Carnations in January (11 page)

~*~

Grace sat with the laptop on the table, a half designed page on the screen in front of her. She couldn't concentrate. The verse Elliott had preached on ran rampant through her mind. She pulled up the Internet and searched for it. She still didn't know why she'd gone to church after she'd told him she wouldn't.

She read the verses again.

His voice echoed in her thoughts.
God's hand is mighty, all powerful, yet all caring. Humble yourself under it when things are going great so you don't get proud and when times are hard so you know where to turn. God is in overall control no matter how bad things get. He will intervene at just the right time. He cares for you, so give up all your anxiety and cares to Him and leave them there. We don't deserve His love, but He loves us anyway. He showed that by sending Jesus. The cross shows us the depth of God's love
.

Grace shut the laptop and stood. She didn't need God. So why did she feel as empty as she did? Moving to the window, she looked over the road at the gap between the houses—the hole almost mirroring the chasm within her. Snow began to fall. The site had been cleared, ready for work to begin the following day. Ready for Elliott's hands to rebuild her home.

Elliott…

She shook her head. She needed a man in her life just as much as she needed a hole in the head. She needed that even less than she needed God.

So why did one particular man keep appearing and taking center place?

Love was…love wasn't for her. It was dangerous. A stab in the dark. A leap of faith—Faith—God—church—Elliott.

She groaned. Why was all this so linked? Why did one man keep doing this to her? What had she done to deserve any of this?

Nothing
a voice whispered.
Love comes not because we love, but because He does
.

She shook her head. She'd go for a walk. Fresh air would help.

Perhaps.

~*~

Snow fell softly as Elliott crossed the park. It swirled around him, covering the grass in a light coat of white. Snow was fine on Christmas cards, but not otherwise.

A woman stood by the pond, shoulders slumped, hands shoved in her pockets. Snowflakes lay in her hair and she shivered, yet didn't move. Grace…he'd recognize her anywhere.

Joel was right. The thought hit him with the force of a thunderbolt.

Grace had stolen into his heart whether he liked it or not. She was the reason for this unsettled feeling that swelled within him, but he didn't dare act on it. What if she said no?

He'd committed to rebuilding her house. She lived next door. He couldn't avoid contact with her even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. He sucked in a deep breath, tugging the collar of his full length coat around his neck. Did he just leave? She hadn't seen him, but something drew him over to her.

His feet crunched on the gravel and fallen snow as he walked down the path and stood beside her. His umbrella offered her some protection from the snow. “Hi.”

Grace looked up. “Hello.”

“Least it stopped raining.”

“True.”

A slight uplift teased the corner of her mouth, causing a spear to twist through him.

She turned to him. “Is this going to affect the building work?”

Annoyed with his body for the way it was reacting to such a small smile, Elliott shook his head. “No.”

“Good.”

Did he mention seeing her in church that morning? No. He'd wait and see if she said anything. “You look cold.”

“I am a little.” Grace hugged her hands deeper in her pockets. “But I had to get out of the flat. I'm going stir crazy in there.”

“Come on. I'll buy you a coffee, warm you up a little.”

“On a Sunday?” Her gaze held his, pulling him into the depths. “Doesn't that break a commandment or something?”

Elliott pretended to think. “The twelfth I think it is.”

“Twelfth? I thought there were only ten.”

“Usually there are.” He winked. “The eleventh is thou shalt not get caught. And the twelfth is—”

“Thou shalt not buy coffee on a Sunday,” Grace finished.

He chuckled. “But I won't tell anyone if you don't.”

“OK. Thank you.”

Ten minutes later, Elliott carried two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream, sprinkles, and a chocolate flake, across the Inn at the Park to where Grace sat.

She smiled at him. “No coffee?”

“Not breaking the twelfth commandment this way. Besides, this looked far more enticing,” he said. He slid into the chair opposite her.

“It does.” Grace wrapped her hands around the cup. “I'll have to buy some gloves tomorrow if this keeps up. And a scarf.”

