Rich in Faith (Richness in Faith, Book 3) (12 page)

MEMORIES

BRISTOL, DARLING AND I plow through the day. The rain came again making it impossible to go outside. I decided to take on the task of cleaning their rooms. They were excited at first, but soon became bored.

“But I want to keep that. Don’t throw it away,” Bristol whines.

I hold up the electronic learning device. “I’m not throwing it away. This is the box to give away. And this is for two-year-olds. You are way past this.”

“But these are my toys.” She grabs it out of my hands and hugs it to her chest.

“Girls. You have so many toys here that you’ve out grown. Can’t you share them with others? Some parents can’t afford to buy toys like these for their children.”

I’m amazed at what these two have stored up. It’s like they’ve never gotten rid of anything.

Whereas Court can’t get rid of his memories, these girls can’t get rid of their stuff.

They’re all holding onto the past in different ways.

It’s like their hair. I can see progress being made in the tangles. But I still want to grab a brush and be done with it.

“Some kids don’t have toys?” Darling asks.

I nod. “That’s right. Some kids don’t.”

“What do they play with?” Bristol asks.

Remembering back to my childhood, I have visions of jumping rope and using tree limbs pretending they were weapons. I also remember one year wanting a popular doll for Christmas.

It was all I wanted.

“Do you want to hear a story?” I ask.

They shrug. “Sure.”

“When I was a little girl, about your age, there was a doll all the girls wanted. Her name was Pretty Patty.”

Bristol smiles. “Was she pretty?”

“Of course she was. All I wanted for Christmas was a Pretty Patty doll. When Christmas morning came there was only one box for me under the tree. I still remember how excited I was when I opened the box and saw Pretty Patty.”

“So Santa brought you what you wanted.”

“He did. But later in the day I noticed the box was a little banged up, and the flaps looked well worn. Later that night, I was in bed, hugging Pretty Patty close to me. While I was hugging her I noticed a smudged pen mark on the side of her left cheek.”

“Someone wrote on her? Why?”

“It was probably an accident. But that doll hadn’t been out of my arms all day long, so I knew I hadn’t done it. I rubbed the mark as hard as I could, but the blue smudge wouldn’t go away.” I decline telling them that even my tears falling on Pretty Patty’s face didn’t help take the mark away.

“So what did you do?” Darling asks.

“I just loved her even though she had the mark on her face.”

Team Twin look at me with wide eyes.

“I never would have had Pretty Patty if some nice girl like you hadn’t given her away. So what do you say? Can we pick out some toys that you don’t play with anymore and give them to some other little girls?”

Their eyes take on an excited look. They jump up and walk over to the pile of toys. “Sure.”

“I’ll help.” As I stand I see a shadow out of the corner of my eye. Looking toward the door my face turns red and my head starts to spin as I see Court leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, with a half-smile on his face.

Mrs. Stratton indicated he never came home early
,
and it’s barely mid-afternoon. I would never have told my story if I thought there was a remote possibility that he would be around.

Thankfully, Bristol and Darling are busy picking out toys. It’s bad enough the drama being played out in my head and heart is being witnessed by Court. Certainly he can see my turmoil at revealing sacred secrets of my past.

A past I never wanted him to know anything about.

But it appears my charade is up. He motions for me to come to him.

As I reach him, he steps outside the door and I follow. He’s smiling which surprisingly puts me at ease. Probably because it took me so long to be on the receiving end of one of those.

When I reach him, he puts his hand on my shoulder, once again reeling me in to a comfortable place. “That was great. You didn’t tell me you were a master storyteller.”

All thoughts of asking him why he came home early leave my mind. A master storyteller? Because I related a piece of my childhood to the girls? “I don’t think I’m a master storyteller by any means.”

“Are you kidding me? The way you had them wrapped up in that tale? You almost had me believing it for a minute. It sounded so real. And it brought them around. They can’t shove toys in that box fast enough.”

I’m not sure whether I should feel the relief I’m feeling.

He doesn’t believe I’m the poor kid who wouldn’t have Christmas if it wasn’t for second-hand stores.

