Love Finds You at Home for Christmas (24 page)

“What is this?” Sophie asked.

The priest just nodded and ate a bite of his omelet.

She opened the bag to find a collector's edition video recording of the musical
Les Miserables
. Sophie gasped and hugged him. “Thank you!” she exclaimed. She'd seen it for sale before and wanted to buy it but thought it was too expensive. “But I can't…it's too much.”

Father Hillary shook his head.

“Well, then your breakfast is on me for the next month!” Sophie declared.

“Oh no, I cannot do that. I would have to stop coming in, which would make me very sad.” He spoke honestly.

“You must let me do something—something to repay you,” Sophie was pleading.

“It's a gift—just accept it, no strings attached.” The priest was gentle but firm.

No strings attached.
As the days passed, Father Hillary's words became a metaphor for what was happening emotionally with Sophie. The pain of her divorce—her shame and embarrassment—seemed to slowly slip away as she felt more accepted. The unconditional love of her people—her hometown people—was surprising to her. It helped her to heal.

And the more she healed, the more open she became to new possibilities, which somehow always led to thoughts of Jon.

Chapter Ten

.................................

On Thursday morning, one week after his afternoon with Sophie at Harbor House Café, Jon sat at Adelaide's only round table by the window. Harvey was seated at another table with Earl and Bob, and they chatted with Jon about the cooler weather.

The door dinged, and in came the preachers. That's what everyone who ate breakfast at Adelaide's called the threesome of Danny Durham, David Fisher, and Jim Matthews. They'd been eating breakfast with Adelaide since shortly after all three moved into town several years ago.

As if by some collective pastor purging one year, the flocks of First Baptist and First Methodist found themselves without shepherds. After months of interviews, Danny was recommended by the Baptist search committee, and Jim was transferred in by the Methodists' bishop. David came that same year from a bigger place to start a nondenominational mission called The Bible Church—something that raised quite a stir among many of River Bend's older citizens. But the church and David had since been somewhat assimilated into the culture. He was the one who first got the preachers together. They'd decided to include Jon after observing that he attended all of their churches.

The preachers shook hands with the three older men and settled into “their” table by the window with Jon.

“What's happening, man?” David asked Jon.

Adelaide came with a pot of coffee and four cups. “Good morning, Brother Danny, Brother Jim, David, Jon. Good to see you all.” She set it all down and then went back to the kitchen. In a few minutes she reappeared with chocolate syrup for Jon and a small pitcher of cream. Sugar was on the table.

Jim poured for everyone and they fixed up their coffees. Danny, who drank his black, laughed as he watched Jon pour the syrup into his for a makeshift mocha.

“When are you going to quit mixing up that women's stuff? You ought to try it black. Put a little hair on your chest.”

Jon was nonplussed as he stirred his coffee. “I'll settle for having hair on my head,” he told his friend, who was bald at forty-five but fought it by combing over large amounts of fringe.

Jim laughed. As a middle-aged bachelor, his hair was thinning too. “Are you ready for your trip to the big city next week?”

“I guess so,” Jon answered. “It's all right to visit.”

“Well, especially since you're getting that big award,” David said. “That's cool, man.”

“What award?” asked Danny.

Jon tried to stifle the blush creeping into his face. “Oh, it's an award for my book. A magazine up there prints this list of fiction writers, and somehow I got on it.”

“It's
Time
magazine, and they said he was ‘up-and-coming—a writer to watch,'” David quoted.

“That's great,” Danny congratulated him. “Praise the Lord.”

Jon smiled. “Yeah. It's a miracle.”

“We won't see you for a while then,” Jim said. “Think of us here at Adelaide's while you're wining and dining in New York next week.”

“I'll be wining and dining Aslan for you.” David laughed.

“Yeah, thanks for doing that. I'm glad it's only a week.” Jon zeroed in on Danny and David. “Speaking of wining and dining, you all ought to take your wives to that new restaurant. Didn't you think it was good last week?”

