Whispers of the Heart (7 page)

“Oh, soon as possible,” David answered quickly.

“The wall has to be primed,” she told them.

“No problem,” Brent said, even quicker. “We'll get it done next week.”

Only after that did the minister look at the examples of her work. They discussed the layout of the mural and she promised to bring preliminary sketches by before the end of the following week to show to his board.

“Great. Wow, this is terrific,” David said. “Say,
I'm ready to find some breakfast. You two want to come on to my house and let Wendy fix us up?”

Brent glanced at her questioningly.

“Oh, no thank you. I really must get back,” Autumn told him. She wasn't ready to meet more new people just yet.

“Thanks for the invitation, David,” Brent added. “Autumn has a new puppy to take care of and she promised to take Buttons out for a morning walk just as soon as we returned. Didn't you, Autumn?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Some other time soon, though,” Brent added, “and say hello to Wendy, please.”

Somehow she thought Brent just might haul her out by the scruff of the neck if she didn't follow through with her promise to walk Buttons. She thought about it all the way back to their street.

Well, she would do it. She'd take Buttons out just the minute she was home. Surely it wouldn't be too crowded if she walked westward. And she didn't have to stay out long.

Brent parked in his usual parking spot and turned off the motor. Autumn opened her door as he opened his.

“C'mon, I've just about enough time before my first appointment to walk with you this morning.”

“Oh, that isn't necessary.”

She might like his company too much.

“Isn't it?” He seemed unconvinced. “Well, I need the exercise, too. C'mon, you run up and get Buttons and we'll be back before you know it.”

But just as she stood on the sidewalk once more,
Buttons in her arms, Laureen drove up in her sleek black car.

“Brent, there you are. I tried to catch you at home, but you'd already gone.”

While Laureen ignored Autumn after one dark glance, Brent tossed her an apologetic one before he strolled over to Laureen's car.

“I hoped you might have breakfast with me—” Autumn heard in Laureen's rather intimate tones, meant for Brent's ears alone “—and go over the ideas we want to present at the neighborhood association meeting tonight. You haven't forgotten, have you?”

“No, Laureen. I haven't forgotten it. But right now I have other things to do.” He glanced at his watch. “I've a nine o'clock appointment.”

Whatever it was Laureen didn't like about her struck Autumn as funny. She couldn't imagine why, but she irritated the woman.

“Brent, I'll just run along,” Autumn said, affecting Laureen's way of speaking ever so slightly. She and Spring had played at their idea of sophisticated snobbery when they'd been about twelve. Laureen reminded her of those long-ago days.

“You must see to business, of course,” she continued. “But thanks so very much for taking me to the church interview. The project will be both fun and challenging and I really do want to do it.”

With that, she set Buttons on the cement and held the leash fast as they took off in the opposite direction than she'd planned. She didn't even think about running into mobs of people.

A
s long as she and Buttons were making their first run, she decided she might as well visit some of the market food stalls. Not only could she replenish her fruit and vegetables, but she could do with a cup of coffee. She wouldn't let the crowd frazzle her. She couldn't. She'd promised Spring.

She'd promised herself.

She'd promised Buttons and Brent.

Besides, she'd discovered the outdoor market gave her less troublesome symptoms. She felt far less smothered there than in a closed-in supermarket. One day she even hoped to really enjoy it.

Too, Buttons deserved better than to be cooped up by four walls all week long. She needed an outing.

Nevertheless, Autumn felt her feet grow heavier as she approached the rather busy midmorning rush. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to take deep, calming breaths. She could do this. She already
had, hadn't she? Several times over the past few weeks. She could do it again today.

Buttons pulled on her leash, panting with excitement. She barked frantically as a couple of bicyclers rode past across the street with clackity rhythm. Autumn's own pulses leapt.

Oh, dear, this was going to be more of a challenge than she'd bargained for…but she refused at this point to back down.

“Slow down, Buttons,” she said, hoping her own nervousness didn't transfer to the puppy. “Please. You'll get stepped on in all that crush.”

She scooped up the tiny dog and held her close against her shoulder before digging into her pocket to see how much money she had with her. Going out so seldom caused her need for hard cash to dwindle, and she'd grown unused to checking it. Perhaps she didn't have enough cash to visit the market.

Counting her change, it came to her she couldn't use that as a delaying tactic. She had enough for a few purchases. But she would have to cash a check soon.

That meant a trip to the bank.

Buttons's tail wagged at full speed. Autumn stalled, thinking hard. A stop at the bank, a need for a grocery store visit, and a run through a multipurpose store. She couldn't delay her needs to replenish her food and sundry supplies again any longer.

Looking at her as though asking why they had stopped, Buttons licked at her chin. Autumn lowered her cheek to brush her skin across the puppy fur. Too bad they didn't welcome pets at any of these stores; having Buttons along did give her more confidence.
Her eager little friend felt no fear at all. She didn't know how dangerous too many people could be.

