Express Duet Read online

  “Yes, since I was six years old.”

  This young believer demonstrated more faith and maturity than I did. I felt so foolish, yet so grateful at the same time. Surprise delighted me at every turn down the Washout Express exit.

  My cell phone rang. It was Darryl.

  5

  My eyes widened as I looked at the name buzzing on my phone. Darryl’s Beethoven’s Fifth ringtone played out.

  “Is that him?” Tracy scooted over to me and peered close at my phone. My finger quickly covered the name.

  Throw the cell phone out the window or see what that weasel has to say? I sat motionless. Darryl did not leave a voice mail.

  Confused, I laid the phone on the side table. Tracy slid back to her place without another word.

  The cell phone rang again. Beethoven’s Fifth.

  “Excuse me, Tracy. I have to take this. Do you mind?” I thought she might go into the kitchen so I could talk to Darryl.

  “No, don’t answer it, Bailey. He doesn’t deserve to talk to you. You’ll cave in. I can see it on your face.” She grabbed my phone and pressed Ignore.

  A caring thing to do, but it irritated me. A few seconds later, a third call from Darryl arrived at the same time as a knock on the front door.

  Tracy let Scott in. “I wanted to see how you girls are doing. Are you feeling OK, Bailey?” He took off his cap and wiped his feet on the floor mat.

  Tracy pushed the Ignore button again, slid my phone under a couch cushion, and sat on it.

  Scott had a “what are y'all up to?” look on his face, but he didn’t say anything.

  “I…I feel fine. I took some aspirin, and I’m no worse for the wear.” I lifted the hair from my forehead so he could see. “And you?”

  “All right. Had a headache trying to work this afternoon, but it’s gone now. Something sure smells good.” Scott looked toward the kitchen.

  If Darryl tried to call again, I couldn’t hear it under Tracy and the couch cushion. I put it out of my mind.

  We moved into the kitchen where we sat at the table and munched cookies.

  “Want a soda, Scott?” Tracy asked.

  “Better not. Sweets are my downfall, and meat and potatoes.” He patted his stomach and laughed.

  “I’ll get you a glass of water.” Tracy moved to the cabinet for a glass.

  “Yes, ma’am, but you don’t have to wait on me.” He smoothed his hair with his hand.

  Tracy shrugged and went to the fridge for cold water.

  My gaze darted toward the living room. Did I hear my cell phone? If it rang, Tracy and Scott showed no notice. I would focus on them. What were they saying?

  I think they were talking about the kids at the diner that morning, but their banter faded into the background. I focused on the man sitting across from me.

  The jet black hair tousled about his forehead showed the imprint of his cap. Framed with black brows and lashes, his blue eyes lightened against tanned cheeks. Were those big muscles under that white polo the result of hard work? Or working out? Maybe he did have a slight meat-and-potatoes middle, but he wore it well. I thought of the gentleness he’d demonstrated toward his father. Gentle, yet wrapped up in a tall, broad-shouldered package.

  He smiled as he talked. I liked his open friendly face—the dimple on his left cheek that deepened when he laughed, the perfect little V in the middle of his upper lip and the way it stretched to a straight line when he smiled.

  His amazing eyes made me want to tell him everything. They darkened with concern when he listened to me or talked about his father. Those eyes that…looked straight at me.

  Suddenly my ears burned and my palms went moist. If only I had something in my hands. I drummed my fingers on the table and cleared my throat.

  He grinned his dimple into a crater, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. I half expected him to ask, “Were you checking me out?”

  I managed to choke out, “How’s your dad?”

  The weight of his responsibilities returned to his face. I could have kicked myself for reminding him.

  “He’s fine. He goes to bed early and sleeps all night.” Scott looked down at the table. “He tries so hard to do his normal routine during the day and pretty much accomplishes it. His inability to communicate is a real frustration for him. And he misses my mom. Life without her has been pretty hard on him.”

  He swallowed and his shoulders slumped a bit.

  “I’m sure it’s not been easy on you, either,” I said. “I don’t know how you handle it all, the restaurant, the washout, and this place.”

