A Journey by Chance (28 page)

Brady whirled Gina around the bright yellow kitchen and hummed what he considered “their” song.
Where does your journey lead from here?
Crazy as it sounded, he did want them to travel the rest of life's journey together.

She pushed him away and answered his unspoken question, “Probably looking for an elephant to take care of. Now move that box and let me get back to work.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He set a heavy box of dishes atop the counter and headed back outside to help the other guys carry in his cousin's enormous rolltop oak desk.

He and a group of friends were at Aaron and Lauren's house, delivering pickup truckloads of household goods gathered from the couples' apartments and parents' homes. Brady had joined the party at 1:00. Gina had been standoffish since 1:02, right after she flashed him her Miss America smile.

Not that he blamed her.

“Yo, Olafsson! Heads up!” Cal Huntington climbed the porch steps, desk chair in his arms.

Brady moved aside and held open the screen door.

“You done mooning yet?”

“Huh?”

Cal grinned. “Kind of sweet on that pretty California gal, aren't you, bud?” He carried the chair into the house, then came back outside. Without the brown deputy sheriff's uniform draping his broad shoulders, he appeared larger than usual in jeans and a white T-shirt. “Got your basketball?”

“Never leave home without it.”

“Bet you could use a game between that,” he tilted his head toward the house, “and your Zoning Committee.”

“You know, you should go into law enforcement, Huntington. You'd be good at detective work.”

“Ha, ha. How about some one-on-one? Even you and I can't move that desk until the others get back.”

They sauntered over to Brady's truck and retrieved the ball. “Think the Johnsons will mind if we use their hoop?” A freestanding hoop faced the paved cul-de-sac.

“Nah,” Cal replied. “Neighborhood's quiet this afternoon. Perfect 72 degrees and too hot for the kids.”

“Talk to me, Calhoun. What've you heard?”

“Oh, I guess the general consensus is she's sweet on you, too.”

Brady punched the ball at him. “Check. I meant about the zoning situation.”

“You don't have the votes.”

They played, their conversation punctuated by huffing silences, grunts, and the rattling of the backboard when the ball hit it.

“What's your opinion, Officer?”

“It's a shame. All that history out there. Besides the fact that you live in a private park. Got enough developments going up. Town's probably evenly divided. Whatever you guys decide will work out. Course the school board'll be on your case for the next century or so.”

“No kidding.”

“What'll you do? Move out to California?”

Brady's shot nicked the edge of the backboard. He chased after the ball. Move to California? That was one option he hadn't considered. Wouldn't ever consider. He liked living in Valley Oaks. He liked everything about living in Valley Oaks. Well, everything except for the fact that Gina Philips would be leaving it next week.

Six days left to win her over. And he had probably scared her off Saturday night, letting her know just how serious he was about her. Or confused her by working last evening instead of taking her out for dinner.
Lord, give me some middle ground here. Something between cool and aloof and mooning like a lovesick teenager.

Maybe he could talk her into staying longer. It wasn't like she had a job to go back to.

Gina splashed cool water on her face and studied her reflection in Lauren's new bathroom mirror. It had been hot work unloading cartons of kitchenware. A banana clip held back her disheveled hair, but it still needed shampoo. Raccoon eyes…now brimming with tears.

She was tired and her leg ached. She didn't want to join the others for a trip into Rockville for catfish. She really didn't want to intrude any longer. This was a Valley Oaks thing and she was an outsider.

Brady and that big guy, Cal, typified the character of the group. From the kitchen window she had watched these two grown men as they left behind heaps of unfinished work and strolled across the street to play basketball. She had watched them laugh and grimace and pant. She had watched them drink from the hose in the yard and then squirt down their heads and red faces like a couple of kids. That and today's entire scene oozed good-natured wholesomeness.
Homespun.

She didn't fit.

