, hot.” She heard the scrape of a match, followed by the kitchen door opening, then banging shut. The aroma of tomato sauce and garlic bread. Her stomach rumbled.

“What are you doing?” Twenty seconds had passed.

“Okay, open them.”

When she did, Elle found her back porch warm and inviting with hundreds of white lights twinkling around a crystal-and-china-set table for two.

“Jeremiah, this is beautiful.” She peeked under the foil-covered plates, her pulse racing. Arlene had one thing right: something was up.

“The lasagna is courtesy of Mrs. Marks.” Jeremiah held out a chair draped with a blanket. “For you.”

Elle sat though she floated. “If this is what Arlene is sad about, I’m most certainly not.”

Jeremiah knelt next to her, eye to eye. When his lips met hers, Elle’s heart throbbed in her throat, against her temples. Her senses were addicted to him.

“I hope I haven’t overwhelmed you by moving too fast, too soon.”

Too late. “What else would a former wide receiver do but run fast once he caught his girl?” She inhaled the air around him. “I just need a moment to catch my breath now and then.”

Jeremiah cupped her neck with his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “My first Sunday at Beaufort Community, Pastor O’Neal introduced me and asked me to say a few words. I sat on the first row during worship, focused but feeling at home in my new church. I’d practiced my two-minute greeting in front of the mirror a dozen times.”

“How could I forget? You captured us all that morning.”

“I wasn’t prepared to look out over the congregation and see a gorgeous strawberry blonde with apple-green eyes.”

She pressed her lips to his palm. “I certainly wasn’t prepared for you.”

“For a split second, I was caught in this Star Trek-like vortex. You were the only person in the room and I couldn’t remember what I wanted to say or, oddly enough, where I was.”

“You exaggerate.” Elle exhaled the same moment the creek released its breeze.

“The next few times I preached, I found you in the congregation during worship and made sure I never looked your way.”

“So, how does this answer Arlene Coulter’s speculation?” Elle huddled close to Jeremiah, shivering with the night chill and anticipation.

“First things first.” Raising his hand, Jeremiah dropped a small black-velvet box next to her plate, then looked into her eyes. “Elle Garvey, will you marry me?”

What?
“Marry you?” She glanced from him to the ring box and back again. She’d expected a lot of things—but not this. After two months of dating, was he serious?

“Marry me. I love you. You are exceptional. I’ve waited a long time to ask a woman this question. Elle, please, say yes.” Jeremiah opened the box, holding it up for Elle to see the diamond in the candlelight.

“Oh, Jeremiah.” His proposal sent sparks all over her, but she had to snap the box shut. “Wait, wait. Tonight Arlene tried to console ‘my breaking heart,’ but it was really about you’re asking me to marry you?”

Jeremiah laced his fingers through Elle’s, still kneeling beside her chair. “Goes to show you Arlene doesn’t know everything.”

“Then tell me, what does she know, Jer?”

“Elle.” Jeremiah took the platinum band from its velvet bed and slipped it onto Elle’s finger. “Do you love me?”

The candles, the lights, the aroma of pasta, garlic, and sauce mingling with the cool dew of the night eased her anxiety. “Yes, I believe I do.”

“Then marry me. This is right, I know it.”

“I’ll marry you, Jeremiah. Yes.”

His arms shot over his head in victory. “She said yes!” He pulled her from her chair and locked her against him, sealing the deal with a hot, searching kiss. Finally, when he’d stolen her last bit of air, he pulled away. “Hungry?”

“Yes.” Elle fell limply against him. When she opened her eyes, Jeremiah’s smile look a bit wicked.

“I meant for lasagna.”

She flirted, tipping her chin to her raised shoulder. “So did I.”

“Oh, I see how it’s going to be.” He grabbed her for another kiss, drawing her close, pressing his hands tightly against her spine.

Elle backed away when temptation bullied her senses. “Jer, let’s eat before we do things we’ll regret.”

He sighed, his breath hot against her skin. “Sorry, Elle, but when I’m with you . . .”

Her passions cooled while Jeremiah dished up Mrs. Marks’s excellent cooking and Elle drilled him about the details.
What did
Daddy say? And Pastor O’Neal? Do you want to move into the cottage after
the wedding? Do you want a spring wedding? Jeremiah, I’ve only met your
parents once. Are they excited?

He answered steadily, laughing as he recounted his meeting with Daddy. “He paused so long before giving his blessing he actually had me sweating.”

“He tries to be a grumpy ole bear, but he’s really a gentle Ben. Like he’d refuse the pastor anyway.”

“He seemed pleased.”

Elle thought tonight would always be a treasured memory, including Arlene’s heartbreak scare. “Wait until Arlene hears, Jeremiah. She had it wrong this time.”

Jeremiah reached for his tea. “Not entirely.”

Elle studied him mid-chew. “What do you mean?”

“What Arlene does know is I’ve been offered a large church in Dallas, Elle.”

“Dallas?” Absently, she wiped the corners of her mouth with a stiff linen napkin.

“Remember when I went home in October? We’d just started dating and I wasn’t sure where our relationship was headed. Some friends invited me to interview at their church—a big metropolitan congregation, multicultural, growing beyond their ability to handle it.”

“You never mentioned it.” Her heart beat to a different rhythm now. Leaving Beaufort?

“Didn’t think they’d come back with an offer. But they did. A few weeks ago. I would’ve told you, but I needed to work out a lot of details. Pray. Talk to Pastor O’Neal and the board.”

“I see. So you accepted?”

“I did. Gave notice to the board this morning. I leave the day after Christmas, but I hope we are going together, you and me.”

Sitting back in the Rubbermaid chair, Elle pondered Jeremiah’s news. Moving? Texas? She’d moved back to Beaufort after college and studying in Florence because she wanted to be home, near her four sisters and their families, near Daddy and Mama, reconnecting with lifelong friends. Building her life upon their foundation.

“I never imagined moving from Beaufort again.” Jeremiah’s ring slipped around on her cold, trembling finger so the diamond was upside down.

Jer reached over, tucking the blanket in around her. “Babe, I need you with me. Please don’t say this is a deal breaker.”

Deal breaker? Good grief. Were they ending before they’d even started? “No, Jeremiah, I feel a little overwhelmed, that’s all.” Her laugh jittered. “A girl gets a proposal and a chance to move across country . . . all in one night.”

“I’m sorry to spring it on you like this. I wasn’t sure of the best approach.” Jeremiah’s countenance remained firm, confident. “You’ll love this congregation. It’s about six hundred members and growing, knee deep in a building project, desperate to add another Sunday service.” He rubbed his palms together. “Rocking worship band, lots of ministries and activity going on.”

“So, you really told them yes?” She twisted the ring around her finger until the diamond captured the candlelight.

He took his knife and slowly buttered his bread. “I tried to figure out if I should propose to you first or answer them. After thinking it over and praying, I decided to answer yes to the job, get it out of the way, not encumber our new relationship with such a huge decision. Besides, what if you said no?”

“You do realize our new engagement
is
encumbered with this decision?”

He nodded, biting off the tip of his bread. “I suppose so. No way around it.”

The buttery aroma wafted past Elle. “Jeremiah, I love living here. I have a business. The art scene is robust and thriving.”