GRACE OVERSLEPT SUNDAY MORNING, and awakened to her cell phone buzzing on the nightstand. Fumbling for it, she saw Shanice’s face on the screen and answered. “What time is it?”
“Where are you? We’re at the café. Are you okay?”
“Fine. I’m still in bed. I was up until three.”
“I didn’t know you had that much stuff to put away.”
“I don’t. I just couldn’t sleep.”
“Grace, honey, we have something to tell you. We wanted to tell you in person. Unfortunately, you didn’t show up.”
She wasn’t sure she could survive another of Shanice’s ideas.
“What is it?”
“You have a date this coming Wednesday, at seven.”
“Are we going to a movie or a Bible study?”
“You and Brian Henley are going to dinner at Lawry’s. Nice, huh?”
Groggy, Grace yawned. “I don’t know any Brian Henley.”
“Well, you will. We signed you onto a Christian mingle site, and when this incredible guy popped up, we responded.”
Grace’s eyes opened. “What? You’d better be kidding.”
“Just listen. He’s a widower, a youth pastor with a master’s, handsome as all get-out, loves kids. He’s perfect for you—”
Wide-awake now, Grace sat up. “I don’t need or want a man, Shanice.”
“It’s too late. The date is made.”
“Then you keep it.”
“He saw your picture. He’ll expect you to show up. He looks like a great guy. It’d be rude to stand him up.”
“Tell me how to contact him and I’ll—”
“Please, Grace. Do it for me.”
Grace knew what was bothering Shanice. “Why are you still feeling guilty? What happened wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I’ve never blamed you, ever.”
“I know, honey, but maybe I’ll feel better if you go on this date.”
“That’s blackmail!”
“Not if it turns out the way we’re all hoping.”
“And if it doesn’t, will you promise never to do this to me again?” She waited, but Shanice wasn’t one to make a promise lightly. “Shanice?”
“You might be interested to know how many gentlemen responded to your profile.”
Grace groaned. “Not really.”
“Okay. Okay. You’re not fully awake. I caught you at a bad time. But you’ll thank us later, I’m sure.”
Grace could hear Ashley in the background talking about how cute Brian Henley was. If he was a Brit, Grace wouldn’t have to worry. She could send Ashley in her place.
The warm waterfall shower felt so good, she lingered. Wash all my sins away, Lord. Cleanse my heart and mind from those memories that taunt me. Wash me whiter than snow. She could have let the water run forever. Grace combed her wet hair and shook it so the soft, natural curls loosened. She still had to make this cottage a home for her and Samuel.
Thankfully, Ruben had put the crib together. She had planned on doing that herself, but he insisted he had the necessary tools and experience. The sheets had tiny red, blue, and yellow airplanes. She set up the Baby Einstein Sea Dreams, hung the Fisher-Price Rainforest mobile, and put the plush lamb that played “Jesus Loves Me” in the corner. Samuel liked blankets with silky edges, and she had bought two, one with blue elephants and the other with yellow-and-orange giraffes. She couldn’t wait to have Samuel all to herself for a few days, no Selah eager to snatch the baby away or tend to his needs.
Oh, Lord, I know I’m being selfish, but Samuel is mine. I want more time with my son, not less. I want to be a good mother, even if I can’t be with him full-time.
The grocery store in Malibu had what she needed, but the prices were outrageous. She’d shop at Walmart or take Ashley’s suggestion to share-shop at Costco. They could split the supplies and the bill and both save money. With all her purchases put away, she opened the door to let in fresh air. Her mind kept buzzing with ideas. She’d need shelving for textbooks. She’d kept every one of them from the classes she had completed, as well as the ones from classes she dropped so she could work full-time to support Patrick. He’d promised she could go back after he graduated.
No point in thinking about all that now. She’d worked hard at ripping out the root of bitterness so she could forgive Patrick.
Forgiving herself was another matter.
Restless, Roman drove down to Malibu again and picked up lunch at the grocery deli. On impulse, he bought an orchid, figuring it would be a nice welcome gesture for his new tenant. He’d given her a full day and a half to settle in. What harm could it be to check on her?
Her front door stood wide-open. Roman took that as an invitation. He stopped short of stepping over her threshold. Grace didn’t even notice him as she sat at a small table, hand holding a thick book open as she wrote in a spiral notebook. He stood watching her for a moment. “Settled in already?”
Startled, she dropped her pen. Recovering quickly, she pushed back her chair and stood. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you standing there, Mr. Velasco.”
Were her eyes narrowing because of the sunlight or because he was crossing a line? Roman could almost read her mind. What is he doing here? It wasn’t the usual expression he saw on a woman’s face. “You were pretty deep in concentration.” He came inside, curious to see what she was doing to his cottage. He did own the place, after all. “Just making sure you aren’t repainting the walls.”
