Makin' Miracles (11 page)

When they got back to Zola's house, she didn't ask him in. She stopped at the steps to turn and tell him good-night. “Thanks for taking me to David and Rachel Lee's with you.”

“It was a date, Zola. I was supposed to pick you up.”

She looked at him in question, cocking her head to one side. “Was it a date? I thought Rachel Lee asked us to come. You didn't ask me out.”

He leaned toward her, feeling the hairs on his arms prickle as he got close to her. “Do you want me to ask you out, Zolakieran Sidella Eley Devon?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You remembered my whole name.”

“I remember a lot about you.” He reached out to run his hands down her arms and felt her shiver under his touch.

She swallowed and tried to remain casual. “What is your full name, Spencer?”

“Spencer Gordon Jackson. I'd carve our initials in a tree, but it would be a lot to carve.”

“And it would hurt the tree,” she finished.

He smiled and leaned in closer. “Let's have a date tomorrow night, Zola Devon. One where I'm asking you out. It's a Saturday night—a good night for a date.”

He heard her suck in her breath. “It is a good date night. But I'm scheduled to work at the store until six tomorrow.”

“Then I'll pick you up there at six and we'll go out to eat somewhere in Gatlinburg. Wouldn't that be nice?” He slipped a hand up to touch her face.

“All right.” She pulled back a little. “I can ride in with Faith tomorrow; then I won't have my car to bring home. Faith works for me and lives nearby. She's Rachel Lee's sister, you know.”

“I didn't know.” She was babbling and nervous around him. He liked it. All too often Zola seemed to hold the upper hand with him.

He cupped her face in his hands and leaned in closer.

“I probably need to go in,” she whispered.

His answer was to brush his lips over hers, to slip his hands underneath her mass of curly black hair, to whisper her name against her mouth.

Spencer looked at her then. She'd closed her eyes to savor it.

It was always like this with her. Magical. Memorable. She always did something to make each time with her one he would never forget.

She reached her hands up to catch the front of his shirt, not opening her eyes. And then she traced her fingers up his neck and over his lips and face.

“I want to know how you feel without seeing you.” Her voice was a soft whisper between them.

He closed his eyes and reveled in the moment with her, touching her, letting his fingers roam over her face without looking at her, too. It was heady stuff, and both of them were soon breathing more rapidly.

Impatient then, Spencer caught her against him and kissed her with urgency and passion. It was all the better for the teasing before. Beginning to simmer with sexual excitement, Spencer let his hands start to roam down to cup her hips.

She pulled back, taking his hands into hers. She looked at him then with very serious eyes. “I can't go there, Spencer. I want you to know that right now. In the place I walk in the Lord, I can't go there. The gifts don't flow where there is sin. And I respect too much what is entrusted to me to disrespect the One who gave me His gifts.”

“You're trying to tell me you don't sleep around.” Spencer tried to steady his heartbeat.

She sighed. “A lot of my dating ends pretty early because of that.”

He studied her, looking at the passion still shining in her eyes, seeing her lips still soft and wet from his kisses. She wasn't saying these words because she didn't want him.

She dropped her eyes and then looked up at him again. “You don't have to go out with me tomorrow night now if you don't want to.”

He saw the worry in her eyes, the edge of regret and disappointment already beginning. He knew feelings like that.

Spencer kissed her fingers, still laced in his hands. “I want to go out with you, Zola. I'll pick you up at six.” He leaned over to kiss her nose, not trusting himself to dive into her mouth again.

“Okay.” She stepped back, turning to start up the porch steps, searching for her keys in her handbag to unlock the door.

Spencer framed his hands and took a mental shot of her as she turned back toward him to say good-night. The light from the open doorway framed her in a soft glow—backlighting her—enhancing her special beauty.

“Good-night,” she said quietly, starting in the door.

“Good-night, beautiful Zola,” he replied.

She turned back at his voice.

Spencer smiled at her, feeling an unexpected tenderness touch him. “You said earlier you were different, Zola. I'm different, too. You won't drown me for it, will you?”

