Matt stopped talking to his student mid-sentence when Lina disappeared into the back hall with her phone to her ear.
Shane? Or her parents?
Either way, he hurried through some final instructions and wrapped up his lesson a few minutes early. He saw his student out, but Lina hadn’t returned to the office area.
Tim paced near the front window, working on his phone when he wasn’t glaring toward the rear hall.
Matt would much rather have Tim’s gruff manners pointed at him than at her. He stopped where he could obscure Tim’s view of the back entrance. “You need something?”
“She told me what happened. I’m following her home, if she ever decides to leave.”
“She ask you to follow her?” A flare of jealousy fired the question. If she needed an escort home, why hadn’t she asked?
“I offered.”
Matt should’ve more wisely used the few seconds he had before Tim and Chris showed up. But then, he hadn’t been sure of where he and Lina stood and hadn’t wanted to do anything to inspire her to reject him outright.
Besides, she may have had practical reasons for not asking Matt for help. He’d come from a shift at the home improvement store and was due at the pizza place twenty minutes after his last lesson here.
Already, his next student sat in the waiting area, kicking his feet. Still three minutes until the scheduled start time, though.
Matt peered toward the back hall. What would he encounter if he approached her? Upset, she might send him away. Worse, she might turn to him and find he had nothing helpful to say. “Have you checked on her?”
“She’s in the building and I assume Shane isn’t, so she’s fine.”
“It ever occur to you there’s more than one way to hurt a person?”
Tim muttered a reply, but Matt was already on his way to the back, praying as he went that God would give him the right words for whatever he found.
Lina sat on the stairs, slumped against the wall. Her hand drooped between her knees, her phone in what looked like a precarious grip. Her closed eyes didn’t even flutter.
Matt sat beside her in the dim space, slid his hand across her back, and guided her to lean on him instead of the wall. She came easily, her cheek fitting the curve of his collarbone, her forehead against his neck. So gentle as she settled against him, she deserved protection, not heartache.
“Who do I need to go pick a fight with?”
“My dad.” A quiet, rueful laugh puffed across his skin. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” He wanted to kiss the top of her head but settled for rubbing her shoulder. “I take it Shane was his surprise?”
Her body seemed to rest against him more heavily. “Yeah.”
Footsteps neared. Heavy ones. Tim poked his head around the corner.
With a jerk of his head, Matt ordered him away. Whatever Lina needed, he would make sure she got, even if he had to cancel his next lesson and call in to the pizza place.
Tim rolled his eyes, but he went.
If only taking care of his next student would be so easy. He heard Carrie saying goodbye to a student. Was she done for the night? He hadn’t seen anyone but his lesson in the waiting room. He gave Lina’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
She straightened. Her bottom lip pushed her mouth into a frown, but she appeared to be dry-eyed. More composed than he had expected.
He caught up with Carrie in the office, bribed her to cover his lesson by promising to deliver pizzas for her family on Friday, and returned to the hall.
Lina opened her mouth, then tilted her head, sighed, and stayed silent, her vision trained somewhere near his feet.
“You want to talk about it?”
The corners of her lips dug downward.
“Let’s get you home and make you a cup of tea or something.”
The frown remained, but her irises lifted. “A cup of tea?”
He’d happened upon Krissy crying into a mug as she discussed her problems with Mom more than once, but he was out of his depth. “Hot chocolate?”
She gave a sad laugh and used the railing to hoist herself to her feet. “Tim’s waiting for me.”
“Nah, he’s gone already.”
“Oh.” She checked her phone screen, then her mouth scrunched with her next objection. “You have a lesson. You’re late.”
“Carrie’s covering.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“In the name of honesty, I’ll admit I’m tempted to say yes.”
She slanted a long look at him. “Promise me something?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t lie to me or pretend to be something you’re not.”
He’d done a multitude of things he’d rather never admit to her. She already knew the gist of his past, but his face stung with embarrassment as details flashed to mind. Praying she’d never ask for specifics, he nodded. “I won’t.”
“You know what’s funny?” She leaned against the wall, appearing close to relaxed.
Maybe they were pulling through this. Maybe he’d helped in some way, even without a tea kettle. “What?”
“Whether you were lying or telling the truth, your answer would’ve been the same.” She pushed off from the wall.
Frustration and disappointment made a halfhearted attempt to harden him, but they couldn’t overtake the melancholy. She’d been deceived enough times to justify the skepticism.
“I don’t know how to prove I’m different than I was, different than the people who’ve hurt you before, but I’ll find a way.”
“You know a broken promise won’t help.”
