The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (22 page)

However, the desire to kiss Hannah had been a mind-numbing and obviously ethics-flauting combination of moon and her warmth against him as she slept and, okay, attraction. Her uniqueness drew him, the fact that she didn’t fall unquestioningly at his feet, that she was completely honest and brutally frank. He even found her occasionally prickly personality, if not charming, at least cute. Okay, he found it charming and funny and completely Hannah.

However, although he could be shallow and Hannah attracted him, usually he wasn’t suicidal. He knew Adam would kill him if he took advantage of his sister. She truly was an innocent. Not that he’d take advantage of Hannah, but he might hurt her.

His entire body aching from the odd position on the cot and his cuts and his brain’s refusal to shut off, he glared at the ceiling. Didn’t help a bit, because Gabe still wanted to kiss Hannah—only he didn’t want her to ask why. Her scientific analysis of his desire made him feel like a womanizer who went after anyone in a skirt. Not that Hannah wore a skirt, but he knew what he meant and what she’d implied.

He turned over and stared at the wall.

When Hannah woke up, the rising sun filtered through the high, wire-covered windows of the gym and sketched a diamond pattern across the ceiling. She stretched and smiled. The first night of really good sleep she’d had in a year.

She rolled out of bed and pulled her running clothes and shoes from the duffel, then hurried into the shower room to change. That done, she moved silently across the gym to the door and slipped outside.

Taking a deep breath of Texas air tinged with the scent of plants she couldn’t yet identify, she began to jog. With each stride, she remembered those runs across the treeless plains of Kenya with whichever member of the medical staff wanted some exercise. Even more precious were the early mornings spent with Munira or Basma. The girls could run faster and longer than she because running was what they did, nearly who they were. During those times, the girls talked excitedly about Kip Keino and the other great distance runners from Kenya and how someday they, too, would compete in the Olympics. And how, someday, they’d come back and help the orphans in their country.

Back then, after two or three miles, with the children loping along so easily, Hannah stopped to watch the girls and waved as they kept going, beautiful and joyful, so filled with hope. Then she turned back to the camp.

As she remembered that scene from what seemed like hundreds of years earlier as well as only yesterday, Hannah stopped jogging and lowered her head to whisper a prayer. She asked God to watch over all of her children in Kenya but especially Munira and Basma.
Dear Lord, if they are still alive, watch over them, keep them healthy, still running and smiling.

How odd that this moment had come. She so seldom prayed, but recently prayers seemed to burst from her at the oddest times. Back when she did pray, people had come to the refugee camp sick and exhausted with dying children. The stream of patients never stopped or lessened, no matter what she did or how fervently she prayed. It seemed as if God had turned away from the struggle of the Kenyan people, and her anger about the desertion had eaten her inside. Probably the reason she’d become so worn down with her efforts to stave off the tide of death, her futile attempts to save a few of those lives. Not that she had. All she’d accomplished was to end up here, in the middle of Texas, sent home for her failures physical, mental, and professional.

Dear God, how did I end up here?

This morning, the idea of talking with God made her feel as if she were still in touch with the children who had run free and happily, who had such big dreams for the future.

Feeling the joy of running and the peace of prayer flood her body, she realized she’d started healing. In fact, it had started weeks ago with gardening and being surrounded by people who cared about her. A sense of mission and a need to serve rushed through her body as she turned back toward the high school.

The goodness of her brother and the love and trust from Janey and gardening and being here had all helped her. Gabe had, too. He’d given her something else to think about and ponder. Not that she could figure out why she felt that odd spark of interest. No, she had to be honest with herself. Her feeling toward Gabe did not qualify as a spark; it was a fire raging illogically out of control.

Perhaps that night of sleep had put out the flame. She stopped and pictured Gabe in her mind and when the image of him appeared—all six-feet plus with the blond hair and all those other great parts that came together in the stunning package labeled “Gabe”—she nearly could not breathe.