She leaned over and splashed more cold water on her face. Lauren's comments of yesterday haunted her. “Nicole never spent the night…Aaron and I are waiting…”

Gina buried her face in a new thick towel. It didn't matter. Seattle had called that morning. Aunt Lottie had given the zoo's head of personnel Lauren's number and he had reached her there. He offered her the job.

The wait was over. God had answered her prayer. She was back on track.

Rejoining the group downstairs, she begged off going to dinner. Brady approached just as Isabel was offering her a ride home.

“Gina, you're not going?”

She shook her head, trying to avoid eye contact. “I'm bushed.”

He touched her elbow. “Want to have pizza with me in town?”

By now Isabel was talking with someone else. Gina studied the floor.

“Sweetheart, shall I get you some ibuprofen?”

How did he know? Her head felt as if she were on a carousel ride. “I just took some. Thanks.”

“Ah, then you'll need some pizza in your stomach to go along with it. Let's go.”

She took the arm he offered and leaned against him. The room stopped spinning. “You didn't wink, Brady. You know how I am about getting into your truck.”

With a tilt of his head, he came into view and winked in that familiar, oh-so-mellow way of his.

How was she going to tell him?

They sat in a booth with high wooden backs at the restaurant, pizza remains on a platter between them. It was a crowded place with oldies playing just loud enough to mask
neighboring conversations. Brady reached across the table and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Feeling better?”

“Colored sugar water always helps.”

“Pop,” he corrected.

“Soda.”

“You say toe-may-toe—”

“I say toe-mah-toe.”

He grinned. “I suppose that's the crux of things, eh?”

“Brady—”

“Look, Gina, I'm sorry for confusing you. One night I practically say ‘move in with me' and the next we talk a total of two minutes on the telephone. The fact is, I don't know how to express myself.”

“Brady—”

“All right, I'll just say it. I'm falling in love with you. No, not falling. I already did that. I love you, Angelina.”

“But we've only just met!”

“I know.”

“We live thousands of miles apart!”

“I know that, too. Tell me something I don't know. Like what do you think about spending more time in Valley Oaks?”

She tore her eyes away from his turquoise gaze. She hadn't told him yet about Seattle.

“Oops,” Brady said, “that might be too much of a leap.” He shoved aside the dishes and reached for both of her hands. “Maybe the, uh, interest isn't anywhere near mutual?”

She looked at his slender, workingman fingers wrapped around hers. They felt rough. She had seen them covered in black oil while he worked under the hood of a tractor. She imagined them on a keyboard, tapping out beautiful words that changed her life. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Brady. I can't trust my feelings right now.”

“Too irrational and illogical?”

“Yes, and logically speaking, I don't fit here with you and your friends.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Too Midwestern for you? Too beneath your—”

“No! Exactly the opposite.
I'm
beneath
your
standards. You must know that. Until now I didn't know anyone who waited for marriage. Including myself.” She watched his face register surprise. Oh, the guy was definitely leaps and bounds out of her league.
Mr. Homespun…
“Please, Brady! Don't keep making me out to be someone I'm not!”

He raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. “You're a new woman in Christ.”

“But there is baggage.”

“We all have baggage of some sort. I love you, Gina.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “The Seattle zoo called. They offered the job. Starting the first of August. I have to go home next week and move myself up there.”

His hands tightened over hers, and he gave her a genuine smile. “Congratulations.” He blew out a breath. “And here I thought I had things figured out. I should know whenever that happens, God's going to surprise me. Ready to go? I have mowing to do.”

She had given him a way out, and he had grasped hold of it like a drowning man thrown a rope. It was for the best for both of them, but somewhere deep inside herself Gina ached.

Outside they walked silently to his truck. He held the door open for her, shut it, and leaned in through the open window. “You'll join me, won't you?”

“When? For what?

“Now. Mowing.”

“Mowing?”

“Sure. You know it's true love in the Midwest when she rides on the tractor with him.”

He had done it again, poured a warm, soothing balm on the hurt. She touched his forearm. “Change it to you know they're the very best of friends when she rides on the tractor with him. Then I'll say yes.”