“And a hat,” he added.

“Yeah, along with everything else. I've bought some bits, but the washing machine is cleaning my few clothes on overtime. My mum always said three outfits were enough. You know, one on, one off and one in the wash? Well it isn't anywhere near enough.”

He sipped his drink, trying to keep the conversation on neutral ground so as not to upset her anymore. “How's the website going?”

“OK, I guess.” She sipped the hot chocolate. “I managed to upload the new logo. I ordered new signs and the uniforms and they should come this week, but I'm beginning to wonder what the point is.”

A rock settled in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean? Are you—” he broke off. Surely, she didn't mean she was leaving?

She shrugged. “I don't know. I mean, if business doesn't pick up a bit, I can't afford it, then…” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, the cup inches from her lips. “I wish I had the answers, but I don't. More questions and doubts than anything. Mostly about the business and my ability to run it.”

“Any new business takes time to get off the ground—and you're still less than a month into yours. Once word gets out and people know the shop is back, things will pick up, you'll see. Tilja wasn't rich, but she made enough to live comfortably.”

“At least I don't have a mortgage,” she whispered.

“Exactly.” Elliott sipped his drink, the heat from it warming his throat as he swallowed. “And, trust me, you don't want one of those.”

“Doesn't your brother help with that?”

“Yes, but it still takes most of what I earn. Just like everyone else.”

“Yeah.”

He watched as she drank, closing her eyes as she swallowed, so obviously savoring the scent and taste of the chocolate. Sadness emanated from every fiber of her being, creating a murky aura around her, one that was almost palpable. What was bothering her? Was it simply the house and shop, or was it something more?

“What are you thinking?”

Her voice jarred him out of his thoughts, and he struggled to reply. “Me?”

“Yeah. You're sitting there, staring at me.”

Elliott shifted, his cheeks burning, embarrassed at having been caught. “Honestly? I was wondering what made you look so sad.”

“Oh?”

In for the proverbial penny…
“Don't take this the wrong way, but even though you smile and so on, it never seems to come from inside you.”

“There isn't much to be cheerful about.” Grace set the cup down, her fingers gripping the base. “Not anymore.”

“It's more than that.” He wanted to reach out, touch her fingers with his, but he kept his hands still. “Or am I wrong?”

He'd hit home, he knew that by the way she fidgeted on her chair and played with the cup. The silence grew, but he wouldn't speak again. If she chose not to answer that was fine, but he prayed she would. He wanted to help if he could.

Finally she spoke. “I just feel so empty. Everyone else has something I don't.”

“Like what?” he prompted.

“It varies. A home, family, friends…a life.”

“You have all of those.”

“Not exactly.” Grace sucked in a deep breath. “My home is a space between two houses. My family, what's left of them, live three hundred miles away. Friends are, well, the least said about that the better, and my life—hah, right.”

Elliott reached over and touched her hand. “OK. Continuing to be blunt here. Your home is where your heart is, or your hat if you go by the song. And don't point out you don't have one either.”

“I wasn't going to, but I can if you want.”

“Your family is always here,” he continued, touching his heart with his free hand. “Distance is no object. Life is what you make of it. Every day is a gift. We chose how to use it.” He held her gaze. “And as for friends? You have Shana and Mandy…and me.”

She didn't move her hand away from his. “You?”

“Yes, me.” He gently caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I care about you, probably more than I should do. This is hard…” He paused, not sure how to phrase this. “I watched a woman destroy my twin, and I swore that would never happen to me—”

He didn't want to see her any more. She sighed, she
was
destructive. Grace frowned and pulled her hand away. “I see. Thank you for the drink. I should get going.” She stood and turned, tugging up her collar in the same movement.

Elliott sat motionless as she hurried from the inn, his insides knotting. What just happened? What had he said to make her leave? He stood, intending to go after her. He had to put it right.

