Makin' Miracles (18 page)

“No, Spencer. There's nothing else to say right now.” And she walked away.

T
he next weeks of Spencer's life were as bad as any he'd ever known. His secrets were out, his past exposed—and his relationship with Zola seemed to be over. He tried again and again to see her, to talk to her, to explain his past life more clearly so she would understand. But Zola wouldn't even talk to him. She avoided him whenever possible. And she wouldn't go out with him anymore.

Behind his house the yellow jackets had tried to come back to their old nest. But it wasn't the same for them now. Their old nesting place was spoiled. They couldn't find any contentment in what they'd felt comfortable in before. Spencer knew the feeling. He almost felt sorry for them as they circled the old place they'd once known as home.

He sat on the porch with his dog, watching them. “I know how they feel, Zeke. Their world is out of balance. Mine is too.”

Spencer scratched the dog's back affectionately. “You remember I told you I was afraid Zola would be trouble for us. That she'd change us. She sure did. I'm left with a whole new sweep of agonizing memories to haunt me now. And I feel like I've lost my grip on myself. Nothing feels the same and nothing feels right anymore. It's a miserable time, dog.”

Zeke whined softly in sympathy.

Spencer struggled to analyze his feelings—never anything he'd been very good at. He searched his memory for one of the last times he'd felt really good and known a peaceful day before this blowup with Zola happened. His mind drifted back over the weeks and to the day at the falls.

“Let's go down to the falls,” he said suddenly, remembering the peace he'd known there many times.

It was a hot day already. He and the big shepherd were ready for a dip in the cool mountain stream by the time they hiked down to the waterfall. The long plume of Buckner Branch fell off the cliffs twenty feet into the deep pool below it, the sounds of the cascading water filling the air. Spencer stripped off his clothes down to his boxers, dove in, and swam lazily in the cold current. Later, he climbed out to warm up on a large boulder.

He sighed as a wash of memories hit him. It was the same rock where he and Zola lay together that day and played her silly game about the sun and the sky.

What had she said? Give up your pains and sorrows to the sun and the sky and then say you never want them to return again?

In desperation, Spencer wondered if it would help to try it today. He closed his eyes. “God, I don't know how to do this stuff like Zola does. I don't have special gifts. I don't see things like Zola does. But I'd like to let the past go if there's a way. I sure wish You'd help me with that. I'd like to let go of all the torment of my past. But I don't know how.”

Spencer confessed the hard times of his past and tried to engage in the game Zola had taught him. He seemed to feel better in some ways for the effort—or perhaps from the confession—but the hurt and ache of losing Zola was so strong he could feel little relief.

After drying off, he and the dog made their way back up to Raven's Den. On the back porch, Spencer found Aston, sitting in one of his rocking chairs with his feet propped on the porch railing.

“How long have you been here?” Spencer asked.

“Not long.”

Spencer threw his towel over the back of a chair and plopped down into the rocker beside Aston's.

“Zeke and I went for a swim down at the falls.”

Aston cocked an eyebrow his way. “Did it help?”

Spencer shook his head. “No. Not much.”

“Man, you've got to get this thing worked out. Your work is falling off. Clients have been calling. Wanting commissioned work. Wanting to talk to you, and you've avoided getting back to them. You have some deadlines you haven't met for projects going on.” He stopped to look at Spencer. “And you look bad, man.”

Spencer sighed and closed his eyes. “I thought it was hard losing Geneva but this is worse, Aston. There's no anger this time, but the pain and regret are terrible.”

“Have you tried talking to her—”

Spencer interrupted him. “Yes. A hundred times at least, Aston. She won't answer her phone—or if I show up in person she is coolly polite.”