“It's a nice place,” Jim offered.

“Yeah, my wife would love it.”

“I gotta know, though,” David said. “What was up with you ditching us after lunch—is it true you went back and washed dishes?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“What's the deal?”

“There's not any deal. Dr. Harper's daughter and I are old friends. Her dish washer didn't show up, so I just decided to help her out. That's all.” Jon averted his gaze into his coffee cup.

“Hmm. You didn't say you knew her,” David pressed.

“Why would I?”

“Why would you not?” Danny joined in on the questioning.

“Lay off, guys,” Jim said, much to Jon's relief. “It sounds to me like Jon was just performing his Christian duty—helping someone in need.”

“Someone who just happens to be female,” Danny teased.

“And cute.” David grinned. They were not ready to let the subject drop. Jon knew he was too good a target.

About that time, however, Adelaide descended on their table with breakfast. There were biscuits and gravy for Jon, a loaded omelet for David, and pancakes with maple syrup for the other preachers. The distribution of plates interrupted their thoughts enough that when she left, Jon was able to change the subject.

“What are you preaching about Sunday, Danny?” Jon asked, moving them into a conversation about their planned sermon topics, which led into a discussion of their varied preaching styles.

“Different strokes for different folks—different gifts for different needs,” David finally said.

“But the same Lord,” added Danny. “That's why we make a good team.” He slapped Jim on the back as they started up to the register.

Adelaide met them there, rubbing her hands on her apron.

“Thanks, Ms. Adelaide.” David smiled at her as he plunked down his money. “That sure was good.”

“Yes, it was,” said Danny. “I always say nobody can make breakfast like Sister Adelaide. People down at the church still tell stories about her firin' up her griddle for those community breakfasts. They say she could sure turn out the pancakes.”

Adelaide smiled in spite of herself and handed Danny his change.

Jon laughed inwardly, sharing a private joke with himself as he remembered the typo that would have cost him dearly had it not been for Sophie. He handed Adelaide his money and told her to keep the change.

“A little tip for the chocolate,” he said. “You take good care of us.”

“We need to do something like that again,” Jim suggested as he paid Adelaide. “Those breakfasts were a great outreach to the community. If we got it together, do you think you could help us, Adelaide?”

“Well, I suppose.” Jon guessed she'd have a hard time refusing a preacher. “But I'm not as young as I used to be.”

None of us are,
thought Jon. And then it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, for Sophie and him, that could be a good thing.

Chapter Eleven

.................................

The phone at Harbor House Café started ringing. Sophie was lying on the couch with her feet up, reading, Spot by her side, so she decided to let the machine get it. The café had been open for more than a week now; she had worked hard and was looking forward to a couple days of rest. The machine picked up.

“Sophie, hey. This is Jon—”

Spot's ears pointed, and Sophie lunged for the phone. “Hello?” she said, thinking she probably sounded too eager.

“You're there.” He sounded relieved.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just screening.”

Jon laughed. “I can certainly relate. Hey, can you spare an hour tonight?” he asked her.

Sophie's heart flip-flopped. She had to remind herself that it was just Jon, her old friend. “Well, let's see. I've got this big deadline coming up with a major publishing house, and I need to pack for my next exotic trip…no, wait, that's you. The question is, can
you
spare an hour?” Sophie enjoyed teasing him. He was so refreshingly modest.

“Very funny. I'll come get you about six. How does that sound?”

“Gosh, I'll check my schedule. Let's see…I've got to make two cheesecakes by six. Yep, that's it, and after that I'm free.” Sophie was starting to enjoy the position of humility that at first had tasted bitter to her but that had, with each swallow of pride, become a little sweeter and made her feel more and more free. “Do you want me to pack us some sandwiches? I know this great little café—”

“No. Thou shalt not cook. Except the cheesecakes of course.”

“Well, I can at least drive myself. Why would you drive all the way into town to get me?” Sophie asked.

