Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Bayou Sweetheart\The Firefighter's New Family\Season of Redemption (9 page)

Don't make predictions that won't come true,
she reminded herself.

But when she looked up and into his eyes and saw that same hope reflected there, she had to wonder if Tomas wanted the same. But maybe he wasn't brooding and surly because he was miserable. Maybe he was afraid, just like her.

Chapter Nine

C
allie stood back to admire her handiwork.

“I think we're just about done.”

Pretty Mollie grinned from ear to ear and glanced up at Pierre. “We have a lot of talent, maybe even two green thumbs. Hey, Callie, we should plant an even bigger community garden on that vacant lot behind the church.”

Callie tugged at her ponytail. “Now that's an idea. Better than that small plot we've been using at the back of the nursery lot, but having it there by the church would show it off more and encourage people to help. The youth group could help maintain it through the summer, and you two could be in charge of that, maybe.”

Pierre groaned. “More work out in the heat?”

Mollie gave him a playful shove. “You're not even in the youth group anymore, but you love being out in the heat. You'd get to be the boss—a supervisor of sorts. And Callie did pay us for helping her this week, so we could return the favor.”

“I do like getting paid and I don't mind the heat,” Pierre, all dark, curly hair and big brown eyes, admitted. “I'd be willing to help in my spare time—with no pay.”

“I'd have to rely on volunteers if it's a bigger garden,” Callie replied. “But I think we'd get a lot of takers.” She remembered Margie's husband, Bob, offering to help.

“I wonder who owns that lot,” Mollie said as they began to pick up their tools.

“Not sure, but I can find out,” Callie replied. “The church has to mow it and keep it clean, just to keep the varmints away.” She took one last long look around, wondering if Tomas would approve. He'd sure kept to himself since the wedding last weekend. Had he decided he didn't want to dance with her ever again? “Let's load up,” she called, ready to get home and take a long shower.

Pierre motioned for the half-dozen teenagers who'd been helping and then corralled them toward the nursery van. Callie watched, smiling. Julien's rebellious little brother really had changed over the past few months. She figured Mollie had a lot to do with that. The young man was obviously in love. They planned to get married in a couple of years, after they'd saved up some money and Mollie was finished with her nursing studies at the community college a few miles north.

“Maybe they'd donate the land,” Pierre said on a parting note.

“Papa might know the owner, or maybe Reverend Guidry. We try to keep it mowed and clean, since the owner doesn't seem to care all that much about it.” After telling Mollie to make sure they'd loaded all their tools and buckets, she smiled over at the girl. “Great idea to expand the garden. And it should be fun to get everyone involved. Alma loves cooking with fresh vegetables, so I'm sure she'll approve.”

“And maybe buy some for the café,” Mollie replied. “She used a lot of our vegetables last year.”

A noise inside the house caught Callie's attention. She wiped at her brow and glanced around. She knew he was up there, probably watching her. That didn't bother her as much as it should have because Callie knew Tomas wasn't a sinister sort of man. He'd taken over the shipyard, true. But he had yet to make a move toward laying anyone off. The whole town was still buzzing about which way the hammer would fall, however. And that worried her.

So far, so good. Or as her mama used to say, “No news is good news.”

But for the past few days, Tomas had been avoiding her. They'd danced and laughed and talked at the wedding, but maybe that had been his way of being polite. Maybe he wanted to put on a good front for Nick and Brenna. After all, the man had given them a trip to Paris for their honeymoon.

Was he sincere or did he just like to throw his money around? Had he been nice to her for Brenna's sake? The dance might have been obligatory instead of a mutual thing.

She liked dancing with Tomas, though. And she was pretty sure he didn't mind dancing with her. But that one dance had brought them into a deeper intimacy and had made Callie acutely aware of her growing feelings for him.

That might have scared him away.