Snow churned around him in a blizzard as he exited the warm building, matching the way his emotions soared and tumbled. His breath hung in the frigid air.

Grace was nowhere in sight.

He was alone.

10

Grace threw herself into the flower shop. Perhaps if she did nothing but work it'd fill the hole inside her. By Saturday, a week had passed without Elliott coming over. She missed the coffee. She missed the contact.

Be honest, Gracie, you miss him
.

She glanced at the carnation in her hand as she paused in arranging a bouquet.

OK, yes, I miss him, but after what he said—

And he must have meant it, because he'd stayed away. So much for him being a friend and caring. He was right on every level. She destroyed everything she touched. Things, people, everything. He was better keeping his distance.

And the chasm within her remained as big as ever.

Shana came in, stamping the snow from her boots. An arctic blast shot through the door with her. “Well, they are going to get a white wedding. No way is this going to thaw before next week—not with the forecast anyway. Quite romantic actually. And speaking of romance, have you seen Elliott recently?”

“No, I haven't.” She frowned. “And romance doesn't even begin to come into it.”

Shana took off her coat and hung it up. “You reckon? Grace, the man is besotted with you. He brings you coffee and looks out for you. I wish someone did that for me. And I know you feel the same way, the fact you blush when he comes in gives it away.”

“I haven't seen him in over a week.” Grace laid the carnations in the box and picked up the cellophane. “He hasn't asked me out on a date, or held my hand, never mind anything else.” The lie pricked at her conscience. She ignored it. Touching her hand briefly didn't count. Nor did dinner when he'd asked. “Besides…”

“Besides, what?” Shana came over and started helping with the orders.

“Nothing.” Grace shrugged. “He made it clear on Sunday how he felt. So that's an end of it.”

“What happened on Sunday?”

“It's nothing. Anyway, I'm thinking about going back to Ely. Getting a manager in to run this place.”

“You're leaving?” Shana's face fell. “Why?”

“This was a mistake.”

Mandy frowned. “But you're so good with the flowers now. That arrangement in the window is amazing. The customers love you. The distributer you found is fantastic. You can't leave. I'll beg if I have to.”

“Don't,” Grace said. She could see the disappointment on the girls' faces and a spear pierced her anew. She had no choice. She couldn't stay.

“Elliott will miss you.”

“No, he won't.”

“I won't what?” Elliott asked from the doorway. He held out three cups. “Coffee, ladies?”

Shana grinned. “Thank you. We'll take ours out the back as it sounds like the lorry just arrived. Come on, Mandy.” She took the cup and dashed out the back, Mandy right behind her.

Grace could feel her cheeks burning as Elliott turned that intense blue gaze of his on her.

“Well?” he asked. “I won't what?”

“Shana reckons you'll miss me when I leave.”

Shock resonated on his face and in his eyes and his whole body stiffened. “You're leaving?”

“It's for the best.”

He frowned. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“You said it on Sunday, but I knew before that.” The phone rang. “Excuse me.” She turned her back on him, grabbing it before Shana had chance to answer it out the back. She'd never been so relieved to answer a call. “Carnation Street Florist, Grace speaking. How can I help you?”

~*~

Elliott stood for a moment, then left, tweaking his sleeve.
What have I done?
He trudged back over to the building site, shoulders slumped. He'd been too busy working this week to stop by; he wasn't ignoring her. He'd been plucking up the courage to say what he wanted. But what was the point now if she was leaving?

The site was quiet as most of the workers had gone on a break. He made his way up the ladder to the loft. The beginnings of the attic room were taking shape nicely. He leaned against the angled beam and sighed. The phone rang and he answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, El.” Joel sounded way too cheerful. “Did you ask her? What did she say?”

“I didn't ask her.”

“You're kidding. Why not?”

“She's leaving,” he whispered. “There's no point.” He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. He grabbed his tool belt, fastening it around his waist. The house needed finishing. Just because she wasn't going to live here, didn't mean he couldn't do it for her.