A Valentine for Kayla (2 page)

He absolutely needed to do something for Mom—this would be a tough Valentine's Day for her. And now he had the perfect excuse to go back to the flower shop. Giving her flowers a day early would be unexpected—he liked surprising people.

He detoured through downtown and drove slowly past the shop. A closed sign hung on the door. He frowned and kept going. Maybe he'd have time to stop tomorrow—the gift wouldn't be such a surprise coming on Valentine's Day, but that was fine.

Ten minutes later he swung into his mom's driveway and sauntered inside. “Mom, I'm home.” The house was unusually quiet. He breathed in the faint smell of chicken. Mom had mentioned something about chicken salad. The ticking of the mantel clock filled the silence. Had she gone out with a friend? He lived in the guest cottage out back, but they usually ate dinner together in the main house.

“Mom?” He went into the kitchen and spotted his mother sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey, what's up?”

She turned to face him with a vacant look in her eyes. Was one eye drooping?

His heart hammered, and he rushed to her side. “What's wrong?” He knelt beside her and took her hand.

She blinked and spoke very slowly with semigarbled words.

Something was definitely wrong. “Come on, Mom. I'm taking you to the hospital.” It would take an ambulance at least ten minutes to get here. He could have her to the hospital himself in that amount of time. He slid one arm under her legs and the other around her shoulders, then gently hoisted her up and rushed to his pickup as fast as he could without hurting her in the process. “How long have you been like this?” he asked as he buckled her seat belt.

She gave him a blank stare.

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. Mom needed him and he must keep it together. With urgency he'd never known, he drove as fast as he dared. Ten minutes later he parked in the emergency department's lot. “Be right back.” He hopped out and rushed inside, then quickly told the check-in lady about his mom and asked for a wheelchair.

The glass doors to the emergency department slid open and his mom wandered in with stooped shoulders. He hurried to her. “I was going to bring you a wheelchair.”

She slid her hand into his and gave it a slight squeeze. Her eyes remained vacant, but clearly something was working inside her head. He guided her to a chair and returned to let the triage nurse know his mother was waiting.

Bowing his head and closing his eyes, he prayed.
Lord, You are the great physician. Please take care of my mom.

“Mrs. Wood.” A man wearing green scrubs approached them pushing a wheelchair.

Derek stood to assist his mom into the chair.

“I'm Micah.” The man wheeled her forward.

Derek stayed by her side, wishing Micah would walk faster. Not that he was crawling, but picking up the pace would be nice. Surely the sooner his mom received medical treatment, the better her prognosis would be. He stomped down his frustration. Mom slid her hand into his again and held tight. Startled, he looked down. She gave him a half smile. He tried to grin back, but the reality of the situation struck him at that moment—his mom had had a stroke.

* * *

Kayla flipped the page of her book. The end of February was notoriously slow. The bells on the shop door jingled. She looked up from the book she was reading and then shot to her feet. Mr. UPS was back, but he wasn't wearing his brown uniform. Instead he had on blue jeans and a long-sleeve black button-up shirt. “Long time no see.” He hadn't been back since the day before Valentine's, and she'd spotted another driver on his route.

He grinned. “Yeah. I'm in the market for some flowers.”

“You came to the right place. What would you like?”

“Something cheerful.”

She stepped around the counter. “We have several nice bouquets and arrangements in the refrigerator, but you're a little late for Valentine's,” she teased.

“I wouldn't have been if you'd been open when I stopped back by last week.” He winked, then pointed to a purple vase arranged with roses, daisy poms, alstroemerias and asters in varying shades of pink and purple. “I'll take that.”

He'd come by? “Great choice. I'm sorry we missed you. I hope your girlfriend will understand.”

He opened his mouth to reply just as his cell phone rang. “Excuse me. I need to take this. Hey, Jerry. What's going on?” He walked to the front of the shop and stood facing the street with his back toward her. Too bad she couldn't hear what he was saying. She'd love to be a ladybug on the potted lily plant he stood beside. She always had been too nosy for her own good.