Not her puzzle to solve. In spite of the way he'd held her and looked at her while they danced, she had other things to keep her mind occupied and off of Tomas Delacorte and his tragic eyes. She had a business to run and she had a follow-up appointment with her doctor tomorrow morning. She'd been a little tired and cranky lately, but she attributed that to dealing with such a hard-to-read client and dreading her doctor's appointment. Praying she'd have a good report, Callie went about her work. But after Pierre had loaded her delivery van—Elvis included since he'd hopped in with the youths—and they'd all waved bye to her, Callie couldn't help but stop and take one final look at the new landscape surrounding Fleur House.

The big backyard was neat and tidy, with stone paths that wound through beds of colorful lilies and variegated azaleas and old now-pruned camellia bushes. Along the way, wild azaleas and crape myrtles, Japanese elms and magnolia trees lifted to the clouds. Benches, some stone and some teakwood or cedar, sat here and there along the paths. Down by the gurgling back bayou, an inviting wooden swing sat underneath a moss-draped live oak. A sturdy new dock out over the water displayed a wooden pier that was surrounded with built-in benches.

As she rounded the house, she surveyed the front lawn. A cedar-and-stone gazebo stood off to the side, in a spot where the water spilled out toward the Big Fleur Bayou and the Gulf.

She'd planted hibiscus and gardenias around the big, round open building to give it some color. This was her favorite spot, since it had built-in stone benches and an arched, beamed ceiling and offered a great view of both the house up on the hill and the cypress trees and water down below.

“My work here is done,” she said, turning to her pickup.

* * *

Tomas hurried down the front steps.

“Callie?”

She whirled from putting away her supplies. “Yes?”

Did he see fear in her pretty eyes? Or dread, maybe?

“I...uh...I wanted to thank you, for redoing the yard and gardens. You've done some amazing things with this old, overgrown place.”

She beamed a smile but looked embarrassed at his praise. “It's not overgrown anymore. And I found some real treasures hiding beneath all the brambles and bushes.” She lifted her right hand and pointed toward the side yard. “Those camellias are sturdy. They come from old roots and they've survived everything from drought to storms. I'll make sure they're taken care of.”

Tomas saw the pride in her eyes. She truly loved her work.

“So you'll come back now and then, to maintain things.” He glanced around, looking for reasons to bring her back. “I might need some houseplants, too. Margie said something about dish gardens and urns.” He shrugged, trying to look helpless.

“Of course.” She gave him an impish grin. “It'll cost you, though.”

“Add it to my bill.” Even if it cost him his heart, he decided. But then, he was pretty sure he'd already lost that to her. “We didn't discuss who would do the upkeep. You shouldn't have to mow this big yard all by yourself.”

“Oh, I don't do the mowing,” she corrected. “I have people who work for me doing that. They need the money.”

Tomas didn't miss the touch of censure in her eyes. “I'm trying to hold off on reorganizing the shipyard for now.”

She gave him a measuring stare. “Noble of you. I'm glad to hear that.”

She might believe him, but did she believe
in
him?

He turned to leave and then whirled around. “I'll double the pay—for your yard workers.”

Callie finished straightening her work tools. “Tomas, you don't have to offer more money every time someone comes out here to help you. We're not the kind of people who need to be bought. We only ask for an honest wage for an honest day's work.”

He stepped back, the slap of her words stinging him. “I want to pay people for an honest day's work. This isn't about charity, Callie. I truly appreciate everything the people of Fleur have done for me.”

“And we appreciate the jobs,” she retorted. Slamming the rusty tailgate, she turned and wiped her hands down her jeans and exhaled a tired sigh. “Just keep things on a business kind of level. People want to work, not be handed something out of sympathy. If you want to impress the people of Fleur, come up with a way to keep most of them working at the shipyard.”

Not used to her being so snappish, he noticed she looked fatigued. “I'm not doing anything out of sympathy. When I first came here, I had big plans to cut half the workforce at the shipyard. But I didn't.”

Shock colored her face. “Well, I'm thankful for that. You did make a promise to those kids the other day, remember?”

He stepped closer. “I
didn't
do it, but I didn't promise a full work crew, either. That's my point. I could have let everyone go, but I didn't. I haven't decided yet.”

She tugged at her ponytail then took a long breath. “You wanted to shut the place down, didn't you? What changed your mind?”

