Larkspur Dreams

Fifteen


A woman. An attractive blond stood next to Everett in his office. In fact, the woman had positioned herself so closely to him, even the thinnest résumé wouldn’t fit between them. Guess it wasn’t a job interview.

Should she open the window and toss something to get their attention? Like a sofa? But did she have the right to stop Everett? Her last thought gave her pause. She and Everett weren’t engaged. They hadn’t made any verbal commitments. Yet there seemed to be such an amazing bond between them. Such a hope for greater things to come. Soon.

Lark stared at them again. She couldn’t see perfectly, but since his lights were on and the day was cloudy, she could see well enough. Everett seemed to take the woman by the shoulders and gently move her away. He glanced out his window and looked in her direction. Lark stepped away from her window. Since her lights were off, perhaps he hadn’t seen her glaring at them.

Suddenly Everett’s lights flickered off, and both of them disappeared into another part of the house. Lark felt like a sleazy private eye, and the emotion did not suit her. She also felt a bit hoodwinked. Who was this woman?

Lark had never been one to carry on over a man. But Everett had changed her heart. He had changed everything. And apparently her heart had soared before she’d had time to engage her thinking parts.

The phone rang. She and Everett had exchanged numbers, so she knew it could be him. What am I supposed to do now? In her mind, he would always have the heart of a hero, but weren’t champions sometimes terribly flawed? The phone kept ringing. Could it be Everett was capable of goodness as well as deception? Or had she overreacted? Just as she reached to pick up the phone, it stopped its beseeching noise. The Caller ID let her know Everett had indeed called.

Lark went to sit in a place where life’s puzzles seemed to unravel. Her tire swing. Flying-freedom-on-a-rope her mom always called it. She pushed off and then pumped her legs to fly higher and higher. At least as high as one could go in a tire swing. But despite its limitations, laughter always came, no matter what mood she was in. How could one not feel lighter while swinging free? Surely there would be tire swings in heaven.

As she peered up, she noticed the light playing hide and seek among the branches. She stopped her swinging and held her hand up to the glimmer, pretending the topaz-colored leaves were jewels on her fingers.

Lark slowed her pace and breathed in deeply of the brisk, fresh air. The snow had nearly gone, but there were still patches of the icy remains hiding from the sun. Picasso was in a jolly mood. He munched on something in the grass and then paddled around in his small pond. A duck’s life looked so easy. Why couldn’t her life be so simple? A good place to sleep and eat and someone to love you. Oh, there was that word again. Love. It seemed to stir up either euphoria or anarchy.

Lark turned her swing in circles until the rope made a cracking noise and would go no tighter. She lifted her feet and spun in faster and faster circles until she felt dizzy. She couldn’t help but look up at Everett’s office window when she made one of her last passes. She stopped herself when she saw something in his office window. It read: PLEASE CALL ME NOW!

Okay. How funny. So why didn’t Everett just come to her front door? It’s not like he’d build up any kind of sweat hiking over those twenty feet. Of course, it would help if she were in the house to answer the front door. Phooey. This was crazy. She needed to do something. Or maybe take a nap or watch a few minutes of the home shopping channel. No, not that last one. It would make her feel too pathetic.

Just as she rose from the swing, warm strong hands closed over hers. Most women would probably shriek about then or ready themselves for a karate chop. But even though she hadn’t known the feel of Everett’s hands long, she knew. It was him.

Lark turned around and looked up into Everett’s eyes. Kind. Absorbing. Anxious. Yes, and he should be a little anxious, she thought, as she came to her senses. “How did you get back here?” She felt a little spirited all of sudden.

Everett released her. “Well, I opened the latch on your gate and walked through.”

Why did his matter-of-fact statement make her want to laugh? “You are on private property.” She stepped out of her swing.

“Oh, is that right?” He grinned. “I suppose my lack of an invitation has something to do with the view from your office window a few minutes ago?”

Lark folded her arms. Then she realized how ridiculous she looked as a spurned woman, tapping her foot and huffing.