He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. “I've apologized and told her I'm sorry for everything, but it doesn't help. She keeps telling me she can't be with me until I make a positive change in the right direction, but no matter what I do, it isn't what she wants to see. I've tried flowers, gifts, candy—special things I thought might get to her heart—but nothing works. She won't forgive me. I don't know what else to do, Aston. I simply don't know what else to do. ”

Aston reached over to pat him sympathetically on the arm. “Have you eaten at all today, friend?”

Spencer tried to remember. “I think something earlier—a breakfast bar or something with coffee.”

Aston stood up. “Come on in the house. I'll fix us a big breakfast for lunch. It's one thing you know I can cook well.”

“Okay. You're on.” Spencer stood up, glad to have some company to take his mind off his troubles.

In the kitchen, Spencer slumped down on a barstool at the counter while his friend started getting breakfast together.

Aston turned toward him, skillet in hand, to survey the piles of mail and circulars spilling over the counter.

“Spencer, have you even looked through all this mail?” He frowned. “There might be something important in here.”

“Yeah, sure.” Spencer searched through a pile until he found a large cream envelope. “Like this invitation to come home for my parents' anniversary. That's really important.” His voice was sarcastic as he waved the envelope at Aston before tossing it in the trash.

Aston fished it out of the trash can and opened it. After looking over it carefully, he said, “This is your answer, Spencer, the way to get Zola back.”

Scowling, Spencer threaded a hand through his unkempt hair. “What are you talking about?”

Animated now, Aston sat down on the stool beside Spencer's. “Zola told you she needs to see evidence that you're making a positive effort to change. This is it.” He looked down at the invitation again. “Your parents' anniversary is this weekend. Go tell Zola you think you're ready to start the process of healing, and to start letting go of the past and its problems, by going to this anniversary event. And tell her you want her to go with you.”

Spencer was stunned. “Are you crazy? The last thing I want to do is to take Zola around my family!”

“You're wrong. If she gets around them, she'll understand more. And if you ask her to go with you there, she'll know she means something to you. So will your family. Plus, Zola will give you support in facing all of them. She's good to have around when there are problems to face. You know that.”

Spencer actually considered it for a few minutes. “Do you think it might really work?”

Aston got up to return to his cooking. “I do, Spencer. I really do. And I've told you for a long time I think facing your family will help you get over your past and what happened.”

He turned to look at Spencer between turning strips of bacon in the skillet. “It's been twelve years, Spencer. You've changed. They've changed. You won't see things the same now. You're a man now who's come into his own, not an unsure young boy. They won't treat you the same, and if they try to treat you badly—you won't allow it now.”

“Do you think so?” Spencer knew his voice sounded doubtful.

Aston shook a finger at him. “I know so. And I like the idea of your family seeing you with Zola. Meeting Zola. Realizing you can have someone fine and good like Zola in your life.”

Spencer blew out a sarcastic laugh. “I doubt my family would see the merit in Zola Devon.”

Aston turned to scowl at him. “You underestimate the power of Zola, Spencer. She has goodness. That is always seen. And it is powerful.”

Fiddling with the papers on the table, Spencer thought about it. “I wouldn't want them to hurt her, Aston. I've done enough of that.”

“I think Zolakieran Devon can take care of herself, Spencer. And I think she'll size things up there pretty quickly.”

Aston took the bacon out of the skillet, wiped it out with a paper towel, and broke eggs into it. He popped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster as well. “Get some plates down and pour us both some juice while you're thinking on this, Spencer. I've almost got our breakfast ready.”

They sat down at the counter to eat a few minutes later.

“Do you really think this might work?” Spencer asked again.

Aston nodded between bites. “I do. I had what my people would call ‘a witness' to come up here today, Spencer. I didn't know why I came but I think I do now. I think this trip is what is really going to change things for you—and between you and Zola Devon.”

When Spencer grew silent, Aston turned his dark eyes to his. “You do really love this woman, don't you? If you don't, then you'd best let all this go and suffer on through getting over her. I don't want you hurting that girl more unless your intentions are serious.”

