Читать книгу A Perfect Match - Deb Kastner - Страница 12

Chapter Four

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“What do you think, girl?” Zeke asked the dog wryly as he scrubbed a hand over her soft muzzle. “Am I a fool for hoping?”

Tip merely nuzzled into his hand, bumping his palm with her nose to indicate that, in her opinion, he wasn’t done scratching yet.

Zeke laughed and continued petting her with one hand, and squeezing the steering wheel with his other as he maneuvered his truck down the highway.

He was feeling introspective today. He had more free time on Saturday. Without work to keep his mind occupied, it was easy to get caught up wrestling with his thoughts. Having Tip with him helped him to not get bogged down thinking.

The more time he spent with Julia, the more he lost his focus. When she was around, there wasn’t room for anything else in his mind and heart.

If he was completely honest, he’d admit he was terrified out of his wits at what he was feeling. She made him feel such a hodgepodge of emotions he wanted to run away when he saw her, yet he was drawn to her with all his heart, every fiber of his being.

Was God in this?

That was the question that beleaguered him now. That, and the fact he just couldn’t shake the feeling Julia needed him somehow.

For one thing, she didn’t believe in happy endings.

He desperately wanted to know why, what had jaded her. He knew beyond a doubt she was a Christian, and had a personal relationship with Christ. That story ended well, didn’t it? And if it worked for the Creator, why not for His creations?

He flipped his blinker and moved his truck off the highway. He didn’t know what he could do for Julia, or what God would have him do for her. He cared for her, but he was hardly in a position to offer her any type of assistance or comfort.

He was determined. She’d done something for him no one else had ever done.

She’d looked past the carpenter and saw a man beneath. Hey—maybe that was the answer.

She’d asked him to sit on the planning committee for the quarterly special dinner the staff and volunteers at HeartBeat put on for the women currently in their care.

No one had ever asked him to sit on any kind of committee before.

He was the man people called to get the job done, not design the plan. He’d served a year’s worth of dinners for HeartBeat, filling in whenever he was needed and doing whatever needed doing.

He hadn’t been sure what to do with Julia’s invitation. He’d been surprised, and honored. He turned his truck back onto the highway, in the direction of Julia’s apartment. He knew where she lived. He’d made it his business to know, even if it was none of his business, technically speaking.

God help and bless him. His decision was made.

“Come on, Tip. Let’s go see Julia.”

“There are bound to be some dry times in a Christian’s life,” Julia muttered to herself, closing her Bible with an audible thump.

Maybe it was just that she was reading through the minor prophets.

Maybe it was just that she was distracted.

Zeke the Carpenter and Tip the Wonder Dog. Lakeisha pushing her to drop her Great Scheme and concentrate on true love, whatever that was.

And in the meantime, God felt far away, as if an invisible barrier had been erected between heaven and earth, leaving her all alone.

Julia remembered with longing the times when she just couldn’t read enough of the Bible. Now it seemed she had to struggle through each paragraph, fight to understand each word.

“Lord, what am I doing wrong?” she whispered in misery.

Julia walked outside onto the small balcony and leaned as far as she could into the redwood railing to see around the corner of the building and get a glimpse of the rising sun. The wood under her hands had eroded from the elements and she had to be careful for splinters, but it was worth the discomfort to feel the heat of the sun on her face.

Besides, it had been her habit since childhood to watch the sun rise. She breathed deeply, letting all her stress go for that one moment. The warmth on her face was like an instant connection with the Son, a reminder that in His arms was true warmth.

It was her favorite time of the morning, where the world was still fresh and clean, not marred by the contents of the day. As always, she wondered what this day would bring. Only God knew.

Lakeisha was a late sleeper, so early morning was Julia’s special time with the Lord. It was a good thing she had this time alone, because she sometimes talked aloud when she prayed.

Like this morning.

“I’m not doing enough, am I?” she asked, looking up at the cloudy sky as if waiting for an audible answer, though of course she knew better than that. Oh, that life was so easy.

As she looked back down at her worn burgundy leather Bible, she traced the gold lettering that graced the front. As much as she’d like her answers face-to-face, she settled for knowing she could take Bible 101 when she got to heaven and have all her questions answered to her satisfaction.