“I’d ask first.”
Of course she would. She looked tense. “Catching the afternoon breeze?”
“I didn’t want to run the air-conditioning. I forgot to ask about utilities.”
Utilities? Was she that hard up financially? “They’re included in the rent.”
“Which reminds me.” She moved papers aside and picked up a check. “First and last month’s rent.” She held it out.
“Already planning to move?” He took the check and stuffed it into his front pant pocket.
“It’s usually how things work. And a security deposit in case I do repaint the walls.” She smiled.
Roman smiled back. “Everything by the book, Ms. Moore.” He set the orchid on the table in front of her. “A housewarming present.”
She blinked. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
Then why was she staring at it like he’d put a snake on her table? Roman decided not to ask. He wanted a look at her living room. She liked blue, green, pink, and yellow. Everything was cheap chic, warm and cozy. Three pieces of art hung on her wall: “Be still and know I am God” in colorful hand lettering, and two prints of men in Arabic dress, one a bearded shepherd carrying a lamb over his shoulders and the other with head bowed, hands clasped in prayer. “Do you have a thing for Middle Eastern men?”
“I have a thing for Jesus.”
She said it so simply, without the least hesitation, it caught him off guard. Her brown eyes shone clear until she caught his mood, then became perplexed. Something about the way she tilted her head made his heart give an odd double beat. The feeling passed as quickly as it came. “Your lights were on when I came home last night. It was after two. Everything all right?”
“Just restless. Couldn’t sleep. It’s very quiet out here. No traffic sounds. Would you like some coffee? It’s not fresh.”
Was she hoping he’d say no? “Yes. Thanks.” She opened a cabinet, displaying a neat row of unmatched mugs. “You’ve already put all your stuff away.” His gaze drifted over her. She looked good in skinny jeans. She was barefoot, her toenails painted pink. Her shirt rode up enough to reveal pale skin. No tats. None that he could see, anyway.
He glanced at her textbook. Contemporary Clinical Psychology. Surprised, he gave a slight laugh. “Doing some light reading?”
“It’s from a class I had to drop at UCLA.” She handed him a mug of steaming coffee.
College girl. “UCLA? That wasn’t on your résumé.”
“I didn’t graduate.”
“Didn’t like school?”
“Loved it.”
“Flunked out?”
“I had to go to work full-time.”
Roman lifted the mug and read Trust in the Lord with all your heart. He sipped, looking at her over the rim. “Hard-core, aren’t you?”
“I have a Dodgers mug, if that would make the coffee taste better. Or the Raiders.”
Was she teasing him? He gave her a roguish grin. “I’m more a raider than a dodger.” Even her old coffee tasted good. She looked like a teenager with her hair tucked behind her ears. He liked the shape and fullness of her mouth. In truth, he liked everything about her, what little he knew. Neither spoke. Grace sucked in a soft breath. She came around the table, walked out the door, and didn’t stop until she reached the wall. She ran her hand along it.
Turning, she looked at him calmly. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Roman wasn’t fooled. She wanted him out of the cottage. Okay. He could take a hint. He sat in the same place her friend had occupied during their long conversation. She didn’t seem to have anything to say now.
“Is something worrying you, Grace?” Did she think he was coming on to her? He told himself he was just checking in, like a good landlord. “Everything working? The fridge? The stove? The washer and dryer?” He jerked his chin. “It’s only the second time I’ve been in the place. I didn’t even bother to check things out before you moved in.”
“My friends did. Everything works perfectly. The fridge and stove anyway. I haven’t done any wash yet.”
Ms. Moore was rambling, nervous. He felt on firmer ground. “Good.”
Clearing her throat, she looked at him. “How is the last transfer coming along?”
He shrugged. “Everyone is always in a hurry.” Especially him. He couldn’t wait to be done with it. The sooner he got back to work, the sooner he’d be done. He finished the coffee and held out the mug. “You make good coffee.” Maybe she’d offer him a second cup. Maybe they could both relax enough to have a real conversation, something unrelated to business.
“You’re just hooked on caffeine. Too much isn’t good for you.”
She didn’t want him to linger. “Okay, Mama.” Roman stood. “We’re all hooked on something.” What was her addiction?
“Thank you for the orchid, Roman. That was very thoughtful of you.”
He’d never been accused of that before.
Grace backed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Obviously clinical psychology held more allure than he did. “Turn on your air-conditioning whenever you need it, Grace. It’s not wise to leave your door open out here. You’re in wild country. You don’t want any wily coyotes wandering in.”
She laughed. “No. I definitely do not want that.” Now over the threshold, she closed the door.
