Makin' Miracles (9 page)

She looked up at him. “Is that how you always felt?”

“We were talking about you.” He barked the words at her.

“If you say so.” She sat back in the rocker to rock again.

Provoked at the turn in the conversation, he introduced at new topic. “I hear Ben Lee has started telling everyone you are going to get a
knowing
about who hurt his daughter. That you're going to find her.”

She sighed. “I guess I need to talk with him again about that.”

Spencer paced over to look out at the view again. “It could be dangerous for you having idle talk like that milling around about you, Zola. What if the killer is still around? He might feel threatened about you. He might decide you know something. Might want to silence you. Did you ever think of that?”

Zola stretched her shoulders. “It would be nice to think you could be worried about me, Spencer. But I think you're only trying to provoke me or anger me today. To take my peace because you can't find yours.”

He took a step toward her, scowling. “I told you not to read my mind, Zola. To try to analyze me.”

“Just a lucky guess this time.” She stood up. “I kind of wish you hadn't come out here today, Spencer. I was having a good time before you did. Enjoying all the signs of spring beginning to pop out. Reveling in new beginnings. Thinking of how nature—and people—can always reinvent themselves. Become new. Shed the old.”

He stepped toward her aggressively, clenching his fists. “You're preaching at me.”

“No. But it wouldn't hurt you to shed some of your old garbage.” She shook her head. “It's as easy to be happy as it is to be miserable, Spencer.”

“So now you're saying I'm miserable and full of old garbage?” He felt his anger rising.

“You're taking everything I say and putting it in the worst possible light.” She put a hand on his chest. “I've certainly seen a new side of you today, Spencer Jackson. A moody, broody, dark side.”

She tilted her head to one side, considering him. “It's like you have a foot caught in the past, like an animal with its foot caught in a trap.”

“So what should I do, oh wise Zola, chew off my foot like the old fable?”

She pushed at his chest then. “No. Simply open the trap and let yourself out. Free yourself. I believe you are capable of doing that.”

He searched for an answer, caught off guard by her words.

“God will help you if you ask Him, Spencer.” Her words grew soft.

“Don't mess with my faith, Zola.” He clenched his fists again. “I have my own kind of relationship with God and it suits me just fine.”

“Does your faith help you? Can you draw strength from it?”

He pulled away from her now. “Stop it. I don't want you digging around in my life, Zola. I have as much a right to my ways as you do to yours. Besides, who are you to say I'm not happy with my life? I don't like you always probing at me.”

She watched him quietly for a moment. “You seem so angry at me today. Perhaps you'd like for me to go home. Would you like that, Spencer?”

He could feel the soft peace radiating off her again, and it made him prickly and churlish. “Yeah, why don't you do that, Zola? Just go home and leave me alone.”

She studied him, gave him a small wave, and then left. Not adding any more words. Not asking any more questions.

He watched her walk down the hill and then slip out of view as the trail switched north and disappeared into a stand of evergreens. She didn't turn back to wave good-bye at the turn as she usually did.

Zeke sensed her leaving and looked after Zola with questioning eyes, whining with agitation and making Spencer feel worse. He whistled for the dog not to follow after her. He and Zeke often walked part way down the mountain with Zola, and the dog had learned the pattern. The shepherd came back to the hut, obviously disappointed.

Spencer sat in the rocker and tried to find and savor his own peace. But it evaded him. He got up and paced the hut, his thoughts a torment. Surprisingly, he felt worse after Zola left than he had before. He hadn't expected that.

He knew he'd been unkind to Zola. He wasn't usually such a jerk.

Spencer kicked at a pinecone on the floor near the rocker. It was all Bowden's fault. He never should have opened that e-mail.

Spencer brooded for two days after receiving Bowden's e-mail. There had been a time earlier in his life when he yearned for his brother's attention, when he'd have been thrilled to hear from him. But over the years Bowden's teasing, his subtle put-downs, and biting criticism had finally caused Spencer to pull away. When Bowden married Geneva, Spencer lost the last threads of hope for having a warm, loving relationship with his brother. Now, he found it easier to stay away from his family in Richmond—to keep his distance from Bowden.

He unlocked and pushed open the door of the Jackson Gallery on Thursday morning, still feeling broody and preoccupied. Restless and edgy.

“Hello, my brother.” Aston Parker got up from the bench behind the counter in the gallery. As always, he crossed the room to wrap Spencer in a warm hug. Spencer had grown used to Aston's easy affection over the years. But it had taken time. His own family were not the type to hug each other affectionately.

“I've brought Clark some more images to go through.” He laid a stack of digital memory cards on the counter. “I put them on cards so he can load them.”

