Handful of Heaven (3 page)

“Well, dear, we’re not freeloaders, and we were nearly done anyhow,” Mr. Redmond kindly answered as he took a toothpick from the holder near the register. “You have a good night now. You still make the best steak in the state.”

“My mother’s secret spices.” Paige made a mental note to give the Redmonds their next meal free. She had the best customers anyone could wish for—they were so understanding! She grabbed the small white sack containing the baker’s box she’d filled in the kitchen and intercepted them at the front. “A little something for later.”

Mr. Redmond was not opposed to the gift of dessert and held the door carefully for his beloved wife. They disappeared together into the storm.

Sweet. What must it be like to have a bond like that? Paige couldn’t help the pang of regret or the pull of longing in her heart. She was thirty-eight years old, too old to believe in fairy tales, so why was she still wishing for one? The long painful years after her husband’s departure and the following divorce had taken their toll, as had the years of shouldering responsibilities for her family. Working sixteen-hour days seven days a week had worn her to the bone.

What she needed was a vacation.

No, what she needed, she corrected herself, as she waded to the hall closet, was a time machine so she could go back twenty years, grab that naive eighteen-year-old she’d been by the shoulders, and make that foolish, stars-in-her-eyes girl see the truth about life. A truth that the grown woman in her had come to accept as a cold, hard fact.

There was no such thing as true love and no real knights in shining armor. Anything that looked like a fairy tale was either an illusion or simply wishful thinking.

Okay, that sounded bitter, but it really wasn’t, she thought as she hauled out the mop. She sounded cold, but her heart wasn’t that, either. If anything, Paige felt foolish. Think of all the time and heartache she could have saved herself had she understood that truth earlier in her life. Her road would have been so much smoother had she seen the world—and the man she’d married—for what was real instead of what she’d wished them both to be.

If she had, she could have focused on what truly mattered—and only on that. She could have avoided wasting energy on dreams that only faded, on hopes that true love would walk into her life one day.

The hope that she’d find a good man to love had faded over time, bit by bit, shade by shade until it was nothing at all.

That was how she’d been living for a long, long time. She swiped the mop through the water, thinking that she’d been happier this way. Alone was good. She was strong, capable and independent. She was also safe from all the harm a man could bring to a woman. Sad, trying not to remember the long-ago love she’d been unable to save, she wrung the mop, listening to the water tap into the plastic bucket like rain.

As she worked, she listened to the sounds of Evan gathering up the bag and ambling down the aisle. His steps were deliberate and slow, as if he were in no hurry to leave. He drew to a stop in the breezeway between the eating area and the front counter. “Do you want me to hang around until Phil gets here?”

“That’s nice of you, but I’m used to being alone here after dark.” She swiped the mop through the cold water and wrung the sponge head well. “I do appreciate your help tonight. Not everyone would have gotten up to help me.”

“Glad I could make a difference. With my boys gone, I don’t get to do that much anymore.” He cleared his throat as if he had more to say, and could not.

What would it be like to come home to an empty house, she wondered? To open the door and know that her son would not be in his bedroom downstairs with his dog, listening to music or munching on potato chips or sacked-out fast asleep?

It had to be a long stretch of lonely, she thought as she went back to mopping. She didn’t know what to say as Evan walked past to snag his jacket from the coat tree, she couldn’t help noticing that he’d gotten pretty dirty crawling around under the diner. Dust streaked his slacks.

She bent to squeeze water from the mop head. “Uh, are those dry clean only?”

“No way. Don’t even worry about it.” He didn’t look at her as he slid into his black jacket, pulled a baseball cap over his head and leaned against the door.

“Drive safe out there, Evan. The roads have to be a mess.”

“You be safe, too.” He cleared his throat, slid a ten and a five on the counter and took the sack. There was a challenging glint in his dark eyes as he ambled past, as if he were daring her to give the money back.

The bell overhead jangled as he strode into the night. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Uh, yeah, that would be great. I’ll be waitressing.”

“Then I’ll be ordering.”

He stared at her for a beat, as the night began to engulf him. In the moment before the shadows claimed him completely, she saw the essence of him, not the physical, not the expected, but the steady strength of a good man.

