A Discovery of Hope (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 3) (9 page)

Chapter Thirteen

How can a week start out with so much promise, and then fall completely on its ear? Sunday’s worship service in the park was surprisingly enjoyable and Monday night on the farm still leaves me in awe.

Since then, things have plummeted completely—starting with my misstep with Jace at the pizza parlor on Tuesday. I was too pumped up on optimism to think that all the way through and feel lousy over it.

Wednesday was a nightmare altogether. JP went out of town for a photo shoot, leaving me and Duke to man things. And that was fine until Duke had to go to class and left me alone. He knows the pricing and business stuff. I do not. JP hasn’t showed me any of that. All I know how to do is catalogue photos and replace the open spots with other photos after a sale. We exchanged cell numbers before he flew out, but I dared not call him and admit I couldn’t handle things. My stubborn pride hasn’t helped me. There were a few things I really should have called him about. Wednesday was spent with me scrambling between answering the phone and greeting clients who had little patience with a college intern.

The same statement was on a repeat all day. “JP will be back on Friday, but I can take your information so he can get back with you then. Ugh. Not. Fun.

Thursday rolled around and I was relieved to go back to class until it became evident Jace wasn’t allowing me in his world again. I really expected Hope to pop in and offer me some words of encouragement and some of her wisdom, but nothing. I’m realizing her appearances are not at my convenience. I only have a few weeks left of this class and I need to figure out how to salvage my sort-of-friendship with Jace. That was sad, but then the professor walked in and told us about a freak accident that happened the night before on campus. The class was somber and a headache nudged at me for the first time in weeks.

So here I am on Friday and I have a feeling this crummy week isn’t even close to being over. I had to attend a student meeting first thing this morning on campus safety. Duke attended one yesterday but I didn’t have time. The college president addressed us on the unfortunate accident and then concluded with a brief eulogy on the college sophomore who lost his life. He was an education major who just wanted to goof around, and that choice cost him dearly.

I’m back to the gallery and swamped with clients waiting to meet with JP. He’s back, but I’ve not laid eyes on him yet. His office is an off-limits revolving door today so I’m not able to catalogue any photos. Duke is here, and between the both of us, photos are being sold and appointments are scribbled down. JP is already booked solid for the next few months. I got a good look at his calendar and it’s riddled with events, shoots, and trips all around the world—so much so that it made my eyes cross. I have no idea how he keeps it all straight.

By late afternoon the place finally settles down. I’m in the middle of speaking with a potential buyer who has his eye on a city scape collage when a very leggy blonde, who’s wearing a flirty sundress, strolls right into JP’s office like she owns the place. I only glimpse her from behind, but it’s obvious she’s gorgeous. Moments later, JP ushers his last client, a pregnant woman, out of his office. I’m watching her happily waddle out the front door when I hear him speak.

“I’m done for the day. Don’t bug me with anything.” The door slams closed behind him.

Well. I guess Casanova needs some private time. Ugh.

It takes Duke and me nearly an hour to close the gallery for the day. He wastes no time after locking the front door to bail on me for a hot date.
A hot date
. Now that is something I would like to have, but have no idea where to start. Dad hasn’t ever let me date much, and I’ve always been too wrapped up in my perfect life to give much thought to a guy. Lately, I’m finding myself lonely quite often.

I’m sweeping up the wood floors in my lonely little bubble when JP’s door swings open, revealing one incredibly stunning woman followed by JP. I freeze in my tracks and embarrassingly gawk at her.

“Willow, I want you to meet the prissiest woman in the world,” JP introduces.

I interrupt him. “Julia Rose,” I say and hope I don’t squeal.

“Julia
Stone
actually, but her husband agrees with me that she’s too prissy.” They both laugh at that.

They are standing next to each other and I’m amazed at the uncanny resemblance—even through JP’s beard stubble and unkempt hair. Both tall, very blonde, beautiful, and gorgeous. “Are you two twins?”

“No. I have a—”

Julia pops him in the gut in a dainty motion. He’s right. She is quite prissy. “Play pretty now. I think we can duly note you are all male.”

JP shrugs his shoulders innocently. “I was only going to say I have a few years less on my age than you, big sis.” With a broad grin on his face, it’s evident he loves rubbing this fact in.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry Savannah stuck you with this jerk all summer.” Julia flutters her dainty hand in her brother’s direction.

“It’s okay,” I say. “JP’s all right.”

His sister smirks at this. “Bless your heart,” she retorts, and we both know she just insulted my intelligence. She’s a famous supermodel, so I decide to excuse her just this once. Julia directs her attention to JP. “Now, don’t you dare get Greyson into any trouble while I’m gone.”

JP holds his hands up. “I’m not making any promises. Pretty boy is a grown man. He can get his own self in trouble without my help.”

“You better behave or I’ll sic Savannah on you.”

“She’s on my sh…crap list right now. I ain’t scared of her.” He crosses his arms.

It’s quite obvious he’s still rubbed wrong with being stuck with me. I didn’t miss that quick glance the siblings cut my way at his comment. I can only imagine what they’ve discussed in the last hour.

“Willow, it was nice to meet you,” Julia says. She gives her brother a quick peck on the cheek before leaving us.

A long huff escapes through my pierced lips. “Please tell me you have something useful for me to do.”

JP starts heading to the back workroom. “Sure. You can help me catch up on some framing.”

I follow after him. I’ve learned in this short time that JP does all of the photo and canvas processing himself. He has this guy who handcrafts custom frames for the art. Except for that, he sends nothing out of the shop. It’s amazing how hands-on he is with everything. The man’s success has rapidly increased right before my eyes in just the few short weeks I’ve known him. I have no idea how JP plans on keeping this up.

