Love Inspired June 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Single Dad Cowboy\The Bachelor Meets His Match\Unexpected Reunion (41 page)

They seemed harmless enough, but Gray decided it might be a good idea to stick around and see who else showed up. Though he commended Paisley and the others for sharing their bounty with those less fortunate, he couldn't help worrying that the free offerings might draw vagrants and other disreputable types.

Paisley cleared her throat and raised a hand for attention. Once all had quieted, she bowed her head and spoke in a clear tone. “Lord, thank You for this food. Please bless it, bless our neighbors and bless Daisy on her upcoming job interview. Amen.”

Gray stared at the ground during the blessing, thinking not about what she said but about how she sounded so conversational, as if she and God were close friends. A moment of sadness speared his chest. Once upon a time, he'd had that sort of relationship. A relationship where he'd felt confident his prayers were heard and would be answered.

He raised his head, and the others applauded the job-seeking girl, who blushed under all the attention.

Ruthie leaned in and touched his arm. “Daisy's mother is no longer in the picture, and her father, Mark, was laid off last year and can only get occasional day jobs. They've been living in his car, but he insists Daisy finish high school. She's hoping to start working the day after graduation so she can afford an apartment for both of them.”

He nodded, sympathizing with their predicament. “That must have been a tough decision. Choosing between her education and sleeping in a car or dropping out of school to work so they can sleep in a real bed.”

She indicated the older middle-aged man with a scraggly goatee who accompanied the father-daughter pair. “That's Yard Dog. No one knows his real name. Paisley's very fond of him, and we think he's the reason she started this Sunset Blessings tradition.”

As unofficial host of the group, Paisley started a round of introductions. “And this is Gray Bristow, Ruthie's—” Her eyes opened wide and she nervously pushed her hair behind her ear. “Her, um...”

“Family friend,” Ruthie supplied.

To anyone else her smile looked easy and relaxed. But Gray saw the tense lines at the corners of her mouth. People continued eating and chatting without a clue about the undercurrents between them.

What was he doing here? The more time he spent with Ruthie, the more time he wanted to spend with her. He had told himself the reason he stuck around this evening was to protect her from any unsavory types who might be drawn to the free food. But he was here because, deep down inside, he was drawn to Ruthie and all the goodness that was wrapped up in the total package. In truth,
he
was the one he should be protecting her from.

What he loved most about her was her unwavering faith...in God, in people, in the underdog. But if they were together again, his own lack of faith would weaken hers. Would weaken the fabric of who she was.

He should keep his distance. For her sake, if not his own. After they found Naoko's doll, that was exactly what he would do. Stay a safe distance away. But right now she stood so close he could smell her shampoo. She smelled sweet, like apples, and reminded him of the fall weekends she and Naoko had spent preserving fruit from the tree in their backyard. As a young boy, he had always tried to avoid the hot, laborious canning duty that usually turned into a family event. But after Ruthie's arrival, he had often “dropped by” and ended up spending the entire day helping out just so he could be in her company.

He finished off the food on his plate. No time like the present. But before he could say his goodbyes, a mounted police officer rode up and joined the group. Judging by the way everyone greeted him, he was a regular at the Sunset Blessings festivities.

Ruthie filled him in. “That's Officer Worth. He rides by here after his shift almost every day to—” she made quote marks with her fingers “—keep an eye on things. We all think he has his eye on Paisley, but she acts more interested in his horse than in him.”

Sure enough, Nikki offered the officer a plate of food, and Paisley offered the horse an apple that she had already cut up for it.

Gray noticed the looks that passed between Ruthie and her friends. They were the same looks the others had exchanged each time he came to the shop.

Worth dismounted, but before he dug into the food, he cautioned everyone to be alert to any suspicious activity. Apparently, the prowler Pop had told them about last night had been spotted within a block of their shops.

“The break-ins occurred almost a mile away,” he said, “so the sightings in this neighborhood may have been a result of overactive imaginations. But better safe than sorry. Be sure to call and report any suspicious activity.”

