Reinventing Leona (26 page)

Shirley gave a rueful nod. “Howard thinks the church will show better with J.D.’s things removed.”

“Afraid the kid will think this place could kill him prematurely.”

The actuality of the statement broadsided Leona’s anger, slamming into the dismal reality that was now her life. She dropped into the chair beside Shirley’s desk, her mind drifting back to that tiny grad school apartment she and J.D. shared right after they married. Seminary had been a priority once her new husband made the decision to forsake law. She loved cuddling next to him late at night, listening to his insights, watching his faith grow, and dreaming of the lost souls they’d reach once he got through Greek. Had she known those cherished moments, along with their dreams, would vanish so quickly, never to return, she would have clung to each one.

The cut-glass treat dish appeared under Leona’s nose, the smell of chocolate making her painfully aware of the present. She and J.D. had been robbed. It wasn’t fair. The lifetime they’d planned of doing the Lord’s work together had been denied them. Everything they’d worked for was over in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, she felt tired. Old. Used up. Real mad.

Leona refused the candy. She took a paper clip from the plastic desk holder. “Who is this kid coming to try out?” She tugged on the flimsy silver wire until the curves disappeared.

Shirley opened a file marked Résumés and took out the sheet on top. “Ted Postier. From Florida.”

“Wife blonde?” Leona thrust her hastily fashioned sword in the direction of the embossed missive.

Shirley’s brow crinkled. “You know them?”

“Just a guess.” Leona stabbed one of the foil-covered chocolates. “Two-point-five children?” She unwrapped the skewered prize. Caramel oozed from the wound in the dark, creamy temptation.

“How did you know they had one on the way?”

“Experience.”

Shirley stuffed the résumé back into the folder and picked up her phone. “Want to call Howard yourself?” She held out the receiver, awaiting Leona’s decision.

Leona contemplated touching the foundation-covered phone, shook her head, then popped the candy in her mouth. “David’s coming home on Saturday.” The harder she chewed, the gummier the mess became in her mouth. “I’m not moving a single box until my son gets here.” One final swallow and the sweet disappeared for good. “If Howard Davis has a problem with that, tell him I’ll see to it that Reverend Postier gets a welcome packet, complete with Mt. Hope’s board meeting minutes for the past eighteen years.”

A sly grin crossed Shirley’s lipstick-feathered lips. “Have them right here.” She hung up the phone and pointed at the large cardboard box marked
Confidential
sitting beside her desk.

Warmth buzzed along Leona’s veins like a caffeine boost. “You’d do that for me?”

Shirley nodded. “In a heartbeat.”

“You’re a peach.”

“You’re tougher than you think.” Shirley nudged the treat bowl closer. “And don’t forget it.”

Taking another decadent goodie, Leona wondered why God opted for fire when it came to shaping his children. Why pain and suffering? It didn’t seem fair. It wasn’t fair. If she were in charge of the world, the good guys would be dipped in chocolate and the bad ones covered in meat loaf.

When she got to heaven, Leona expected the Lord to address his confounded decision, and if he didn’t, she intended to bring it up. But first she would pin J.D. to the wall for throwing her into the furnace and telling God she was ready for the heat.

Chapter Twenty

Maddie hefted the bulging suitcase off the conveyor belt. She scanned the sea of humanity crowding the baggage claim area. Her friend’s height and mop of curly hair should make him easy to spot. No Parker. Maybe he was circling the terminal waiting for her to pop out of the automated doors.

Pushing through scores of fretful passengers, Maddie thanked her lucky stars her flight had not been cancelled. The forecast she’d checked online before she left her apartment said weather conditions in the tri-state area were continuing to worsen, and several inches of snow were expected during the afternoon and evening.

She knew Parker had left Mt. Hope to make the drive into the city long before she departed Nashville. If her flight had been cancelled, he would have driven all that way to turn around without her, and this was not the weather to inconvenience friends.

Friends?

Twice, in a matter of minutes, that ambiguous word had bullied its way into her stream of consciousness. Maybe her subconscious needed reassuring this arrangement was not open to interpretation. Limits had to be set and maintained or someone could get hurt. Maddie zipped her parka.
Friends suits me fine.