“I'd just like to. Besides, I want to take you somewhere. Humor me?”

Sophie's independent streak stalled her, but then she softened. What did she have to prove to Jon? “Okay, that's fine. And nice of you. I'll be ready around six.”

Just don't be too nice,
she thought.

* * * * *

At 6:00 sharp, Sophie spied Jon's Jeep pulling into the back parking lot of the Harbor House. She had been sitting on the porch waiting for him while Spot examined the yard, paying no heed to Jon or the Jeep. His manner suggested that it was completely Jon's responsibility to steer clear of him, which Jon did. Leaving the Jeep running, he jumped out and walked up to Sophie, smiling shyly.

The first thing she noticed was his footwear. They were brown leather cowboy boots, and though they were well worn, to Sophie's eyes they seemed totally new—foreign. The old Jon never wore cowboy boots. She liked them, and as her eyes moved upward, over his jeans, leather belt, and white T-shirt under a long-sleeved denim shirt, she realized again that she liked him. The old Jon she knew, who was so safe and simple and comfortable, and the new Jon who had grown and changed in her absence, who had developed tastes and ideas and a style she didn't yet know but longed to—this was a person she liked a lot. A combination that allured her. She looked up into his eyes, which were the same gentle penetrating eyes as always. If anything, they seemed a deeper brown.

She said, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” She saw the approval in his eyes as he looked at her.

She'd dressed simply, choosing her favorite ripped jeans with a clean black T-shirt, her silver cross necklace, and a wide silver band on her right hand. She'd worn makeup, though in Sophie's case that amounted to a touch of lip gloss and a little mascara. She'd kept her shoulder-length hair straight.

Sophie grabbed her jacket as she stood up, then let Spot back into the house and locked the door behind him. Giving Jon a quizzical look for holding the door as she climbed into the Jeep, she reached out to shut it herself.

“Could you please let me be a gentleman?” he teased her.

“Tom is the only one I know who still insists on opening my doors, just like my dad used to….” Sophie tapered off.

“Well, that's one thing Tom and I have in common. I guess you'll just have to humor us.”

Sophie relaxed again and sat back, laughing. “Okay, I can do that.”

They drove through the Dairy and got their old favorite drinks, and then Jon headed in the opposite direction, out of town.

“Where are we going?” asked Sophie.

“It's a surprise,” he told her mischievously.

They drove about five miles before she figured it out. “St. Catherine's!” she exclaimed. “Are we going to St. Catherine's?”

Jon just grinned.

They passed into the next little hamlet, a Catholic community just outside of River Bend that was famous for its beautiful church and vineyards. A sign beside the road read W
ELCOME TO
A
RKANSAS
' W
INE
C
OUNTRY
.

Jon turned left onto the road that wound up St. Catherine's Mountain, stopping at a small restaurant situated at the foot of the mountain and styled like a Swiss chalet. He jumped out but left the Jeep running.

“I'll just be a minute.”

When he returned, he had two French onion soups, a baguette, and a piece of strawberry pie.

“That smells delicious!” Sophie said, delighting in the idea of someone else's cooking for a change.

They climbed the rest of the mountain up to St. Catherine's Church, loftily perched at its summit, and pulled over to the edge of the parking lot, which was bordered by big, mossy boulders. Jon took the top off the Jeep and they sat in the fresh evening air, looking out at the magnificent vista. From St. Catherine's they could see the whole village below and all the way to River Bend. They looked down over the tops of trees that blazed with amazing fall colors. Far and away on the horizon were more mountains, but for miles and miles between were rolling hills, fields that were mostly golden now. Winding through it all was the river.

* * * * *

“Do you remember the last time we came up here?” Jon asked Sophie. He stared at her, thinking that her hair looked like spun gold against the black of her shirt.

“I was just thinking of that. It was after high school graduation.”

“Yeah, we decided not to go to the big party and had a little party of our own up here with St. Catherine.” Jon laughed lightly at the memory.