He spun around and walked toward her, a frown marring his perfect face.

She smiled brightly. “By the way, I'm Kayla, co-owner of Flowers and More.”

“Derek. It's nice to officially meet you.” She placed the vase in a box and stuffed paper around it to keep it from tipping. “Are you working a different route? I noticed someone else has been in the neighborhood.”

“Things are up in the air right now.” He handed her a fifty.

She punched in the amount on the register, then handed him his change. “Thanks for coming back and not giving up on us.”

He picked up the box with both hands. “You have a nice place.” Then he left.

She stood openmouthed, staring. “And there he goes once again.” He was probably taken—all the good guys were.

“Who goes where again?” Jill carried a bucket filled with carnations to the fridge, slid the door open and set it on the floor inside.

“Remember that new UPS guy?”

“You mean the one who sent you off into la-la land.” She snickered. “Sure. What about him?”

“He just left with flowers. I assume they're for his girlfriend.”

Jill sobered. “Ah, sweetie. I'm sorry. But as they say, there are more fish in the sea.”

“Yeah, well, from where I stand, there's a famine and all the fish swam away looking for better seas.”

Jill chuckled as she poured coffee into two mugs and handed Kayla one. “Take a seat with me?”

Kayla followed her friend to the bistro table they kept in the shop for quick breaks and customer consultations. She held the warm ceramic mug between both hands.

“What's going on with you lately? You've been restless and more discontented than usual.”

“I know. I guess I'm bored.”

Jill bit her bottom lip and stared into her mug. “I was afraid of that. Business is doing well enough. I think we could afford to hire a part-time cashier. That would free you up to pursue—” she raised a shoulder “—whatever it is that is missing and making you unhappy.”

Kayla's insides knotted. “I'm not unhappy. Just…not content.” She'd put countless hours into this business and took pride in their success. At least they were turning a profit, but that was no longer enough. What
would
be enough?

“I think you need a vacation. This is historically a slow time. Why don't you go someplace sunny and warm?”

“You don't know how nice that sounds.” She glanced toward the window and noted raindrops sputtering from the gray sky. “But I don't think now is the time to leave.”

“Then when?”

“I don't know. All I know is I can't leave you here by yourself. It's not right.”

“Then we'll close the shop for a week. I could use a break, too.”

Kayla's eyes widened. “No way. Think about the lost revenue. We can't close for an entire week!”

“Fine—four days, then. We're closed Sundays, anyway, so let's look at the books and see which week was the slowest last year and plan to close from Sunday to Wednesday. What do you say?”

“I'll think about it.”

Jill stood up. “Good. Meanwhile, I'll go check out last year's numbers and our bank account. I kind of like the idea of a vacation.”

Kayla gulped down the rest of her coffee. Would time off really make things better, or did the problem go deeper than that? The feelings of discontentment were not unfamiliar. She'd had them off and on throughout her life.

Whatever the problem, she needed to figure it out, because vacation or no vacation, she doubted these feelings would go away until she dealt with whatever was causing her to feel dissatisfied.

She stood and glanced over the wall of CDs Jill insisted they carry and was drawn closer by one in particular. “DJ Parker.” She'd heard of him. In fact, a few of Jill's friends thought he was amazing, so she'd stocked his latest CD.

Kayla pulled it off the wall display and studied the man on the cover. Wow, he had an uncanny resemblance to Derek, but yet they were nothing alike. Derek was clean-cut and this guy looked like a beatnik.

She moved to put it back, then hesitated and looked a little closer. They could be twins except for the hair and goatee. They both had stunning eyes. She'd always had a thing for eyes, especially blue ones. She shrugged it off and put the CD back on the shelf. She'd have to point it out to Derek the next time he was in—she could only hope there'd be a next time.

“I
'm home,” Derek called as he strode into the family room carrying the flowers he'd purchased.

Mom's eyes sparkled. “They-re beau-t'ful.” She reached for them and sniffed.

