Second Chance Hero (19 page)

If she planned to wait on a wedding invitation from him and Verity before she returned, she might never see Turnabout again.

Chapter Eighteen

“S
o, how has it been, working with such a young choir group?”

The Saturday afternoon tea group was gathered once again in the Blue Bottle Sweet Shop. Verity's thoughts had been drifting, thinking of Nate and how it felt like a very long time since Thursday when she'd seen him last.

In fact, she found herself eager to get done here at the Blue Bottle so that they could go on to choir practice. Which was absurd, especially given that she had no intentions of relaxing her nothing-beyond-friendship stance with Nate.

So Abigail's question about the children's choir was a welcome distraction. “Actually, it's been a lot of fun.” She meant that. “And quite rewarding. I'm thinking about seeing if they want to continue on as a choir after the festival.”

“You mean have a full-time children's choir?”

Verity nodded. “We could even have them sing one hymn in church each Sunday.”

“What a lovely idea.” Janell set her teacup down. “There may be other schoolchildren who would want to join in once we have the play behind us.”

“All would be welcome,” Verity agreed. “Of course, I'd have to see how Reverend Harper feels about it. And check in with Zella, too, since it would mean extra work for her, as well.”

“Perhaps, if it's too much for Zella, Mr. Cooper would consider working with you on this.” Hazel's tone was just a little
too
innocent.

Before Verity could say anything, though, Janell spoke up again. “You have to admit, he's done a great job these past few weeks while Zella is out of town.”

Belva nodded. “Mr. Cooper does have a way of putting a body at ease. I imagine that makes him ideal for working with the children.”

Verity still hadn't quite figured out what the relationship was between Belva and Nate. Just good friends? Or was Belva looking for something more?

She shouldn't be bothered by that thought since she no longer wanted anything more than friendship for herself.

But somehow, she was.

Later, as they left the Blue Bottle, Hazel fell into step beside her. “I've been thinking about ways we could arrange your hats in the fashion emporium to their best advantage,” she said enthusiastically. “I'm picturing a set of deep shelves along the back wall, maybe three rows high, running two-thirds of the length. Depending on the size of your hats, you should be able to display around two dozen. What do you think?”

“I think you're being premature.” But it did sound very appealing. “I told you we'd sit down and discuss it after the festival.”

“It doesn't hurt to think about it some ahead of time, does it?” She gave Verity a pointed look. “It also doesn't hurt to let you know I don't plan to drop the subject.”

Verity rolled her eyes. “I never thought you would. But again, let's save this for
after
the festival.”

Perhaps she would mention it to Nate, though, just to get his input. From a purely business perspective, of course. After all, he had recently opened a business of his own, so he might have some relevant insights.

The fact that it would give her an excuse to stay after practice and speak to him was just a pleasant side benefit.

* * *

Nate put his music away as the choir members drifted out after practice. Belva had paused just a minute to chat with him but then hurried off, saying she'd promised her aunt Eunice to lend her a hand with supper this evening.

It wasn't until he moved away from the piano that he realized Verity had remained behind when the others left. Was she actually going out of her way to see him?

“Do you have a minute?”

Apparently she was. “Of course. Is there something about one of the choirs we need to discuss?”

“Actually, I did want to ask you something about our practice sessions with the children this coming week.”

Would she have anything to do with him once he was through acting as Zella Ford's stand-in? “I'm listening.”

“We've got only two practice sessions left before the festival kicks off Friday night. They're doing well, but I thought it might be a good idea to have this week's sessions run for ninety minutes each rather than an hour. What do you think?”

He rubbed his chin. “That sounds like a good idea to me. The more practice they get in, the more confident they will be the day of the performance.” And he wasn't averse to spending a little extra time with her, as well.

“And it won't be a problem for you?”

“I think I can manage the extra thirty minutes without any problem.”

She smiled and gave his arm a quick, light touch. “Thank you.”

Emboldened by that touch, he nodded toward the door. “May I walk you home?”

“You can walk me as far as your shop.”

At least she hadn't refused altogether.

“There was one other thing I wanted to discuss with you,” she said as they fell into step together.

“More choir business?” He had to physically restrain himself from taking her arm. She wanted nothing more than a neighborly kind of friendship.

“No, this is of a more personal nature.”

His attention quickened at that. Discussing things other than choir was a step in the right direction.

“Remember I mentioned once that I'd like to open a millinery shop someday?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I've been thinking that I should at least look into what all will be involved in such an undertaking so I'll know when, or even if, I'll be in a position to give it a go.”

That sounded so like her. Careful to a fault. But at least she appeared to be moving forward. “That seems like a prudent approach.”

“I thought so.” There was just a hint of smugness in her voice. “Anyway, I mentioned this to Hazel and she's offered to lease me part of her dress shop to display and sell my hats whenever I get ready. I was wondering what you thought of that plan.”