We enter the spacious room that houses the giant canvas printers and other high-tech gadgets. We move over to the large work table with a substantial stack of wrapped frames along with a thick pile of printed photos with information tabs attached to them. It looks like a few hours’ worth of work, which is fine by me. Anything pertaining to photography is appealing.

We are only a few photos in when JP shocks me by actually asking how school has been going this week. He doesn’t do personal chitchat. Or he hasn’t up until now.

“It’s been a rough week,” I admit while sliding the back on a frame and securing it in place.

JP grabs the framed artwork and places it against the wall before retrieving the next one for us to assemble. “Yeah?”

I open the back and watch as he slides the next photo in. I decide to fill him in on the campus trouble. “There was an accident at the summer dorms Wednesday night.”

He takes the backing and fits it in place. “What happened?” he asks absently as he continues to focus on the photo.

“A group of guys set out to break some daredevil stunt record. It’s the stunt where a whole line of guys take turns running and jumping over a small car as it drives towards them. I think it was a Fiat they used in the stunt. One of the guys tripped and was run over. And, well, he didn’t make it.” I whisper most of this and hush up when I notice JP has gone still. “Such a tragic accident that could have been avoided,” I mutter.

JP abruptly snatches the framed art out of my hand. “I got this. You’re free to go do whatever,” he snaps, confusing me.

“I don’t mind.” I try taking the frame back, but he moves away from me.

“I don’t want your help. Now, get lost,” he says through gritted teeth.

Confused and hurt, I reluctantly head upstairs. I thought the jerk would say something comforting on what I had shared with him, but it seemed to tick him off. I don’t get this guy. At. All.

~~~~~

It’s close to midnight and sleep keeps eluding me. I’ve taken a long, hot shower in an attempt to relax, and tried reading a novel I picked up from the library, but sadly nothing is luring me anywhere near slumber. I’m still pretty aggravated with JP’s odd reaction from earlier. I’m tossing and turning when my phone goes off, causing me to nearly clear the bed in surprise. I’m even more surprised when the caller ID displays JP’s number. Is he calling me from somewhere in the building?

“Hello?”

“I need a ride,” he mumbles.

“What? You’re not
here
?”

“NO! I’m not
here
, but I need to be.” He slurs this out and I realize he is completely smashed. Anger instantly washes over me.

“Call Duke,” I snap and hang up. Before I can place the phone back on the nightstand, it goes back to ringing. “Are you kidding me?” I yell into the phone.

“Kid you not. Duke’s gone home,” he mumbles. There’s loud music and ruckus echoing in the background.

“Call sober ride,” I say. My patience is running thin.

“That’s what I’m doing.” He pauses and I hear him take a deep, ragged breath. “I’m sorry for this, but I really need you to come get me.”

I sit up on the side of the rumpled bed. “Where are you?”

“Sweet Willow… I knew you would come get me,” he says and lets out a heavy sigh.

“
Where
, JP?”

“Big Al’s Bar and Grill.”

Without another comment, I hang up on him. I pull up the search app on my phone and start looking up cab services. Hope decides to appear in this moment. “Not now,” I mutter as I hit the call button. A service operator answers. “Yes. I need a cab sent to Big Al’s Bar and Grill.” I start to give an address I’ve pulled up, but my phone goes dead. I cut my eyes to Hope, suspiciously.

“Call them back and send them here to pick you up,” she instructs. My phone blinks back to life.

I restart the cab search. “Why? That makes no sense.”

“JP needs you to go to him.”

“Why?”

“To prove that he’s worth it.”

“Worth what? He’s drunk. This makes no sense. The man goes to church and prays! What business does he have getting drunk?” I begin to pace the floor with frustration stomping in each step. This angel is about to make me do something I
really
don’t want to do.

“John Paul stumbled today.”

“Well, I don’t care for that.”

“Oh, my child. You lived in that rainbows-and-butterflies bubble way too long. Everyone stumbles.
Everyone
.”

“Why on earth does God allow it?” This baffles me.

“He loves each one of you so much. He wants you to be allowed the freedom of choice.”

My fingers rub along the scar on my scalp. “What good is that freedom if you make the wrong choice?”

Hope pulls my hand away from my head. It’s such a motherly gesture that all at once I miss my mom.

“Your dad, Dr. Carter, may not agree with photography being your right choice, but he loves you enough to grant you the freedom. He can only hope you choose wisely. I guarantee he will be there for you no matter what—a climb or a fall. Same with your heavenly Father.”

“But I thought getting drunk is a big no-no.”

“All sin is a big no-no. I’m not condoning JP’s behavior, but I can understand.”

“Him drinking? You can understand that?” I question the angel skeptically.

“Yes. He’s in pain and trying to numb it out. It’s no different than when you take an extra pain pill to numb out more than just your migraine.”

This statement slaps me in the face, causing my body to actually sway.

“I’ve…I’ve only done that a few times…” My face warms with embarrassment.

“The same can be said about him. And trust me, he’s already regretting it. Neither of those choices in numbing the pain is the answer. Both of you should lean on God when life gets to be too unbearable.”

Her words shut me up as I stand by the bed in guilt. I’m realizing painfully that, yes, I may have been living in a delusional perfect bubble. But perfect I am not.

Hope speaks, bringing me out of my revelations. “Call for that cab to pick you up, please.”

I do as she instructs without any more protest. I get dressed and she follows me out front to wait on the cab. This is all a first for me. I’ve never been to a bar, much less arriving in a cab. My thoughts go over JP’s peculiar reaction to me today and wonder what kind of pain he is trying to numb. I ask Hope as we wait, but all she says is that I need to let JP confide in me with that when he’s ready. Great.