“He didn’t know it! He sees himself as the Lone Ranger, the man who doesn’t need a woman. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to move heaven and earth to keep you near him. The two of you are both so stubborn. Neither one of you thinks you need another living soul, and rather than admit that as a weakness, you run and he makes excuses like ‘doing what Greg wants.’
Greg’s across the world—he’s not the boss of you.”
“Well, that kind of love doesn’t do anybody any good.”
“So tell him that!” Reese said.
Natalie, Shelby, and Reese dared her with their darkened brows and laser stares.
“You want me to tell him that? Fine, I’ll tell him that.
I’ve got nothing to lose, right? I’ll be in New York by week’s end.”
“That’s right, nothing to lose. Not if you’re going back to New York,” Natalie said.
“I’m going to.” Julia pretended to stand up, but Reese stood and lifted her from the picnic blanket.
“We’re waiting,” Reese said.
“I’m gonna do it,” she said, but inwardly she wondered what she could say to Zak to get the desired reaction for the girls. Maybe she could just ask him for a hug and tell the girls he said they were just friends.
“Oh, for crying out loud, I’ll do it.” Natalie stood up.
“No!” Julia cried. “I’ll go.” She walked across the grass that surrounded Timber Lake and willed her mind to think of something to say as she approached. She pulled her hair back into a makeshift ponytail and tied it in a knot. She stood across the large, iron barbecue from Zak, a plume of smoke between them.
Zak cranked the grill up and away from the fire, and the smoke lessened. “Julia, you hungry?”
“No . . . well, yeah. Maybe.”
“Hot dog or hamburger?” He bent into the smoke. “I’ve got some ribs for special folks. You want some ribs?”
She smiled. “A hot dog is fine. I heard they have no nitrates.”
He handed her a plate with a grin. “Sergeant Natalie has spoken. I guess you heard. The condiments are over there on that checkered table.”
“I like mustard,” she said for some unknown reason. He nodded as though she were simple, and for that moment she supposed she was.
“I like mustard too.”
“And pie. You like my mom’s pie with vanilla ice cream and Cool Whip.”
“That’s right. I do. Did you happen to bring me some?”
He moved around the grill and looked at her legs. “I also like it served in stilettos.” He winked.
“Ballet flats this evening, for the fireworks,” she said.
“Hard to walk in the grass in stilettos.”
“It’s hard to walk anywhere in Smitten in stilettos. Not that this ever stopped you.”
“Pie. I, uh . . . no, I didn’t bring any pie, but my mom made some. Peach. If, you know. If you want to come by after the fireworks, I could serve you some.”
“In stilettos?”
She turned to look back at her friends.
“Julia, is there something you want to say to me?”
She met the warmth in his eyes and became lost in the way they crinkled at the edges, and he conjured one dimple on his left cheek from years of his crooked smile.
“Nothing. Thanks for the hot dog.”
“No, no. You’re not getting away that easily. Spill it. I have half a spa in my restaurant that says you owe me the truth.”
She stared at the pink of the hot dog. “You really know how to barbecue, don’t you?”
“Julia.”
“I don’t really want to go to New York,” she blubbered.
“But I’m afraid to stay.”
“Smitten is your home. Why would you be afraid to stay?”
“Because I love you, Zak. Not like a big brother, and not like a friend. I love you like someone I want to be around me for the rest of my life, and if you can’t see me as more than Greg’s little sister, I don’t want to stay and be hurt day after day.”
“I have been waiting an eternity for you to say those words to me.” He put the utensil down and took the hot dog from her and placed it on a nearby table. “John, can you man the grill for a minute?”
“Yeah, no problem,” his friend answered.
“What if I can’t make the spa work, and your business fails because of me?”
Zak raked his fingers into Julia’s hair and placed his palms on her cheeks. “Julia, I wouldn’t care if we both failed, if you were by my side—but I don’t think that would happen.”
She sniffled. “No, don’t flirt with me. You’ll only make it worse. I know you promised my brother that you’d look after me, but—”
“I also promised your brother that I wouldn’t court you until he got home and could see my intentions were right, but I don’t intend to keep that promise, so I’m not as honorable as you give me credit for. I think I may have stretched the truth to a man in uniform. A man I respect greatly.”
She dared not smile. “You’re teasing me. Like you used to do when I was little and I’d watch you and Greg go out for the night. You’d muss my hair up and leave.”
“No, not teasing. Julia, I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I found hundreds of excuses to tell myself it wasn’t true, because it wasn’t convenient. I tried the concept of honor. Sometimes I chose anger. I blamed you when you left for New York and decided that you were shallow, just like Amy. Once I even decided if you couldn’t bake a pie like your mother, you weren’t worthy of such devotion.”
She felt the warmth of his words and snuggled into the crook of his neck, which smelled like barbecue smoke. She felt the vibrations of his voice in his chest.
“But the more reasons I thought of, the more I realized I couldn’t picture anyone else by my side for the long haul, and it was either you or eternal bachelorhood.”
“The long haul?”
“It totally caught me by surprise, when you brought that New York idiot into my town, how I didn’t want any other man investing in your business. It made me crazy, and before I knew it, I’d jumped on the opportunity to cut my grill in half and build you a spa. I ran out of excuses at that point, don’t you think?”
“You didn’t say anything this morning when I told you I was leaving for New York.”
“I know your parents. I know where your fear of being controlled comes from, Julia. I felt disgusted that I hadn’t given you a choice on the spa—just started building it like you’d do what you were told. I was controlling things to get them the way I wanted them, and that isn’t love. I decided I had to let you go if that’s what you wanted.”