Despite his words of assurance, a ripple of concern ran through the crowd.

A short while later, they began packing up, and leftovers were placed in plastic carryout containers conveniently left there by Paisley. Yard Dog and Mark gratefully accepted some of the extras.

Savannah waved to Daisy. “Don't go yet. I want to show you this fabulous dress I found for your interview.”

Ruthie accompanied them inside, and Gray followed a few minutes later. By the time he joined them at Connecting Threads, Daisy had gone into the small bathroom located beyond the Milk & Honey kitchen and Savannah had retreated to the sewing machine at the back of her shop to thread the machine and make a small alteration to the dress.

He hated to come off as if he was judging the girl, but he finally gave in and voiced his concern. “Do you think it's a good idea to let her go back there unsupervised? Your offices and the safe—”

Ruthie lifted a hand to stop his protest. “Daisy is a regular girl caught up in a difficult situation. I don't think she'll touch anything she wasn't invited to.”

It was times like this when Gray worried that Ruthie had too much faith in others. Especially this particular underdog.

“Besides, the safe is locked,” she added, calming his concerns for the moment. “Sometimes I think you worry too much.”

Of course he worried. He'd experienced things most people had only seen on TV. To others, the bad things that could happen in life were merely a hypothetical possibility. To him, they were reality.

“We may be just ‘family friends,'” he said, referring to her description of their current relationship, “but I still care about you—and your friends—and don't want anything bad to happen to any of you.”

She touched his wrist again. Every time she did that, he wanted to draw her into his arms and hold her as if nothing had ever come between them. But he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to either of them to pretend that their differing beliefs could be overcome with a hug and wishful thinking.

“Have faith in us.” She stepped away, though he sensed her reluctance. “We'll be fine.”

That was something he couldn't do. He didn't have faith in her abilities or in God to protect her. She was so trusting. So willing to believe the best about people. Fear dug at his heart, and he worried what might happen if she or her friends should encounter the prowler Officer Worth warned them about. Would Ruthie know what to do? Would she know how to protect herself?

He'd learned a few things during his time in the army. Some good, some bad. The bad had caused him to doubt what he used to believe in so easily. The good, he could share with Ruthie and perhaps protect her from harm. But it meant spending more time with her...time that would open up his heart to more temptation and pain.

He might regret what he was about to do, but it was better than trying to merely “have faith” that Ruthie would stay safe.

“I think you should take some self-defense classes,” he began.

“I don't think—”

“I'll teach the classes myself. At my office. You close early on Saturday, right?” At her nod, he continued. “Come to my office. Bring your friends.” He thought of the teenage girl living in the car. “Daisy, too.”

“That's very sweet of you, but—”

There was only one way to convince her, and he didn't hesitate using it. “Pop would really be disappointed if you turned this down.”

Ruthie looked away and fidgeted with her ponytail holder, buying time to consider his offer. And to consider what the enforced time together might do to the fragile threads holding them together as “family friends.” Would it bring them back together, or would it create a permanent divide in their relationship?

She had thought her feelings for Gray would die after all this time apart. But now she believed even more strongly than ever that he was the only man for her. He was a good man. Kind. Strong. And protective, not only of her but of her friends. What woman wouldn't want a man like that?

The only two things standing between them were her belief and whatever had caused him to stop trusting in God. He saw her faith as the problem that had pushed them apart. But Ruthie suddenly saw it as the solution that could bring them back together.

Last night while reading her Bible before bed, a message had planted itself in her mind, promising her hope and a future. At the time, she hadn't known why it had stood out for her. But now she became convinced it was a message for her to accept the opportunity to spend time with Gray.

Perhaps their spending time together during the self-defense lessons would allow him to see once again the personal values and core beliefs that had originally bonded them, first in friendship and later in love. All she had to do was take some self-defense classes with him and join him in recovering Naoko's doll. God would do the rest.

He was waiting for her answer.