Tomas stared down at her, saw the confusion in her eyes, saw the tug-of-war in her heart. He felt both, but he couldn't stop himself. “You, Callie. You changed my mind.” He took another step. “You changed me.”

“Me?” She backed away. “I haven't done anything.”

“You don't have to do anything. You only have to stand there and be yourself. It's enough. It's...hard to understand, hard to explain. And hard to resist.”

Putting on a blank face, she softened her expression and her tone. “Well, whatever I did, I'm glad it worked. You can't fire everyone, Tomas. It's not fair.”

“No, but...that's life,” he replied. He tapped a hand against the truck. “I need to tell you something. If you'll listen.”

“I'm listening.” But she looked wary.

“I came here with an agenda.”

“You think?”

“I'm not proud of it, but I bought the shipyard to...get even with someone.”

He had her attention now. Her eyes flared with smoke and fire. “Who could have hurt you so much that you'd come back here to ruin lives?”

Tomas turned away from the scorn and disappointment he saw on her face. Laying his hands over the tailgate of the truck, he stared out across the prim, immaculate yard. “My father,” he said.

Callie let out a gasp. “Your father? Does he live here, work at the shipyard? What's going on, Tomas?”

“I didn't want to involve you,” he replied. “I won't involve you. But just know that I didn't follow through with my ambitious need to get back at him.”

“Does he live in Fleur?” she asked again, her hand near his on the tarnished truck.

Tomas swallowed the last of his resolve. If he couldn't trust this woman, he'd never trust anyone. “No. He used to live here, but...he's in New Orleans now.”

“Tomas?” She reached out her hand toward him. “Tomas?”

“I shouldn't have told you that.” He turned to go back to the house.

“Tomas, don't walk away from me. I can be a good listener, too.”

He pivoted back to stare at her. “I don't want to talk about this. Not yet.” He put his hands in his jeans' pockets. “Callie, remember I stayed with my wife when I could have left. And now, because of you, I'm letting go of some of my old grudges. I don't know why I want to impress you so much, but I do. Just remember that.”

“Hey, you don't have to impress me,” she called after him. “But you do need to be honest with me.”

“I'm sorry.” He turned and hurried toward the house, toward the refuge that had turned into a prison. Why had he bought this big old house anyway? To show everyone that he'd gone from being a lonely loser to a successful, wealthy businessman? None of these people even knew who he was or remembered anything about his mother and him, so how could he blame them now?

What did any of that matter if he could never have the things he'd craved all of his life—a home, someone to love, and now, Callie?

What did any of this matter without a woman like her?

* * *

Callie toweled her wet hair and tugged her old chenille robe around her shoulders. The shower had soothed her sore muscles, but her nerves were still scattered and on edge.

“His father.”

She couldn't get that out of her mind. And she didn't remember any Delacortes living here. Maybe she could do some research and find out the truth. Why the need for revenge? What could a father possibly do to a son to make him feel that way?

Nick had told her Tomas had never known his father. Was that his reason for all of this? To get even with a man who'd abandoned him?

Her cell phone rang and Callie moaned. “No, I just want to eat some soup and go to bed.”

But she had to answer. It could be one of her sisters having a meltdown, or her father needing some company.

Glancing around her plant-filled bedroom, she finally found her phone near her purse on the old oak dresser. She didn't recognize the number. “Hello?”

“I want to take you out to dinner tonight.”

Tomas. “Why?” she asked, surprised.

“So we can have some real time together, without teenagers or mud or manure or Elvis. Just us.”

The thrill tickling her spine caused her to quip, “I like dogs and teenagers and mud. And I'm used to dealing with...manure.”

“I can tell that, but...I want to take you to dinner anyway, to celebrate the garden makeover. You did a great job. Every time I walk through my yard, I'll think of you.”

She closed her eyes to that sweet revelation. “I'm not hungry.” Her stomach growled in protest.

“Callie, please?”

“Where are we going?”

“Wear something pretty. Your favorite cocktail dress.”

“I don't have a lot of cocktail dresses, Tomas.”