Autumn lifted her chin and straightened her spine. At least she could tell Spring she was discovering her backbone.

Strolling to the nearest fruit vendor to the entry, with Buttons cradled securely in her denim carryall, Autumn made a few selections. She didn't stay long and she had one hand on her bag the whole time. She started for home, proud of herself for staying with her purpose, but she couldn't deny the welcome relief once she turned onto her own street and found it nearly empty.

Still, a small victory was still a victory. She felt like celebrating.

She stole a glance at the parking lot next to Brent's building. Five cars parked there, including Brent's, but Laureen's was nowhere in sight. Letting out her sigh, she wondered why she didn't like the other woman when they'd had so little discourse.

She could do with another of Brent's smiles—counting it as another reward for facing the shopping crowd. Would he want a coffee break about now?

But she couldn't interrupt his work day uninvited, could she? Unlike Laureen, that kind of courage eluded her altogether.

Instead of following her first inclination, she rushed upstairs. She had to tell someone about her unusual morning or she'd burst.

Her instinct to call Spring left her with flat disappointment. Her sister wasn't in, and had even forgotten to turn on her answering machine.

Curtis Jennings, though, would welcome her call.
Calling her old friend and mentor didn't leave her with shy feelings or mixed emotions. Not like talking to Brent did, even when she
wanted
to talk to him.

Then she realized she really liked talking to Brent. A lot, actually. She loved watching his eyes light, and the way he smiled at Timmy. Why, her heart sometimes leapt at the sight of him!

The thoughtful realization hit her just as Curtis gave his soft greeting, “Mirror Images. Curtis Jennings here.”

“Uh…Curtis…” She dropped her troublesome thoughts and doubts over Brent and eagerly told Curtis all about the church, the minister's vision, the huge blank wall, and the enormity of the project ahead of her. She also expressed her concerns to properly execute the painting. “What do you think, Curtis?”

“I think you should thank your lucky stars Brent Hyatt is a friend of yours and likes your work. He does, doesn't he?”

“He seems to.”

“My girl, I'm green with envy at the possibilities you're describing. It's a golden opportunity—for you personally and for you as an artist. This minister trusts Brent's judgment, you say? And he's taking the sketches to his board, isn't he? I don't think they'll turn you down.”

“You believe I can do it, then? You don't think I'm taking on more than I can handle?”

“Yes, of course it's more than you've done before, but you can handle it. I've been telling you as much for a couple of years, now, haven't I?”

“I s'pose. Wish Spring were here.”

“Autumn, honey,” the exasperation rode high in his tone. “I like your sister as much as most men of your acquaintance, but you know you don't need her around to express your talent. Don't underestimate your own worth, girl.”

“No, you're exactly right.” She pulled in a heaving breath. As much as she loved her sister, she didn't need Spring to be there when she painted. When she gave herself over to an inner vision, she lost all sense of herself and anything around her; only her work mattered.

“Okay, Curtis. Now, tell me what I shall need….”

She went over her supply list with Curtis and he promised to order what she didn't have. Afterward, she sat down and made a list of what must be done to prepare the wall to give Brent and David.

About halfway through the afternoon, the phone's insistent ringing startled her. She grabbed it, hoping to hear her sister's voice. They hadn't talked for a couple of days, the longest they'd ever gone without communicating.

Yet even before she got the receiver to her ear, she knew it wasn't Spring. She didn't feel her sister's spirit as she usually did.

“Hi, it's Brent,” came over the line.

“Oh, hello.”

“How's it going?”

“Fine.”

“Hey, I'm sorry we didn't get to properly conclude our morning.”

“That's okay. I…we're both busy people. You need to take care of your business concerns when you have them.”

“Yeah, well.” She heard him make a clicking sound before he changed the subject. “Say, Autumn. I have to go to this neighborhood meeting tonight, I can't get out of it. But Timmy and I always do burgers on Friday nights. Why not come join us?”

“Thanks, but I really can't. I have to, um, I have to finish these sketches. I promised to make a couple of preliminary sketches for the mural, you know. So Pastor David can show his church board? Can't seem to get the right perspective.”

“For supper at least?” he coaxed.

“Oh…no. I don't think so.”

“I'll bring you back right afterward. Unless you want to sit through the meeting. Then perhaps later we can catch a TV movie at my place.”

“No, I…maybe another time. I'm not really into crowded meetings.”

“Mmm. Well, okay. When do you plan to show David your sketches?”

“I promised them for next Thursday.”

“Ah, yes, that's right, I remember now. Well, perhaps I can run you by and then we could go for lunch on Thursday?”

“Let's wait and see how things go. I mean, you're pretty busy.”

Lunch at a downtown restaurant during the busiest part of a business day? When most places had a clientele that would choke passages and doorways and take all the air…

“Not that busy,” she heard Brent insist. “I do eat lunch most days.”