He thinks my memories are tales?

For the first time, my heart tells me that Court would understand. That Court is different from Paul in high school and from Dale. I want to believe he is.

I really do.

But I can’t embrace it yet. I continue to let Court think my story is just that.

A made-up story. “I’m glad I was convincing.” There. That doesn’t confirm or deny anything. He came to his own conclusions without any prompting from me.

But somehow my conscious isn’t cleared by my statement at all.

In fact, it’s more conflicted now than ever.

“SO, IF I SEND Mrs. Stratton home will you cook us some fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy?”

Court catches me as I step out of my room just a few minutes after our previous conversation. The conversation that caused me to splash cold water on my face to wake up to the reality of what is happening.

I did this while the girls showed Court what they were doing and why. Their excitement at sharing their toys was almost as grand as seeing their dad home midday.

“Fried chicken is not very healthy eating. I think we should let Mrs. Stratton do her stuff.”

“Only if you give me an IOU.” There’s a serious look in his expression.

“Maybe.” I’m not committing to anything.

Rubbing his neck, he stares at the hallway wall for a moment like he’s bothered. Moments later, he looks at me. “Can we talk for a minute? In my office?”

My breath hitches slightly. Nothing he would notice. But I’m catching on to his voice tones, and this one indicates turmoil.

What kind of turmoil I’m about to find out.

He follows me, and when he steps into the office he shuts the door behind him.

In my book, that inches up the turmoil factor.

Now my mouth is starting to feel dry. Why does everything having to do with Court make me aware of every internal struggle I have? It’s like being around him forces me to see more of who I am.

Who I really am.

And that’s not at all who I want to be.

Maybe it’s because Court is a what-you-see-is-what-you-get type of guy. There’s not any pretense when it comes to him.

Only amazing honesty and integrity.

Traits to be admired.

“You can sit if you want.” He perches on the edge of the desk while motioning me to the love seat.

My nerves are too crazy to sit, so I don’t. He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t comment on my refusal of his offer.

“Before we left North Carolina yesterday, my dad asked me to do him a favor.”

My nerve endings quit tingling a little as I realize this talk is going to be about Court and his dad and not about Court and me.

My nerve endings are also a tad bit disappointed.

But they won’t tell anyone.

“What kind of favor?”

“The kind of favor I wish he wouldn’t have asked.”

Those words tell a tale, don’t they? “I hate those kind of favors. Especially when asked by someone you love. Kind of makes it hard to say no, doesn’t it?”

“Impossible, really.”

“So what does your dad have you doing that you don’t really want to do?”

He pushes off the desk and stands, lowering his gaze momentarily. When he does look up, his gaze captivates me more than I want it to.

“He wants me to go to the track for the Fourth of July race at Daytona.”

Oh, that race. That race that my dad has graciously been given tickets to by Mama. “Why?”

“Because he can’t go. Storm is usually with him, but that’s his anniversary and he and the wife are taking a vacation. So my dad wants me to fill in for the weekend.”

I shake my head. “How did Storm get away with getting married in the middle of the season? I thought they all got married and had babies in the winter, when they weren’t racing.”

Once again his eyebrows raise which instantly clue me in to my error. And once again, I’ve just revealed that I know something about this sport. I need to think fast. “I’m just assuming of course.” Maybe that will cover up my faux pas.

“Of course.” His tone implies anything but. “Storm and Renney were only thinking in the moment. They weren’t thinking about forty-year anniversaries back then.”

“Guess not.”

“So, anyway, Dad wants me to hit the track that week.”

I continue to relax as the conversation proceeds. Court will be at the track. The girls and I will be here. My dad will still be none the wiser. “So, I guess you’re going.”

He leans against the desk, and I love how he looks in his black slacks and gray button up shirt. Once again, he’s barely rolled up his sleeves. He’s also loosened his tie just a little. Everything about him screams expensive.

And hot.

“We’re going.”

“We’re?”

He points at me then back at himself. “Yes. We’re. And Bristol and Darling. We’ll make it fun.”