He was encouraged by the fact that his opinion still seemed to matter to her. “Actually, I can see a lot of really great advantages for you in such a setup. You'd have a place that was ready to move into with very little setup work required. The location is one that many of your potential customers already frequent. You and Miss Andrews could share the staffing duties, covering for each other as needed.” He nodded. “It's ideal, really.”

“So you don't see any negatives associated with going this route?”

It seemed that she was still looking for reasons
not
to follow through on her dream. “Well, I suppose there is always some potential for problems. For instance, if you and Miss Andrews had a falling out, things could get mighty awkward for your respective businesses. And you would need to make certain you both had the same understanding of how the money would be handled, how the floor space and display space should be divided and what the on-site responsibilities of each of you would be, especially in regards to each other's wares.”

“Oh, my, that's a lot to think about.”

“It is. But there's a way to manage the risk. You can save both of you a lot of headaches, and heartaches, by getting all of this down in a contract that you both sign. That way there won't be any misunderstandings down the road.”

She sighed. “There's so much to consider. I hadn't thought of any of that. What if I miss some other key problem areas?”

He shook his head. “Verity, you're never going to be able to account for every possible catastrophe. There's just not much in life that comes with guarantees. But if you never step out in faith, you never have the chance to grab hold of the blessing.”

She gave him a curious look. “Is that what you did, step out in faith?”

“Well, I'll admit that what I was stepping away from wasn't something I wanted to hold on to, so it was easier for me. I guess what you need to decide is, is that dream you have of having your millinery shop worth fighting for, worth facing the possibility of failure for? And you're the only one who can answer that question.”

“I never thought of it that way.” She was quiet for a long moment, then she met his gaze again. “I guess one of the things I'm struggling with is trying to decide how I will know when the time is right. Maybe I should wait until I have more money saved up.”

He raised a brow. “Is that really what's holding you back? Money? Or is it fear?”

He could tell that remark hit home. They'd reached his shop by now and were standing outside it. He tried one more time to make her understand what he was trying to say. “I know you like to use a slow, well-thought-out approach to making decisions, Verity, but there is such a thing as overthinking a problem. At some point you have to act. If not, that's a decision in and of itself, isn't it?”

She gave her purse strings a little tug. “Thank you for your input—it has certainly given me something to think about. If you'll excuse me, it's time I headed home.”

He watched her leave, fairly certain he'd made no dent at all in her examine-things-exhaustively approach to decision making.

And he certainly hadn't done anything to further his relationship with her at all.

* * *

Verity walked away, mulling over Nate's words. What he'd said sounded an awful lot like what Hazel had told her a few days ago. Both seemed to imply that she was overly cautious. To her way of thinking, there was no such thing—either one was cautious or not, it was a simple as that.

Yet there was a nagging little voice in her head telling her she was missing something, something important.

This was something she needed to think on more. Step out in faith, he'd said. Was that the something she was lacking—faith?

Perhaps her problem was that she thought too much. And perhaps didn't pray enough.

Chapter Nineteen

N
ate arrived at the Tuesday practice session to find Verity already there ahead of him. She greeted him the same as always, without any apparent rancor from their previous conversation. Did that mean she had decided to take his advice? Or merely ignore it and move on?

The practice session went well. The children were able to run through all three of the songs with only a few missteps on the last one. It was great to see how well they were coming together, how eager they were to do a good job and how proud they were to have a part in the program.

At the end of the session, Miss Andrews came by with the smocks she'd made, and she and Verity helped the children try them on over their clothing.

Verity had them all line up side by side with the smocks on and made a big show of telling them how wonderful they looked. He saw several of the children stand a little taller under her praise.

When they were done, Verity collected the smocks from each of them, telling the children she would keep them safe and pass them out again the day of the performance.

Dismissing the choir members, Verity turned to him. “If you have a minute, there's something I'd like to discuss with you.”

“Of course.” Was she wanting to continue their last conversation?

“The children have been working so hard, I've been thinking I'd like to do something to reward them.”

Of course she would. “Did you have something particular in mind?”

“Well, because many of the festival activities will take place on the school grounds, the town has canceled classes for Friday. I was thinking we could take advantage of that and have a group picnic down by Mercer's Pond that day. We could invite the members of the choir along with their families. What do you think?”

She certainly didn't mind making plans or undertaking large projects when it was for someone else. Why couldn't she show that same kind of spirit when it came to her own dreams?

But that wasn't what she'd asked him. “Wouldn't it be better to do that
after
the performance?”

She nodded. “I thought about that. But if we waited, that would mean doing it after church on Sunday, when everyone is likely to be tired from the prior day's festivities. Or waiting until the following Saturday, which feels like it would be too much of a delay.” She grinned. “And besides, doing it on Friday lets the children know I'm rewarding their effort, not their performance.”