“No.” She smiled back at him. “I will cherish you for it. I believe it is God's intent for us each to be unique and different.”

He watched her wave and shut the door.

Walking back to his car, Spencer worried if he might drown in a different kind of way with Zola Devon. And he wondered how she might change him in the process.

Z
ola sat at the counter in Nature's Corner the next day looking through a stack of purchase orders, while Faith Upton Rayburn visited with two store customers. Zola smiled to herself to hear Faith at work. She had a natural Appalachian gift for getting to know a stranger quickly.

“Well, isn't that something?” Faith nodded her head at the older woman she talked with. “Your husband being a Bales probably means the two of us are related back somewhere.”

She flashed the woman one of her sunny smiles. “My mother was a Bales before she married. Her people go back to Ephraim and Minerva Bales. Their old cabin still stands on the Roaring Fork Nature Trail. Have you and Mr. Bales been there yet?”

The older gentleman pricked up his ears, eager to learn more about how to find the Nature Trail just outside of Gatlinburg.

Faith gave the couple directions to get to the Ephraim Bales cabin. “The Jim Bales cabin is on that road, too. You can pick up a little auto tour book to tell you all about it. Who knows? They just might be your great-great-grandparents.”

A chat about genealogy ensued.

Faith walked over to the pile of homemade quilts stacked on a shelf near the silky pareus. “You know, two of these quilts were made by Minnie Bales Jenkins. She lives right here in the region. She's probably kin to you, too. You really ought to look at her work. She might be one of your Bales cousins.”

The couple from Ohio oohed and aahed over the quilts, and they ended up buying two to take back to their married children in Cleveland. As the woman exclaimed, “I'm sure our children will be thrilled to get a handmade quilt probably made by one of their Appalachian relatives.”

They left the store, delighted with their purchases and eager to drive the Roaring Fork Nature Trail to see the two Bales cabins.

“Good job.” Zola smiled at Faith. “That was a big sale for us today.”

“What?” Faith always seemed genuinely surprised at the idea that she'd benefited the store. It was part of her charm that her natural interest in people dominated her sales instinct.

Maya grumbled only yesterday about Faith. “That woman could talk the legs off a jackrabbit. She makes a friend of every stranger she meets.”

“Yes, but she often outsells all of us,” Zola replied with a grin.

It was the truth.

Faith walked over to lean on the counter near Zola. “Isn't it incredible,” she said, “that a couple of tourists would walk in here today, coming all the way from Ohio, and probably be kin to me?”

“Yes, it is.” Zola smiled at her.

Faith frowned instead of smiling back. “You know, it worries me, Zola, that Ben Lee keeps telling people you're going to find the person that hurt his daughter.”

It was typical of Faith to rapidly change subjects, too.

She shook a warning finger at Zola. “Ben's daughter has probably been murdered and that's a dangerous business. I don't like Ben spreading rumors like that.” Faith put a hand over Zola's. “What if people really believe you can somehow know who the murderer is? That criminal might still be out there somewhere and come after you.”

“I doubt that.” Zola put the stack of orders back into a file, satisfied all were correct.

Faith fingered the seashells in a basket on the counter thoughtfully. “Well, it really is sad about Seng Ryon, Ben's daughter. She was a nontalkative, no-nonsense sort of woman, but she was a good person. And she worked real hard at that restaurant, too. It must be awful for her family not knowing what even happened to her.”

Zola listened to Faith's chatter with affection. Faith was Rachel Lee's older sister by ten years, and she'd often looked after both girls when they were smaller. She was now happily married to Dalt Rayburn, a fiddler and one of the members of the Rock Hill Boys bluegrass group. Dalt's people lived in Wears Valley and Dalt, like his father, was a fireman at the Wears Valley Fire Department. His mother was head cook and kitchen administrator at the Buckeye Knob Camp.

“How are your children, Faith?” Zola asked. The store had grown quiet for a few minutes, so it was a good time to catch up.

“Heavens, Logan's in that shooting-up adolescent stage and all his pants are suddenly too short. And Lila's growing up, too, and getting all fussy about her clothes and wanting to wear lipstick.” She rolled her eyes. “I told her not to let her Granddaddy Upton see her in lipstick! You know what he would say!”