Fun? His idea of fun and my idea of fun are different. My dad. My dad.

Those are the only words running through my mind.

They start to slow realizing my dad and I will not be traveling in the same circles at the race track. My life goal achieved.

But I never thought I’d be at any race track at the any time.

My nightmare achieved.

“How will it be fun for us if you are working?”

“Have you ever been to a race?”

“Are you kidding me?” I didn’t mean for it to come across sounding negative, but his expression indicates it was.

“Well, then, you are in for an experience. The girls will be excited, but we’re not telling them until it’s closer to the time. We won’t be able to live with them if we tell them now.”

We’re. We. The words roll out of his mouth like they are nothing. Like we’re a couple making a decision together.

“It should be interesting.” My gaze drifts to the homeschool information still sitting on Court’s desk. The file folders filled with mostly useless information. That whole thing is interesting as well.

The checks and financial statements are gone. Must be at the office.

“We’ll stay in the motor home. We won’t have a cook though. You up for that? I’m still thinking of your fried chicken.”

“I don’t think a motor home is the best place to be frying chicken.”

“You haven’t seen this motor home. You’ll think you are in a house.”

I place my hands on either side of my head. Like pushing on it will erase this conversation we’ve just had. I can’t believe the turn this has taken.

I’m actually going to be at a NASCAR race with the family that made the sport famous.

And I can’t tell a soul.

MESSAGE

MRS. STRATTON shakes her head at the sound of the garage door opening.

At mid-afternoon once again.

“Two days in a row that man has come home early.” She narrows her eyes at me, but not in a bad way.

More like a suspicious way.

The girls are watching a movie in their room and I am grabbing a snack since I somehow missed eating lunch.

I look away from Mrs. Stratton, finding my gaze drifting toward the hallway that Court will be walking up momentarily. Unbelievably, I find myself counting the seconds until he appears.

Whoa. Where did that come from and why?

I try to shift my gaze, but that doesn’t last. As I focus back on the hallway, he appears, once again dressed impeccably.

“Ladies?”

“Hello, Mr. Treyhune. To what do we owe the unexpected pleasure of your early arrival for the second day in a row?” Mrs. Stratton tone drips sarcasm.

He drops some mail on the counter. “Since the rain has cleared out, I thought I’d take my girls to the boardwalk, grab an early dinner, and hang out.”

While I feel a pang of disappointment in not being included, I realize I’ll actually have some time to myself. Time that I’m not supposed to be sleeping. It will be nice. Maybe I can make a couple of phone calls. Catch up on my social media that I’ve been totally ignoring since seeing a picture of Dale and his new girl on a mutual friend’s page.

Insensitive friend.

Dale’s friend whom I’ve since unfriended.

“So,” he starts, looking at me, “if you can get the girls ready, we’ll leave in about thirty minutes. I need to answer a couple of emails that came over while I was driving and then change my clothes.”

“Sure. They’re watching a movie, but they’ll be much more excited to go with you.”

His hand inches toward mine on the counter, but stops short of touching me. “What about you? Are you excited?”

Smiling, I wonder why he made the effort to move close to me, but didn’t touch me. “I’m excited about having a couple of hours to myself, I guess.”

“Yourself? You’re going to ditch us once we get there?”

“Oh.” My hand retracts to my lap, removing all possibility of touching him. “I thought you were just taking Team Twin.”

“Team Twin?”

He laughs as I remember that I haven’t clued him in on my nickname for the girls. “Yeah. Team Twin. Do you like it?”

“I do. It sounds like you.”

Mrs. Stratton clears her throat. Both Court and I look at her. We can’t see her face as she is not facing us, but it looks like her shoulders are tensed up.

Did Court’s words cause that?

Court walks over to Mrs. Stratton. He places his hands on the counter next to where she is standing. “I hope you’re not in the middle of making us some big, fancy dinner.”

Her knife makes a loud noise as it scrapes the cutting board. “No. I’m cutting vegetables. They’ll keep until tomorrow night. You go and have your date night with your
girls
.”