The door swung shut, and she was alone. Snow pinged against the windows, driven by a cruel wind, and she swore she felt the echo of it deep in her heart, in a place that had been empty to romantic love since before her son was born.

And how foolish was that, that she was wishing for the impossible now? No, not exactly wishing, but thinking that it was possible again.

I’m more tired than I thought, she told herself with a chuckle as she turned the dead bolt and went back to her mopping.

T
he house was dark. He’d forgotten to leave a light on again. Evan fumbled along the kitchen entryway. Cal had gone off to school what? seven, eight months ago, and he still couldn’t get used to him being gone. It hasn’t been so bad when Blake had left, for he and Cal had made the adjustment together. But this…having them both gone, it felt like he’d walked into someone else’s life.

But this was his life now. He was a free man, unencumbered and carefree. Shouldn’t it feel better than this? Evan tossed the keys and his battered gym bag, and slid the sack from the diner onto the counter, pushed the door to the garage shut with his foot and listened to his footsteps thump through the lonely kitchen.

Let there be light. He hit the switch and a flood of brightness shocked his eyes. He’d been outside so long, his eyes had gotten used to the darkness. The drive home had been slow and long and pitch-black. The headlights had been nearly useless in the rapid snowfall. And now, this place seemed too bright and too glaringly empty to feel like a home.

Well, he was just feeling lonely. It was Friday night, after all. Maybe one of the boys had had time to call in. That thought put some bounce in his stride as he left his briefcase on the kitchen table and leaned to check the message light on the phone recorder. Nothing.

Okay, young men had more fun things to do on Friday nights than to give their old dad a call. He was glad for them both. He wanted them to be out there, living their lives and doing well. It’s just that he hadn’t figured on how his own life would stand still when they were gone.

The flier one of his clients had sent him was sitting on the edge of the counter. He’d meant to toss it with the rest of yesterday’s mail, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. The apple-green paper seemed to glow neon in the half light and he pulled it out so he could look at it properly.

A Bible study for the rest of us. A bold carton caption stretched above a cartoon-like pen-and-ink drawing of a middle-aged man in his recliner. “The youth have their own lives, and the singles and the seniors have their activities. What about the rest of us? Come join us for Bible study, dessert and fellowship at Field of Beans.”

That was the coffee shop in town—and Evan knew Paige’s relatives owned it. That was a bonus, he suddenly realized. Plus, it was an evening meeting, something he could do after work. Something besides cleaning out the horse barn, that is.

He folded up the flyer and slid it in with the stack of bills needing to be paid. That was something he’d been meaning to do—study his Bible more. Now that he had the time. Maybe this was a solution to one of his lonely evenings. Maybe he would take everyone’s advice—not to date but to get out and do the things he’d been putting off when he’d been so busy raising his sons.

The phone rang while he was on his way through the family room. One of the boys? Hope jolted through him. He snatched up the cordless receiver on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Evan Thornton?”

“Uh…” In his excitement, he’d forgotten to check the caller ID screen. “Yeah. Who is this?”

“This is Michael from First National Bank, how are you this evening? I want to tell you about our new identity theft program—”

At least it wasn’t bad news. “Not interested. Goodbye.”

He hung up the phone, glanced around the room at the TV remote that was on the coffee table where it belonged and not flung and lost somewhere in the room, at the chairs pushed in at the table instead of all shoved around askew. There were no stacks of books or heaps of sports equipment and coats lying around, all needing to be put away.

Would he ever get used to the quiet, to the orderliness, to the emptiness? Standing alone in the family room, which had been put into tidy order by the cleaning lady, he felt at a loss. This didn’t feel like home anymore.

As he headed upstairs to change out of his work clothes and into his barn clothes, he realized this was what it meant to be unencumbered and carefree, a free man again. There was no phone ringing off the hook, no kids traipsing through the house.

Just the telemarketers and him.

He’d always known his boys were a great blessing. He’d given thanks to the Lord every night as he’d lain down to sleep, but he’d never stopped to see the treasured gift that each day really was, and that, for all of those eighteen years, they were surprisingly fleeting.