Despite traffic, Grace arrived at Lawry’s on time. She recognized Brian Henley from the picture Shanice had forwarded—handsome with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes. He saw her come in and stood, recognizing her from whatever photo her friends had posted. He was a head taller than her and had an athletic frame. Smiling, he extended his hand. “Grace Moore? I’m Brian Henley. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He didn’t try to hide his relief. The hostess showed them to a booth. Brian seemed as uncomfortable as she, and she felt odd trying to put a man she hadn’t wanted to meet at ease.
“I was told you’re a youth pastor.”
“Told? Are you saying this wasn’t your idea?”
Grace blushed. “Well . . .” Why not be honest? “You seem like a very nice person, Brian, but meeting someone through a website hasn’t been on my list of things to do. My friends created my profile and set up this date without me knowing. And they wouldn’t give me your contact information so I could call and set the record straight.”
Brian grinned. “My youth group did the same thing to me.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. They both laughed.
Brian leaned back. “Well, we could call it an evening right now . . . or see what happens.”
She liked his attitude. “We’re here. I’ll pay my share.” She could afford a dinner salad. A pity her friends had suggested such an expensive restaurant.
“The youth group gave me a gift certificate generous enough to pay for two very nice dinners, dessert, and wine.”
“I don’t drink.”
“That makes two of us.”
They talked easily. Brian had met his future wife, Charlene, at the Urbana student missions conference when they were still in high school. They discovered they were both headed for Bible college in Wheaton, Illinois. Both worked and went to school, and they married after their sophomore year. While working on his master’s, Brian took a position at a megachurch on the outskirts of Chicago. Charlene worked in an after-school day care program. One winter night, less than a mile from home, she hit black ice, spun off the road into a tree.
Brian had tears in his eyes. “It’s been four years. I needed to get away from all the familiar places. I put out applications across the country and ended up here in LA. Still a big city, but much smaller church. A challenge. Room to grow.”
“How long were you and Charlene married?”
“Six years.”
“That’s not very long when you love someone as much as you clearly loved your wife.”
“No. Not nearly long enough. How about you? Any serious relationships?”
Grace sighed inwardly. Just tell the truth. “I’m sorry. I guess my friends left out a few pertinent facts in the profile they created. I’m divorced, and I have a child.” When Brian didn’t say anything, she figured this one date would be the end of what might have been a promising relationship.
“I’m listening.”
She looked up in surprise. How much do you tell someone on a first date? Her story was bleak and embarrassing, enough to expose her stupidity and stubborn foolishness.
“Patrick was a high school football star struggling with algebra, and his coach said I’d make a good tutor. Patrick received better than a passing grade and asked me to the prom. I think that was his way of paying me.” She winced. “That sounds terrible.”
“Is it true?”
“I don’t know. I’d rather believe he liked me as much as I liked him, but my aunt didn’t think so.” And Aunt Elizabeth was always right about everything. Why hadn’t Grace seen the warning signs?
“What about your parents?”
Grace felt Brian studying her. She had to say something. “My parents died when I was seven.” She didn’t want to talk about the circumstances. “My aunt raised me.” Another topic she didn’t want to discuss. Aunt Elizabeth had taken Grace into her home out of familial duty, not love. Grace had never met her mother’s sister before that. Grace was taken into child protective services the night her parents died and had been placed in foster care until Aunt Elizabeth turned up. In truth, as Grace learned later, her aunt had taken the job at the IRS in order to be as far away from Grace’s mother and father as possible. “My friends called me a brainiac, and Patrick was all about sports. And he loved adventure.” And other women.
“So how did you two end up together?”
“We both went to UCLA. He had a partial football scholarship.”
“And you?”
She didn’t want to brag. “Enough to get me through, but Patrick needed to finish school first.” She smoothed the napkin on her lap, avoiding Brian’s perusal. “We got married partway through freshman year. When he lost his scholarship, it made sense for me to work, so he could concentrate on school.” She gave him a bleak smile. “We were going to take turns.” She lifted one shoulder. “A few months after he graduated, I came home early and found Patrick in bed with another girl. He said he loved her, packed up, and left.”
Brian winced. “Painful.”
Not as painful as it should have been. She’d been hurt, angry, and most telling, relieved. Their last year together had been difficult. She’d seen the truth. “I hated myself more than Patrick. I saw plenty of warning signs, but chose to ignore them. I tried to make it work. What is the old saying about fools rushing in?”
“And you have a child.”
Grace hesitated, understanding the assumption Brian was making. She wasn’t ready to confess more sins. “Yes. A son. Samuel. He’s five months old and the love of my life.” Had he noticed her blush? Brian seemed to sense something, but didn’t press.
“Charlene and I wanted children. That’s how I ended up in youth ministry. I love kids.” A good sign, Grace thought, then admonished herself. Brian talked about the program he’d started and ways he was trying to get the older and younger generations together. He joked about how too many people thought teenagers were out of control, beyond redemption, and to be avoided at all cost. He laughed. “Nothing’s changed. Plato bemoaned the younger generation.” He admitted teens could be perplexing and frustrating, especially the girls.
