Surrendered Hearts (13 page)

Concern filled his eyes. “Lauren said you’re not coming.”

She sniffed and focused on straightening a display of collectable tins. “That’s right.”

He walked up beside her. “Why not?”

“It’s too hot.” She stepped behind the counter, putting some distance between her and Bill. He was too persuasive, and she didn’t think she had the strength to resist him today.

“The parade doesn’t start until eleven. I’m sure we could still find a shady spot with a good view.” He leaned on the counter and sent her a teasing smile. “That is unless it takes me too long to convince you to change your mind.”

Yearning filled her heart, but she quickly squelched it. “I can’t go. I told Lauren I’d keep the gallery open.”

He lifted his eyebrows at her feeble excuse. “You know she wants you to come. We all do.”

She glanced down at her long-sleeved white shirt and black pants. “I’d cook in this outfit.”

“Then go change.” He glanced at his watch. “We have time. I’ll wait.”

She felt her tears building again. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

She debated her words for a few seconds. “I don’t want people staring at me.”

His familiar grin surfaced. “No one will tease you about your lily-white skin. I promise.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what is it?” A hint of impatience edged his words.

A warning flashed through her. If she kept playing guessing games and pushing him away, he’d eventually believe that’s what she wanted, but nothing could be further from the truth. She swallowed. “I have . . . some scars from the fire.”

He nodded, his expression calm and unchanged. “That’s okay. It doesn’t matter to the people who care about you.”

She released an exasperated huff. “Right.” Fighting to control her surging emotions, she turned away and looked out the back window again. The view of the meadow faded as she recalled the look of shock on Phillip’s face the night he’d seen her red, blistered face and arms.

Bill closed the space between them and stood silently behind her. Rather than making her feel awkward, his quiet presence comforted her and infused her with courage.

She fiddled with the bottom hem of her shirt. “I was engaged . . . before I came up here.”

He waited a few seconds before he spoke. “What happened?”

She slowly turned and faced him. “Phillip took one look at me after the fire and walked away.”

Anger flashed across Bill’s face. “Then he was a fool.”

“He said he loved me.”

“Then he lied.”

Confusion and pain flooded her heart. Her throat burned and her eyes stung.

Bill’s expression softened as he stepped closer and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Jenn. That didn’t come out right.” He held her a moment more, then stepped back. “Maybe he just didn’t know what love is.”

She sniffed and grabbed a tissue from under the counter. “I don’t know why I’m crying about this. It’s been almost four months. I should be over it by now.”

“Four months isn’t such a long time if you really loved him.”

She wiped her nose as she considered Bill’s words. She thought she loved Phillip, but she wasn’t so sure now. If she was honest, the pain of his rejection hurt more than the loss of his love. She pushed that thought away, uncertain if her stormy emotions were playing tricks on her.

“I don’t blame Phillip. I looked awful. My face was swollen and ugly, and the burns on my arm and neck looked even worse than they do now.”

The muscles in Bill’s jaw flickered, but he didn’t look away.

“He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t deal with it. Most of my friends were afraid to visit me in the hospital, and when I got out, they had all kinds of excuses for not seeing me.”

“Then you need new friends,” he said gently, “people who really care about you.”

A powerful longing rose in her heart. Were there really people who wouldn’t be repulsed by her scars, who would love and accept her in spite of them?

He reached for her hand. “Jenn, listen to me. Not everyone who sees your burns is going to turn their back and walk away.” He waited a moment, as though he wanted those words to sink in. “Trust me, Jenn. Show me.”

She glanced down at his warm, strong hand holding hers. Comfort and assurance flowed from his grasp. The invitation was risky, but if she could show Bill, maybe she would have the courage to show others.

She slipped her hand out of his and unbuttoned her right cuff with shaky fingers. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She slowly rolled up her sleeve and turned over her arm, exposing the red twisted scar that traveled up past her elbow and disappeared into her sleeve. “It goes all the way up.” She looked at him, dreading his response.

He reached over and lightly traced the edge of her scar with his finger. “Does it still hurt?”

She swallowed and struggled to find her voice. “Not so much now. My shoulder is still sore. The burns were deeper there.”

He nodded, his gaze traveling over the arm, taking in the details.

“It looks awful, doesn’t it?” She bit her lip, hoping he’d disagree, but knowing that would be a lie.

“The only thing that bothers me is thinking how much this must have hurt you.”

His caring words poured over her heart like a healing balm. She lifted her gaze to meet his.

“I mean it, Jenn. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Warmth and affection filled his eyes as his gaze traveled over her face and hair. She held her breath, waiting, wondering if he would lean closer and kiss her.

But instead, he sent her a tender smile. Then he glanced at his watch. “We still have time to catch the parade if you want, or we can go over to the Park and meet everyone there.”

Jenn swallowed, feeling like she was trying to regain her balance after being on an amusement park ride.

She looked down at her arm and studied her scars. Showing Bill was one thing. He was kind and caring, but what about other people? What would happen when everyone else saw them?

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” He gently ran his finger down the side of her cheek.

Fighting the voice that told her she was a fool to listen to him, she leaned into his touch and looked up into his eyes once more.

“I’ll be right there with you,” he said. “I promise.”

The sweetness of those words warmed her heart, sealing her decision. “Okay. I’ll go change.” She smiled at him once more and hurried off to the house.

Jenn leaned back and looked up through the lacy branches overhead. The silver birch leaves flickered in the wind, revealing patches of azure sky and sending shifting patterns of sunlight over her face.

Closing her eyes, she felt the breeze on her neck and arms and released a deep sigh. This was bliss. The weather had changed, bringing cooler temperatures and blowing away much of the uncomfortable humidity.

