Читать книгу Stranger in the Shadows - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 6

The industrial-size kitchen had a modern feel with a touch of old-time charm, the stainless steel counters and appliances balanced by mellow gold paint, white cabinets and hardwood floor. Chloe hovered in the doorway, wary, unsure of herself in a way she hadn’t been a year ago, watching as Ben plugged in a coffeemaker and pulled a can of coffee from a cupboard. He gestured her over and Chloe stepped into the room ignoring the erratic beat of her heart. “This is a nice space.”

“Yeah, it is, but I can’t take credit. We remodeled a couple of years ago. The church ladies decided on the setup and color scheme. Opal pretty much spearheaded the project.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. She’s a take-charge kind of person. It’s one of the things I admire about her.”

“Have you known her long?” He leaned a hip against the counter, relaxed and at ease. Apparently not at all disturbed by the fact that he’d been called out of bed before dawn on a cool November day to help a woman he didn’t know set up flowers for a wedding he was probably officiating.

Strange.

Interesting.

Intriguing.

Enough!

Chloe rubbed the scarred flesh on her wrist, forcing her thoughts back to the conversation. “Since I was a kid.”

“You grew up in Lakeview?” His gaze was disconcerting, and Chloe resisted the urge to look away.

“No, I visited in the summer.” She didn’t add more. The past was something she didn’t share. Especially not with strangers.

Ben seemed to take the hint, turning away and pulling sugar packets from a cupboard. “It’s a good place to spend the summer. And the fall, winter and spring.” He smiled. “There’s cream in the fridge if you take it. I’d better get moving on those boxes.”

With that he strode from the room, his movements lithe and silent, almost catlike in their grace. He might be a pastor now, but Chloe had a feeling he’d been something else before he’d felt a call to ministry. Military. Police. Firefighter. Something that required control, discipline and strength.

Not that it mattered or was any of her business.

Chloe shook her head, reaching for a coffee filter and doing her best to concentrate on the task at hand. Obviously, the nightmare had thrown her off, destroying her focus and hard-won control. She needed to get both back and she needed to do it now. Opal was counting on her. There was no way she planned to disappoint the one person in her life who had never disappointed her.

She paced across the room, staring out the window above the sink, anxiety a cold, hard knot in her chest. New beginnings. That’s what she hoped for. Prayed for. But maybe she was too entrenched in the past to ever escape it. Maybe coming to Lakeview was nothing more than putting off the inevitable.

Outside, dawn bathed the churchyard in purple light and deep shadows, the effect sinister. Ominous. A thick stand of trees stood at the far end of the property, tall pines and heavy-branched oaks reaching toward the ever-brightening sky. As the coffee brewed, the rich, full scent of it filled the kitchen, bringing memories of hot summer days, lacy curtains, open windows, soft voices. Safety.

But safety and security never lasted. All Chloe could hope for was a measure of peace.

She started to turn away from the window, but something moved near the edge of the yard, a slight shifting in the darkness that caught her attention. Was that a person standing in the shadows of the trees? It was too far to see the details, the light too dim. But Chloe was sure there was a person there. Tall. Thin. Looking her way.

She took a step back, her pulse racing, her skin clammy and cold. This was the nightmare again. The stranger watching, waiting on the other side of the glass. Only this time Chloe wasn’t trapped in a car and surrounded by flames. This time she was able to run. And that’s just what she did, turning away from the window, rushing from the kitchen and slamming into a hard chest.

She flew back, her bad leg buckling, her hands searching for purchase. Her fingers sank into cool leather as strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her upright.

“Careful. We’ve got a lot to do. It’s probably best if we don’t kill each other before we finish.” Ben’s words tickled against her hair, his palms warm against her ribs. He felt solid and safe and much too comfortable.

Chloe stepped back, forcing herself to release her white-knuckled grip on his jacket. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to run you down.”

“You didn’t even come close.” His gaze swept over her, moving from her face, to her hands and back again. “Is everything okay? You look pale.”

“I…” But what was she going to say? That she’d seen someone standing outside the church? That she thought it might be the same person who’d stood outside her burning car, watching while the flames grew? The same person who’d been in jail for eleven months? “Everything is fine. I’m just anxious to get started in the sanctuary.”

He stared hard, as if he could see beyond her answer to the truth that she was trying to hide, the paranoia and fear that had dogged her for months. Finally, he nodded. “How about we grab the coffee and get started?”