“I’ll keep my promise.”
But something told him fulfilling his vow wouldn’t be easy.
Lina parked in her garage and let the overhead door rumble shut as she climbed from the vehicle. The descending door hid Matt’s monstrosity of a car, parked in her driveway, from view. She probably should’ve let the guy join her in the garage and enter with her, but she’d hit the button on the garage door remote without thinking about it. This way had bought her a few more seconds to consider what she was doing with Matt and why. With a sigh, she let herself into her house.
The faint aromas of vanilla and lavender welcomed her. She’d accented the gray kitchen and sand dining and living rooms with sage, eggplant, and rose. The color palette spoke of peace, the soft fabrics of comfort. Her haven.
And now she was about to open the door and let Matt into it.
Her head said she’d been fooled before and could be fooled again. But her heart? Her heart was tired of fighting. Of guarding itself.
She slipped off her flats and crossed the tile to the front door. As Matt stepped inside, the blue of his eyes struck her again.
She’d known him for years and had thought his eyes brown the whole time. Mistakenly.
Maybe the problem wasn’t deceitful people but rather her failure to recognize what was staring her right in the eye. Shane was a gambler. Her dad was a businessman with no heart.
And Matt? How should she summarize him? What did she know of his character when she dropped her desires and expectations and considered the facts?
He’d protected her repeatedly. He’d also gotten involved on Bailey’s behalf at the play. He worked well with his students. The evidence suggested he was a good man.
She retreated to the kitchen, praying as she went that if she was wrong and needed to be protected from Matt in some way, the Lord would do it for her. “You didn’t have dinner, did you?”
“I picked up a burger on the way here.” Humor glinted in his eyes.
He’d stayed close behind her during the drive from Key of Hope, and he’d chosen a bad time for a complete lie, even if he’d meant to be funny.
“Sorry.” His amusement dimmed to the faintest glimmer, then extinguished. “No. I didn’t. But you don’t have to feed me.”
“I’m hungry, and I’m always cooking for an army anyway.” An army or a non-existent family.
He pushed up the sleeves of his waffle knit shirt as he stepped around the island and into the workspace. “Then put me to work.”
She brought out ingredients, a sauté pan, a cutting board, and a knife. After he sliced the chicken to be sautéed, he took the cutting board and knife to the sink. Without being asked, he washed the utensils and gathered the vegetables. Cooking with Shane had never been effortless. Her ex had retreated to his phone each time he finished a step instead of taking the initiative.
When Matt finished prepping the vegetables, he slid the cutting board onto the counter next to the stove where she worked. Asparagus, tomatoes, and roasted red peppers waited in colorful piles.
Maybe he fit in here pretty well, bruises, tattoos, and all.
He collected the ends he’d removed from the asparagus. The letters of the word love on his right hand showed as he brushed the cuttings into the trash can. She’d hardly been noticing his tattoos these last couple of days, even when his arms had been fully exposed after the wedding. The neck on his tank had revealed a glimpse of a pattern on his chest too, hanging close below his collarbone. Yet she hadn’t wondered what it was or how much of his skin it covered.
All the designs remained, but it was the play of veins and tendons in his forearms that captured her eye. The shape of his fingers suggested strength and agility. He was a musician, after all, and a good one.
Perhaps he could best be summarized as a loyal musician. Someone she could trust.
“Grandma knew.” Blurting out the admission felt as impulsive as kissing him had.
He let the lid of the garbage fall, studied her for a beat, then went back for the rest of the discarded cuttings. She had yet to throw him a curve ball that seemed to ruffle him, and his calm manner of listening without watching made it easier to continue.
“She knew both Dad’s and Shane’s character. She limited Dad’s inheritance to that single plot of land because she and Grandpa didn’t trust his judgment. She also talked to me about having Shane sign a prenup. When I refused, she changed the setup of her estate so he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on it in the event of a divorce. Meanwhile, I refused to admit there was any possibility we wouldn’t work out. And then we didn’t even make it to the altar.”
Matt frowned as he rinsed a dishcloth. Instead of commenting, he turned for his workspace and wiped it down.
She lifted the cutting board with one hand and slid the vegetables into the pan. Stray asparagus and halved cherry tomatoes bounced to the stove. “How did she foresee trouble I completely missed?”
“Here.” Matt came close, and the clean scent of his soap infused the air. His arm brushed hers as he took over the cutting board, and her fingers grazed his as she released the load.
As a single woman, living alone, few people touched her. Maybe that explained why an accidental graze of the hand shot fire through her nerve endings.