Zola smiled, remembering Reverend Upton's strict rules about makeup and dress for girls. “I remember he wouldn't let Rachel Lee wear lipstick until she turned sixteen. She used to put berry juice on her lips.”

Faith laughed. “Lila does that same thing. And Alicia copies her. She's in first grade now. Let me show you her new school picture.”

Faith dug into her purse to get out pictures of her four children. “Taylor, my third,” she said, tapping his photo. “He's gotten his daddy's fiddling gift. He just won the junior championship for his age group. Lordy mercy, he can surely play the fiddle.”

“I'll bet Dalt is proud.”

“Well, sure. But he's proud of all his children. They've each got their own gifts.”

The phone rang, interrupting them.

Faith answered, “Nature's Corner, this is Faith.”

She listened without comment to the caller, and then hung up slowly. “Now that was a right odd call, Zola. Some man mumbling in a muffled voice about a bomb. Isn't that peculiar?” She looked at Zola in confusion. “It sounded like he said it was all your fault for his bad luck and that you needed to pay.”

Before Zola could consider a reply, the front door opened, and a man dressed in black, wearing a ski mask over his face, threw something into the store. He slammed the door behind him afterward, and then started racing frantically across the courtyard of the Laurel Mountain Village Mall.

A canned-looking object rolled across the floor of the store and then began to emit smoke and make a whistling noise.

“Oh, my gosh!” Zola felt her heartbeat escalate. “Quick, Faith, out the back!” Zola grabbed Faith's hand and raced for the back of the store. They both heard the explosion as they pushed their way out the door into the alley. The store alarm went off, shrieking into the air, and total chaos ensued at the mall.

Thirty minutes later, Zola sat patiently filling out a report with the Gatlinburg police chief, Bill Magee, when Spencer pushed his way into the store.

“Are you all right, Zola?” he asked, elbowing his way around the policeman trying to block the doorway.

She nodded, while the young officer began to protest about Spencer pushing past him.

“Let it go, Raymond,” Bill Magee said. “Jackson owns the store a few doors down. He's naturally concerned and he obviously knows Zola.”

The officer let go of Spencer's arm then, allowing him into the room. Spencer made his way to Zola, searching her face, looking her over anxiously.

A soft warmth rolled through Zola's being. He was worried about her. “It was only a smoke bomb,” she assured him. “Sounded and looked scary. Made a lot of noise. But was essentially harmless.”

Bill Magee looked up from his paperwork. “Faith and Zola got a threat call and right afterward some man ran up and threw a smoke bomb into the store. The women acted smart—they ran out the back. And when the bomb exploded it set off the alarms. We're looking for who did this right now.”

“What kind of threat was made?” Spencer's face grew angry. “And who would threaten Zola?”

Magee shrugged, his attention on his paperwork. “Something about Zola causing bad luck.”

Before Spencer could comment, the young officer interrupted. “I just got a call, Chief. They picked up the man who threw the bomb. Caught him from the description of his car and the license number a tourist gave.”

Zola turned her eyes to his. “Do they know who it is?”

The officer nodded. “Yeah. It was Aldo Toomey, the kid that does the local deliveries around town. You know, the one who works for the Beardsleys.” He scratched his head. “Don't reckon he's ever been in much trouble before.”

The chief phoned in to the station as the officer finished answering Zola's question. He stepped away from the counter for a little privacy while being filled in on the arrest.

“I know Aldo,” said Zola in surprise, her mouth dropping open at the officer's words.

“Yes,” added Faith. “He's that froggy-looking kid who's always coming in here running his mouth about how he's going to win the lottery or the Powerball. Always full of pipe dreams.”

She gave Zola a puzzled look. “Aldo doesn't quite seem like the bomber type.”

“No.” Zola agreed, trying to remember what she knew about Aldo.

The chief hung up the phone. “I think we're about finished here. I may need you to come down to the station later. To see if you can identify Toomey.”