The way she says the word girls makes my body tingle. Like I’m Court’s girl. I like the way my body tingles, though.

The doorbell rings, squelching all thoughts of tingling. Mrs. Stratton sets the knife on the cutting board before wiping her hands on a towel she has hanging from her apron.

“I’ll get it,” Court says.

Mrs. Stratton resumes cutting whatever green vegetable she was cutting while Court heads to the door. As he passes by me, his cool, crisp scent breezes by making me think of the word tingle all over again.

The sound of Jared’s voice squelches it.

When Court and Jared walk into the kitchen I try to smile.

Jared’s presence puts a damper on the mood that Court created by talking about a fun evening out. Maybe Jared won’t stay long.

“How’s my Stones date?” He walks to me and gives me a hug, drenching me with his overpowering scent. I hug him back, reluctantly, remembering Court’s words about being jealous.

I find myself very aware of Court’s tension that I’m sure Jared doesn’t know exists. I would like to think it’s all about me, but I think there’s more to it.

“You have the day off?” Court asks.

“Not the day. Got to work at the crack of dawn. But I’m off the rest of the day. Good behavior.”

“I’m sure.” Court’s light tone sounds forced.

“So, I thought I’d come by and see what was shaking around here. I’m surprised to find you here, actually,” Jared says to Court.

“I live here.”

“Noted. You also normally work fifteen hour days.”

“Noted,” Court replies. “So you thought I wouldn’t be here.”

“Busted.”

“Well, you may have the afternoon off, but Shelby doesn’t. She’s working for a few more hours.”

Jared laughs. “Come on. All work isn’t good for anybody.”

“Shelby likes her work.” Court’s tone challenges Jared to disagree.

Not wanting to be drawn into this conversation, I take this opportunity to scoot down the hall where the girls are watching the movie. When I tell them we are going out, they jump up, turn the movie off and start putting on their shoes.

“Go brush your hair—teeth if you didn’t this morning.” Their hair is coming along, but I’m still in awe of the situation. And, I don’t tell them their dad is home yet. I would lose any sort of authority I have right now.

I’m still in my room stalling when the girls burst in.

“We’re ready. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, Bristol.” As I speak her name I realize I didn’t look down at the band to see who was speaking.

A small sense of accomplishment washes over me. I look at the girls realizing there are small differences that I now notice. Bristol tends to keep her hair tucked behind her ears, while Darling’s is always hanging close to her face. Bristol’s eyes have more of a defiant, narrowed look than wide-eyed Darling’s.

“Look who’s home.”

Court’s voice breaks into my Team Twin perusal. The girls run to Court as I finish putting my hair in a ponytail.

“Uncle Jared is here, too.”

As I turn toward the door, the girls leave Court and latch on to Jared who is standing in the hall. Court’s gaze catches mine. I know it’s only seconds that pass, but his gaze sends a message that my heart understands, changing it forever.

It’s as if a million words were spoken and many years passed by.

When I meet Court as he stands in my doorway, he takes my hand in his. As our fingers intertwine, and our palms meet, life makes sense for the first time.

He squeezes my hand before letting it go, and I know that squeeze is the beginning of something beautiful.

Before I can contemplate the tragedy of how the something beautiful will end, Team Twin rushes us. I know they didn’t see Court hold my hand, but as I look over at Jared, I can’t be sure if his gaze is hardened, or if I’m imagining it.

“Let’s go,” Court says, as he points down the hall. “There are entirely too many people in this hallway.”

Jared leads the way to the garage, Team Twin behind him. Court motions for me to go in front of him.

He places his hands on my shoulders as we walk down the hall, dropping them when Jared reaches the door to the garage.

I guess this something beautiful is going to be a secret something beautiful.

I’m just not sure who we are keeping it a secret from.

Jared or Team Twin.

Or both.

THE BOARDWALK ISN’T crowded on this late Tuesday afternoon. No, the only place there is too many people is in our group.

One too many.

Jared.

Jared who has tried a couple of times to pull me away from Court and the girls.