“Don’t you ever wear a coat?” Everett whipped off his tweed jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

She waited for a plausible counter from him, although having him closer to her made her forget a bit of what she felt anxious to know. Closer was the trigger word. Like a mousetrap on her finger. Yes, indeed. He’d been much closer to someone else just minutes ago. And she had long, platinum blond hair. Oh, how cliché.

“Apparently, the incident at the party last night caused quite a disturbance in the company. I haven’t been doing much today except answering the phone and talking to women who’ve been harassed by Sylvester in the past. They’ve even come by to get advice. To sue or not to sue. I told them they’d need to pray about it and then seek the counsel of an attorney.”

“Is that what you were doing in your office a few minutes ago? Praying with that woman?” Lark asked with a slight edge to her voice.

Everett’s eyes widened. “And did you not see the part where I physically moved her away from me?”

“Yes. . .I. . .did.” Lark felt a tremor of guilt. Well, maybe the tremor was really a six-pointer on the Richter scale.

“Madeline and I went out for coffee a few months ago. I wanted her opinion on something at work. I thought she and I might be friends since I didn’t have any. But it appears to have backfired on me. She wanted more. But I was always honest with her. And as far as today, she said she dropped by to discuss Sylvester’s harassment at work, but her real agenda surfaced pretty quickly. I’m sorry you saw it happen. But I have nothing to hide from you.”

Oh, dear. Lark saw the sincerity in his eyes. She wanted nothing more than to embrace him and start the falling in love process all over again. But the speeding locomotive had already left the station and all of the emotional jostling would be part of the ride. There was no going back now. “Look, I hope you’ll understand me when I say. . .I think I’m feeling something here,” Lark said. “I’ve never acted this way before. I’ve got some new. . .sentiments I’m dealing with when I’m around you.” Yeah, sentiments was a good and safe word. “And I—”

Everett took her in his arms and quieted her with a kiss.

Yes, that’s a very good way to deal with my new sentiments. She sweetened the moment by returning his kiss with enthusiasm as her arms wrapped around him. When the fervor between them both heightened, Everett gently pulled away.

“Woman, you’ve got quite a kiss there.” He let out some air and raked his hair back with his fingers.

Everett’s hair suddenly stuck up a bit, looking kind of spiky. It looked so cute, in fact, she wanted to muss it up some more.

“I think we’d better cool off for a second.” Indeed he appeared to have broken out in a perspiring glow.

They both grinned at each other.

The air seemed filled with sounds again. A car honked. A jet flew overhead. Funny, how during the act of kissing, one became insulated from the world. “Do you need your coat back?” Lark asked.

Everett laughed. “Are you kidding?”

Was he actually trying to catch his breath? Being thirty-five years old, surely he’d kissed a woman before. Or maybe Everett felt some new sentiments, too. “Why didn’t you have any friends?” Lark asked.

“There are a couple of reasons.” Everett looked down at his loafers. “But when you’re a slave to your job, it’s one of the hazards.”

Lark wondered what the other reason was for not having friends. He didn’t say.

Everett lifted her chin to look at him. “Please go out with me tomorrow night.”

“Will you feed me?”

Everett grinned. “Yes.”

“Then I accept.”

He felt the velvet strap on her overalls. “Everything you wear is so soft. Do you plan that every morning to be so appealing, or does it just come naturally?”

Lark gave him a one-shouldered shrug. She picked up an acorn and set it in his open palm. “Tell me, what do you see?”

To her surprise Everett held the acorn up between two fingers and studied it. “Well, from an accountant’s perspective, I see potential. . .for growth.”

“Potential is good,” Lark whispered.

Everett put the acorn in his pocket and then lifted her hand to point to the tree above them. “And what do you see up there?”

“This big, old oak?” Lark thought for a moment as she gazed up into the branches and falling leaves. “I see a filter of light. A marker of time. And for birds, it’s their birth, home, and first flight.”

“Very perceptive. There’s a painting in there somewhere.” Everett released her hand. “But I suppose there is a scene to paint everywhere.”

Lark suddenly wondered if he always planned to live in Eureka Springs. She knew her moving pains would be acute if she ever had to live anywhere else. “Don’t you just love it here?”

