North Dakota Weddings (48 page)

A light knock startled her. “Come in.”

The door slowly opened, and there stood Jack. Panic whirled inside. She wasn’t prepared to face him yet but forced a smile. “Hi there.”

He slipped in and gently shut the door behind him. “Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

He was handling her with kid gloves. He knew… .

Sitting in the chair on the other side of her desk, he raised his face and studied the sketches on her walls while she studied him. His clean-shaven, strong jaw and the sparkle in his blue eyes bore the enthusiasm she lacked. But she wouldn’t let him see that.

She examined his collar. “How did you do that?”

He shook his head as if her question had given him a start. “I’m sorry?”

Despite her mood, she laughed easily. Jack Kostner had a way about him. “My lipstick…er…the lipstick on your collar. It’s all but gone.” She put a hand to her face, feeling the heat.

Instantly, a grin brought dimples into his cheeks. “I got lucky. I found a bottle of Wite-Out in the back of a drawer.”

Rayne pursed her lips into a smile and quirked a brow. “That
is
lucky.”

Jack turned his attention back to her drawings and stood, taking a step toward the wall. Looking closely at one of her sketches, he tilted his head. “How long have you been drawing these?”

Was this some sort of trick question? “Oh, those are from years ago. I know they’re nothing brilliant. I just like to be reminded, to be inspired.”

He jerked his head to her, his gaze intense. “Oh, you’re wrong. They
are
brilliant. In our business, this sort of creativity means everything.”

Sitting again, he tugged the chair forward so he could lean on her desk. He was much closer now. Too close for comfort. Oddly, his nearness made her heart race.

“Thank you,” she said. “What did you want to see me about?”

Jack eased back now, his fingers over his lips in a thoughtful pose. Her impression of him during his presentation was that he was an aggressive overachiever. By the end of his dynamic and motivating speech, she realized why she hadn’t gotten the job. As hard as she tried, that just wasn’t her. But now she was seeing a different side to him. A thoughtful side—at least it appeared that way.

“You should already know from my presentation that I planned to meet with each member of the design team individually.”

Rayne swallowed and nodded.
Pick up your game, girl. The pacing is faster now
. “Yes, and you planned to reorganize the team based on the members’ strengths. What have you decided about me?”

Jack grinned again. She felt a tickle in her stomach—unwelcome and unexpected.

“You’re right to the point. I like that. I haven’t begun to reorganize yet. I’m simply here, Rayne, to tell you that I had no idea, and that I’m sorry.”

Now it was her turn to be startled. She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you were expecting the position I now hold. It would have been a promotion for you.”

Uneasiness hung in the air of her office. She struggled to think what to say. His apology was completely unexpected. And unusual.

“What you need to know is that you’re vital to this company, to this team, and to my vision to make FountainTech the leader in water feature designs.”

Jack was pouring it on thick. Rayne’s heart pounded in her ears again. The room grew stuffy.

Just breathe
.

Is this how they extracted performance from their people at Disney? Whatever magic Jack was using, it was working.

Her enthusiasm stirred once again, but she cautioned herself. Was he friend or foe? What reason did she have to trust the man she’d lost her promotion to? And the fact remained she’d lost her chance to gain the praise she wanted from her family. She clung to the uncertainty of her renewed enthusiasm and her wariness as though it were her only lifeline.

“So, Rayne, what do you like to be reminded of?”

Rayne stared.

“You said earlier about your sketches, you put them up because you like to be reminded of…something. What was it?”

He dropped his smile, and at once his gaze turned intense. Again. Rayne would need about a gallon of coffee every morning to keep up with him. Still, his energy made her feel alive. She considered his question. Did she want to share so much of herself just yet?

Regretting that she’d made the comment, Rayne focused on tracing a knot in the veneer of the maple desk. Jack leaned forward again. Too close.

“The inspiration for those designs came from the wheat, soybean, corn, and sunflower fields on my parents’ farm. When the wind blows, waves ripple across the fields. As a child, that fascinated me. I spent hours drawing what I saw. Then when my dad tried various irrigation systems, I was even more intrigued with the synchronization of the water streams and what happened when the wind disrupted them.”

Jack stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. “If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water,” he said, in an almost-whisper.

Rayne laughed softly. “Who said that?”

“I forget exactly. Some scientist at the University of Pennsylvania.” Jack wore that thoughtful expression again, as if he had gone to a place so far away that Rayne could never join him there.

The air in Jack’s office grew stale. He opened the door, inviting in what he hoped was fresh air from the hallway. It was already six, and most everyone was gone for the day, so he wasn’t worried about any unwelcome intrusions. His first day had gone by far too fast, filled with meetings and unintentional conversations not of his making. But, he supposed, it was part of the process of settling into his new position.

Harold had popped in on several occasions, swinging the door open without knocking. That was quickly becoming the man’s MO. Jack would have to be much more deliberate in his effort to get work done in the face of interruptions. He’d obviously taken time for granted, believing he had plenty available to accomplish his tasks and achieve his goals. Add to that a special project that filled his evenings, and he certainly couldn’t afford to waste his daytime hours.

Pulling together the stack of files on his desk, he hated that he’d only made it through half of them. A water fountain feature danced elegantly across his computer screen. Fluid and comforting, his thoughts went right to the creator.
Rayne
.