That statement was so like her. She didn't just concern herself with teaching these kids how to do things, she concerned herself with their hearts and their spirits, as well. It was one of the many things he admired about her.

“Can I count on you to be there?”

He gave a short bow. “Of course. I'd never pass up a chance to attend a picnic.” Or to spend some time with her. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just be there to help us keep an eye on the children. If everyone comes, there'll be a lot of them there. The Tucker family alone has ten children. And I don't imagine many of the dads will be available to come.”

“I can certainly do that.” He started to tease her about protecting her from spiders as well, but just in time he remembered where that had landed them last time, and thought better of it.

“Oh, and feel free to bring Beans,” she added. “The children, especially one in particular, will enjoy having him there to play with.”

He wondered if that soft smile that teased at her lips was due to her thoughts of her daughter or if perhaps she was beginning to warm toward him once more.

* * *

Friday dawned bright and sunshiny—the perfect day for a picnic. Verity had a large hamper filled to the brim with sliced ham, fresh-baked bread, cheese, apples, cucumber pickles, boiled eggs and a buttermilk pie. There was also a jar of lemonade. No one would go away hungry today if she could help it.

The children had all been enthusiastic at the idea of a picnic when she first announced it. She had also talked to the mothers, and every one of them had agreed to join in. They were going to have quite a nice turnout for their outing.

As planned, Nate collected her uncle's buggy from the livery and pulled up in front of the house to pick up her and Joy. When he arrived, he hopped down to take the hamper from her, then whistled. “This is mighty heavy for just one meal.”

Verity laughed. “I have a feeling it will be quite empty by the time we head home this afternoon.”

“Bringing a big appetite with you, are you?”

She laughed again. “There's a lot of sharing that goes along with these picnics. We won't be the only ones eating from this basket.”

He hefted it into the back of the buggy. “Then I guess I'd better be sure to get my share early.”

He took the blanket Joy was carrying and tossed it behind the seat with the hamper. Then he took the little girl by the waist and swung her up in a wide arc, making her giggle and Verity wince.

Then he turned to hand her in. There was a moment's awkwardness as she remembered the last time they'd rode in this buggy. She could tell from the slight tightening of his jaw that he was remembering, too. But then she lifted her chin, smiled and offered him her hand. She refused to let anything spoil this outing. She and Nate had called a truce and she was ready to leave the past in the past. They were friends now, and as friends, could enjoy each other's company.

In a matter of seconds she was perched on the seat next to Joy.

Nate climbed up on the other side of her daughter and they were off.

With Joy sitting between them, holding Beans and Lulu in her lap, the remaining wisps of that momentary awkwardness disappeared. The little girl's happy chatter not only entertained them during the trip, but it successfully filled any of the silences that might have popped up between the adults.

They were the first ones to arrive, just as Verity had hoped. She spread their blanket in a prime spot that was in the shade of a large cottonwood tree and what she considered a safe distance from the pond itself. Then she spread a second blanket nearby.

Nate looked at the arrangement and then raised a brow in her direction. “Expecting company?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, that's the community ‘table.' Everyone will place the contents of their baskets there and then when it's time to eat, you can choose whatever items catch your eye.”

“I see.” He eyed the arrangement skeptically. “But it looks like that could get a bit messy.”

She laughed, enjoying the chance to introduce him to their traditions. “Trust me. We've done this lots of times. Not everyone serves themselves. Three or four of the ladies will be in charge of filling plates—you just have to let them know what you want.” She grinned. “This also takes care of the problem of some of the kids who have eyes bigger than their stomachs.”

As she was speaking she'd moved her hamper to the community blanket. She wouldn't set the contents out until much closer to mealtime—no point in feeding the flies and ants.

Other families began arriving almost immediately. The children scattered to play while the adults staked a claim on a patch of ground to spread their cloths. They chose patches close together to make it easier for everyone to chat and visit with each other.

As Verity had predicted, Nate was one of the few men who had come. Most of the fathers were working or helping to get things set up in town for the festival. In fact, the only other man there was Stuart Draper, Harriett and Susie's grandfather.

Mr. Draper had walked with a pronounced limp ever since he'd gotten hurt in an accident over ten years ago. But he had a skill that didn't require the use of his legs and that endeared him to children. He was an expert at carving whistles and simple flutes from scraps of wood. At her urging, he had brought a couple of his creations for the children to play with, and also some materials to carve new ones on the spot.

In addition, several of the children had brought kites and there were balls and bats as well.

Once the picnic blankets were all arranged to everyone's satisfaction, the women were soon busy chattering away, comparing hamper contents, swapping news and generally socializing. While they visited, the children ran with great abandon around the meadow. Verity kept Joy in sight, making sure she didn't get too close to the pond, and not letting her stray too far from the adults.