“He'll be in later. I'll see that he gets them.”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't slept well again last night.

Aston gestured to the little sitting area in the gallery. “Stay for a while. I'll get us a cup of coffee. The gallery won't open for another thirty minutes.”

Spencer slumped into one of the sofas, glad for a little company this morning.

Aston brought the coffee back and draped himself across one of the chairs beside Spencer. He was a tall black man, his skin a warm brown, his dark eyes friendly, and his smile a mile wide. Aston and Spencer had been friends for twelve years. They met the first year Spencer started college in Savannah.

“I think I miss having you around, friend.” Aston propped his long legs on the magazine table. “The chalet feels lonely some days.” Aston had stayed on in the chalet he and Aston previously shared further down the mountain.

“Is that right?” Spencer smiled and realized this was the first time he'd felt a surge of happiness in days.

“Hmmm.” Aston studied him. “You look kind of rough, friend. Either you've been out in the field too long or something's troubling you.”

Spencer sipped his coffee, not sure what he wanted to tell Aston.

Aston leaned forward. “I'm your brother, man. There's not much we haven't shared. You know about my alcoholic father, my unwed mother, and my brother who spent two years in prison. We've had some long nights of sharing our past, you and I. We've let down our hair about our past lives and rejoiced in the many ways we've overcome.” He elbowed Spencer's arm. “It's hardly a time to keep things from me now.”

He spoke the straight truth. That's one of the things Spencer had always liked about Aston. That, and the fact that he could trust him.

Spencer heaved a sigh. “I got an e-mail from Bowden on Tuesday. A nice, friendly, brotherly e-mail.” He felt his fists clench as he talked and knew his tone was sarcastic. “He even sent me a family picture.”

Aston raised an eyebrow. “Hardly the norm for Bowden. My guess is there were some subtle digs tucked into the commentary. What was the main point he gave for writing?”

“My parents have an upcoming fortieth anniversary. Bowden says he's working on me to come.” Spencer drank some more of the hot coffee, grateful for the surge of caffeine this morning.

Aston snorted. “Well, I'm sure Bowden didn't present the invitation in a way that made you yearn to be present.” He laughed. “But it is an important event. Maybe you should consider going, man. You can face what's there now. You're strong and time has passed.”

“We've had this talk before.” Spencer knew his voice sounded surly.

Aston crossed his arms. “Yes, and we'll have this talk again until I can persuade you to face the past and deal with it. It's hard to move on until you do.”

Spencer looked at Aston over his coffee cup. “Like you did with your dad?”

“Yes. Like I did with my dad.” Aston's face darkened for a moment. “It was a hard meeting, but I got freed by having it. It was needed.”

Spencer pushed his coffee cup around on the table. “It's not like I haven't seen my parents since I left home.”

“Yes, but, man, you haven't been home once in twelve years. It's not normal or natural to stay away for so long.”

Spencer snapped his answer. “My home life wasn't normal or natural.”

Aston waved a hand. “Ahhh. It wasn't so bad. You were loved, raised with all the advantages, sent away to college, had all your needs met.”

Spencer interrupted him. “No, I didn't have all my needs met. And my parents always excused the way my brother acted. Even when it was wrong.”

“Your brother is a slick and sly one.” Aston shrugged. “And from what you've always said, he's much like your grandfather Stettler Jackson, another less than admirable character. Your brother's flaws probably seemed comfortable to your father—and to your mother—having lived around them so long with your grandfather. Excusing the flaws of family members becomes a pattern in some families.”

“They always favored him, too.” Spencer felt himself scowl.

“So? My father always favored my sisters, Letitia and Damika. And he was fond of pounding on Jamal and me when he was drunk.” He spread his hands. “Was it their fault? Should I dislike them for it?”

“It's not the same thing.” Spencer barked out the words.

Aston gave a deep laugh. “Those girls teased and provoked me, too. Made my life a misery sometimes. You've got to be an overcomer, Spencer. Let the past go. And don't worry so much over tomorrow. Live in today. Enjoy the present.”

He nudged Spencer's knee with his foot. “Find a nice woman. Kiss a pretty girl. Like Miss Zola Devon.” Aston wiggled his eyebrows at Spencer, grinning.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably. “That's unlikely. I messed that up while I've been in this funk.”

“Ahhh. So there's more than Bowden Jackson behind this mood of yours.” Aston finished off the last of his coffee and sat the mug on the table. “You might as well tell me what happened.”

Spencer told him about the day at the hut. “I ran her off, Aston. I was rude. I found myself comparing her to Geneva in my mind. And thinking about what Bowden would say about her.”