  “As you can see, I’m not handling this place at all. Hard to be here at Mom and Dad’s place.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Uncle Tops is my mom’s brother. He’s doing great at the diner with Tracy’s help, and the Pearson brothers work hard at the washout. It’s going OK, I guess.”

  He pulled his lips in and shook his head for just a second before looking my way again. “Do you need anything, Bailey? I don’t know how long you plan to stay, and however long is fine with me. Don’t be alarmed if you see my dad out in the garden wandering around. He and my mom put a lot into the grounds. You should look around sometime.” He stood.

  “It looks lovely from the kitchen window. I may go exploring in the morning, if Tracy doesn’t keep me up all night.” I gave Tracy a little shove on the shoulder.

  “Oh, she can talk for hours.” He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Been listening to her forever. Came out talking, I think.”

  Tracy pretended to throw a cookie at him, and he ran from her.

  “Bye, y’all!” he hollered as he bounded out the door.

  “Wow.” Tracy crossed her arms and looked toward the door where Scott had just exited.

  “Wow, what?” I said.

  “To tell you the truth, Bailey, I haven’t seen him joke or even really smile for several months now, since his mother died and Paul had a stroke.” Tracy cleared away the cookie jar. “Maybe he’s getting back to his old self. Maybe it’s you.”

  Yeah, right. I ignored her last comment. “His old self?”

  “Yes, Scott is a very friendly, very funny person. He works like a dog, always has. He and his parents love God and each other. Always helping people. But to hear them tell it, they’re the ones being blessed. He didn’t have to give that pastor such a break on his bill this morning. I don’t know how they ever make any money. Shelley often didn’t charge young newlyweds for their honeymoon stay here at the inn. The Wests are just good folks. If it weren’t for them, I don’t know where my mom and I would be.”

  “How’s that?”

  “My dad died when I was a baby. They gave Mom a job, and so she finished cosmetology school. Shelley babysat many a time.” Tracy spoke with love in her voice. “I think they even put up the money to help Mom open her shop. They’re like family to us, and there isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for them.”

  What lovely people. Their kindness reminded me so much of Gran. Shelley and Gran would have been kindred spirits. I’d accompanied my grandmother many times to community events to serve holiday food for struggling families. She always fixed goodie baskets for the college kids at church preparing for finals.

  Mom and I had been amazed at the crowd that attended her funeral. We heard too many stories to count about how Gran had helped people.

  Pinewood Manor was much bigger than Shelley’s, but the heart atmosphere was the same. Love. I missed Gran so much, and my heart grieved for Scott and his father.

  My cell rang again. I raced Tracy to the couch and grabbed my phone from between the cushions. My mother’s ringtone.

  “Hi, Mom. I didn’t forget, but I just haven’t gotten around to calling yet.”

  “I couldn’t wait. Are you all right, honey?”

  “I’m getting some rest and have made some new friends. I will be home in a couple of days.”

  “I’m praying for you.”

  “Thanks, but don’t worry about me. Please give the girls a call
and let them know I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth. I’ll mail them my part of the rent.” I bit my lip, stressed to be giving her such a lame apology and reluctance to explain.

  “I’ll tell them.” Her short answer sounded a little miffed.

  I changed the subject. “So, how are you, Mom? How’s work?”

  “I’ve been training a new crop of nurses. They’re so eager. Reminds me of me at that age.” Her voice brightened when she talked about her passion for training nurses.

  “Well, you’re a good teacher and an inspiration.” An awkward silence filled the next thirty seconds. I just wasn’t ready to talk. “I guess I’m going to call it a night, Mom. Thanks for checking on me, but really, I’m fine.”

  “OK, but if you stay very much longer, I’m going to come find you. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, I just need a little time. I’ll talk to you soon. Thanks for understanding.” I hoped that she would let it go. “Night, Mom. Love you.”

  I heard Mom sigh as she ended the conversation. A twinge of guilt troubled me. I resolved to give my mother a better explanation. As soon as I could explain, that is.

