Surrendered Hearts (5 page)

She glanced up at him. “I suppose you’re right, but what do I say now? I feel so stupid. They probably think I don’t like Lauren or the dress or . . .”

“Just tell them the truth.”

She released a choked laugh. “What? That I’m totally selfish, and I don’t deserve half the kindness they’ve shown me?”

“No. Say thanks, I’d love to be in your wedding.”

“Just like that?”

“Yep. Just like that.”

“All right, but . . .” She bit her lip and looked at him hesitantly.

“What?”

“The dress . . . I don’t think—”

“What? You’d look great in that dress.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his neck and ears burn. “I mean, it’s a great dress, but if you don’t like it—”

“No. I like it. I just don’t think it’s . . . right for me.”

“Then go with Lauren and pick out another one. You heard her. She wants your opinion.” Jennifer still looked doubtful so he added, “Lauren’s sweet. I’m sure she’ll listen to whatever you say. Give her a chance.”

She smiled, and her gaze settled on him. “Okay. Thanks.”

“For?”

“Listening and talking me out of this weird emotional . . . thing.”

He chuckled. “Not a problem.”

But as he followed Jenn into the dining room doubts circled through his mind. Had he’d made a mistake stepping in like that? Wasn’t Wes the one who wanted to get closer to her? He cast that thought aside. Wes wouldn’t mind. He’d be grateful.

But he sensed a warning in his spirit. He needed to be careful and not invest too much in this friendship. When the wedding was over, Jenn would be headed home to Oregon.

* * * *

Bill flipped the page, read the final lines of the chapter, and groaned to himself. How could he stop there? He checked the clock on his bedroom end table and found it was after eleven. If he didn’t hit the sack soon he’d pay for it tomorrow.

Sleeping in was not an option. He was scheduled to lead a large homeschool group on a stream stomp and frog and salamander hunt at 9:00 am. Oh joy. He chuckled to himself, knowing he wouldn’t trade his job for any other.

He set the novel on his nightstand then stood and stretched. Pushing aside his bedroom curtain, he checked the driveway out front. A full moon hung just above the treetops, spreading silver light over the yard and driveway.

No sign of Wes or his Toyota. He probably had more wedding plans to discuss with Lauren, or maybe they were just enjoying some quiet moments in front of the fire. Must be nice. Bill huffed and tossed that mental picture aside.

As he walked out of his room, he glanced across the hall at the closed bedroom door. He’d heard Jennifer’s soft footsteps on the stairs over an hour ago. She was probably sound asleep in there by now. He shook off thoughts of her and headed for the bathroom. After he’d brushed his teeth, he looked for the glass that usually sat on the counter, but it wasn’t there.

Then it hit him. The bathroom looked cleaner than the last time he’d used it. There wasn’t a splash on the mirror or a smudge on the counter or sink. He scanned the room. Fresh towels hung on the bar by the shower, and the corner wastebasket was empty instead of overflowing.

Jennifer must have cleaned up, because it sure hadn’t been him or Wes. He appreciated her help, but it felt a little like an invasion of his private space.

Well, this wasn’t his private space anymore.

Looking in the mirror, he grimaced, remembering how the bathroom looked earlier. No wonder she scrubbed everything spotless. Everyone knew women didn’t like grungy bathrooms.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Well there was nothing he could do about it now, except thank her in the morning.

Treading softly downstairs, he walked into the dark living room and reached for the light switch. A rustling movement on the couch stopped him. He crept across the room and peeked over the back of the couch.

Moonlight flowed through the sliding glass door, illuminating a petite form curled up under a light blanket.

Surprise rippled through him. What was Jennifer doing sleeping down here? He stepped back, hoping she hadn’t heard him and stole into the kitchen.

The small light over the stove had been left on. He noticed the clear counters and empty dish drainer. When had she cleaned the kitchen? Probably after they returned from Lauren’s and before she cleaned the bathroom. But he wasn’t certain because he’d retreated to his room to read as soon as they came home.

He shook his head recalling the stack of dirty dishes he’d left in the sink. Now he owed her a double thank you.

As he reached in the cabinet for a glass, he saw a note on the counter. Lifting the paper toward the light, he read the message.

Wes,

I’m sleeping downstairs on the couch tonight. I don’t want you to give up your bed for me anymore. You need your sleep so you can get up early and go to work. Besides, you’re too tall for the couch, but it’s not a problem for me. I know you won’t like it, but please let me do this one small thing for you.

Thanks for asking me to be in your wedding. I’m honored you want me to share that special day with you and Lauren. I’m sorry I was so weird about it when Lauren asked me tonight. (The next few words were scribbled out.) I’ll explain sometime. I really do want to be there for you on your wedding day. I love you, Wes. Thanks for letting me stay here. That means a lot to me.

Love,

Jenn

Warmth flooded his chest as he read the last few sentences again. Letting Jennifer stay was the right decision. Her heart already seemed to be softening toward her brother, and hopefully that would lead her one step closer to renewing her relationship with the Lord.

He scooted the note over under the light so Wes would be sure to see it. He grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet and headed back through the living room.

As he passed the couch, he stopped and looked down at Jennifer once more. Silvery moonlight highlighted the contours of her softly rounded cheeks and straight nose. He stepped closer, watching the slight movement of her eyelids. He smiled. She must be dreaming. His gaze moved to her slightly parted lips.

He swallowed and closed his eyes. What was he doing?

Jennifer sighed and shifted to another position.

His eyes flew open. He froze, his heart banging in his chest.

She’d rolled to her side, and her long hair fanned out over the pillow, exposing a trail of twisted skin that started at the hairline behind her right ear and extended to her collarbone where it disappeared into the neck of her T-shirt.