Aston laughed, annoying Spencer. “You need to smarten up, man. If you found another woman like Geneva, you should run hard and fast the other way, not go after her. Don't you know that by now? And considering the good character of your brother, any woman he'd like might be one to steer clear of.”

He shook his head. “Good friend, you've spent too many years looking for another Geneva and wishing for some girl your brother would be impressed with. When are you going to stop doing that? It is foolishness.”

Aston put a hand on Spencer's arm. “When are you going to see who you are and seek what is right for yourself—and say the heck with what others think?”

Spencer scratched his neck. “I don't know. I seem to stay locked in the past in some dark way, even when I don't want to stay there. Even after Leena Evanston thieved from me I found myself thinking about how impressed Bowden would have been with her looks, her polish, and her position.”

“Man, how can you see that, acknowledge it—and not want to move on?” Aston gave him a disgusted look. “Especially when you've got a nice girl like Zola showing an interest in your sorry self.”

“I doubt she'd want to see me again.” Spencer sagged back into the sofa dejectedly. “She hasn't even come to the hut at Raven's Den since I ran her off.”

Aston looked at his watch and stood up. “Then, man, you go after her. Find a way to tell her you're sorry.” He paused. “You do like her, don't you?”

Spencer nodded.

“Then hike your sorry ass down that mountain and find a way to let her know how you feel. Give yourself a chance to have a little happiness, man. You deserve it. You don't deserve any more Genevas and Leenas. Stay away from the kind of women Bowden would want. Why would you want the kind of woman who would like him anyway?”

Spencer knew Aston was right, and somehow it felt cleansing to have admitted what an idiot he'd been. He clapped Aston on the back with affection as he stood up.

“You need to open the gallery,” Spencer said, looking out the window. People were already milling around in the courtyard of the mall, probably having just finished breakfast at the Garden Café.

Thinking of the Garden reminded Spencer of Carole. “How are things going with Carole Thomas?”

A broad smile spread across Aston's face. “Very good, man. She is a fine, fine woman. It is time for us old bachelors to be looking around for a good woman at this stage. A man needs that.”

Z
ola sat on the porch of her farmhouse in a big white rocking chair watching Rachel Lee Howard's toddler play. Rachel Lee sat on the steps below her, where she could hop up and get to Ava quickly if needed.

“She's really grown while I've been gone.” Zola smiled.

Rachel Lee blew out a breath. “She keeps me running, I can tell you that.”

Little Ava laughed with childish glee as she walked in and out of the door of a big cardboard box Zola had put in the yard for her to play in.

“That box was a great idea, Zola. It's so big it seems like a house to Ava.”

“One of my shipments came in it yesterday. I knew you planned to come today and I thought Ava would like it.”

“Bye-bye, Mommy. Bye-bye, Zee.” Ava waved at Zola and Rachel Lee as she went inside the box again, taking her rag doll with her. She plopped down on a blanket inside the house to play with the doll and a box of blocks Zola had brought out.

Rachel Lee pushed her blond hair back behind her ears. “Thanks for keeping Ava for me this morning while I had my doctor's appointment. I appreciate it. Mama had that ladies' circle meeting and I hated to consider taking Ava with me to the doctor's.”

“It was my pleasure.” Zola meant it. She enjoyed playing with Ava. They'd dragged toys out of the old toy chest in the house earlier, and then brought the box outside after lunch as the day warmed. The novelty still hadn't worn off the box.

Rachel Lee's voice broke into her thoughts. “What's going on with you and that photographer who's moved up on the hill?” She raised her eyebrows at Zola in question. “Are you still seeing him?”

Zola wrinkled her nose. “I've never exactly been
seeing
Spencer Jackson. I met him when I heard he bought Raven's Den. He still lets me go up to the hut, and I see him there every now and then.”

“I heard he came to the house for dinner.”

“Nana and Papa Devon invited him home to dinner after he came to church to attend the baptism for Tanner and Delia's baby.”

“Well, that visit got people to talking. I'll tell you that. You don't have men over to meet your family very often, Zola.” Rachel Lee leaned her back against the porch rails and stretched out her long legs.

“Well, the invitation
wasn't
mine.” Zola scowled.

She wasn't sure she really wanted to talk about Spencer Jackson today. Even with Rachel Lee. She hadn't slept well the last two nights since he'd been in that broody mood up at Raven's Den when she last saw him. And she'd avoided going to the hut since.

Rachel gave Zola a confused look. “I kind of thought you'd started to like Spencer. You know.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “You said there had been some sparks and that the two of you enjoyed some good times.”