I notice Court noticing.

Whoa, this has become complicated.

Keeping the girls in line is simple compared to the tug of war between Court and Jared.

And I’m the rope.

“So, the Stones concert is Friday night. I’ll pick you up at six. That way we can have dinner before the show.” Jared’s voice is loud, like he wants to make sure we all hear him. Even Court.

My stomach drops and I speak before thinking. “I don’t get off work until at least seven. After the girls eat. Then it all depends on what time Court gets home.”

Jared playfully punches Court in the forearm. “Court’s coming home early that night, aren’t you buddy.”

“I’ll try. That’s the best I can do.”

“It’ll happen.” Jared speaks his words confidently.

To say our group is garnishing looks as people pass by would be an understatement. These two guys are gorgeous and I wonder how many people know who Court is.

No one has asked for any autographs yet, but I’m not counting it out.

I’m trying to focus on Bristol and Darling. With my mind spinning way too many amazing thoughts of Court, then trying to keep Jared at bay, my task is difficult, but doable.

Right now Bristol is holding my left hand while Darling is holding my right hand.

The girls flourish in the presence of their father. They are ten times more well behaved. Bristol’s eyes become less narrowed, while Darling’s are not so wide-eyed.

It’s like they are little girls with a simple mission of being little girls when Court is around.

Court and Jared are walking behind us. Occasionally the breeze will blow the scents of their cologne my way, Jared’s overpowering Court’s. But I’m more aware of Court’s.

“It’s hot.” Bristol tugs on my arm. “Can we get something to drink?”

I kind of turn my head to look at Court. Any excuse will do. “The girls are thirsty.”

“Looks like some lemonade to our left just up ahead.”

“Yeah!”

The girls release my grasp and take off toward the picture of the oversized lemon.

“So Jared,” Court starts. “Any luck in finding more information on the loss of profits?”

“I haven’t found much, but it looks like June is on track with the March statement.”

“We’re selling more cars. Of course June will be up. It should run away from March.”

“Exactly. It’s on track for doing that. Running away with it. Profit will be up. Way up.”

I struggle to keep my mouth closed. While my eyes are watching Team Twin, not letting them out of my sight, my ears are hearing Jared’s attempt at pacifying Court regarding his business.

I hope Court hears what I’m hearing and he’s not letting Jared’s vague explanations ring true.

But Jared is his best friend. Is Court’s judgment clouded by that fact? Court obviously has issues with the fact that Jared never let on that he knew MaryLeigh from their childhood, but this talk is about the business.

Court’s business.

Jared touches my forearm with his index finger. “Looks like you are getting burnt. Did you put any sunscreen on?”

I watch as my reddened skin turns white where the pressure of his finger was. The white fades and I have to admit that I didn’t put on any sunscreen.

Nor did I put any on Bristol and Darling.

Bad nanny.

“I guess I forgot.” I don’t add anything about forgetting Team Twin.

Jared points to a souvenir shop. “I’ll run in there and buy some.”

“That’s not necessary,” I say, but Jared is already on his way.

“Lemonade?” Court asks, as his gaze follows Jared.

“Sure.”

Bristol and Darling are standing next to me while Court purchases our cool drinks.

“Not thirsty?” I ask as he passes small drinks to the girls and a larger one to me.

“I thought we might share.” He holds up two paper-wrapped straws.

“Okay.”

The small drinks already have straws in them. He unwraps one straw and jams it through the hole. As he unwraps the other straw it drops out of his hand. He reaches down, picks it up then tosses it into the trash can. “Whoops. Guess we have to share.”

“Guess so,” I say, matching his smile.

His eyes dance with mine and for a moment I think we are the only two people on this earth.

“Jared to the rescue with sunscreen.”

Jared’s voice reminds me there are other people on the planet. I hold out my free hand offering to take the sunscreen. “Thanks.”

“No.” Jared holds tightly onto the bottle. “Let me.”

“I don’t think so, my friend.” Court holds out his hand, his intention clear. “She’s my nanny.”