Ruthie smiled and stuck out her hand. “It's a deal,” she said as he closed his fingers around hers. She couldn't prevent a joyful smile at the rightness of his touch. “We have a lot to learn. Don't we?”

Chapter Four

T
he next night, Ruthie arrived at Sobo's hospital room just as Gray was leaving. He wore slacks and a jacket, an indicator he had just come from work. Shadows hung under his dark eyes, a telltale sign that his desire to protect this loved one was just out of his reach. He nodded toward the visitor area at the end of the hall, where they could talk without disturbing his grandmother.

She followed him and settled onto one of the two scuffed blue chairs in a tiny nook outfitted with a table, a lamp, and a few books and magazines apparently left there by previous visitors. He took the seat opposite her and smoothed his slacks. Without ado, she blurted the question that she feared to ask. “How is Sobo?”

He shook his head. “Not better, not worse. There's a lot of pain in her leg, but she's trying not to show it. Just keeps asking to go home.”

“That's a Bristow for you. Stoic all the way.” It concerned Ruthie that Sobo wasn't improving. She wished things were different between Gray and her so they could pray together. Instead, she offered up a quick silent request for God to watch over Sobo and speed her healing.

“Any luck with those phone calls?”

She shook her head. “I called every customer in my database, and none of them had purchased the doll.” The good news was that many took the call as a nudge to come back to the shop. As much as she appreciated the business, she would much rather have found Sobo's doll.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sheet of paper on which a photo of their parking area had been printed and handed it to her. “The guitar shop across the street captured this image on their security camera.” He jabbed a finger at a small older-model foreign car. “That is most likely the car that your mystery shopper drove.”

Ruthie moved the light under the lamp and leaned in. “No one's in the car and the only person in the area is a workman climbing a ladder in front of the bookstore to wash windows.” She squinted and looked closer. “And it's impossible to see the make and model of the car, much less the license number.”

“Exactly, which is why you should have your own security camera. If this were taken from the vantage point of the Abundance shops, we could have gotten a clear picture.”

Coulda, shoulda, woulda
was what her mother used to say whenever anyone focused on might-have-beens. Although her mother had suffered some hardships, first raising a young daughter by herself, then marrying a man who turned out to be nothing like the charmer he'd initially presented himself as, Ellen had maintained a cheerful attitude of love and hope. Even when money was tight, steering her to work in a factory job that ultimately claimed her life, she had encouraged Ruthie to focus on what was possible and go after the blessings God had in store for her. Ruthie had taken her mother's lessons to heart as a young girl and had mostly managed to avoid stewing in regrets and wishful thinking. Until Gray, that is.

“I'll do something about security at the shop. I promise.” Although her promise came out sounding slightly testy, she really did appreciate his concern for her safety. “When you talked to people at the neighboring businesses, did anyone mention having seen an elegant-looking Asian lady?”

His lip twitched in a tell that revealed he had something more to share. Ruthie tried not to focus on his lips. Just looking at his firm mouth made her think of the kissing dolls...and of all the kissing the dolls had witnessed.

“We're in luck,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Sort of.”

Her heart did a mini surge then plummet. Not so much because of the addendum to his first statement but because there once had been a day when he hadn't believed in luck. If something good had happened, he would have attributed it to “divine providence” or an “unexpected blessing.” Rather than acknowledge luck, Ruthie preferred to believe that God was in control and, therefore, deserved the credit.

“The classic-car guy happened to see the car pull into the parking area and was like a bee on nectar.”

Ruthie's hopes soared. “Did he see the woman? Better yet, does he know who she is?”

“Not up close, but he told me the car is a 1961 Mazda Coupe. He drooled over it while the woman went inside to shop.”

She blinked, trying to understand how that information could possibly bring them closer to the owner of the car. And closer to Sobo's doll.

“Now that we know what kind of car it is,” he said, connecting the dots for her, “we can call local antique automobile clubs and ask if they have a member with that make and model. And if so, we'll just ask them to put us in touch with the owner.”