They’d finished a delicious picnic supper a few minutes earlier. Jenn had enjoyed the barbecued chicken, oriental coleslaw, fruit salad, Tilley’s homemade rolls, and Bill’s special fudge brownies.

While they ate, Tilley shared memories of celebrating the Fourth of July with her family on the coast of Maine when she was young. Toby entertained them with some silly jokes he had learned from his friends at school. And Bill told several crazy stories about his college days when he and Wes were roommates. Wes denied them, but Bill insisted most of the stories were true. Lauren and Jenn laughed so hard they begged Bill to stop and give them a break. Jenn couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a day more, and she tucked away all those happy moments in her heart.

Lifting her hand, she shaded her eyes and searched the park. She spotted Bill, Wes, and Toby just past the gazebo, lined up to take part in the watermelon seed-spitting contest. Tilley sat nearby in a lawn chair, chatting with an older man who held tightly to his dog’s leash while his excited Boston bull terrier pulled to keep moving.

Lauren kneeled beside her on the picnic blanket, cleaning up the remains of their meal. She snapped the lid on the brownie container and placed it in the basket. “You look great in that outfit.”

Jenn smiled. “Thanks, but I still feel bad about borrowing it without asking.”

“Stop apologizing. I’m glad you did. I hope you’ll keep it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Please?” Lauren wiggled her eyebrows and grinned. “Then I can put a new shorts outfit on my honeymoon shopping list.”

Jenn chuckled. “Okay. If you put it that way, I guess I could keep them.” She loved the cute denim shorts and red t-shirt with the American flag on the front. Wearing them made her feel cool and comfortable, and so far no one had said anything about her scars.

She gazed across the park at Bill. He was probably right. It didn’t bother Wes and Lauren, and Tilley was so sweet she’d never say anything unkind.

Toby raced across the grass toward them. “Bill spit farther than anybody!” He plopped down on the blanket beside his mother. His face was red and sweaty from his time in the sun. Watermelon juice stained his mouth and ran down his chin.

“Come here, sweetie.” Lauren reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a container of wipes.

Toby leaned forward, squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed his lips together tightly, while Lauren wiped his cheeks and chin.

“Are your hands sticky?” she asked, and he held them out for her to inspect.

Bill strode toward them and took a seat on the blanket next to Jenn.

She glanced over at him and laughed when she saw juice and seeds running down his arms and dripping off his elbows. “Wow, you really got into that contest.”

He grinned, a triumphant look in his blue eyes. “I may be a mess, but I won.”

Wes sat down beside Lauren. “Man, pass me those wipes when you’re done, honey.”

Lauren was still helping Toby. So Jenn reached over, pulled out two wipes, and held them out to Wes.

Toby gasped and shrunk back toward Lauren. His mouth twisted into a painful grimace as he stared at Jenn’s arm. “What happened to you?”

Jenn dropped the wipes and pulled her arm back to her chest.

“Toby, hush!” Lauren turned to Jenn, distress clouding her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

A hopeless weight descended on Jenn’s heart. What could she say? She was sorry, too. Sorry she’d worn this T-shirt and frightened her nephew.

“It’s okay, Toby.” Bill picked up the wipes and began cleaning his hands. “You’re aunty Jenn has some scars from getting burned, but they don’t hurt her anymore.”

Confusion filled Toby’s eyes as he shifted his gaze to Bill.

Bill scooted over next to Toby. “It’s no big deal. Lots of people have scars.” His matter-of-fact tone eased some of the tension. “I’ve got one right here on my hand.”

Toby leaned closer to look. “How’d you get that?”

“When I went camping last summer I grabbed hold of a hot pan without thinking, and I got burned.”

Toby examined the small red scar on Bill’s right hand then looked up. “Did it hurt?”

“You better believe it!” Bill shook his hand and made a painful face. “Yowie!”

Toby giggled.

“Hey, what are you laughing at?” Bill poked him in the ribs with a teasing grin. “You should’ve seen me. I dropped that pan faster than you can say, ‘Yes, ma’am!’ Then I jumped around the fire, waving my hand in the air and shouting until I came to my senses. Finally, I ran down to the lake and stuck my hand in the cold water.” He made a hissing sound like steam rising from the water. “Ahh, that made it feel better.”

Toby laughed so hard he doubled over and grabbed his stomach.

Jenn felt her own laughter bubble to the surface, and gratitude flooded her heart. Bill had used his gift of humor to shift the focus away from her and lighten the moment.

“How about you, Toby?” Bill asked. “Do you have any scars?”

The little boy sobered, and looked at his mom. “Do I?”

She nodded. “Check your right knee.”

He pulled his knee up for a closer look.

Lauren pointed to a faint line about an inch long, running down one side of his kneecap. “When you were three you fell off the slide at the park. The cut healed in a week or so, but you still have that little scar to remind you to be careful.” She smiled at him and ruffled his blonde hair off his forehead.

Toby bit his lip then turned to Wes. “Do you have any scars?”

“I sure do. Right here.” Wes pointed to his left side of his face where a faint, jagged line ran along his cheekbone.

Toby lifted his finger and traced the scar, a frown creasing his forehead. “How’d that happen?”

“I got it from some men who didn’t like me telling people about Jesus.”

Toby nodded, his face solemn. “My mom told me about that. They put you in jail and were real mean to you, but you were brave.”

Wes laid his hand on Toby’s shoulder. “Well, God helped me get out of there, and then He brought me here to Vermont to meet you and your mom.” He shifted his gaze to Lauren.