“Well, that was
then.
” Zola emphasized the last word. She waved at Ava as she went in and out of the box again, the child giggling at herself in the process. Zola grinned watching her. It was hard to stay in a bad mood with a happy toddler around.

“So. What happened with Spencer?” Rachel pressed.

Zola gave in to the inevitable. There was little that Zola kept from Rachel Lee. They'd been best friends since before kindergarten.

“I don't know, Rachel.” She shrugged. “He seems to like me. We feel natural and easy together. And then he pulls back. Retreats from me.”

Zola leaned back in the rocker and propped her feet up on the porch rail. “He's a very complex man. I know he has some sort of unresolved issues with his family. He gets all testy talking about them. But he hasn't shared.”

Rachel Lee picked up one of Ava's rattles and turned it over in her hands. “Well, you're so warm, open, and easy to be around. Maybe you'll be good for him.”

She shook her head. “I don't know. He was really broody and dark the other day. Acted like he disliked me. Picked at me critically. He actually told me he wanted me to go home. It was odd.”

“Sounds downright rude to me.” Rachel Lee made a face. “Maybe something happened to set him off. Sometimes David is moody when he's had a bad day at the college or when he's had to deal with a difficult student or a cranky administrator.”

Zola's eyes caught hers. “Yes, but David
tells
you about it. He talks to you about it. He doesn't shut you out.”

“I guess.” She shrugged and smiled. “And if he doesn't, I can usually wheedle it out of him if I work at it. I have my ways of honeying him into a better mood.” She giggled.

Zola tossed the leaf she'd been worrying in her hand at Rachel Lee. “I'll bet you do!” They both laughed. “You and David are good for each other.” Zola smiled at Rachel Lee. “I'm glad you found each other.”

“Well, I'd like to meet Spencer some time. See what I think of him.” She stretched and stood up. “Will you keep an eye on Ava for a minute? I'm going to run into the bathroom and then pack up Ava's things. I need to get her on home for a nap.”

Zola nodded. She got up and walked out in the yard to play peep-eye games with Ava one last time. Zola loved hearing the baby squeal with laughter when she looked into the window of the box at her and said “peep-eye.”

She was squatting by the door of the house, handing blocks back and forth to Ava, when she heard Ava say, “Big man.”

Feeling a shadow fall over her, Zola looked up to see Spencer.

Speak of the devil, she thought. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, she saw his eyes widen at the sight of Ava. His face paled. “Is she yours?”

Zola rolled her eyes. “Honestly. What do you think, Spencer? She's fair, blonde, and blue-eyed—and as you've said yourself, I look like a gypsy.” She stood up.

Spencer shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “I just asked.”

Rachel Lee came out on the porch then to interrupt the awkward moment.

Zola pointed toward her. “Ava belongs to my friend Rachel Lee.”

She motioned to Rachel, who was standing with raised eyebrows on the step. “Rachel Lee Howard, come and meet Spencer Jackson. You said you wanted to meet our new neighbor who lives up at Raven's Den.”

“Pleased to meet you, Spencer.” Rachel walked out to take Spencer's outstretched hand in greeting. “Zola's grandparents have said some nice things about you. And everyone is pleased you aren't overdeveloping Raven's Den.”

Zola watched Spencer take in Rachel's fair blonde looks with appreciation.

He looked up toward the mountain. “Did you go up there, too, when you were small, Rachel?”

She followed his gaze. “Sometimes. But Raven's Den and roaming in the mountains was always more Zola's thing than mine.”

Zola could see Rachel sizing Spencer up while they talked.

“You know, I'd love for you to meet my husband, David. He isn't a photographer, but he's a history professor at Maryville College and likes to snap shots of historical places. He has a fascination with old photographs and might have some you'd enjoy seeing.”

“I'm interested in history and I enjoy old photographs. Perhaps we will get a chance to meet some day.”

Zola noted Spencer was being gentlemanly and congenial today. The bad mood seemed to have blown over.

Rachel's face brightened. “Why don't you and Zola come over to the house for dinner tomorrow night? I haven't had a chance to invite Zola over since she got back. It would be fun. Our house is real close by—just down Little Cove Church Road. It's the turn beside the old brick church.”

Zola watched Spencer's interest perk. “I've been wanting to photograph that church.”

“Well, aren't you in luck?” She gave him a provocative grin. “My daddy is the pastor of that church. And David has some old photographs of the church I'm sure you would love to see.”

Spencer swung his eyes to Zola's in question.

She nodded and saw him smile.
My, how the wind has turned!

Spencer actually smiled. “I think we would be pleased to come, Rachel.”

“You just call me Rachel Lee. Everyone else does.” She beamed at him. “And I'll look forward to seeing you and Zola tomorrow night.”