Everett glanced over at his house across the fence. “Yes, I like my house.”

“No. . .I mean Eureka Springs.”

He smiled as if he knew what she was really asking. “You’re here. So I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”

Lark breathed a sigh of relief.

Everett leaned over and gave Lark a slow, lingering kiss.

Okay, that felt very pleasant. She almost lost her footing.

“I’ll pick you up at six. . .tomorrow evening.” Everett squeezed her arm. “Casual. Okay?”

“I’ll be ready,” Lark said. Casual talk from a suit guy. Amazing. And he wore a green turtleneck instead of a button-down shirt. As he turned to leave, she remembered a question that had been tickling her curiosity. “Everett? May I ask what your middle name is?”

He looked back at her and groaned. “That information is given out on a need to know basis only.”

“That bad?” Lark winced.

“Moss. It’s Moss. You know—”

Lark tried to be polite and not chuckle. “You mean like the—”

“Yeah. Like the fuzzy, green stuff you tromp underfoot.”

She laughed.

“But my mother liked it because Moss is a form of Moses, which means ‘saved.’ So maybe that redeems the name a bit.”

“I believe it does.” She found herself captivated by his golden brown eyes. Without thinking, she reached up to his face. Her hand was midway in the air when she heard Everett’s cell phone come alive like a monster-sized beetle.

He frowned down at the phone, took it off his belt clip, and opened it to look at the screen. “It’s somebody returning my call. I’m sorry, but I need to talk to him.”

“Please, go. Take the call.” Lark shooed him away sweetly. Everett mouthed the words, “I’ll call you later.” He answered the phone as he strode toward her gate. He’d forgotten his coat, but he didn’t seem to even notice. She tugged it around herself, wanting to relive the warmth of his arms. She breathed in his scent. Mmm. His cologne is spicy but sweet. Nice.

As Everest closed the gate, she remembered his words about the woman in his office. “But I was always honest with her.” How honorable. Had she been that straightforward with Jeremy? She hadn’t led him on, but she really hadn’t been clear about how she felt. This very evening, she vowed to make her feelings understood, even if it meant Jeremy would be disappointed. Lark had never liked confrontation, but if she expected to build a relationship with Everett then she would need to speak the truth to Jeremy.

❧

When six thirty had come, Lark still hadn’t quite figured out what she’d say to Jeremy. Skelly had been busy peeling and sautéing and baking in her kitchen to prepare his specialty—baked salmon with garlic mashed potatoes. Sounds good. Too bad she might not have much of an appetite.

Lark decided not to dress romantically for the evening since what she had to say might not seem too festive. She took one last glance at her suit and then headed into the kitchen. Delicious scents filled the house. She picked up a sprig of rosemary and took a sniff.

“You look nice,” Skelly said. “Kind of like you’re headed to a business meeting instead of a date, though.”

Lark noticed Skelly’s hairnet and forced herself not to chuckle. Guess he was concerned about fallout. What had he said? Oh, yeah. I look businessy. “Excuse me? And who said I shouldn’t marry Jeremy?” Lark teased.

The doorbell rang. “Saved by the bell.” Skelly busily retied his apron and adjusted his hairnet.

Lark sent up a quick prayer of supplication as she walked to the door and opened it.

“Hi. You look. . .nice.” Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

“So do you.” Once the compliment had come out of her mouth, she hoped it wasn’t a lie. Jeremy wore a wildly colored western shirt, so eye-popping in fact, it could replace caffeine. Funny, I’ve never seen him dress that way before.

Jeremy scratched his head. “You look very. . .professional. Like you’re about to close some kind of deal.”

She gulped the air. What did he say? Maybe he could see the word closure in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go?” Jeremy asked. “I parked my bike off to the side of your garage door. That way you can back out your Hummer.”

“Well, I’ve had a change of plans.” Lark splayed her fingers in the air and faked a smile. I must look like cartoon character. “Our own Skelly from church is a gifted cook, and well, you know Skelly, don’t you?”