Spencer shook his head. “She'd figure it out if my intentions weren't serious anyway, Aston. It won't be easy living with a woman who can know you like Zola can. I won't be able to have any secrets.”

Aston laughed. “That might be good for you, with as many secrets as you've harbored. They've eaten you up for much of your life. Maybe she'll purge all the dark out of you. Make an open, happy man out of you.”

Finishing the last bite of his eggs, Spencer looked over at his friend. “You might be surprised to know how much I'd like that to happen, Aston.”

“Well, that sounds like progress to me.” Aston got up and slapped Spencer on the back.

Spencer saw Aston look at the kitchen clock as he carried their dishes to the sink to rinse and stuff them into the dishwasher. “Why don't you go down and talk to Zola right now?”

Spencer studied the cream invitation lying on the table with a frown. Surely there must be another way to get Zola back without facing his family.

He slumped on the stool. “How do you know she's at home?”

Aston snatched up the invitation Spencer was eying and frowned. “I thought you said you really wanted to see change happen?”

“You're as bad as Zola.” His voice was grumpy, knowing Aston sensed his reservations.

Aston picked up the announcement to smooth out the wrinkles in it. “Zola is home babysitting Ava today for Rachel Lee. I have it on good authority from Faith Rayburn at Zola's store. So you have
no
excuse to procrastinate doing this now, Spencer.”

He began to sort through the mail on the table, stacking circulars in one pile, correspondence in another, bills in yet another. Always an organized, methodical man.

Spencer smiled. “All right. I'll try it. I have nothing to lose, I guess.”

Aston looked him up and down then. “Well, go get a bath and a shave before you go, man. You look like the devil.”

“No, that's the guy that's been after me,” Spencer mumbled as he headed down the hall toward his bedroom.

Less than an hour later, clean, shaved, and dressed in good navy slacks and a light blue shirt—that Aston said set off his tan—Spencer pulled up in Zola's driveway. She was outside playing with Ava on a big quilt under the tree.

“Big man,” said Ava, pointing and smiling at him in recognition.

Spencer grinned and saw Zola smile in spite of herself.

“What are you doing here, Spencer?” she asked. It was a question coolly put, and her smile slipped away now.

“I have an invitation for you.” He handed her the cream envelope.

“Listen, I think we've talked about this often enough, Spencer. . . .”

“Just read it,” he said.

She sighed and opened the envelope.

Looking up after reading the invitation, she gave Spencer a questioning look. “I don't understand.”

“I'd like to go—to try to deal with things and to hopefully move on. And I'd like you to go with me.” He caught her eyes with his own. “I'd like you to meet my family, such as they are. Maybe check out my nephews with me.”

She studied him with a long searching glance. Then she looked back down at the envelope.

“Your parents' anniversary is this weekend, Spencer.”

He nodded. “I know. I've called and booked two tentative flight reservations for Friday. We'll get a rental car when we get there. And we can fly back late Sunday. There's a nice hotel not far from where my parents live, near the park I talked to you about.”

Spencer saw her expression soften and felt a glimmer of hope. “I'll take you to see all my old childhood haunts, and we'll see if my tree house is still there. I doubt it, but we could check it out.”

She stood up and walked closer to him. “You really mean this, don't you? You want to move on?”

He resisted putting a hand out to touch her. “I want to move on, Zola. I don't know if this will help, but I'm willing to try it and see. Aston thinks it may help. He's a big believer in facing the past to chase off old bitterness that hounds you.”

Zola studied him with those serious, soft brown eyes of hers. “I think this might be a good thing for you, Spencer. And, yes, I'll go with you.”

His heart lurched, and a sigh of relief slipped out of him.

She moved nearer to him and reached up to touch his face. “I've missed you, Spencer.” Her voice was soft.

He reached his hands out to touch her now, to wrap his arms around her and draw her up against his chest. It was heaven to feel her warmth against him again, to smell the apple fragrance of her drifting from her hair.