She reached inside the box house to pick up Ava.

“Is six o'clock all right?” she asked, adjusting Ava to one hip. “We'll have to put up with Ava for a little while, but then she'll go to bed and we can have an adults-only time.” She giggled, obviously pleased with herself.

Zola accepted the inevitable. “What are you cooking so I'll know what to bring?”

“Hmmm. Let's see.” Rachel Lee put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “I think maybe a pork loin roast, my grits casserole, green beans I canned last summer. Then maybe a little sweet corn and some of those cooked apples I put up. I'll do biscuits and bake a pecan pie, too. Mama gave me some of her pecans she froze that I can use. I'll stir up some fresh whipped cream for the top.”

Zola watched Spencer's eyes brighten.

She grinned at him. “All the Upton women are excellent cooks. You won't be disappointed in dinner, Spencer.”

Rachel Lee reached over to give Zola a good-bye hug. “You don't need to worry about bringing anything this time. I know you're working tomorrow.”

She sent Spencer a troubled look then. “You're not one of those vegetarians or anything, are you? I always forget to ask those things.”

“No, ma'am.”

She sighed. “I'm happy to hear that. I've never been good with those tofu and bean things.” She headed for her car.

Ava waved at them as Rachel Lee strapped her into the car seat. “Bye-bye, Zee. Bye-bye Man.” She looked wistfully toward the box. “Bye-bye, Ava's house.”

Zola spotted Ava's rag doll still lying on the blanket in the house just as Rachel Lee started the car. “Wait! Ava's left Sue-Sue behind. I'll get her.”

Zola snatched up Ava's beloved doll and tucked it into the child's arms through the window. She leaned over impulsively to kiss her. “Bye-bye, you sweet thing. Zee will see you tomorrow.”

As they backed out of the driveway, Zola heard Spencer chuckle. “Sue-Sue?”

Zola frowned at him. “Ava is only twenty-one months old, Spencer. She's hardly going to name her doll Susannah Delores. She couldn't pronounce it.”

He grinned. “Who said I didn't like Sue-Sue?”

She walked over to get the blanket and blocks out of the box house. “Carry that box around and put it in the back shed, will you? My niece and nephew might want to play with it later. It's a great box.” She walked up the steps of the porch. “I'm going to put these things in the house. Then I'll meet you out back on the screened porch. I'll bring some iced tea.”

She came out the back door a few minutes later to find him sitting on the porch glider, pushing himself back and forth with one foot.

“I thought you'd snag the rocking chair for sure.” She grinned at him as she handed him a glass of tea and settled into the battered green rocker herself.

Spencer continued pushing the glider back and forth with his foot. “This moves back and forth, too.” He slugged down about half the tea, sat the glass on a side table, and then stretched his arms out on the back of the glider.

Zola watched him. ‘You certainly seem to be in a better mood today.”

He winced. “I was kind of a bear the other day.”

Zola waited.

He looked out through the screen toward the trees, green with new spring buds. “I thought I'd see if I could find some photo shoots around the farm. And I figured I'd better swing by and offer an apology for my bad manners.”

“Any particular reason for your bad manners the other day you want to talk about?” She saw his jaw clench.

“No. Nothing I want to talk about. Can't we just let it go?” He shifted uncomfortably.

Zola looked out into the sunshine of the day. It was a glorious day—so welcome after the winter cold. Everywhere blooms were getting ready to bud. Early flowers had started to peek out around the farmyard. Baby animals were beginning to arrive. She had no desire to dwell on negative, unpleasant memories.

She looked over to see Spencer watching her.

“I see you brought your camera. I assume the other things you need are in that vest with all the pockets.”

He patted several of the pockets on the old tan fishing vest he wore over his brown T-shirt. “For short photo trips, or when hiking, I've found I can fit most of the things I need into the pockets of a fishing vest—film, a small zoom lens or two, a couple of filters.”

“Makes you look very much the sportsman.” She grinned at him. “You want some company on this photo shoot or would you prefer to go alone?”

He sat up alertly. “Are you getting anything about where I should shoot?”

Zola rolled her eyes. “No, I'm not. It's really rare I get things like that, Spencer. Don't start thinking of me like Ben Lee does. That's only an occasional part of who I am.”

She leaned toward him with enthusiasm. “But I know some places myself that might have possibilities. I notice things sometimes and think:
That would make a great picture
.” She dropped her eyes. “Sometimes I notice things now and think:
Wow. That would make a great shoot for Spencer
.”

When she looked up, she found him watching her with his serious hazel eyes. “I see things on my walks sometimes and think of you, too. I'll see something unique or special and think:
Zola would like that.
”