Even the
thought
of being caught in that kind of situation broke her out in a sweat. That's all she'd
need to hit the panic button for sure. What if she couldn't breathe, or had to leave suddenly? Then what would Brent think of her?

She'd fainted once in the middle of a school assembly when she was twelve; she'd been horribly embarrassed and frightened. The school nurse had sent her home. But her problem of facing people in bunches had begun long before that.

“I have something else I need to do on Thursday,” she answered Brent more firmly. “But thank you for thinking of me.”

She said goodbye and hung up, then laid her forehead against the window glass, staring out at the river view. That probably put an end to that. Brent wouldn't likely ask her out again. And she couldn't quite balance the disappointment that brought her with the relief over not having to face a mob of people.

That night she pulled Uncle William's old Bible off the shelf and curled up on the sofa to read it. She had to use the back reference a lot, but she found it interesting. After a while, she began making notes; how many miracles had Jesus done? What had been His main teaching?

Love. Forgiveness. Hope against hopelessness. How God's love gave so much more promise than what man had anticipated because He gave a way of salvation.

Some of what she read began to take root in her heart. Some of it even felt true.

But where had God been when she and Spring, at seven, were placed in Uncle William's care, never to see their mother again?

On Thursday, Brent found an excuse to visit the church about ten o'clock. Since he worked closely with each of the remodeling and refurbishing crews, anyway, monitoring the various stages, it was an easy stop to make. After a quick glance into the windowed hall, disappointed not to find Autumn there, he breezed into David's office.

“Hi, David. I see the furnace and AC crew are here today. That's good. Uh, I thought Autumn Barbour would be here this morning, too.”

“Yeah, hi, Brent. Uh-huh, she's been here and gone again. Did you need her for something?”

“Oh.” He tried not to let David see his letdown. The last time he felt interested in a woman, he got all kinds of speculation thrown his way. His mother, his brother, his friends.

His mom especially wanted him to remarry. If she caught even a glimmer of his interest in Autumn, she'd make excuses to dig out all he knew about her, and try to wangle an introduction.

Normally, he didn't care—his life was an open book, anyway, what with his interest in neighborhood and civic affairs. He was comfortable with the spotlight. A man had to be if he hoped to make a difference in his community. Therefore, everyone knew his personal business; it was the cost of being a player, his brother, Drew, always pointed out.

It hadn't slipped past his notice that Laureen loved it when her name had occasionally been linked with his in the society section of the
Kansas City Star.
She was the kind of woman, always polished, always aware of herself, who made a good political partner.

Not a bit like Autumn.

He
liked
Autumn. So did Timmy.

But for some reason he thought if he rushed her, or let it be known he wanted to know her better, it might just snap back at him. She seemed a very private person. A tad mysterious.

“Not really,” he answered David. “I'll catch up to her later. How do you like the sketches she's shown you?”

“Actually, I've taken only a glance at them, but they look good to me. You interested in coming to the board meeting to speak up for 'em?”

“You bet! Tell me when and where.”

By Saturday, he'd come up with a new strategy. He and Timothy, both dressed for the outdoors, knocked on her door, Samson in hand.

At sight of them, her green eyes ignited with a flash of gladness that warmed his heart considerably. And his hopes.

“Well, hi there, Timmy,” she said, letting her smile stretch without hesitation, with no hint of her shyness. “And Brent.”

He supposed playing second fiddle to Timmy wasn't too bad. He could positively love a woman who liked his child that much.

“We're goin' to the park,” Timmy said. “And we wondered if you and Buttons could come and play.”

“Why…I think…that would be lovely.”

He hoped she couldn't see the release of his tensed muscles.

Moments later, Brent drove north to Watkins Mill State Park, where they could walk and roam and pic
nic. Although a popular location, he hoped this early in spring the place would be free of much company.

And it was. They had their choice of parking spots. They left the car and started down the long hiking trail. Leashed under Timmy's control, the two puppies romped ahead, stopping now and again to investigate the terrain. Timmy chased after them, while Autumn and Brent lagged at a slower pace.

“I love this place. Tim and I camped here last summer for one long weekend,” he remarked as an opening for conversation. “Made me think I might like a country place someday, just to get away sometimes.”

“I thought you liked the city.”

“I do, yes. I love having things close at hand and the charm of the old neighborhoods. But a man can like a bit of change of scene now and again, y'know. And something about the peaceful air here puts me in the mood for country living.”

“You don't like the Lake of the Ozarks?” she asked. “Or Pomme de Terre or Truman? Everyone I know rushes off to the lakes for getaway places. I'd think you'd be one of those who liked boating and waterskiing.”

“Yeah, I've had my share of indulging those sports. I like them well enough. And my brother Drew and I had a motorboat when we were younger. My folks always rented a place down at the lake through the summers when we were kids,” he rambled on, glancing at her now and again to see if he was boring her. She seemed content enough to let him talk, even interested.