Paisley's Pattern (2 page)

Instead of comforting his restless soul, the verse made him frown
.

 

~*~

 

Paisley folded back the beveled glass doors against the walls on either side of the cabinet. She was in trouble. Did Aunt Rainbow know about this fancy knife collection? How was Paisley expected to know what prices to mark them with? Some handles were constructed of pearl, and others of carved ivory, inlaid wood, or plastic. Should the vast collection be marked individually or by groups? She'd have to consult the instructions Aunt Rainbow left. If the knives weren't listed, Paisley would search the Internet.

She ran a finger over an intricate resin handle. It felt loose. Rob would be able to repair it good as new.

Lord, why does he keep coming into my thoughts? Do you want him to be a part of my life
?

She closed her eyes and inhaled a remnant of the spicy, cedar aroma from the built-in shelves. Paisley swiped a finger over the wood, where it left a clear trail. Dirt obviously filtered in around glass doors, not surprising due to the cropland that surrounded the town. Oren's mother had probably shelved delicate floral patterned china here. Paisley could almost hear the clink as fine pieces were removed to set the dining table for holiday meals. She dabbed a sniffle at the notion of Mark and Oren missing the woman of the house.

Rob and Paisley both knew the hurt of having no anchor in family roots. He hadn't known his father. The lack of familial foundation was revealed in his eyes when his guard was down. He had empathized with Paisley when she told him her father died when she was eight. Her mother then uprooted them and Paisley never saw her grandparents again.

She shut the doors and gently pulled out the top drawer. What a mess. She heaved a huge sigh and shook her hair back over her shoulder.

Such a junk drawer would thrill Rob. He could probably use every knob, screw, and do-hickey he ran across on some of the damaged antiques he turned into treasured collectibles.

She yanked the drawer out further, attempting to whisk away Rob's intrusion on her mind. There was nothing of value inside. How did one get all the fuzzy dust balls cleared amidst crumbled rubber bands and uncurled paperclips?

Rubber gloves
. Good thinking. She'd get a waste basket and a box for what was salvageable and come back to the dirty drawer later.

The second drawer held a mish-mash of folded and tattered tablecloths, napkins, and doilies. Unfolding them revealed that most would make cleaning rags, so she placed them in a plastic sack for later use. Of all things, there was a shower curtain still in the package, where it had ripped at the folds. Balancing the face of the drawer against her thighs, the contents from the back slid forward. Umpteen photographs and old letters drifted her way.

She coughed in reaction to the airless stirring of dust, and then sneezed into her shoulder. Beneath the movement of dry stagnant air, she caught the whiff of a familiar odor. Patchouli oil. How odd. Patchouli oil had been her mother's choice fragrance. Paisley found it tolerable in scented soups, if used sparingly.

The kitchen table looked like a good place to set the drawer, but it was less than inviting since it had been used to support a lot of dirty items. She grabbed the plastic curtain and closed the drawer, freed the shower curtain from its useless cover, and spread it across the table. Once she retrieved the drawer, and it was out in the open, she couldn't help but feel that she was snooping. Rather than the fabric of lives, she was in the details of lives. On the other hand, Nora had given her permission to go through everything.

Paisley tossed the aged envelopes, filled mostly with faded bills. How come Oren hadn't been through the drawer? There were a few personal letters that she set aside for the family.

Most of the photos were black and white with imprinted dates along the edge, but a couple faded color snapshots drew her attention. The blonde's good looks were captivating, but the image of a serious dark-haired man drew her with magnetic force. Her senses reacted like a metal detector signaling a find. She snagged the picture with an unsteady hand. The man could pass for Robin Paisley. How could he have a twin from a bygone era?

Feverish heat mixed with cold chills washed through her.

With trembling fingers, Paisley turned over both pictures looking for notations. The snapshot of the couple standing in front of a tree simply read
Mark Waverly and Precious
. In the other shot, the same twosome embraced in the open doorway of an antique van-like truck. On the back was scribbled
Precious approves of Mark's paint job on Granddad's business truck
.

Her heart jumped at the sound of a man clearing his throat, and she looked up.

What was Rob doing here?

Paisley saw black and white spots, and swayed.

“Hey, hold on. Sorry I scared you. I should have knocked or called out.” The man in a navy suit and loosened purple tie leaped forward and eased her onto a chair.

When she looked at him again, she knew she wasn't dreaming. Paisley made a desperate attempt to speak, but no sound escaped her open mouth. Such a shock brought tears and uncoordinated stumbling when she tried to stand.

“I'm Oren Waverly. This is my dad's home.”

The guy was a dead-ringer for Robin Paisley, the only man who'd touched her heart.

 

 

 

 

2

 

“Restore with Rob,” he groused into the phone.

“Oooh. Who stepped on your tail?”

Paisley? No way. Sure sounds like her.
“Who is this?”

“You've forgotten my voice? Should I be crushed? Do I really sound different?”

I'd like nothing better than to restore our relationship by reconnecting with you.
“Paisley? Sorry, it's early.”

But I have no idea where you've run off to
.
“
I almost didn't answer. Where's area code 402?”

“I didn't think about you being two hours earlier than we are here. Would you believe, Nebraska? It's a long story. And I'm so sorry. How are you, Rob?”

Her greeting was far too casual after their last fall-out, but typical of the flighty woman. He pictured easy breezy Paisley in her floppy hats and loose flowing shirts.

Intense longing twisted through him, settling like a ball of lead in his gut. At least now, he knew where she'd flown off to.

“Listen, I've run across something that involves you. Wasn't your mom's name Precious?”

“Yes. But why would you call about my mother?” He was wide awake now.

“Way too complicated to go into over the phone, but I believe it involves your family.

“I don't have family in Nebraska.”

“Are you into anything big job-wise right now?”