Beans was also a big hit with the children. The dog was alternating his time between exploring, racing around the meadow with the children and letting himself be petted into a blissful stupor.

Nate seemed to take his role as a protector for the children quite seriously. Several times she saw him counting noses, and on the occasions when the count was not to his satisfaction, he'd march over to a section of the meadow that curved around the pond and then become hidden by trees. Sure enough, he'd reappear shortly with one or more kids in tow and send them back to safer—or at least more visible—ground. Apparently there were turtles and minnows to be found in the shallows there, and the children found it an irresistible attraction.

But he was more than a disciplinarian. He took time to play with them, as well. She saw him give one group lessons on how to skip stones, he played horseshoes with another group and worked to untangle a kite string for a teary-eyed youngster.

He even talked her into taking one end of a jump rope while he took the other, and together they turned the rope for nearly thirty minutes as the girls took turns jumping. It was so endearing—heartwarming really—to see him with the children.

When it was lunchtime, Mr. Draper blew on his loudest whistle, one that made a sound so shrill it actually startled a number of birds from the trees. But it served the purpose of getting everyone's attention, and the children came scurrying in from all directions. When everyone was accounted for and had gathered on the individual family picnic blankets, Mr. Draper offered up the blessing on behalf of the group.

Then it was momentary pandemonium as everyone tried to make food selections. But at last all the plates were served and things quieted in the meadow while everyone partook of the delicious food.

Nate, naturally, shared her and Joy's picnic blanket. She smiled as she watched Joy laugh at something he'd said to her. And then he casually slipped Beans a sliver of meat. It felt nice to have him there with them. It felt like...family.

Verity sat up straighter, trying to shake off that unexpected thought. Where was her resolve, her caution? The trouble was, she was having trouble remembering why all that mattered. He
was
a good man, deep down she knew that. As for the rest, maybe he and Hazel had been right. Perhaps it
was
time she stepped out in faith.

Nate looked up just then and caught her staring at him. Something of what she was feeling must have shown in her face, because his expression shifted from amusement to first uncertainty, and then something much warmer and deeper. They held each other's gaze without speaking, without moving, for three heartbeats.

And then Joy spoke up, asking for another piece of corn bread, and broke the spell.

Verity blinked and turned to her daughter. “I'm sorry, pumpkin, what did you say?”

Joy held up her plate. “I'd like another piece of corn bread, please.”

Nate stood. “I'll get it.” He looked down at Verity, his expression still warm and rather mysterious. “Can I get you anything while I'm up?”

She shook her head, and with a nod he walked away.

As she watched him saunter over to the food blanket, she began second-guessing herself. Should she have looked away? What message had he read in her gaze? What had she wanted him to see there?

Then she remembered they weren't alone. Had anyone else noticed anything untoward passing between them? Verity did her best to surreptitiously look around the gathering. As far as she could tell, no one was paying the least bit of attention to them.

Nate returned, the requested slice of corn bread wrapped in a cloth napkin. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to Joy.

When he settled back down on the blanket, she felt a new tension strumming in him, something that seemed to tug at her, as well. It was almost like when they sang together—something inside him speaking to her and vice versa.

It was so real it amazed her that no one else could feel it.

* * *

Nate stood with his back against an oak and his arms crossed over his chest. Beans lay in the grass at his feet, panting. The dog had had a busy morning trying to keep up with the children and seemed to be happy just to stay with him for now.

From here Nate had a fairly unobstructed view of the meadow. Their picnic meal had ended a few minutes ago and, like Beans, everyone appeared to be moving at a much slower pace than earlier.

Several picnic blankets had been spread in an overlapping line under the shade of a nearby tree and many of the toddlers and younger children had been put down for their naps. Mr. Draper was keeping an eye on them, freeing the mothers to help with the cleanup or to take advantage of their temporary freedom to just visit.

Some of the older children were playing with the ball and bat well away from the picnic area, while several of the girls had claimed one of the blankets as a place to play with their dolls.

He spotted Verity among a cluster of women who were cleaning up and reorganizing all the leftovers. As if she felt his gaze on her, she looked up, smiled and then went back to work.

He was still trying to decide what to make of the look they'd shared earlier. The message in her eyes had been unmistakable. She felt something for him, something more than friendship. But was that emotion real and of the lasting variety this time? At least now he didn't have to worry about what would happen if she found out his secrets—she already knew them all.

It was frustrating that he couldn't do anything to resolve this right now, couldn't have a meaningful conversation with her among this crowd. And taking a walk alone together was also out of the question—she'd never leave Joy unattended, even among this crowd of motherly types. Perhaps, though, when he brought her and Joy home this evening, they could find some time to talk in private. It was definitely something to look forward to.