  Tracy had busied herself cleaning the kitchen while I talked to my mom. It occurred to me that both our moms were single.

  “I guess we have that in common,” I said. “I mean the fact that we were both raised by single moms.”

  “Really? My mom is the greatest.” Tracy wiped the stove and then turned to face me with an intrigued expression.

  “I really admire my mom, too. I had a wonderful childhood despite the hardships. Mom went through a lot when my dad left us. Put herself through nursing school, worked two jobs. We lived with my grandmother at her home, Pinewood Manor.

  “Your grandmother owned Pinewood Manor? Shelley loved that place.”

  “She heard of it?”

  “Heard of it? She thought it the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. She always wanted to look around inside.”

  “Gran died a few years ago. She left it to me.”

  “You own Pinewood Manor, and you’re staying here in this place?” She shook her head in unbelief. “I love this place and all, but Pinewood Manor—”

  “It needs some major repairs. It’s not livable right now. But I’ll probably end up there when I get my act together. I had hoped…” A change of subject was in order. “Are you ready to hit the sack? I’m beat.”

  “Sure, but I won’t guarantee that I’m through talking.” She giggled.

  Beethoven’s Fifth buzzed again. I stared at the name on my phone.

  “It’s that jerk, isn’t it? Ignore him. No second chance now. He’ll just dump you again.”

  I navigated to my voicemail and heard him spit anger into the phone. “That’s pretty low, Bailey, having deadbolts put on. You’ll regret it, I promise.”

  A shudder wracked my senses. What did I expect? Did I hope it was all a mistake and that he was calling to apologize? Regrets? No, not about having deadbolts put on the doors at my house. About the breakup? I thought about the way Liz washed her hands of Darryl Graham. I was getting there.

  I got ready for bed and slipped under the snow white comforter. It pillowed around me with a soft, comforting hug. Tracy spread out on the couch at the foot of the bed.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? I could sleep forever in here,” she said, settling in.

  I didn’t answer. I turned away from her and pretended to sleep, but Tracy continued to talk into the night. I don’t know what I missed, but I finally fell asleep to the sound of her sleepy ramblings.

  Early in the morning the house phone rang. Tracy sprang from the couch to answer it, but she didn’t get there before the caller left a message on the answering machine. I could hear it from the Sweetheart Room.

  “Shelley, it’s Mary Wilson. Can you believe it’s been a year since our honeymoon? Mark and I want to take you up on your offer of a half-off weekend for our anniversary. I’m calling to confirm our reservations. If I don’t hear from you then we’ll be there Friday at about 4:00 PM. Can’t wait to see you, Paul, and Scott. Bye!” The message ended.

  “Uh-oh. Looks like the Wilsons didn’t get word about Shelley’s passing. We’ll have to tell Scott so he can call them. This is awful. They’ll be so disappointed.” Tracy wrote down the Wilsons’ number from the caller ID.

  What a shame. Did Scott really need to cancel the weekend? Maybe they weren’t ready to reopen the inn, but maybe I could help this once. It’s not as if I had anything else to do just then.

  “Well, I’ve got to go home and get ready for work. I had a great time, Bailey. See you later!” she said, bouncing toward the front door.

  She moved fast, so I had to call out after her. “I had a great time, too. Tracy, please don’t mention the Wilsons’ call to Scott just yet, OK?”

  She nodded and went on her way.

  I found a watering can and tended to the houseplants on the front porch and in the backyard. I discovered a riding mower in the shed. I managed to back it out and got part of the lawn done. Cathartic. At least until I ran out of gas.

  I decided to venture through the gate at the back of the property. Unbelievable.

  A whole new garden opened beyond the far property gate. Azalea bushes edged the area, which was as large as the backyard itself. A gazebo nestled in the middle of the space. The steps that led up to the seating area were etched with “Pray without ceasing.” Hanging plants, in bad need of watering, dangled completely around the roof edge.

  Four concrete paths led from the gazebo to other seating areas. Stone benches sat at the end of these four paths. Each bench nestled against a rose arbor. Poor things, so dry and neglected. The trees on all sides of this back property provided shade.