The wind whipped snow under the covered pick-up area. Maddie took the handle of her wheeled bag, then stepped into the biting cold. She checked the line of idling cars. No Parker.
Where is he?
And why am I disappointed my friend is not here?
An arctic blast swooped in from the north and nipped that last ridiculous thought in the bud.
Whew!
What she meant was, nobody likes to be stranded at an airport during the holidays. Maddie hustled back into the terminal. She found an empty place along the cinder block wall and slid to the floor. She dug out her cell phone and punched in Parker’s number.

“Maddie?” The tenseness in his voice aroused Maddie’s concern.

“Parker, are you all right?”

“Roads are awful. But I’m almost there. Give me a few minutes. Stay inside where it’s warm. I’ll pull up to baggage claim, then call you.”

Envisioning Parker’s large white knuckles gripping the wheel as he careened into a ditch accelerated Maddie’s heart rate. “Don’t hurry. I’m fine.” She snapped the phone shut, her incited pulse thundering in her ears.

Just because she didn’t want harm to come to Parker didn’t imply he was more than a friend. Friends worried about friends, and there wasn’t a thing wrong with that. Right? Then why did knowing Parker was on his way make her feel . . . safe?
You’re
still raw from everything. Get ahold of yourself, Maddie Harper.
She went to the snack counter, bought a cappuccino, a bag of trail mix, and the last piece of pecan pie.
Parker loves pie
. Maddie dismissed the rising self-condemnation for acting upon her unsettling impulse.
Friends eat pie.

Someone had nabbed her spot along the wall, but a seat had been abandoned in front of the frosty windows. She hightailed it over there and plopped down.
Take a moment and catch your breath.
Keeping an eye on her phone, she munched raisins and cashews. The minutes dragged on. Finally, Parker called.

Gathering her belongings, Maddie couldn’t explain the immediate return of her quickened pulse. Balancing the cellophane-wrapped dessert on her wheeled suitcase, she made her way to the automated doors, where she could see Parker waiting on the other side. Black curls peeked out from under a red stocking cap pulled over his ears, and a Santa Claus grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. She stepped on the activator, and the doors parted.

“You look great, Maddie.”

Exhaust fumes polluted swirls of white precipitation. “You’re quite the sight yourself.” Resisting the urge to hug him, Maddie unlocked her gaze from his, then searched her pockets for gloves. “It’s cold here. Has it been like this all day?”

“It’s getting worse.”

They stood for an awkward moment, avoiding each other’s eyes, their breath forming overlapping vapor clouds in the frigid air.

“Pie?” Parker pointed at the snow-dusted plate. “For me?”

“I usually leave Santa milk and cookies, but this is all they had.”

“If you’ve been a good girl, then Santa is not too picky.” He picked up the plate, his warm breath melting the crusty cellophane. “The way to the heart is through the stomach.”

“I’m glad you’re not operating on me.” Maddie shivered, then crossed her arms over her chest to hinder the escape of any more body heat.

“You may not know this, but I wield a mean spading fork. A flick of the wrist and I could pluck your heart out like a new potato.” He held the pie under his nose and inhaled as if he could smell the caramelized filling right through the wrapper. “I’m starving.”

Maddie laughed for the first time in several days. To her surprise, a warmth surged through the veins Justin had proclaimed clogged with ice. The shards crept away from her heart like an early spring thaw.

“Hey, mister. You born in a barn?” a man holding a crying baby shouted, waving his fist as he paced inside the waiting area. “Close the door.”

“Sorry, sir.” Parker took Maddie’s elbow and gently guided her off the automated door pad. “I’d hoped we could stop and grab a bite to eat, but the roads are deteriorating faster than predicted. Once it gets dark, they’ll be slick as glass.”

“Then we better get going.” Maddie’s gaze locked with Parker’s intent creamy brown eyes, drawing her to a nameless place reminiscent of marshmallows melting in a mug of hot chocolate before a crackling fire. “Parker?”

Red flushed his cheeks. “Oh. Right. Let me get that.” He opened the truck door, stepped aside and helped Maddie in, then handed her the pie. “Guard this with your life.”