Faith looked up. “He wore all black and a ski mask but he seemed the right size, now that I think on it.” She scratched her head. “I just can't figure out what got into Aldo to do such a thing. I mean, he ain't the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but he isn't normally mean-spirited.”

“No, he's not.” Zola frowned. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she thought about this and then looked up at the chief with determination. “I'm going down to the station with you, Chief Magee. I want to hear what Aldo has to say about this.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Spencer put in with a scowl. “It might be dangerous. He threatened you.”

Zola sent a warning look his way. “I think I'll do as I see fit, Spencer Jackson. And we can take a rain check on that date we planned.”

It was about six p.m., the time they'd agreed to go out to dinner together tonight. Zola knew this was why Spencer happened to be in the area.

She turned to Faith. “Do you think you can clean up here and then close the store by yourself, Faith? I think we ought to close early after this. There's still smoke in the air but it ought to settle out by morning. Besides, most of the visitors we'd get now would probably be curiosity seekers versus buyers.”

Faith nodded in agreement. “I'll sweep up and spritz some air freshener around before I leave.” She waved a hand at the gray soot till floating in the air. “This smoke might irritate folks' eyes if we stayed open, too, but it'll be gone by the morning.”

Zola reached under the counter to find her purse.

“You sure you don't want me to come with you?” Faith asked. “I'm a bit worried like Spencer about you confronting Aldo if he's still upset or acting demented.”

Zola shook her head.

“I'll go with her.” Spencer stepped forward.

Zola turned to him, ready to argue.

He put up a hand. “We've got a date, remember,” he reminded her. “After this situation is cleared up, we'll go out to eat like we planned.”

Spencer sent her a smug look before she could protest. “Besides, you don't have your car. You drove in with Faith. I can drive you home afterward.”

Zola remembered he was right. She had ridden in with Faith.

“If you're sure you don't mind,” she replied, having too much on her mind to put up further arguments.

Bill Magee started toward the door. “I'll see you both down at the police department.” He turned to look back at Zola. “And you'll
only
get to talk to Aldo if I think it might do any good or shed some light on this. Be sure you know that, Zola.”

As it turned out, she did get to talk to Aldo Toomey. She told Spencer about it over dinner. He'd taken her to Howard's on the parkway, a fine steak house that had been in Gatlinburg for over fifty years.

“I hope you like steak,” he said, as he parked the car.

“I do.” She ventured a smile, although she still felt edgy and keyed up.

“Good.” He grinned boyishly at her. “Howard's is my favorite date place.”

She sent him a pouting look. “So that means it's not a place you chose especially with me in mind?”

“I didn't know anyplace Tahitian in the Burg.” He grinned back at her.

Zola giggled, dissipating some of the tension she felt. “Well, I'm going to be an expensive date,” she said, offering him a sassy reply. “I want those wonderful fried mushrooms they have as an appetizer.”

“Umm.” He took her arm as they crossed the street. “I like those mushrooms, too. We'll share.”

After the events of the evening, Zola wasn't sure why Spencer seemed in such a good mood, but she felt grateful for it. The afternoon had been stressful, and she'd been rattled and frightened by the bomb being thrown into the store. Even though it turned out to only be a smoke bomb, she and Faith hadn't known that at the time.

Settled in a cozy booth now, she and Spencer sat working their way through two of Howard's fresh dinner salads. The dim lighting and the hum of soft conversation around them felt soothing.

Zola licked raspberry vinaigrette dressing off her finger, thinking about her talk with Aldo.

“Ready to talk about it?” Spencer asked, picking up on her thoughts.

Zola blew out a breath. “I guess. You heard Faith say Aldo is always getting whipped up, saying he's going to win the lottery or Powerball. Well, he said he had a dream about some numbers and then the next day the numbers in the dream exactly matched the packing number on a box he was getting ready to deliver.”

She shook her head. “Well, Aldo became convinced that he held the winning numbers for the big Powerball giveaway going on. The prize amount had risen to several million dollars—a lot of money. He babbled all this conviction to Madame Renee, the fortune-teller on the highway coming in to Sevierville. Evidently, Aldo took a delivery to her store and they got to talking.”