“You have better judgment than you think.” His voice came low and steady as he held the cutting board for her. “I knew not to trust Shane or your dad, but only because of what you’d said.”
She tightened her grip on the spoon and focused on transferring vegetables to the sauté pan. “You came along after Shane made his character obvious. By then, there was overwhelming evidence. Grandma saw a lot earlier than I did.”
When his reply didn’t come immediately, she wanted to look at his face, but if she turned, only inches would separate them. Too close. Too personal.
“Tell me about your grandma.”
Grateful for the unexpected reprieve from her self-doubt, she spent the rest of their time in the kitchen telling him about summers at The Captain’s Vista, the holidays they’d celebrated together, the trips the two of them had taken after Grandpa’s death.
Matt prayed over their meal, and she picked up her fork. She’d gone on too long, sounded ridiculously spoiled. She shouldn’t have gone into detail about her grandmother’s imposing house, European vacations, and The Captain’s Vista. In the process, she’d also tipped her hand about the inheritance, hadn’t she?
No wonder his expression looked serious. He stabbed his fork into his food with what could be annoyance.
She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
His focus lifted. “For what?”
“Complaining. Feeling sorry for myself. I’ve had it good.”
He shook his head. “What about friends? Other family?”
“I had friends. Sleepovers, school dances, volleyball, the whole bit.” Just not much attention from her parents.
“Not you. Your grandma.”
“Huh?”
“Who was she close with?”
Grandma? Dad had been her only child. Grandma’s brother and his kids had been around some, but they weren’t close. “She had friends.” Lina had never been introduced, though. She’d gotten the feeling the connections had been casual, not deep. “Maybe not a best friend, but she got along with people.”
“How long before she died did she lose your grandpa?”
“I was thirteen, so quite some time before, but she talked about him often right up until the end—showed me ‘Howard’s little stamp collection’ lots of times. He spent hours poring over that book. We loved looking at it together and remembering him.” He’d been soft-spoken and gentle, more likely to walk with Lina to the park than sit and discuss business with his son. Grandpa had believed in building things slowly to stand the test of time while Dad threw strategies at the wall to see what would stick. No wonder the two hadn’t gotten along. “Grandma wore his wedding band on a necklace the rest of her life.”
“She loved and lost.”
Maybe experiencing that heartbreak had made Grandma a positive force in Lina’s life as she reeled after the demise of her relationship with Shane. Grandma knew how good a marriage could be and wanted Lina to hold out for the best. She’d believed in Lina’s worth.
Matt set his fork down, covered his mouth a moment, then slid his fingers under hers, loosely holding her hand. The touch rendered her breath shallow, even before his eyes locked on hers. “Is it possible your grandma had trouble trusting people?”
Lina opened her mouth. Closed it. A breath fluttered in her lungs, stretching wings of mismatched emotions. A desire to defend Grandma. A softening over Matt’s gentleness with her, in voice and touch. And a hope that whatever he said next would shift her perspective and relieve the burden she carried.
“She lost her husband, and that could’ve left a mark.” Matt released her hand to cross his arms on the edge of the table, ignoring his food. “Or maybe, she had trouble believing anyone could live up to the standard your grandpa set, especially when her own son didn’t.”
Lina searched her memories. Grandma had never acted bitter or exacting. “I don’t think that’s fair. And she was right about both Dad and Shane.”
Matt shifted his arms off the table. “If she only got close with you, she held a whole world of people at arm’s length. Being right twice isn’t a good average.”
A whole world of people.
Had Grandma been lonely?
“Don’t get me wrong. She sounds amazing. I’m glad you had her in your life.” Matt picked up his fork. “But don’t judge everyone by Shane’s example. Or by your dad’s.”
If only she could claim she hadn’t, but if he judged her by the same measure he’d used with Grandma, she’d be hard-pressed to prove she let anyone in.
Maybe she should stop using professionalism as an excuse to refuse Adeline’s invitations to friendship. She could also make more of an effort with the acquaintances she’d made at church.
She glanced at their still half-full plates and offered Matt a sheepish smile. “You have a knack for counseling.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time in therapists’ and pastors’ offices this last year.”
He must’ve.
His transformation since getting clean and sober had been so complete, she wouldn’t have recognized him if not for the tattoos when she’d first gone to Visser Landscaping to recruit him. He’d gotten fit, yes, but he’d also changed his attitudes, his priorities, his beliefs.
“The result is pretty impressive.”
Surprise registered on his handsome face, but as the compliment sank in, he gave a smile. “Only by God’s power and grace.”
The same God she knew and followed. Which meant she, too, had hope of transformation.