“Well, that should just about do it.” Phil the plumber tried to stomp the snow off his work boots. But considering the mud he’d picked up from the crawl space, it was a hopeless cause anyway. “I’ve double-checked the length of the pipes and couldn’t find a drop anywhere. I think we’ve got the problem licked.”

“Music to my ears. Thank you.” Paige dropped the scrub brush into the soapy bucket, where she’d been cleaning the water line against the bathroom wall. “I appreciate this so much. I know it was a long drive out here, and it’s going to be worse going back.”

“Before you get all misty on me…” He gave a friendly—but not too friendly—wink. “I’ve got bad news. You’re gonna have to replace some of this pipe. It’s gonna be expensive, and if you want, I can work up an estimate. I can either do it for all new water lines, or I can do it in phases and we can just do the worst stuff first. You just let me know.”

Bad news? Did he say bad news? No, he had that wrong; this was
devastating
news. The small allotment she put faithfully into the savings account every month for repairs would never be enough. She didn’t have to go grab the latest bank statement to know that she couldn’t afford to replumb the entire diner.

She also knew how lucky she’d been tonight. The damage could have been worse, and as it was, she could open for business as usual in the morning. She’d only lost three hours of business tonight. Not bad, considering. Heaven was gracious, as always, and she was thankful. “Why don’t you work up the bit-by-bit estimate?”

“Fine by me. I’ll send it with my bill.”

Already dreading the amount due, she handed him a sack with the last of the cinnamon rolls. “A little something for your breakfast tomorrow. You drive safely out there now.”

“I’ve got four-wheel drive.” Phil hefted his big toolbox to the door and stopped to retrieve his parka. “I’ll get the stuff in the mail on Monday. Thanks, ma’am.”

When had she become a “ma’am”?

Probably about the same time her son had learned to drive. Thank God for hair color that covered the gray and intensive eye cream. Worry could do that to a girl. Stress was her middle name these days, and that combined with her age didn’t help. She wasn’t quite sure where all the time had gone—wait, erase that. She did. She’d spent probably seventy-five percent of the last twenty-two years right here in this diner.

After seeing Phil out and locking the door behind him, she glanced at the clock. The movie ought to be getting out about now. Great, she could get back to worrying about Alex being out there on these roads. Maybe what she needed to do was to expend some of that nervous energy and
clean.

So she kept her eye on the clock as she scrubbed down the grill and wiped the counters, tables and chairs. Then she tackled the rest of the floor that hadn’t been flooded, mopping until the tile squeaked beneath the mop head and her cell phone was ringing in her back pocket.

A quick glance at the caller ID window revealed her home number. Good. That meant Alex was home safe and sound—and even five minutes before his curfew. How great was that? “Hey there. How was the movie?”

“Good. You can stop worrying now. Notice the time? I’m calling you
before
eleven. What do you think about that?”

“It’s unprecedented, and it makes me suspicious. Worry and suspicion are a mother’s job.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. So, are you gonna be home soon?”

That question made her suspicious, too. “You didn’t happen to notice a leak in the bathroom before you bugged out of here, did you?”

“Nope. I’d have told ya, even though Beth was waiting for me. Why? What’d I do?”

“Nothing. I had a leak in a pipe, that’s all. Are you getting ready for bed, or are you going to get lost in your new video game?

“Uh, nope, I wasn’t playing my X-Box, but thanks for reminding me, Ma.” He sounded pleased with himself. “Just kidding. You want me to go out and feed the horse for you?”

He was volunteering to do barn work? There
had
to be something wrong. That wasn’t normal teenage behavior. “Okay, what did you do?” Expecting the worst, Paige hefted the bucket toward the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you dinged the truck.”

“No way.”

“Hit somebody on the way home?”

“Hey, I’m innocent. I’m just trying to help my poor tired mom.”

Help? Now she was suspicious. She maneuvered the bucket up to the industrial sink and upended it. “Okay. Out with it, young man. What did you do? What are you trying to soften me up for?”

“Nothing. I just thought I’d be a good son for a change.” There was a grin in his voice. “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I’m still suspicious, though.”

“You go right ahead, Mom. You’ll see.” He sounded extraordinarily happy.