That fact proved she was, deep down and as much as she had always refused to face it, a woman. On a dark, starry night with a gorgeous man, what woman wouldn’t be swept away? She imagined few had resisted this man. Probably none. Depressing to realize she’d wanted to join the long line of kiss-ees reaching back through Gabe’s past. At the same time, it felt good that he’d wanted to add her to that group, sort of like a secret handshake, an entry to a selective club.

Although she, of course, hadn’t allowed the kiss. Now she couldn’t figure out how she could have been touching him and yet acted like a scientist instead of the woman she realized she was. Probably because the metamorphosis had blossomed so slowly. The mixed thinking—that a metamorphosis could blossom—only showed how unscientific her thinking had become.

“Idiot,” she shouted at herself in frustration. Why hadn’t she recognized her womanhood a few seconds earlier last night, before she’d shoved that luscious man away?

Back in the gym, she hurried to take a shower, towel-dried her hair, then looked in the mirror. The Hannah she’d always been looked back at her.

Feeling particularly girly, she wondered if she should put on makeup. A moot question. She hadn’t brought any with her. And, besides, no amount of makeup could change her into a tall, blond beauty, not with her short legs, nearly black hair, and coppery skin. With a last rumple of her hair—which had grown so long the spikes had become little curls—she dressed and headed over for breakfast.

When she reached the library, she looked around. No tall, blond man. Despite her earlier thoughts, it felt odd to be disappointed because Gabe wasn’t there. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked behind her.

“Good morning,” he said, the most normal greeting ever, nothing suggestive or seductive in the words, but the sight of all that Gabeness caused every inch of her to feel, well, seduced.

Maybe they
could
spend a few days or a couple of evenings together, enjoy several kisses out here where no one knew her. She could be a different and new Hannah Jordan. She could think of no reason why she should not enjoy this man in this place at this time.

“I’ve already had breakfast and have been working for about an hour.”

“Oh.” How disappointing.

“But I had a lookout tell me so I could join you for coffee.”

“’Kay.” Gabe had made her monosyllabic. No one—no one!—had ever done that.

As she worked through the day, Hannah tamped down the excitement that kept rising back up when she thought of Gabe. A good thing because she barely saw him that evening. When she got off at nearly eight thirty, he’d headed into Fredericksburg with some young doctor he’d been playing basketball with.

She’d hoped to have dinner with him. Instead, she picked up a tray and sat at a table with the last group to eat. When he came back with a pile of pizza boxes, everyone grabbed a few slices and pulled up chairs around a table to talk sports.

However, he did pull her chair to the table and hand her a slice of vegetarian pizza. As she ate, she realized how tired she was. She thought of asking Gabe to walk her to the middle school gym but he looked busy and boisterous, slapping back insults about UT basketball.

Filled with an unwelcome twinge of disappointment, she stood and headed toward the door and outside. After she’d taken a few steps, she heard the door open. Gabe called, “Wait for me.”

With a grin, she did.

“Why’d you take off?” he asked once he’d reached her.

“You looked busy with your friends.”

“I’ll go back but I don’t want you walking out here alone. Who knows what could be lurking?”

“In the dangerous wilds of West Texas? Not likely.”

“After a tornado when the law is absent, who knows what horror we might face? Who can guess the mutations that may lurk in the dark…”

She punched his arm. “Don’t try to scare me.”

It took such a short time to reach the middle school gym. Only minutes. When they arrived, he whispered, “Sleep tight,” turned, and headed back to the high school.

She watched as he walked off; then he stopped and returned to stand next to her. She grinned.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’m not going to try to kiss you.”

Leaving her with her mouth open, he turned back again toward the high school. She watched until he reached the lights around the high school and went inside. No scientific explanation existed for the emptiness she felt after his departure.

Gussie put off leaving Butternut Creek until Monday morning. She’d stayed in town after Adam set off back to San Pablo with an SUV filled with supplies. Her purpose? She’d promised him she’d go to the church this morning and check the calendar for the wedding date.

The poor man had looked so worried, as if he feared she’d back out of this. Silly Adam, didn’t he realize how much she adored him? Guess not. She’d have to think of ways to reassure him.

She arrived in the office soon after Maggie, who’d just unlocked the door.