The telephone rang, and she raced to the kitchen to grab the phone off the wall. She juggled and then dropped the receiver in her haste to answer before the ring disturbed Lakeisha.

Swiping up the receiver from where it dangled near her feet, she cleared her throat and muttered a greeting.

“Julia.”

Once again, the receiver hit the floor, this time sliding right out of her limp hands.

She stared down at the swinging handset, praying desperately this situation would simply go away, for on the other end of the line was the one man’s voice she never wanted to hear again. Not ever.

So help her God.

“Julia, it’s Daddy.”

Julia cringed, inwardly and outwardly, as her stomach flipped over and hurled itself around like a carnival ride.

He still had the nerve to call himself Daddy, after all this time. Shaking, she pulled the receiver close, pressing it hard against her ear. She could hear the sound of her father’s rapid breathing on the other end of the line and knew it matched her own.

He cleared his throat. “I’m in Denver.”

Silence crackled on the line, and Julia knew he was waiting for a response.

She had none to give. Her father was in Denver? It was too much to fathom.

“Why?” Her question was low and guttural.

“I’ve been thinking about you. How have you been?”

Julia opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her mind swam with thick gray rage until she thought her head might burst. She couldn’t talk to him. There were no words to express what she felt.

“Like you care.” That was a start.

“You know I do,” her father replied, his voice hoarse and cracking with emotion.

Julia shuddered. She didn’t want to hear this. Not a word of it. This man had no right to call himself her father. She swallowed hard as she bit back tears.

“Can we meet somewhere for coffee? Please? I just need to see you again. See with my own eyes that you’re doing okay.”

“No.” No way. Knowing bitterness had crept into her tone, she gripped her fingernails into her fist until the sting of her pinched flesh replaced the sting of her heart.

“No? Just no? That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I can’t accept that, Julia. I came to Denver so we could—”

“We aren’t going to do anything. Do you understand that?”

“I understand,” her father said quietly. “But I can’t accept it.”

“That’s my final answer. You’re going to have to accept it. I’m too old to need a father watching over me. Don’t try to come into my life now. It’s too late for that. Just go on your merry way and stay out of my life.”

Quietly, shakily, she replaced the receiver on the phone, finding comfort in its audible click. Taking deep breaths, she consciously shoved the painful memories back into a dark pocket in the recesses of her mind.

She had a life of her own now. She didn’t need, or want, her father in her life. Closing her eyes and slumping against the kitchen counter, she ferociously ignored the painful tug of her heart.

“I’ve got to get on with my life, Lord,” she said aloud, but the words just floated away on empty space.

A knock sounded on the front door. Julia glanced at the clock. It was still early for visitors, just past eight-thirty. Still, she was glad for the excuse to push her own dilemma aside for the moment, and she rushed to answer the door.

Zeke Taylor stood on the other side, shifting from foot to foot and jamming his fingers through his thick blond hair. Tip wandered around his legs, sniffing at the concrete landing.

Not quite sure what to do with the man, Julia crouched and welcomed the dog. Tip immediately came to her, barking in delight and rubbing her head against Julia’s hands. The dog didn’t even seem to notice the splint on her leg. It hardly hampered her movements at all.

“She’s looking great,” Julia commented, looking up at Zeke.

The big man stuffed his hands in his pockets and grinned. “I wish I could take the credit for it, but it’s all Tip’s doing. She’s a real trooper.”

Julia stood and gestured for Zeke to come in. “You’re just being modest.”

Zeke chuckled. It was a deep, affectionate sound that warmed Julia’s heart. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Julia settled on the sofa, and Zeke sat in the easy chair catty-corner to her.

He leaned his elbows on his knees and caught her gaze. For a moment he said nothing, just stared at her as if he could read her mind.

“What’s wrong, Julia?” His question was such a low murmur Julia wondered if she’d even heard him correctly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Maybe I should be begging your pardon,” he said softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”

She laughed shakily, a little unsettled by Zeke’s discernment. Maybe he could read her mind through her eyes. Or maybe she was wearing her heart on her sleeve for all to see.