Brady's eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “How about if I just stop talking about it?”

“Excellent idea, Mr. Olafsson.”

It wasn't a FedEx truck on Tuesday.

It was a white stretch limousine.

Maggie eyed the chauffeur through the screen door. Hat in hand, he wore the professional demeanor and black uniform with its row of right-angled buttons.

“Mrs. Philips?”

She hesitated. It had nothing to do with the honest-faced stranger who smiled politely. He was gray-haired and thickset, almost bodyguard-like in appearance. No, the hesitation stemmed from the wariness that had settled over her since yesterday's delivery of the painting. That painting…still unceremoniously propped against the wall where Gina had set it. She swallowed. As the mean aunt, she had lost her edge. “Y-yes.”

“Hello. My name is Julius. Mr. Philips has asked that I escort you. Your limousine is ready whenever you are. May I suggest that we leave as soon as possible? The agenda is quite full.”

“Gina!” she yelled in the cheerleader voice she hadn't used in years, then twirled around.

Gina, Marsha, and Aunt Lottie scurried through the doorway from the dining room. They must have been right behind her when she left the kitchen to answer the doorbell.

“What's going on?” Maggie asked.

Giggles and grins erupted among the three women.

“Mom, just go. Do what the chauffeur says.”

“What is going on?!”

Marsha made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go, Maggie. Reece has planned something special for you.”

“There's far too much to do here. I don't have time for anything that's not on the agenda.”

“Gina's taking over. Everything is covered. We're even going to the masseuse together. While my house is being cleaned, thank you very much.”

“I'm really not in the mood for surprises. I was looking forward to a massage myself.”

The grins faded.

“Mother, he's trying.”

Aunt Lottie spoke up. “Honey, you know I don't like to interfere, but it would seem prudent that you meet the man halfway.”

Maggie's heart pounded in her throat.

It was Marsha's turn. “Remember praying about being a loving wife? Here's your chance, Magpie. Go for it.”

“But—”

“Take the first step. God will carry you after that.”

Dread and anxiety washed through her. She felt as if her bones melted and all thought processes shut down.

Marsha flung an arm around her shoulder and gently kneaded her forehead. “Stop frowning, sis. The man loves you.”

Gina handed Maggie her purse. “There, Mom. You're good to go.”

Aunt Lottie pressed her way in and gave her a sound hug. “We'll be praying for you.”

Marsha hugged her, then Gina. They each grasped an arm and prodded her through the front door. She couldn't summon the strength to protest.

At the limo, Julius opened the back door, revealing a luscious burgundy carpet and matching butter-soft leather seats.

Maggie glanced down at her burnt orange camp shirt and white denim skirt above the royal-blue walking cast and cried out in alarm, “I've got to change my clothes!”

“Mother, there's no time. Besides, you look fine for what you'll be doing.” Gina nudged her inside.

Classical music floated on the cool air that greeted her. The other women climbed in behind her, begging to take a peek. They oohed and aahed, declared it gorgeously elegant, discovered the telephone, television, CD player, magazines, orange juice, fruit basket, and croissants. Maggie noticed the white carafe with cup and saucer beside one of the seats. It probably contained coffee. The magazines, the food, and the strands of a Bach concerto all suggested that it probably contained not just any coffee.

The others got out and stood on the curb, waving goodbye as the limo pulled silently away as if on a cushion of air. She unscrewed the carafe lid and sniffed.

Almond-flavored. Her favorite.

When had Reece noticed?

Dear Lord, I'm really not ready for this.

As Valley Oaks faded from view, Maggie asked Julius one question, “Where are we going?”

In the rearview mirror his smile was enigmatic beneath his cap and dark glasses. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm not at liberty to disclose that.” He slid the window shut between them.

Once on the interstate, she knew where they were headed. Reece would, of course, bring her to Chicago.

Chicago.

Oh, Lord, I'm really, really not ready for this.