Go back into the kitchen? Back near the window that looked out onto the yard? Maybe catch another glimpse of whoever was standing near the trees. No thanks. “You go ahead. I’ll start unpacking boxes.”

She hurried back toward the sanctuary, feeling the weight of Ben’s gaze as she stepped through the double wide doors. She didn’t look back, not wanting him to see the anxiety and frustration in her face.

She’d been so sure that moving away from D.C., leaving behind her apartment, her job, starting a new life, would free her from the anxiety that had become way too much a part of who she was. Seven days into her “new” life and she’d already sunk back into old patterns and thought processes.

Her hands trembled as she pulled chocolate-colored ribbon from a box and began decorating the first pew. Long-stemmed roses—deep red, creamy white, rusty orange—needed to be attached. She pulled a bouquet from a bucket Ben had brought in and wrestled it into place, a few petals falling near her feet as she tied a lopsided bow around the stems.

“Better be careful. Opal won’t like it if the roses are bald when she gets here.” Ben moved toward her, a coffee cup in each hand, sandy hair falling over his forehead.

“Hopefully, she won’t notice a few missing petals.”

“A few? No. A handful? Maybe.” He set both cups on a pew and scooped up several silky petals. “I brought you coffee. Black. You didn’t look like the sugar and cream type.”

He was right, and Chloe wasn’t sure she was happy about it. “What gave it away?”

“Your eyes.” He didn’t elaborate and Chloe didn’t ask, just lifted the closest cup, inhaling the rich, sharp scent of the coffee and doing her best to avoid Ben’s steady gaze.

Which annoyed her. She’d never been one to avoid trouble. Never been one to back away from a challenge. Never been. But the accident had changed her.

She took a sip of the coffee, pulled more ribbon from the box, forcing lightness to her movements and to her voice. “They say the eyes are the window to the soul. If you’re seeing black coffee in mine, I’m in big trouble.”

“I’m seeing a lot more than black coffee in there.” He grabbed a bouquet of roses, holding it while Chloe hooked it in place and tied a ribbon around the stems, feeling the heat of Ben’s body as he leaned in close to help, wondering what it was he thought he saw in her eyes.

Or maybe not wondering. Maybe she knew. Darkness. Sorrow. Guilt. Emotions she’d tried to outrun, but that refused to be left behind.

She grabbed another ribbon, another bouquet, trying to lose herself in the rhythm of the job.

“The flowers look good. Are they Opal’s design, or Jenna’s?” The switch in subjects was a welcome distraction, and Chloe answered quickly.

“I’m not sure. They were designed months before I started working at Blooming Baskets.”

“Do you like it there?”

“Yes.” She just wasn’t sure how good she was at it. Digging into the bowels of a computer hard drive to find hidden files was one thing. Unraveling yards of tulle and ribbon and handling delicate flowers was another. “But it’s a lot different than what I used to do.”

“What was that?”

“Computers.” She kept the answer short. Giving a name to her job as a computer forensic specialist usually meant answering a million questions about her chosen career.

Former career.

“Sounds interesting.”

“It was.” It had also been dangerous. Much more dangerous than she ever could have imagined before Adam’s death. But that was something she didn’t need to be thinking about when she had a few dozen pews and an entire reception hall left to decorate.

Chloe pulled out more ribbon, started on the next pew and wondered how long it was going to take to complete the decorations on the rest. Too long. Unless she started working a lot faster.

She moved forward, more ribbon in her hand. Ben moved with her, his sandy head bent close to hers as he helped hold the next bunch of roses in place, his presence much more of a distraction than it should have been. “Maybe we should split up. You take the pews on the other side of the aisle. I’ll finish the ones over here.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

Absolutely. “I just think we’ll get the job done more quickly that way.”

“Maybe, but we seem to be making pretty good headway together. Two sets of hands are definitely helpful in this kind of work.”

He had a point. A good one. If she had to hold the flowers and tie the ribbons it would probably take double the time. And time was not something she had enough of. “You’re probably right. Let’s keep going the way we are.”

“Silently?”

Chloe glanced up into Ben’s eyes, saw amusement there. “I don’t mind talking while we work.”

“As long as it’s not about the past?”

“Something like that.”

“I bet that limits conversation.”

Chloe shrugged, tying the next bow, grabbing more ribbon. “There are plenty of other things to talk about.”

“Like?”