“I need to check with you about our wedding date,” Gussie said.

Maggie dropped her keys on the floor and gasped. “You’ve set a date? I wonder who won?”

“Who won what?”

“Nothing.” Maggie picked up her keys and headed into the office. “Nothing at all.”

“Maggie?” Gussie said in her toughest voice.

Maggie caved. “I shouldn’t have said a word but you startled me.” She turned on the coffeemaker before turning toward Gussie. “You know how small towns are.”

Gussie nodded.

“There’s a betting pool on when or if you’ll get married.”

Of course the citizens of Butternut Creek would do that. She imagined the people in Roundville had one as well. “Who’s ahead? What date did you chose?”

“Can’t say. We have to wait until you actually do walk down the aisle before the winner is announced.” Maggie zipped her lips.

“There are people betting against our ever getting married?”

“Some. I can’t say more.” She zipped her lips again but kept talking. “Wouldn’t be fair but I can tell you this. The odds favor next summer.”

“Well, get the church calendar out and I’ll tell you.”

Maggie sat at her desk, flipped on the computer to bring up the calendar, and sat poised to click on the month. “Okay, when?”

“June.”

Maggie began scrolling to the following year.

“No, this June.”

“What?” Maggie looked up. “That’s barely two months away. Who would’ve thunk?” She scrolled back up. “What date?”

“June seventh or fourteenth, I think. I’m not sure.”

“Oh, Gussie, be sure. Be very, very sure.” Maggie spoke in the worried tone of a divorcée.

“Oh, I’m very sure about getting married. The date is the question. We need to make sure these are open, then check with friends and family.”

“All right.” She looked at the first date. “The seventh is free all day. I’ll put you down with the rehearsal the evening before.”

“Great.”

“And the next weekend as well.” Maggie smiled. “The Widows will be so happy. Everyone will, but the Widows especially.” She sighed. “They’ve been so worried.”

“Oh?”

“Miss Birdie said you and the preacher were the hardest couple they’ve ever tried to get together. Took forever. She even said she might have to cut back because the matchmaking wore her out.” She grinned. “When are you going to tell them?”

“After we talk to our families, I’ll call Blossom.” She considered adding,
Please don’t tell anyone
, but worried the words could insult the secretary.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been secretary here long enough that I don’t tell anyone anything.” She paused. “Where are you going to live after you get married? Still going to be running back and forth?”

Oh, my goodness. She’d never even thought about that. “We still have to discuss that,” Gussie said. With that, she left, got in her car, and drove off to Austin. As she drove, she mulled over where she’d live after the wedding. Adam couldn’t leave the parsonage and she’d sort of assumed she’d live with him.

Farley Masterson sat in Birdie’s section again. She’d changed sections with Maybelle last week, but he’d caught on and moved when the other waitress had attempted to take his order. Maybelle, the traitor, had pointed him toward one of Birdie’s table.

She blinked. Her eyes had been foggy all morning. Hated to think about the expense, but she should go to Marble Falls and get her vision checked. Wouldn’t do if she fell over a table or a customer.

After she topped off everyone’s coffee, she couldn’t ignore Farley anymore. Since he’d said her smile looked like her teeth hurt, she no longer made the effort to look happy to see him.

“How’s your morning going, Birdie?” he asked.

He’d used a nice voice, a pleasant voice, which made her wonder if she should revise her opinion of the old coot. No, she wouldn’t. No matter how friendly he seemed, she had no interest in the man and knew he’d never ask her out again.

“Just fine. What can I get you for breakfast?”

“I’ll have number four with extra jelly and eggs over easy.”

“The usual.” Birdie nodded and moved toward the kitchen to slip the order onto a clip.

She served several breakfasts and filled numerous cups before Farley’s order was called. She picked up the plate and headed toward his table. Then something happened. She guessed she’d tripped because suddenly her feet lost contact with the floor and she shot forward. Time seemed to slow down as she watched the plate sail through the air, land on the floor next to Farley, and break. At the same time, in an effort to cushion her fall, Birdie reached out her right hand. When her hand hit the floor, pain exploded up her arm.