Elle.”
“You know what bites me most? I’m literally left with nothing while Jeremiah sits in his fancy Dallas pastor’s office.” She shoved the box again with her foot. “No husband, no gallery, no cottage, no life.”
“Say the word and we’ll move, Elle.”
“I can’t do that to you and Tracey-Love. Besides, you’re paying my mortgage. Thank you very much.”
“So maybe this whole breakup scene is a great opportunity instead of a horrible problem.”
“Oh, crud, you’re one of those glass-half-full guys.” Elle fluttered her fingers at him. “Well, move on, there’s nothing to see here. All the glasses are emp-tee.”
He regarded her for a second, then, “Ever watch your soul mate sleeping in a casket? Ever watch the person who caused your heart to skip a beat be lowered into the ground with the preacher declaring, ‘Ashes to ashes’?”
Elle’s green gaze faded from impatience to concern and lingered on his face. “No, I haven’t.”
“Ever wake up feeling helpless and frightened, reaching for someone who’s not there but should be. Ever wake up racked with guilt because you wonder if you’d just said no, or been more assertive, the one you love would be alive?”
Understanding blossomed across her face. “Heath, I’m so sorry. Here I am whining and complaining over a short-lived engagement. How long has she been gone?”
“Almost eight months.”
“So you came here for more than writing a book.”
“Yes. Needed a change, a break, a way to jump-start our lives and heal.”
Elle slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him softly. “May you find it at Coffin Creek.”
Caught off guard, Heath’s arms hung at his side for a long second. It’d been so long since he hugged another woman. But when he felt she was about to step away, he slipped his arms around her shoulders.
“Same to you, Elle. Same to you.”
NINE
May
The first Sunday in May Elle woke up with a craving to sing and decided she’d avoided church long enough. After showering and dressing in jeans and a wrinkled blouse, she stood in the middle of the studio.
One step forward, she’d be tracking for the door. One step back, she’d be on the futon sleeping the day away.
Nine forty-five. Decision time. Go or stay? She tried to press the wrinkles from her shirt with her moist palm. If she left now, she’d only be a few minutes late. But where was her handbag? Couldn’t drive without her keys.
Bible? She had one of those, somewhere. Searching the boxes from the cottage bedroom, she found the Good Book under a pile of stuff from her bedroom.
Car keys in hand, she hesitated. How could she face all those people? Her church family? A congregation of folks who had expected to attend her wedding next Saturday? Folks who had adored and loved Jeremiah Franklin.
Elle jiggled the keys. Maybe she wasn’t ready for church just yet. As the “loser” in this wedding-day disaster, she could only imagine all the speculations.
What did Elle do to make him dump her?
She must be crazy. If I had a man like Jeremiah . . .
Stop, Elle, and get moving. Grabbing her bag from the table, tucking her Bible under her arm, she started for the door. Then she saw it, just like the first one.
A feather, surfing the morning sunbeams, its twin lying on the worktable. Catching it in mid-float, Elle felt a wave of awe.
God, what are You doing?
Slipping into the back pew, Elle tried to focus on Jesus rather than the fact she was at Beaufort Community Church without Jeremiah.
Were people staring and whispering? With a quick gaze, she knew. The congregation was not preoccupied with her love life and marital status.
Burley, kind Andy Castleton, the Frogmore Café’s owner, caught her eye and jutted out his chin. Be strong, gal.
All right, Andy.
She closed her eyes, ready to join the singing, when a small voice asked, “Is there room for me here?”
Elle looked down to see tiny Miss Anna standing in the aisle.
“Certainly,
“You know what bites me most? I’m literally left with nothing while Jeremiah sits in his fancy Dallas pastor’s office.” She shoved the box again with her foot. “No husband, no gallery, no cottage, no life.”
“Say the word and we’ll move, Elle.”
“I can’t do that to you and Tracey-Love. Besides, you’re paying my mortgage. Thank you very much.”
“So maybe this whole breakup scene is a great opportunity instead of a horrible problem.”
“Oh, crud, you’re one of those glass-half-full guys.” Elle fluttered her fingers at him. “Well, move on, there’s nothing to see here. All the glasses are emp-tee.”
He regarded her for a second, then, “Ever watch your soul mate sleeping in a casket? Ever watch the person who caused your heart to skip a beat be lowered into the ground with the preacher declaring, ‘Ashes to ashes’?”
Elle’s green gaze faded from impatience to concern and lingered on his face. “No, I haven’t.”
“Ever wake up feeling helpless and frightened, reaching for someone who’s not there but should be. Ever wake up racked with guilt because you wonder if you’d just said no, or been more assertive, the one you love would be alive?”
Understanding blossomed across her face. “Heath, I’m so sorry. Here I am whining and complaining over a short-lived engagement. How long has she been gone?”
“Almost eight months.”
“So you came here for more than writing a book.”
“Yes. Needed a change, a break, a way to jump-start our lives and heal.”
Elle slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him softly. “May you find it at Coffin Creek.”
Caught off guard, Heath’s arms hung at his side for a long second. It’d been so long since he hugged another woman. But when he felt she was about to step away, he slipped his arms around her shoulders.
“Same to you, Elle. Same to you.”
NINE
May
The first Sunday in May Elle woke up with a craving to sing and decided she’d avoided church long enough. After showering and dressing in jeans and a wrinkled blouse, she stood in the middle of the studio.
One step forward, she’d be tracking for the door. One step back, she’d be on the futon sleeping the day away.
Nine forty-five. Decision time. Go or stay? She tried to press the wrinkles from her shirt with her moist palm. If she left now, she’d only be a few minutes late. But where was her handbag? Couldn’t drive without her keys.
Bible? She had one of those, somewhere. Searching the boxes from the cottage bedroom, she found the Good Book under a pile of stuff from her bedroom.
Car keys in hand, she hesitated. How could she face all those people? Her church family? A congregation of folks who had expected to attend her wedding next Saturday? Folks who had adored and loved Jeremiah Franklin.
Elle jiggled the keys. Maybe she wasn’t ready for church just yet. As the “loser” in this wedding-day disaster, she could only imagine all the speculations.
What did Elle do to make him dump her?
She must be crazy. If I had a man like Jeremiah . . .
Stop, Elle, and get moving. Grabbing her bag from the table, tucking her Bible under her arm, she started for the door. Then she saw it, just like the first one.
A feather, surfing the morning sunbeams, its twin lying on the worktable. Catching it in mid-float, Elle felt a wave of awe.
God, what are You doing?
Slipping into the back pew, Elle tried to focus on Jesus rather than the fact she was at Beaufort Community Church without Jeremiah.
Were people staring and whispering? With a quick gaze, she knew. The congregation was not preoccupied with her love life and marital status.
Burley, kind Andy Castleton, the Frogmore Café’s owner, caught her eye and jutted out his chin. Be strong, gal.
All right, Andy.
She closed her eyes, ready to join the singing, when a small voice asked, “Is there room for me here?”
Elle looked down to see tiny Miss Anna standing in the aisle.
“Certainly,
Similar Books
