“People should’ve wanted to come because of you, Meadow, and not because of the food or decorating or even who else was there.” His mind kept going back to the Valentine decorations that had still been up on the high school walls during her humiliating walk of shame. Her devastatingly peerless party had been at the end of February, which meant Meadow had a birthday coming up soon. “I remember the hearts on the school walls, and yet I knew even then that yours was breaking. Have you ever had a birthday party?”
“No. Never have—not since that one attempt. That’s why I cater them free for underprivileged kids. Our church takes a special offering to fund it. They also waive my waitstaff’s church camp fees.”
His heart melted. “I knew I liked that church for a reason.” Meadow too.
An idea formed. He’d talk to Del, the teens, and maybe Flora and have them help him plan a big surprise party for Meadow. He knew people would show this time.
Perfect timing since her siblings were arriving soon and staying a couple of weeks.
“I’m sorry for the heartache you experienced in high school, Meadow.”
“It’s no big deal. They were all kids.”
He shook his head, not wanting her to minimize it. “No, we were young adults. The party was in your honor, yet you were horribly dishonored.” God, I am so sorry.
He was sorry for not having gotten to know her better then. For not having understood the seriousness of her family situation, the danger and neglect she and her siblings had lived under at home. Then for her to go to school only to have Blythe continue the nightmare . . .
She shrugged. “People had better things to do.”
“Not better than to be there for you. I’m sorry I never showed up for you.”
“I understand. I wasn’t on your radar.”
He couldn’t contain the compassion. He set down the buffet pan he’d been holding and placed a brotherly hand on her shoulder, giving a supportive squeeze. “Believe me, Meadow Larson, you’re on my radar now.” So strongly he couldn’t get her off if he tried.
She blinked a path across the floor and eased her shoulder from his touch, pulling away from his comfort . . . in essence rebuffing his apology and care.
She might reject it, but he was going to make sure she knew it. “That I overlooked you wasn’t a reflection on you, Meadow. It was a reflection on me, family junk, and my deep-seated selfishness. I hope you can someday believe I’m a different person now.”
She leaned against a stool and studied him carefully. “The jury’s still out on that.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. I at least appreciate you giving me the chance to change your mind for the better.” Colin wondered from where he’d gotten the audacious hope to add win her heart to his Meadow Agenda.
Lord, I may not deserve her, but I’d be so honored to be more than her friend.
Meadow carefully watched for Colin’s reaction while asking, “Have you seen her since you’ve been back?”
“Blythe?”
She nodded, unsure why she’d even asked. To torture herself?
“No.”
“Do you want to?” Meadow waved a towel as if to dissipate her question from the air. “Sorry. Not my business.”
“What if I’m starting to want it to be your business?”
Care ebbing from his eyes was doing a number on her. She hadn’t been able to sleep last night because of her unfair resistance to his gestures of comfort and affection. Her mind tormented her with its meaning, his motives. And hers.
Were his actions ruled by guilt? Was she self-sabotaging?
She wanted to be stubborn. Hold on to the hurt. But his sincerity and compassion were rendering her resentment as slippery as the Crisco he’d painted on her baking pan.
In this moment of fiercely loyal eye contact, she wanted to race to him. Embrace him for real. Things would change between them forever. Her heart would lean toward him. But then he may turn out to be the same weapon he was back then. Too big a risk.
After all, he’d been the one who’d pretended to want to strike up a friendship when his group of friends had lured her to the lake. He’d looked genuinely distressed as they were leaving her, but they’d left anyway. She didn’t know what scared her more—the possibility that he’d cared or the probability that he hadn’t. Same dilemma facing her now.
She’d end up just like that summer: hopeful for a friendship with him, then humiliated. Her heart pounded with painful memories. The assault of panic she’d felt running home from that lake resurfaced with the power of a lightning bolt to her brain. Feeling confined and short of breath, she set down the fondue pot she’d just picked up and grabbed her coat. “I should get some air.”
Her pride tried to demand she not open herself up to him more.
But were pride and fear the true bullies here?
Colin approached with concern. She waved him back with a shaky hand gesture to give her a minute. She stumbled outside onto the barn’s porch and leaned against a column, letting her face absorb refreshing coolness for many lengthy minutes. Then she moved to sit on the top step and spent several moments inhaling calming woodsy pine and clean winter air.