“But somehow you knew I didn’t.”
“I had faith. I had faith enough for both of us.” He pulled her closer and lifted her chin. He pressed his lips to hers.
The outside world faded away as she lived in the moment she’d dreamt about since eighth grade. All right, maybe sixth grade.
“I thought the fireworks weren’t supposed to start until it got dark,” she said.
“These fireworks aren’t going away if I have anything to say about it.”
She heard her friends screaming encouragement in the background, and their shouts made her laugh.
“Sounds like my friends have something to say about it too.”
She snuggled into Zak’s embrace, and it was so much better than she’d imagined it all those years. She saw Mia smiling at her, and she realized the beautiful gift of Smitten’s faith in God, led by a little child. Sometimes Julia ran low on faith, as if God’s grace might dry up like Sugarcreek Mountain in the summer, but God’s grace was unrelenting and overflowing. She smiled broadly toward her friends, thankful that when she’d run dry on faith, she could rely on God and the faith of others to fill her up again. She didn’t have to walk alone. Sometimes, trusting in God meant trusting in the people he had placed in her life. Besides . . . independence was overrated.
T
he Smitten Spa & Grill celebrated its grand opening on the last Saturday in August. Julia wore a lime green Lilly Pulitzer summer shift that contrasted well against the pale greens and earthy browns of the spa. She wore a light cashmere wrap over her shoulders. She’d bought Zak a navy Hugo Boss suit, and he looked better than any New York businessman she’d met. As she straightened his tie, she kissed his cheek. “You look gorgeous.”
“Enjoy it, because tomorrow it’s jeans and a T-shirt.”
She giggled. “Fine by me.” She stared out the window of the restaurant toward Smitten’s Main Street, where flower boxes brimmed with summer blooms. Tourists sprinkled the town sidewalk, and she felt a fresh wave of satisfaction at the committee’s work.
“I have to admit it, Julia. You girls did it. We have more tourists walking our streets than we’ve had in years.”
“Sometimes all it takes is a little faith.” She smiled broadly at him. “And maybe a good verbal whack upside the head now and again.”
“Are we ready to open the doors?”
“Not just yet,” she moaned. “Let me live in the moment where it’s just you and me and we’re not surrounded by sawdust and dirt.”
“We’ve been working toward this day for nearly two months! All our friends and family are waiting out there to watch us succeed.”
“I’ll miss our cozy spa and grill where it’s just us. Now we have to let people in, and it won’t be the same.”
“Even if both the restaurant and the spa are filled with patrons and we’re making money hand over fist, it will always be just you and me here anyway,” he said with a fist pump to his heart. “That’s where we’ve been blessed.”
“I’m so glad you had faith in me when I didn’t.”
“You had faith in me when I didn’t. We’ll just keep returning the favor to each other.”
Zak pulled open both doors together. “Welcome, Smitten, to the grand reopening of Smitten’s only spa and grill!”
Julia’s knees went weak as she caught sight of her brother in full uniform. “Greg?”
Greg hugged her and lifted her off the ground. “I’m home, little sis. I needed to make sure this guy acted honorably.”
She grasped her brother around his neck and held on tightly.
“I’m so glad you’re home!”
“I had to come home for the wedding. All of them.”
Zak bent on one knee in front of her. “Julia Bourne, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
A roar went up from the crowd, and Julia’s hand trembled as she held it out and said, “Yes, yes, a million times yes!”
“But it has to be after ours.” Julia’s mother held out her hand. A new sparkling diamond glimmered on her ring finger.
“Mom?”
“Your dad and I decided we’d get into the spirit of things and recommit our love.”
Julia swayed on her heels and felt the world spinning around her as she tried to take it all in. Her parents’ love story was something she’d never understand. But then, she didn’t need to. She only needed to know that her path would be different. But she would learn to bake a pie—and if there was ever a man worth getting into an apron and stilettos for, it was Zak Grant.
Diann Hunt
S
helby Evans spotted the fire truck at her house and knew instinctively this was not going to be a good Monday.
Maybe she’d been a little distracted on her walk in the park, but she didn’t think she’d been gone that long. But it was such a beautiful September day and she had taken her journal, run into a couple of acquaintances, stopped for a bagel . . .
Clutching Penelope, her seven-pound Shih-poo, Shelby stepped over the neighbor kid’s bicycle on her front walk. Penelope barked at the intrusion of the monstrous truck parked in her driveway and the men winding up the heavy hose.
Nick Majors touched Shelby’s arm, catching her by surprise. She swiveled around to face him.
“What’s going on?”
“Your neighbor reported smoke coming from your house.”
Shelby gasped.
“It’s contained in your dining room. Not too much damage—smoke damage mostly. The fire had just started when we got here.”
She reached for the door and pushed it open. Thick smoke lingered inside the house, causing her to cough. “If this is ‘not too much,’ I’d hate to see what real damage looks like.”
“What are you doing in here?” A firefighter dressed in a cumbersome uniform, a fire extinguisher on his back, gave her a forbidding look.
Nick stood behind her. “It’s all right, Captain. She lives here.”
Thankfully, Nick was a volunteer fireman and could plead her case. She’d be upset if she couldn’t at least see the damage for herself.
Holding a dainty handkerchief loosely over Penelope’s nose, Shelby held the dog close and looked around her dining room area. Water on her floor and dining room table.
Wet walls. Though it could have been much worse, the scene overwhelmed her.
She spotted wet broken pieces of wood on the floor and cupped them in her hands. “This was the clock you made me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make you another one for Christmas,” Nick said.