She’d turned him down for lunch, saying she had to change into a clean shirt. A valid excuse. He’d have done the same in her shoes. He was fairly sure she wouldn’t be leaving the company anytime soon—she seemed obsessed with her creations. Still, he’d keep reminding her of her importance to the team. She was his biggest asset in the company. He should keep her close and bolster her if she became discouraged.

Stuffing the files into a desk drawer, he laughed a little at the thought. She’d be near him regardless, because they needed to work together on the new water fountain designs. Tomorrow he’d talk to her about her thoughts on their next design project.

He began the process of shutting down his laptop then stopped it, the design dancing on the screen, compelling him to watch. Rayne had programmed the features into the computer, and in the lab, the engineers and technicians had built and organized the various water-pumping mechanisms and software-driven nozzles that brought the fountain to life. Rubbing his chin, Jack wondered,
Would a working model of this fountain still be set up in the lab?

Only one way to find out. Whistling, Jack strode out of his office and down the hallway to the elevators. FountainTech’s lab—where they tested their designs before installing them for clients—operated in the basement. As he listened to the elevator music, he chuckled. When he’d first heard that FountainTech was located in Fargo, he almost lost his coffee. Texas, or maybe Southern California, but Fargo?

After doing a little more research, he’d learned that quite a few high-tech companies made their home in Fargo. The elevator slowed and stopped. After the door slid open, he stepped onto the basement floor. In a small, empty foyer, double doors stared at him. He punched in his PIN and heard the locking mechanism release.

Jack walked slowly down the dimly lit hallway to the room where the technicians did most of their work. His people created the original designs, but there was much more to building the features. Unfortunately, removing limits from creativity often met with resistance among the technical crowd. But that was part of his job—smoothing things over between the creators and the technicians. Since he was working on his own design—a new water pump for which he would apply for a patent—he could better understand the technical mind’s frustration with the creators and planners.

When he neared the lab where he hoped to find the fountain still intact, he heard music playing softly down the hall. He hesitated. Someone else was here.

No matter, he decided, and continued on his way. Possibly he could get some questions answered if one of the technicians had stayed late. Peering through the small window of the door, he saw darkness set off by minimal light. He stepped inside, allowing the door to slip shut quietly behind him; then he crept around computers and a small stadium-like structure to see a stunning water feature—or fountain—choreographed to the theme song of
Out of Africa
. The real thing would work on a much larger scale, of course, but multiple fountains sprang to life from pumps, similar to synchronized swimmers.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, he noticed someone standing at the far end of the water theater. Rayne.

Jack’s first thought was to walk over to her.

But then…he couldn’t move. He watched her stare as though she were mesmerized by the fountain’s performance. The water danced for her alone.

R
ayne stood in the darkened room, watching the fountain shoot up in synchronized waves—forward, to the right, then to the left. Nozzles on each side sent sprays darting in between the streams as though weaving fluid—all in perfect time to the music chosen by the client.

As she allowed herself to be drawn into the splendor, the moment, peace surrounded her. She let go of her troubles. If she were given freedom to create such a thing of beauty every day of her life, what did she care if friends and family back home couldn’t understand? Her spirits lifted higher and higher until she fancied herself floating on waves of joy.

The fountain she’d designed would be twenty times the size of this one, once installed at the front of the client’s financial headquarters. And despite its striking beauty, she doubted that people dashing to and fro would take time to stop and watch the water’s performance.

Rayne closed her eyes and turned her face toward an imaginary sun, soaking in the spray that misted her skin. She drew in a deep breath, the scent of water calming her.

Suddenly, she sensed someone next to her. Alarm sent chills up her arms, and her heart jumped into her throat. She opened her eyes.

Jack.

A soft smile on his lips, he was staring at her with that deep, introspective look. What was he thinking?

The momentary peace she’d savored slipped away.

His smile coiled into a frown. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You didn’t?
She fought the rising frustration that even here—in her place of peace and joy—the man who’d stolen from her had invaded her world. “No, it’s all right.” What else could she say to her new boss? It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t intentionally stolen the promotion. Giving the position to Jack had been Harold’s decision.

In coming here to watch the fountain, Rayne had attempted to silence the questions. Had she allowed this promotion to be taken? Was there something she could have or should have done differently?

“Please.” He touched her arm gently, sending a jolt through her, and gestured to the fountain. “Can we watch together?”

No
. “Of course.”

With Jack standing at her side, Rayne struggled to return to the serenity she’d achieved moments before. Then, slowly, she relaxed. Was there nothing the soothing effect of water couldn’t do for her?

In that way, she supposed, the water’s comfort reminded her of the Holy Spirit.
“Is there anything too hard for Me?”
the gentle voice seemed to whisper in her heart.

Am I supposed to be here?
She waited for an answer to her heart’s question.

Silence.

Unsurprised, Rayne sighed and sneaked a glimpse at Jack. His attention was focused on the fountain now rather than her, and with a relaxed expression, he looked much younger. Boyish even. The fountain apparently had the same effect on him. Somehow this reaction they shared gave Rayne a sense that everything would be all right. Maybe the Lord had answered her after all—in His own way.

Or was she simply too self-absorbed, listening to only the answers she wanted to hear, ignoring the voices of those who’d provided for and raised her? God had given her the parents she had, and they considered her a “flighty child,” unwilling to settle down to life on the farm.

It wasn’t inside Rayne to rebel as much as to simply follow the dream propelled by her gift.