She straightened her spine and tipped her chin a notch or two. It wasn’t Zeke’s business why she was feeling this way, and he had no right to pry. She didn’t have to tell him anything.

But as she looked into his kind gaze, she quickly realized it wasn’t Zeke she was angry with. And Zeke wasn’t pressuring her—he was sitting patiently, looking concerned and a little out of place.

She opened her mouth to tell him she was okay, but that’s not what came out. “My father just called.”

His eyes narrowed, and he stroked his beard with one hand. “I see,” he said, though he clearly didn’t.

“We’re not exactly on speaking terms.”

Zeke didn’t ask why, but he looked ready to listen. And for some strange reason, she felt like talking. To Zeke Taylor, the carpenter. She didn’t have time to figure out the swirl of emotions running through her. She was simply glad he was there.

“I haven’t seen him since the day I graduated high school and walked out that door,” she explained fiercely. “He tries to call once in a while, but I’ve always managed to avoid him. Until this morning.”

“Did he abuse you?” Zeke’s question was almost a growl, and his hands were back in his lap, clenched tightly together. He looked as if he were ready to punch someone, and Julia wondered if he would do her a favor and punch her dad.

Not that punching Dad that would solve anything, other than give her a sense of revenge. But she wasn’t looking for revenge. She was simply looking to be left alone.

“No. Yes,” she said in answer to his question. She took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wished he’d hit me. At least then he would have noticed me.”

“Absentee father, huh?”

“Deadbeat Dad. In the worst sense of the word. I don’t remember a time when he treated me like his daughter. He never even remembered to buy me a present for my birthday. He didn’t care if I had decent clothes for school or not. I don’t even think he cared if I got enough to eat.”

She paused. “I don’t think he wanted a daughter. I don’t think he wanted me.”

Zeke reached out to her. His hand engulfed hers, and the feeling was oddly reassuring. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “That’s tough for a little girl,” he said, his voice husky.

Julia pinched her lips together. “Yes it was. But it’s over now.”

He squeezed her hand. “Are you sure about that? Why’s the man calling, anyway?”

She appreciated the fact that Zeke didn’t call Greg Evans her father. “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe he suddenly found his conscience or something. Too little too late, in my book.”

“Could he be stalking you?” His tone was deadly serious, and a chill went down Julia’s spine.

But she wasn’t afraid of her father. He’d never hurt her, at least not physically. The emotional scars he left were big enough, but she didn’t worry that Greg was going to do something rash. “No. I don’t think so. Hopefully he hasn’t resorted to following me around.”

“If he does, Julia, you tell me, okay?” His gaze pulled at hers, willing her to agree with him. He really cared.

And it felt good. Julia chuckled. “If my dad starts in with any cat-and-mouse stuff, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Zeke leaned in to her, until their gazes were mere inches apart, and she could feel the warmth of his breath fanning her cheek, coming in quick, short bursts.

“This is serious, Julia. I want you to promise me.”

Julia wasn’t sure her mouth would work. Her heart had suddenly taken to calisthenics, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak over the noise. “I—I promise.”

He leaned back as fast as he’d moved in on her. “Great. Then we have a deal.”

“A deal,” Julia echoed, placing a hand over her racing heart. Why did Zeke’s nearness affect her even more than her father’s phone call? Maybe she was just confused, given the way the day was going.

“You never asked me why I’m here,” Zeke reminded her with a grin bright enough to let her know he was intentionally changing the subject.

“Why are you here?” He was going to think she was a parrot if she kept this up.

“I’ve been thinking about that committee you wanted me to join.”

“For the service supper.”

He nodded briskly. “That’s the one.”

“And?”

“I’m happy to help.”

“You didn’t have to come all this way just to tell me that.” Julia chuckled. “You could have phoned.”

“No—I wanted to thank you personally for asking. It means a lot to me. I…wanted you to know.”

“Well, I’m glad I asked,” she said, realizing just how true that was. She was growing to regard Zeke as a dear friend. “I have a suspicion you’re going to be a great ally to have in my corner.”

In more ways than one.

A Perfect Match

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