Okay, that made sense. Gray offered to make the calls, for which she was grateful, and promised to let her know when any information turned up.

“Thank you,” she said, and wished she could snap her fingers and clear away the mystery of where the doll might be. Just as she wished she could clear away the cloud of confusion that had settled over Gray's heart four years ago. And while she was snapping her fingers, it would be nice to clear away the distance that had come between them.

Their briefing over, they stood together. After making arrangements for their first self-defense lesson tomorrow, they said their goodbyes. As naturally as they had done a thousand times before, Gray leaned in to her—close enough for her to smell the unique, warm scent of his cologne. Close enough to resurrect dreams she had no business dreaming.

And then, just as suddenly, he apparently remembered the Dear Jane letter and the four years that stood between them and stopped himself, leaving Ruthie yearning for the goodbye hug and kiss that never came.

* * *

Pop met her at the door to Sobo's room. The worried frown that crossed his features indicated he must have seen the unsettled emotions that still swirled around her, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Ruthie knew that nothing he could say would help anyway.

He put his arm around her. Grateful that one of the Bristow men was still willing to hug her, she snuggled into the kindly embrace. His gray-stubbled cheek scratched against her temple.

“You okay?” he asked.

Of course she wasn't. It seemed that every encounter with Gray was an opportunity for him to reject her again. The optimistic side of her clung to the possibility of their getting back together. Even so, she wondered how many times he'd have to push her away before she gave up the notion of their becoming a couple again. At first she'd been excited about the possibility of spending more time in Gray's company, excited that God seemed to be using their search for the doll as a means to bring them together, but now she wondered if the negatives would outweigh the positives. Even so, she still believed that God meant for her and Gray to be together. She still clung to the verse that promised God had “plans to give you hope and a future.” On days like this, hope seemed mighty thin while she waited for the future.

Her heart-adopted grandfather already had one woman to worry about, so she wasn't about to add her comparatively small frets to his concerns. Besides, Sobo was the number-one priority right now. “Sure. I'm good.”

He looked as though he didn't believe it.

Lowering his voice, he said, “Let's not mention the doll yet. Naoko needs to concentrate on healing right now, and I don't want any bad news to set her back.”

“Of course.” She gave him a brief recap of her conversation with Gray and tried to sound more optimistic than she felt about the possibility of the doll's reappearance.

Ruthie entered the small private hospital room, Pop on her heels. The tiny woman looked even smaller than usual, with white sheets and blankets covering all but her red, swollen left leg and one shoulder that revealed part of a not-so-fashionable cotton gown that tied at the neck. She wore no makeup, and the lack of her trademark dark eyeliner made her look unusually pale. On seeing Ruthie enter the room, Sobo started to pull the blanket over her leg, then seemed to think better of it. She covered it with the sheet instead. Pop had mentioned that her leg was painful, so Ruthie assumed that even the light weight of the blanket must have been too much.

Ruthie eased herself onto the bed, taking care not to jostle it, and sat just as Sobo had done when she, as a teen, had been in bed with the flu and again after wisdom-tooth extractions. She took the hand of her honorary grandmother and held it between her own. The usual pale pink nail polish had been scrubbed clean, and the fingers that had once seemed so strong and sure now felt thin and frail.

Sobo pursed her lips. “If you eat this hospital food,” she said with a sweep of her free hand toward the barely touched dinner tray, “you have no appetite.”

To take their minds off the frustrations of hospital confinement, Ruthie chatted about the happenings at Abundance: Savannah's latest alterations to the wedding dress she'd been tinkering with since her teens, Paisley's successful experiment with smoked-salmon-and-sour-cream finger sandwiches, and her own acquisition of an antique iron grate that she planned to repurpose into a decorative end table. She steered clear of any mention of the dark-haired man who had graced her shop with his presence nearly every day this week.