  I walked up the five steps of the gazebo and sat down. Beauty. Peace. So quiet I could hear my own breathing. I could also hear my broken heart crying out to God. The prayer reached my lips.

  “Thank You for this beautiful place and the wonderful family that created it.” I sank to my knees and let it all pour out. I cried to God about my hurt and anguish, about my dumb mistakes, and about turning my back on Him this past year. Forgiveness filled my heart, followed by a sense of hope. I didn’t know what I was going to do yet, but I sensed I could make a fresh start now—thanks to this Washout Express. I didn’t feel as washed out or washed up anymore. I needed to be here. I rested my arms on the bench, laid my head down, and cried it out.

  “I’m so sorry, Bailey. I didn’t see you until this minute.” Scott backed away from the gazebo, his cheeks blushing with embarrassment.

  I quickly wiped my tears and sat up on the bench. “No, it’s all right. Come on up.”

  He hesitated for a second, took off his cap, and then joined me. He didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve been…far away from God for a long time.” I crossed my arms and leaned back against the gazebo. “I’m trying to get back to Him again here today. Sorry you had to catch me coming apart.”

  “No worries. It happens to all of us. Funny thing is that He is always with us, even when we ignore Him. He’s an amazing God.” He leaned back as well, his shoulder touching mine.

  Scott looked around the garden. “Mom built this place because she believed in prayer. She and Dad have always been such faithful people.” His voice grew hoarse. “I don’t understand why God would take her and then allow Dad to have a stroke at the same time. I don’t mean to question God…but it’s been really hard. I trust Him. I just don’t understand.” He turned his head slightly away.

  “I can only imagine.” I unfolded my arms and put my hand on his shoulder. “You really have your hands full. Must be hard to even grieve with all you have to do. I’m glad your father is still with you. Mine left when I was small. He didn’t like me much.”

  He set his cap on the bench beside him and then took my hand from his shoulder, holding it in both of his. “Don’t all children of broken homes think it’s their fault? You’ve had no contact with him sin
ce he left?” Scott’s warm voice and intent gaze encouraged me to open up to him.

  “No. He did leave me a letter. It’s stored in a box at my grandmother’s house. I don’t have the courage to read it.” The whole thing sounded really dumb spoken out loud.

  “I understand,” he said with a nod. “I can’t say I have put my hurt all in the past yet. I’d rather work—keeps my mind off of it all. But sometimes it stares me in the face, if you know what I mean.”

  “I surely do. I’m going through a bit of a hard time myself, although nothing like what you and your dad are experiencing. Broken engagement.” There, I’d said it. He’d seen me at my worst since the first day. He might as well know it all. “I sort of ran away from home. Couldn’t deal with it. But coming here has been a help. Thanks for letting me stay at Shelley’s Heart.”

  “Stay as long as you like.” He gently dropped my hand and stood. “Mom would have wanted it that way.” He looked into my eyes for a long moment as if he wanted to say something.

  “Sorry about your broken engagement.” His gaze held me for a long moment. Then a slow lazy grin played across his face before he tucked his cap on his head. “I’ll see you later.”

  Somehow, I didn’t think he was sorry after all. I shook away the thought. “Oh, I almost forgot. A call came this morning, confirming reservations for this weekend. Looks like Mark and Mary Wilson didn’t get word about your mom.”

  He took a deep breath and looked to the heavens. “I called the folks who had reservations the month she died. I forgot about the rest—too busy taking care of Dad and the businesses, I guess. I’ll call them right away.” He stretched his neck from one side to the other. Definitely a man with too much to do.

  “Listen, I have a deal for you. Let me earn my keep. I have some experience. I’ll put some polish back on this place and take care of the Wilsons this weekend. Your mom wouldn’t want to disappoint them, and, well, I don’t have a job to go back to.”

  “Would you really do that for me, for Mom?” He looked at me with a very distracting smile. “Deal, ma’am,” he said, grinning. “That would be wonderful. Let’s shake on it,” He reached out his hand, and I took it, sealing the deal. But neither of us dropped the hold on the other.