“I'm just working on some antique toys that will be Christmas presents.”

“Sounds interesting. What kind of toys?”

“A rocking horse that needs runners, a scooter that will be like new with wheels and red paint, and ice skates. I need to grind off the rust and attach new leather straps.”
Way too much detail for someone who didn't care anymore
. “I'm trying to make sense of why you're calling. Surely it's not to ask what I'm working on.”

You broke up with me, remember
?

“Ice skates in southern California? That's different.” It sounded like she crossed a hard-surfaced floor. “Listen, this is important beyond imagination, or I wouldn't have called. Is there any chance you can fly out here?”

The weakness to give in to anything Paisley asked started in his stomach and traveled to his knees. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest, simply over the phone connection that brought him the sound of her voice. There was no reason in the whole wide world for his ex-fiancé, the woman who disappeared without giving their relationship a chance, to come out of left field with such an invitation.

“You've got to give me more reason to pack up and leave than a surprise call and plea to travel to God-knows-where.” Did his voice reveal the anger that now rolled through him?

“It might have to do with your dad. I can't say more than that without seeing you.” She sucked in a noisy breath. He pictured her tossing her long hair over her shoulder. “But I promise you will be surprised beyond belief.”

Did she really say his father?

Rob wiped his suddenly leaking brow. “Are you asking me to drop everything here, and traipse after you, when my family history is what provoked you to make me history in your life?”

He recalled the way she'd looked when he last saw her. The day she'd handed back his diamond ring and shattered his world. Rob had been so taken aback that he stared at the ring cupped in his hand.

She'd dipped her head and hid her eyes under the floppy brim of a blushing tan hat. Then her words ripped his world apart. “I know it won't work. I can't face a future with you until you take care of the baggage you carry around in your head. You've grown into a wonderful, talented man who believes in Jesus. You've had strong Biblical men in your life in recent years. I'm sorry you never knew your father, but you now have a heavenly Father who cares for you.”

Yes, Rob cared about the father he never knew. There would always be something missing as to who Robin Paisley was, and the crazy name he carried around, thanks to his mother. Who named their kid for a bird and a womanly design? She'd never told him what her real last name had been or where she'd come from.

He'd tried so hard to forget.

“Rob, are you still there?”

But Paisley was part of him. When he went to see her two weeks after the ring fiasco, to grovel, she had disappeared. His heart had felt as bleak as desert drought. And his mind had been filled with thoughts darker than ever before.

“Rob.” The alarm in her voice cleared the cobwebs of the past.

“I don't understand why you can't give me more details.”

“That's because it's something too big for detailing over the phone. You'll be blown away and I want to see your face. You have to discover this for yourself. It's huge. You need to come.”

“All right then. Give me the name of the town and I'll think about it.”

“Norfolk. Where I spent some of my growing-up years, remember? Well, I'm here helping out my Aunt Rainbow because she needs me.”

That's all he needed, to be around a person with a flower-child name. When would all the peace and love and flower child culture exit his life?

“Unless you're a rancher with a plane of your own, you'll have to fly into one of the cities, Lincoln or Omaha.” Excitement colored Paisley's words.

“No promises.” He ended their connection.

In some respects, he'd envied her carefree attitude, her ability to get by wherever she landed.

You must heed Paisley's request.

The message came to his mind clearly, without conscious prayer.

I will go with you
.

Curiosity built to a crescendo. He'd head to Nebraska and find out what this was all about. Then if he had any say in the matter, he'd never have to see her again.

 

~*~

 

Paisley swung open the front door and jumped back at the sight of raised knuckles.

“Hey.” Rob stood in front of her, wrist cocked, ready to knock.

Man, was he a sight for hungry eyes.

He appraised her from head to toe, no doubt perplexed over her appearance. She wasn't dressed the way he usually saw her, in light layers of tiered skirt and loose flowing blouse. Today she wore form-fitting yoga pants and an emerald tunic length tailored shirt. Her hair protruded above the back strap of her billed cap.

She lifted her gaze to meet his penetrating glare. What was wrong with his eyes? She may be able to break eye contact, but she was unable to ignore her heart's reaction. Desire pranced through her senses. Still crazy about him, she'd missed his touch, and his zinging kisses. Her pulse ping-ponged, pounding in her ears.

“You look different.” He lowered his hand and scowled. “But different in a good way.”

“I've been on pins and needles waiting to hear from you. You didn't tell me you were coming. I almost fainted to see you at the door.”

“What's so important for you to call me out to the prairie?” His voice always fed her nerve endings, spiking an electric field around her.

Wait till you meet Oren Waverly
.

The men sounded just alike.

But it was Rob who now filled the Waverly doorway.

How could he still affect her like this? She soaked him in, reacquainting herself with the rush of resurrected feelings. He wasn't Hollywood handsome. Separately, his features were mismatched, kind of unbalanced. But all together, she'd always approved of the package. Paisley blinked during closer inspection. Rob's blue eyes had once matched the feathers of his prized love birds.

“What's going on with your eyes?” Lost in the sapphire depths, she now compared their color to that of the sky in transition to the black of night.

His jaw relaxed and his lips parted, but he didn't smile. He took life too seriously to smile much. “I wore colored contacts when we were together. I never let on because you often gushed about the color of my eyes.”

She shook off the mesmerizing pull and dropped her gaze to notice new, tighter jeans. His midnight blue tee-shirt showed off the workouts he got by hefting heavy projects and handling tools.

“I thought there'd be more traffic for a Saturday. Where is everybody? It's too big to be a ghost town.”

Paisley smiled.
This is going to be so much fun
.

What would he do if she reached out and touched him? “You'll never know how good it is to see you. You must have driven from Omaha. The Cornhuskers are playing in Lincoln where you'd have seen a red flood of humanity going to the football game.”