Sobo lifted her head. “That's good. Very good. You sell the barley table? And
ranzatsu?
”

Well, she'd taken the other woman's mind off of hospital troubles, but now her own thoughts had been steered back to the one who'd taken home the barley table and the memories they'd shared over it.

“Yes, the table went to a good home where it will sit in the new owner's kitchen.” She hurried on before Sobo could question her further. “Your hats have been a big hit. Several will be worn in the Monument Avenue Easter parade later this month, and a couple of ladies are planning to wear them to church.”

“Gray's sister played with them when she was little. Catie stood in front of mirror and put hand on her hip.” Sobo's expression softened and she appeared to drift down memory lane. “Big brother Gray snatched it off her head and ran through the house. He say she squeal like a pig. But he give it back,” she added, quick to redeem her grandson's reputation as the protector everyone knew him to be.

Ruthie sighed. Just as he had taken the hat from his sister, he had snatched her heart right out of her chest. Then, in an apparent act of honor, he had tried to give it back. As far as she was concerned, he still owned it.

From the vinyl chair in the corner of the room, Pop clicked the remote and switched the channel away from the celebrity-gossip program it had been on. She wished it were as easy to switch the subject with Sobo. The channel landed on a game show, which immediately switched to a commercial urging viewers to watch the eleven-o'clock evening news to find out more about the prowler that had been spotted in the Museum District the previous evening. He zapped the channel again, but not soon enough.

Sobo pointed to the TV screen. “I already heard about that man,” she informed her husband. She squeezed Ruthie's hand in a grip that was much stronger than expected for a woman who was so ill. “You and the girls lock your doors. Don't come out at night, no matter what.”

“I will,” she promised, not bothering to mention that she and her roommates already took plenty of precautions. After what Paisley had been through as a teen in an unsupervised situation with a boy she had unwisely trusted, her roommate was relentless about urging the rest of them never to take chances with their safety. “And Gray is going to teach the Abundance gals and me some personal safety and self-defense tips tomorrow.”

Rather than calming Sobo as planned, the last statement seemed to trouble her.

“Sunday is for going to church. You do safety tips another day.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, Sobo.”

Pop leaned forward in his chair.

Sobo pulled her hand from Ruthie's and pushed it through her mussed hair. “No. Is Sunday.”

Now Pop rose from the chair and moved to the bed, where he carefully placed his big palm on his wife's forehead. “Not running a fever. Do you know what year this is?”

“Of course I do.” Sobo squinted at him as if he was the one with the problem, not she. But to appease him, she named the year, month and calendar date but was off by one day.

Worry filled Pop's eyes. He was overreacting, but the pair had been together for many years, and Ruthie knew him to be as protective as—if not more protective than—Gray.

“When you're in the hospital, time blurs,” Ruthie assured him. “There are no laundry days, grocery days or gardening days to keep track of the passing time.”

Sobo nodded. “It's all the time poke me, give me pills and make me eat bad food. All same-same, every day.”

Pop accepted what they said, but it didn't seem to calm his nerves much to hear that her temporary memory lapse was normal. He paced a bit, then moved toward the door. “I'm going to get some coffee,” he said. “Do either of you want anything?”

At their negative replies, he abruptly left the room.

“He's worried about you,” Ruthie said, stating the obvious.

“I know. He's a good man.” Sobo drew her gaze away from the door and fixed her brown eyes on Ruthie, who took the chair he had vacated. “He all the time looks out for me, looks out for his children and his grandchildren. Gray is just like him. He takes care of people. Even when he was a little boy.”

Ruthie knew about his protective nature and how it had been shaped by his father's military service. Sometimes he'd taken his assigned duty a little too seriously, according to Catie, who had complained the time he interrogated her date and intimidated the teen so that he never asked her out again. Although Gray's little sister had been annoyed at the time, she later confessed to Ruthie that it had been for the best, since the guy had gone out with her best friend and turned out to be a jerk.

“All the Bristows served in army,” Sobo continued. “Gray fight in Afghanistan. Father fight in Desert Storm. And grandfather fight in Korea.”