While Parker tossed the suitcase into the truck bed, Maddie searched the littered floorboard for an empty spot to put her feet. Seed catalogues, weather reports, and
Farmers’ Almanac
s were tumbled amongst the remnant smells of seed corn and fertilizer.

Parker climbed into the cab. “Sorry for the mess. I thought I’d have time to clean up a bit, but—”

“Let me guess. The Storys had a cucumber emergency.”

“How did you know?” Parker grinned, shifting into drive. As the wheels spun on the wet pavement, the back of the truck swayed back and forth.

“Whoa, Santa.” Maddie clutched the shoulder strap holding her against the seat. “Little slick for the sleigh?”

Concern creased Parker’s brow. “Maybe we should stay at your grandmother’s place.”

“No way.” She flashed him a confident smile. “I’m in good hands.”

“Okay, then it’s Mt. Hope or bust.” He nudged the gas pedal, and they crawled away from the curb. “On Cupid. On Dasher.”

Inching down the interstate ramp, Parker eased the large vehicle into the first opening in the slow-flowing traffic. The hum of the heater filled the silence. Maddie noticed her chauffeur didn’t seem bothered by the lull in conversation. Why should he? They’d known each other for years. In fact, their parents played spades every Friday night. As kids, they had been dragged to these boring card tournaments and expected to entertain each other. Parker read farm magazines while Maddie operated on stuffed animals. Once in a while Parker would show her a tractor picture he admired, and if Maddie needed help stitching up her stuffed Batchy Bear, Parker willingly held the furry patient steady.

Watching him now, she decided that either Parker felt the same familiar comfort they’d known when they were young, or keeping the truck on the road demanded every ounce of his concentration. And no one concentrated with Parker’s intensity. The year he and Maddie were assigned to the same Bible Bowl team, he carried the study guide with him wherever he went, poring over the many kings of Israel. But Parker’s dedication paid off at the contest. He laid bare one dirty royal deed after another, and their team won the trophy. Near as she could tell, he was clueless that it had been his persistence that carried the day then, or how she was counting on him now.

“So, did I forget to shave, or what?” Parker’s question dislodged Maddie from the sticky web of their entangled lives.

What is wrong with me?
Maddie felt her face flush like it used to when she pronounced Batchy Bear a goner, but Parker insisted she perform mouth to mouth. “Busted.”

“Busted thinking what?”

Maddie struggled with the shoulder harness to get at the zipper on her coat. She wished she’d spent less time traipsing down memory lane and more time making herself comfortable before belting herself into this predicament. “I was wondering why you’d do this for me.”

“You’d do it for me, right?”

Would I?
Maddie bristled against the pat-answer training of her youth. Somewhere along the line she’d outgrown her willingness to follow suit and give the desired answers without question. She was a grown-up, determined to be free of duty. But despite her progress, the odds of ignoring Momma’s years of continual guilt transfusions were slim to none. Listening to the rhythmic swipe of the wipers removing snow from the windshield, Maddie wished her conflicted state could be obliterated in one fell swoop. She looked at Parker, wanting to say she’d climb a mountain if he needed her to, but instead she shrugged.

“You’d leave me stranded at the airport in a blizzard?” Doubt flickered in his eyes.

“Maybe.”

Parker shook his head. “Anybody who’d sweat through four years of medical school, with plans to dedicate her life to saving the world, would never leave a friend stuck in a snowdrift.” He lifted a bushy brow. “I doubt Batchy would be pleased.”

“Who?” How in the world did Parker do it? How did he read her mind as easily as he read farm magazines?

“What would that scruffy little fellow say concerning your sudden bout of hard-heartedness . . . and after he sacrificed his poly-filled, furry body to advance your ability to save the world?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Maddie’s mouth as she remembered Momma stitching her favorite teddy bear back together after an emergency appendectomy or reattaching button eyes after a cataract removal. “What makes you think I want to save the world?”

“What makes you think I’m just a friend?”

Maddie cocked her head and stared at the straightforward man awaiting her answer. “I needed a ride.”

Parker cranked the radio dial and the twang of the country-western station filled the cab. “You could have called Melvin.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat rattling Maddie’s nerves. “Things have been a little slow for him since Bertie’s been laid up.”

Maddie flipped the knob to a classical station. “I don’t want anything from my grandmother.”