He clenched his teeth and made himself study the scars, hoping familiarity would ease his gut-wrenching reaction. That burn had to have hurt more than anything he had ever experienced. How far did it go? He immediately squelched that thought. But as he remembered the clothes she’d worn over the last few days, he realized they all had long sleeves and collars even though the weather had been warm.

A new realization washed over him. Those scars had cost her more than physical pain and the loss of her home and dog. Jenn was a beautiful young woman, an actress whose career required a flawless appearance. What would she do now? And what about her heart and spirit? Had her burns made her believe that God didn’t care and wasn’t watching out for her?

A sorrowful heaviness draped over his shoulders. He blew out a deep breath, yearning to do something to right this wrong.

Father, please heal Jenn’s scars, those you showed me tonight and those in her heart. Use the pain and loss she’s been through to bring her closer to You. Thanks for letting me see so I can understand a little more of what she is dealing with. Show me how to help her. “Amen,” he whispered.

Then he gently pulled up the blanket and tucked it around her shoulders. For a split second he thought about bending down to kiss her cheek, but he turned away and headed upstairs.

Jenn carefully lifted the lid of the waffle iron and poured in a cup of creamy white batter. It bubbled and sizzled as it spread over the hot griddle. Satisfied she’d added enough, she lowered the lid and watched the steam escape around the edges.

Breakfast was her favorite meal, and cooking for others made it even better. Hopefully, Wes and Bill wouldn’t mind her getting up early to make waffles.

The sound of footsteps overhead made her stomach tighten. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and checked the table. Everything was ready. She’d put on the coffee, made the orange juice, sliced the strawberries, warmed the maple syrup, and set three places. In the center of the table she’d placed a small jar filled with wild flowers she’d picked in the yard. Their cheerful little faces seemed to smile up at her, giving her courage a boost.

She definitely needed that this morning. It was time she and Wes talked about a plan for the summer. She couldn’t just sponge off him and his roommate indefinitely.

Footsteps descend the stairs and crossed the living room. She looked up as Bill walked into the kitchen wearing jeans and a navy knit shirt with the Wild River Resort logo embroidered over the pocket.

“Good morning.” She sent him a bright smile. But her stomach quivered as she noticed the healthy glow of his clean-shaven face. His dark wavy hair, still damp from his shower, curled behind his ears and touched his collar at the back.

“Morning.” He frowned slightly as he studied the table. “What’s going on?”

She stared at him, her courage fading. “I . . . I’m making waffles.”

He lifted his dark eyebrows and shot her a curious glance. “You didn’t have to do that.”

She turned toward the sink. “I know, but I wanted to do something . . .” Her mind spun, searching for an explanation. What could she say? That she couldn’t face sitting around all day feeling useless? That she had to prove she wasn’t a burden? That she’d cleaned and cooked and slept on an uncomfortable couch so they’d consider her helpful and wouldn’t send her away?

Bill stepped up behind her. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. Waffles sound great.”

Waffles! She spun toward the counter. The red light on top of the waffle iron had come on. “Oh, shoot!” She jerked the lid up and grabbed a fork. A dark-brown waffle stuck to the upper griddle. Her hand slipped as she tried jabbed it with a fork. Scorching pain shot through her fingertips. She gasped and jerked back, dropping the fork on the counter.

Bill grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the sink. Before she could ask what he was doing, he turned on the cold water and thrust her fingers under the icy, gushing stream.

Hovering behind her, he held her arm steady. “Just keep your hand in the water.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, but then quickly glanced away as tears gathered in her eyes. Her fingers stung, but that wasn’t what made her cry. Self-doubt programmed into her from years of criticism rose to the surface. Why hadn’t she been more careful? How could she forget the danger of a hot appliance or the pain burns could cause? Couldn’t she do anything right?

Bill eased his hold on her arm and stepped back. “I’ll unplug that waffle iron.”

“Wait, I still have a lot of batter.” She pulled her hand out of the water and turned it over. Pain throbbed from the pink, oval-shaped welts marking the tips of her index and middle finger.

Bill returned to her side. “Hey, it’s not time to take your fingers out yet.” Concern filled his eyes as he gently guided her hand back under the stream of cool water. “This’ll help reduce the pain and any possible swelling. But you’ve got to give it a little more time.”

She nodded, grateful for his kindness and the soothing tone of his voice. “I’m okay. It’s not a bad burn.”

“Good. You stay there, and I’ll take care of that crispy critter.” He grinned and cocked his head toward the open waffle maker.

“I can’t believe I burned it.” She bit her lip. He probably thought she was a brainless blond with no cooking experience.

“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.” He chuckled. “I usually burn one or two of them every time.”

“Really?” Surprise filled her voice.

He nodded, picked up the fork and turned his attention to removing the scorched waffle.

She hadn’t met many men who were willing to admit their mistakes. Her former fiancé never liked to say he was wrong. Appearances and putting on a good front mattered more to him.

The last time she’d seen Phillip flashed into her mind. He’d come to the hospital the evening of the explosion and fire, and though he was an experienced actor, he hadn’t been able to hide his shocked response to her burns. When he walked away, he’d taken a piece of her heart, and almost convinced her it wasn’t worth fighting to recover.

He may have been wrong to desert her, but he was right about one thing. Her scars were beyond ugly, and she’d never be rid of them.

She glanced at her right arm and slowly ran her hand down her sleeve feeling the uneven texture of her skin under the thin cotton material.

Bill tossed the burnt waffle in the trash then poured in the next round of batter. “My problem is I can’t wait to eat, so I sit down and start enjoying breakfast, and I forget I’m still making more waffles.”