Trying to ignore her broken speech, he handed her the vase. The doctor expected with therapy her speech would return to normal. She'd already had a couple of sessions.

He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “For a beautiful lady. Where should I put them?” He took the flowers from her hand.

She pointed to the coffee table. At least her limbs all worked without a problem and her brain, other than whatever controlled her speech, functioned normally, as far as the doctors could tell. She picked up a pad of paper she'd been using to communicate and handed it to him.

“What's this?” The words covered an entire page.

She blinked. “Read.”

“Bossy, bossy. Really, Mom,” he teased, and sat on the couch.

The church is looking for a new worship pastor. I mentioned you.

He sucked in a breath and kept on reading, then handed the notepad back. “I wish you hadn't said anything. But now I know why the pastor left me a voice mail suggesting we talk.” He sighed. It was time to tell his mom why he'd left his music career. “Mom, being famous isn't all it's cracked up to be.”

“Worship pastors…aren't famous.”

“I know. The problem is my voice. If I get onstage and sing, anyone who is a fan will recognize it. Then everything will change. I'll be DJ Parker, not Derek Wood. I need to find me again. I need time.”

She waved a hand.

“Don't brush this off, Mom. You don't understand what it's like having people follow you everywhere you go and having your every facial expression analyzed.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “DJ stepped out alone on a Friday night. Is there trouble in paradise? Could this mean the end for leading lady Estelle Rogers and crooner DJ Parker?” That headline was the beginning of the end for sure.

He didn't regret breaking up with Estelle. She had dated him only to boost her career. The worst part was, that was the same reason he'd originally asked her out. Too bad he'd fallen for her in the process. Aside from being burned by love, he had grown shallow. He didn't like who he'd become.

Mom flipped to the next page on her pad and pointed.

I knew you would say no to singing in church. But music is your life and let's not forget your dream was to be a worship pastor. You just got sidetracked with the fame and fortune. Give your first love a chance. It's not too late.

He doubted that very much. Derek swallowed the lump that had formed. Mom had never been happy about his music career. She'd said God had something else for him, and that he was missing his calling. Maybe she was right. “I'll think about it.”

“No! You talk…to him.”

“Okay. I'll talk to him, but no promises. I really can't risk anyone hearing my voice and realizing who I am.” He shook his head. “You don't understand what it was like living under the paparazzi's microscope.”

“You regret your success?” Though her words were slow, they hit the mark.

“No. I loved it. But it changed me, and not for the good. That's the part I didn't like. I need to find me again.”

“Good boy. You will.” Mom patted his hand and closed her eyes. Clearly it had taken a lot out of her to talk with him. He placed a throw blanket over her, then sauntered into the kitchen. Cooking had never been his thing, but he knew how to use a can opener. They'd received last night's meal from a nice family at the church, but according to the calendar the free food ended yesterday. He was the official cook until his mom felt up to it again.

Derek dug through the cupboards and frowned. It looked as if a trip to the grocery store was in order, or he could go pick up a couple of sandwiches and soup from the deli. The deli won. Mom would never approve of canned soup, so he'd pick up extra for tomorrow, too.

He poked his head into the family room, where she still slept, then grabbed his keys. He'd be back before she knew he was gone. He jogged to his pickup and headed toward downtown. The dreary day was made a little brighter by the banners that hung from the old-fashioned streetlamps along the sidewalks announcing the Spring Festival at the end of April. Why they didn't wait until May or June, he didn't know. It seemed to him any kind of outdoor activity in this area would get rained out, but what did he know? He'd been there only a short time. The town definitely had pride. From the clean, wide-sweeping sidewalks to the well-kept benches and perfectly manicured City Park. Yes, Oak Knoll was a nice place to live, even if it had rained four out of seven days a week for the past month.

Deli on the Rye was next door to the florist shop. Too bad he hadn't thought of food earlier, but his stomach wasn't growling then. He pulled into a parking spot and hustled inside. He stopped short.