Could it be her son was moving past the surly teenager stage that even the best of kids went through? No, that was too much to hope for. “I’ll see you when I get home. I’ll be leaving in about ten minutes. Think you can have your teeth brushed and your prayers said by the time I get there?”

“Aye, aye, captain.” With a chuckle he clicked off the phone.

Yep, something was definitely up with that boy. She snapped the cell shut, slipped it back into her pocket and rinsed the bucket. Done. Well, done enough for now.

She was beat; she usually put in more hours than this staying later on weekend nights. Maybe it was the worry and upset over the water pipe. She felt as if she’d worked two twelve-hour shifts back to back.

But the moment she stepped outside and locked the back door, she saw her journey wasn’t going to be an easy one. She still had to remove the snow coating her SUV and chip away at the ice frozen solid to the windows before she could even think about trying to drive. And once she was on her way, the roads would be more than a challenge.

Twenty minutes later, falling snow pelted her trusty Jeep with big wet flakes, and it was impossible to see more than a few inches in front of her. The accumulation on the road was sloppy and tricky to drive in. It caught at the wheels and tossed the vehicle every which way, so she slowed to a crawl to navigate through the town streets and along the county road where other vehicles’ tires had mashed the mire down into an icy compact crust.

When she turned off onto the private road, she relaxed a bit. Almost home. The evergreens and cottonwoods lining the lane were bent low from the heavy snow and scraped at the top of her Jeep; that’s when it got tough going. She fought the wheel to stay on the narrow road.

Only two other sets of tire tracks marked the way in the otherwise absolute darkness. One set, which was almost snow filled, veered off down a long, tree-lined drive. Evan Thornton’s place. The remaining tracks had to be her son’s and led her a few more miles into the hills, up her driveway and into the shelter of her garage.

Thank heaven. She was home and in one piece, and not that much worse for wear. Lights flicked on and there was Alex, holding open the inside door, already in a flannel T-shirt and pants she’d gotten him for Christmas. His blond hair was rumpled and in serious need of a cut. His dog panted at his side. “Hey, Mom. I was just nuking some cocoa. Want some?”

“Are you kidding? I’d love a cup.”

“Cool.” He flashed her a quick grin and disappeared behind the door, the dog, Max, loping along after him.

As she gave the door a shove, her back popped. Great. That was going to be the next disaster. Her back was going to go out. Every joint she owned creaked.
Wasn’t life eventually supposed to be easier, Lord? Or are You trying to tell me something?

She rescued her purse from the floor, along with the small paper sack with the last two cinnamon rolls. She had to wonder, as she elbowed through the door and into the laundry room, whether God was sending her a sign.

Every time she tried to get ready to sell the diner for good something happened to hold her firmly here. In the last six months, her sister Rachel had married and moved away, the roof had needed to be replaced and now the plumbing. Those repairs would erode a big chunk of the savings she’d been squirreling away. Not good.

Then again, it was never a true disaster, either. The Lord might be trying to tell her something, but He always made sure she had help, too. The image of Evan Thornton flashed into her mind. Tall, broad-shouldered, he had the kind of quiet strength that made a woman sigh and wish—even a woman like her who did not place any faith in the non-constant nature of men.

Sure, some men were constant, but it was a rare thing. The trouble was, it would be easy to start believing Evan was one of those kind of men. He’d helped out tonight without expecting more than a thank-you. And what was it he’d said?
Glad I could make a difference.
He had his heart in the right place. Why had it seemed that he was so sad? Not depressed-sad, just…lonely-sad. He hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house.

It hit her the moment she saw her strapping son at the microwave, punching the buttons. Hadn’t Evan’s youngest boy, who was a year older than Alex, gone to college this year? Maybe that’s why he seemed so lonely.

Alex’s crooked grin lit up his face. “Excellent, Mom. Sit down, take a load off. Want me to get that for you?”

He could have been a young, hip butler for the attention he was giving her. And while it was nice, she had to wonder what was behind his very sweet behavior. She let him take her purse, the dinner sack and her keys and then watched in amazement while he set them on the counter. He couldn’t resist peeking into the sack.

“Sweet. Good call. I could use a cinnamon roll. I’m a growing boy, you know.”