As mile after mile of corn, soybeans, and prairie grass flew by, Maggie fought down incessant, nagging thoughts of what she wasn't accomplishing for her sister and niece. She chewed her lip, drummed her fingers, held imaginary fretful conversations with Reece about his timing. Those all ended with Gina's haunting words, “He's trying.” The magazines went unread, the croissants untasted. She fortified herself with the entire carafe of coffee.

She punched the intercom button. “Julius, I need that rest stop coming up.”

There was a state highway patrol car in the lot. She could find the officer and tell him she'd been kidnapped. By her husband.
And why would he do that, ma'am? Well, he's trying to win back my heart. How? By taking me to Chicago where…well, I'm just not ready for this; I have too many other things to attend to. Ma'am, did you come willingly? In a way. I'm just trying to be obedient to Christ.
She would have lost the guy by then.

Less than 90 minutes from the time they had left Valley Oaks, the faint outline of skyscrapers appeared in the hazy distance. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushy seat. It was time to change the prayer.
Dear Father, what do You want from me?

Maggie imagined Julius would take her to the Art Institute because Reece would remember it was one of her favorite places in the city. He would be waiting. He would stroll beside her, yawning his way through the exhibits. They would wander down Michigan Avenue, choose a restaurant where she wouldn't feel too tacky in a denim skirt and cast. They would sit by a window, watch pedestrians, and not have anything to say to each other. She would thank him for the effort, get back into the limo, and go home.

Except for the limousine's role, the scene had been played.

Too soon they were in the midst of thick traffic on Lake Shore Drive. Lake Michigan sparkled, reflecting summer's
deep blue sky. Maggie took a deep breath.
Give him a break. He is trying.

On Michigan Avenue, the chauffeur turned the opposite direction from the Institute…and pulled into the covered drive of the Hilton.

Tears sprang to Maggie's eyes. Of course. Their honeymoon hotel.

Julius braked and turned in his seat, smiling broadly. He loved the dividing window. “Have a pleasant day, Mrs. Philips.”

A doorman opened her door. A young woman wearing a concierge badge greeted her, “Mrs. Philips, welcome to the Hilton.” She whisked her right past the check-in counter and into an elevator, chatting the entire way about what was going on in the city this beautiful June day. On the twenty-first floor she led her down the hall, around a few corners to a door where she slipped in a key card and stepped aside. “I'll leave this key with you. Please call my desk if you have any questions. Have a wonderful day.”

“But what am I doing?”

“I think you'll find everything you need in your suite. Enjoy.”

A magnificent view of Lake Michigan filled the windows lining one entire wall of a large sitting room, but it was the scent of roses that overpowered the room. Bouquets sat on every flat surface. A dozen red here, a dozen orchid-colored ones there, a dozen yellow, a dozen white. She walked through into the bedroom and found two more bouquets of pinks. In the bathroom was a bouquet with a rose of every color.

An array of cosmetics caught her eye. She breathed a drawn out “Oh.” Her brand of everything in new, unopened containers filled the vanity counter. Cleansing cream, day and night moisturizers, lipsticks, eye shadow, shampoo, hair spray…perfume. Everything.
What was going on?!

She hurried back out to the sitting room. There was an envelope propped against one of the vases. Her name was written neatly in calligraphy. She pulled out the card.

“Oh!” She hurried past the couch and overstuffed arm chairs. In the bedroom she flung open the closet door. “Oh, my goodness!”

Clothes with tags still attached hung neatly on hangers. A casual pale blue sleeveless dress…perfect for the afternoon. A pale green linen skirt and white knit top…for tomorrow? A black dress. She pulled it out. It was dazzling: short sleeves, ankle length, the bodice covered with iridescent beads. She carefully returned it to its place beside a beautiful, long white silk nightgown. On the floor were shoes that matched the dresses and luggage for packing it all.

She slid open the dresser drawers. Rhinestone earrings and bracelet, an evening bag, underclothes.

Maggie realized she truly did not need a thing…except the desire to receive the lavish gifts from a man she wasn't sure she even cared to see.