The two men waved to each other from a distance. “Hey. How you doing?” Jeremy said.

“Good to see you,” Skelly hollered back.

“And he’s going to fix us our dinner,” Jeremy said as if he’d come up with the idea.

“Do you mind?” Lark asked.

A pleased kind of smile crossed Jeremy’s face. “It’s a good move.”

How could she not love this guy? So easy to please. But who knew the mysteries of love? One couldn’t break the rules. Even if I knew what they were.

After Jeremy stepped inside, Lark took his leather jacket as Skelly strode over to shake his hand.

“Something sure smells good.” Jeremy said. “Hey, you know we’re in need of a cook at the church. We could sure use you. There’s even a small salary.”

“Really?” Skelly fiddled with his apron. “But maybe you better see how you like my cooking before you offer me a job.”

Skelly had set up the dining room table with candles, a white tablecloth, and her best china, but the candles were left noticeably unlit. Maybe he was trying to send her a subtle reminder.

Jeremy seated himself and then looked up at Lark. He chuckled and then rushed around to pull out Lark’s chair for her. “My momma would beat me with a sharp stick if she saw what I just did. Sorry.”

“No problem.” Lark noticed Jeremy didn’t smell like motor oil. Much better.

Skelly brought in the first course. Vichyssoise. After a prayer from Jeremy, Lark took a sip of the potato soup. Yumm. Creamy. Thick. Satisfying.

Jeremy slurped up a spoonful and then set the spoon down with a loud clank.

“Don’t you like the soup?” Lark whispered.

Jeremy glanced behind him. “I don’t want to hurt Skelly’s feelings, but the soup is cold.”

Okay, so what should she say? If she told Jeremy vichyssoise is normally served cold, it might hurt his feelings. If she sent the soup back for heating, it might upset Skelly. Are there prayers for this, God, or am I on my own with this one?

“Uh-oh. I’ve made kind of a booboo, haven’t I?” Jeremy asked. “Is it supposed to be cold?”

Lark nodded and thanked God for giving Jeremy the heads-up, but she wondered why he was acting so peculiarly. He’d never been overly sophisticated, but he’d always been well-mannered. And he was missing that smirk she liked so much.

Jeremy gulped a few more spoonfuls and then squirmed in his chair. “Listen, before Skelly comes back in, I just have something I need to tell you.” He tapped his spoon against his bowl as if he were doing a countdown before a launch of some kind. Then he stopped and looked at her. “I think you are one of the sweetest gals God ever made. Purdy as all get out.”

When did he start saying hick words like purdy? Lark looked at him, thinking the real Jeremy must have been sucked up by aliens.

“And talented. And nice,” Jeremy went on to say. “And kind. And purdy. Oh, I think I already said—”

“Jeremy, are you trying to tell me something?” Oh, wow. I never saw it coming. Jeremy just wants to be friends, too. And here I thought I had the corner on miscommunications.

Jeremy took in so many short, fast breaths she thought he might hyperventilate. He fiddled with his napkin but looked at her intently. “I think we. . .you and I are best suited as—”

Skelly slipped in looking sheepish as he served the plates of baked salmon, sautéed veggies, and garlic mashed potatoes.

Jeremy’s soliloquy halted.

Was Skelly coming in to eavesdrop? “This looks so good. I can’t believe what you’re doing.” Lark gave Skelly the evil eye and then grinned. Boy, Skelly certainly got jaunty all of a sudden. Like a buoy in a gale.

“Thank you. I hope it all goes down well for you.” Skelly’s hangdog expression changed to an all-knowing smile. “Bon appetit!” Then he disappeared.

Lark offered the silver basket of hot rolls to Jeremy, praying he would continue his speech. Was Skelly actually listening in around the corner?

Jeremy reached for a roll and began eating it. With a huge hunk of bread tumbling in his mouth, and while breaking every rule of etiquette imaginable, Jeremy said, “I think, Lark, we should just be good—”

The doorbell rang, making Jeremy nearly choke on his roll. Skelly must have been shocked, too, because he dropped a metal pan on the kitchen floor. Lark just groaned.