Grace didn’t have to wonder why. “I can imagine how many develop crushes on you.” A handsome, charismatic, young widower? “You’d better be careful, Pastor Brian.”
“Believe me, I am careful. I make sure I’m never alone with a girl, and I have plenty of adult supervision at our youth functions. A pastor can’t be too careful these days. It doesn’t take much to destroy a man’s reputation.”
Or a woman’s.
They talked over prime rib dinners. Grace ordered crème brûlée. Brian had warm chocolate fantasy cake. They lingered over coffee. Grace couldn’t remember ever having felt so comfortable with a man. Brian slipped the gift certificate and a twenty-dollar bill into the leather folder for the waiter.
Grace noticed another couple leaving. “I think they came in after we did.” She glanced at her phone to check the time. “Oh, my.” She and Brian had been talking for over two hours.
They left the booth and went outside. Brian held her sweater for her. They walked to her car, and he opened her door. “How far do you have to drive?”
“I’ll be home by eleven. It’s been a real pleasure meeting you, Brian. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” His hand was warm and firm.
“The kids will want to know how it went tonight. I’ll be telling them the evening far exceeded my expectations.”
“My friends will be asking the same questions, and I’ll tell them the same thing.”
Brian grinned. “In that case, would you like to join me and twenty-odd teenagers for a beach party Saturday after next?”
“Were you setting me up?” Grace laughed. “Sounds like fun, but only if I can bring Samuel.”
“Absolutely. Can’t wait to meet him.”
On the drive home, Grace heard her phone signal an incoming text. She read it after she had parked. Shanice, of course. Call me when you get in. I want to know details.
Shanice, a night owl, answered on the second ring. “Good time?”
“It turned out to be a very nice evening.” Grace kept her tone bland.
“Oh.” Shanice sounded disappointed, then brightened. “Nice enough to see him again?”
“Yes.”
“Fantastic! Tell me everything.”
“You’ll have to wait until Sunday.” Grace said good night and ended the call.
Roman used a paint roller on the back wall of his studio before Grace showed up Monday morning. He didn’t want to see the look on her face if she discovered where his real passion in art lay. When she came in with his mug of coffee, the scent of fresh paint still hung heavily in the air. She looked at the back wall. “You painted the wall again.” She grimaced. “What do you call that color? Mud?”
“Good description. It’s a little of this and that all poured into the same can, and that’s what you get.” He hesitated, then added, “Cities use it to buff graffiti.”
“I hope that’s not your idea of redecorating.”
He dabbed more red on the one remaining painting. Talia had picked up the other two. “I finished the transfer. I leave for San Diego this afternoon. I’ll be gone a week, at least. Maybe two.” Less if he worked long hours. If he ran short of any supplies, he could order what he needed and have it delivered. “I’ll finish this painting before I go. Talia can come and get it in a couple days.”
“Is there anything in particular you want me to do here while you’re gone?”
Her gaze kept drifting to that blasted wall still marred by faint outlines of the darker colors and shapes beneath. Was she trying to figure out what he’d painted? He made a downward stroke of red, lifted the brush away, and set his palette aside. “Why don’t you shop for furniture? Jasper Hawley said he wanted a bed to sleep in the next time he comes to visit.”
She kept looking at the wall, tilting her head slightly. “I need to know your taste.”
“Anything but shabby chic or French country.”
She laughed. “I’ll have you know I paid good money for my furnishings. Only the best of what the Salvation Army had to offer.”
“You won’t need to be that frugal on my dime.”
“What about bedding?”
“That, too. Pillows to sleep on.”
“How about decorative pillows?”
“Like the five you have on your couch?”
She looked surprised. “You counted them?”
“I remember what I see. You also have one on your swivel rocker, and I’m guessing a dozen more on your bed.” He wiped his hands on an oily cloth and decided he’d better change the subject. “Buy something that never goes out of style.”
He’d been striving for quality since his beginning in the Tenderloin, where it was scarce as money.
“How much are you willing to spend?”
“My bedroom set cost forty grand.”
“What?” Grace gasped. “Where do you find furniture that expensive?”
“I hired an interior decorator.”
“Oh. Why don’t I call her? She’ll know what suits you better than I do.”
“What makes you think it was a she? And maybe I want something different this time.” Grace was about as different as a girl could be from those he’d known up to now. “Something a little more . . . I don’t know. Classy. Use your instincts.”
“You might be sorry.”
“It’s only furniture, Grace.”
She looked at the wall one last time. “If you leave the ladder in here, I can repaint that wall a nice eggshell white.”
“It’d take more than one coat, and what’s the point?”
“It’d be a nice clean canvas so you can start fresh.”
Start fresh. If only he could.