“Like what Opal’s going to say if she gets here and we’re not done.”

The deep rumble of Ben’s laughter filled the air. “Point taken. I’ll lay off the questions and move a little faster.”

Four hours later, Chloe placed the last centerpiece on the last table in the reception hall; the low bowl with floating yellow, cream and burnt umber roses picked up the color in the standing floral arrangements that dotted the edges of the room. Roses. Lilies. A half a dozen other flowers whose names she didn’t know.

“You did it! And it looks almost presentable.” Opal Winchester’s voice broke the silence and Chloe turned to face the woman who’d been surrogate mother to her during long-ago summers, watching as she moved across the room, her salt and pepper curls bouncing around a broad face, her sturdy figure encased in a dark suit and pink shirt.

“I didn’t do it alone.”

“I know. Where is that good-looking young pastor?”

“Home getting ready for the wedding. Which he’s officiating after spending almost four hours helping with the floral decorations.”

“Did he complain?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t expect you to, either.” Opal slid an arm around Chloe’s waist and surveyed the room. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is. You and Jenna did a great job.”

“So did you and Ben.” Opal cast a sly look in Chloe’s direction, her dark eyes sparkling. “So, what did you think of him?”

“Who?”

“Ben Avery. As if you didn’t know.”

“He’s helpful.”

“And?”

“And he’s helpful.” Chloe brushed thick bangs out of her eyes and limped a few steps away from Opal, smoothing a wrinkle out of a tablecloth, determined not to give her friend any hint of how Ben had effected her. “How was your drive?”

“You’re changing the subject, but I’ll allow it seeing as how I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished this morning. The drive was slow. I thought I’d never get here.” Opal adjusted a centerpiece, straightened a bow on one of the chairs. “But I’m here and happy to announce that Jenna had a bouncing baby boy fifteen minutes ago.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Isn’t it? A wedding and a birth on the same day. You can’t ask for much better than that. I’m going to stop by the hospital after the reception is over. Maybe slip Jenna a piece of wedding cake if Miranda and Hawke don’t mind me bringing her some. Speaking of which,” She paused, spearing Chloe with a look that warned of trouble. “You’re going to have to attend.”

“Attend?”

“The wedding.”

“No way.” She had no intention of staying to witness the marriage of two people she didn’t know, two people who, according to both Jenna and Opal, were meant to be together.

Meant to be.

As if such a thing were possible. As if meant to be didn’t always turn into goodbye.

“I understand your reluctance, Chloe, but it’s expected.”

“You know I never do what’s expected.”

“I know you never did what was expected. You’re starting fresh here and in a small town like Lakeview, doing what’s expected is important.”

“Opal—”

“Don’t make me use my mother voice.” She glowered, straightening to her full five-foot-three height.

“I’m not ready for a big social event.”

“Well, then you’d better get ready. The entire church was invited to the ceremony and the reception. It’s a community event.”

“I don’t attend this church.”

“But Jenna does. You’ll be taking her place, offering support to the couple and representing Blooming Baskets.”

“I’m sure—”

“I won’t listen to any more excuses. I don’t like them.” The words were harsh, but Opal’s expression softened, her dark eyes filled with sympathy. “It’s been a year, Chloe. It’s time to move on. That’s why you’re here. That’s what you want. And it’s what I want for you. So, ready or not, you’re attending the wedding.”

Much as Chloe wanted to argue, she couldn’t deny the truth of Opal’s words. She did want to leave the past behind, to focus on the present and the future. To create the kind of life she’d once thought boring and mundane but now longed for. “Okay. I’ll stay. For a while.”

“Good. Now, I’m going to make sure everything is perfect in the sanctuary. You grab yourself a cup of coffee and put your leg up for a while.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You’ll do exactly what I told you to do.” Opal bustled away, leaving Chloe both amused and frustrated. Opal was a force to be reckoned with. In her absence, the room felt empty, the hollow aloneness of the moment a hard knot in Chloe’s chest, the beauty of the flowers, the tables, the bows and ribbons reminding her of the wedding she’d almost had.

Almost.

All her plans, all her dreams had died well before the accident. Now her dreams were much simpler and much less romantic. She wanted to forget, wanted to move on, wanted to rebuild her life. Maybe with God’s help she could do that, though even here in His house, she felt He was too far away to see her troubles, too far away to care.

And that, more than the flowers and decorations and memories, made her feel truly alone.