Anne did a last minute check around the shop, locked up and headed up the stairs to her apartment. She could smell the stew she'd started in the crock pot before work this morning.
“Hmmm, yum.” She and Callie did a lot of crock pot meals. It assured them a good, home-cooked meal without much after-work preparation.
She had thought about sharing tonight's beef stew with Reid, knowing he didn't do much cooking in his small kitchen. However, when the call came in for eight table arrangements for an early RISD breakfast, Reid had kindly offered to deliver the boutonnières while she threw together the last minute order for the school.
She scooped up a big bowl of stew and grabbed a sleeve of crackers from the freezer. Thanking the Lord for the food and for friends, she dug in.
“Callie, I miss you,” she said aloud. Her words bounced around the empty room. One more day and Callie would be back. She couldn't wait.
Reid had been so helpful the past two days, but every minute with him vibrated with tension. Anne struggled with uphill battles – her attraction to him and maintaining friendship without going over the line. Then, of course, there was a niggling thread of fear that tripped her up from time to time. What was that all about?
She thought, if she knew more about Reid, any fear would be erased. However, his refusal to cooperate compounded her confusion and fed the spark of fear. She didn't believe he would hurt her, but it seemed unnatural for a person to be so secretive or to avoid speaking of his past or his work. Most men, and women for that matter, loved to talk about their jobs. She wasn't sure why, and she hated to admit it, even to herself, but Reid's silence scared her.
“Callie, I need you.” If only she could confide all her messed up, tangled mass of feelings to her best friend, she knew it would help to settle her down.
Anne savored the last bite of beefy broth, half tempted to lick the bowl. She giggled as she remembered a time when she and Callie had done exactly that. They had splurged on a quart of Mama Janine's homemade ice cream and rather than wash even a drop down the sink, they had licked their bowls clean. Then they'd laughed at what their mothers would have said if they'd seen their grown-up daughters committing such an uncouth act.
A smile still lighting her face, she once again thanked the Lord for her special friend. “Bring her home safely, Lord, please.”
Anne washed the few dishes she'd used, stored the left-overs in the refrigerator and settled at her tiny, antique desk. It was time to complete the paperwork she'd put off for a week. Tomorrow she needed to check supplies and place orders. Then when Callie arrived home, they'd be back on track. She hated getting behind, but this last week had about stretched her to the limits.
That thought brought Reid to mind again – not that he was ever very far from her thoughts. He was an enigma that kept her thoughts in a whirl.
Forcing Reid out of her mind, she booted up her laptop and focused on entering a week's worth of data. Once that was complete she pulled up their inventory page and printed out a tentative list of supplies.
The tall, grandfather clock inherited from her aunt, bonged the half-hour. Goodness, Reid should have returned by now. All he'd had to do was deliver the boutonnières. The round-trip to the Civic Center couldn't take more than an hour. Hopefully he hadn't gotten lost. He'd taken the van because the big boxes wouldn't fit in his jeep without tipping. What if he'd had an accident? Maybe something had been damaged on the van during their swamp trip this morning that triggered an accident tonight.
Anne groaned. She was getting like Callie, fretting and worrying over what might happen. Lord, help. Keep Reid safe and calm me down.
Her cell phone chimed, signaling a text. As she picked it up, she could see it was from Reid. At least she could now relax. He must be safe.
“errands – bak latr”
Since it would be a while before Reid returned, maybe she'd change and go shoot some baskets. The workout would relieve the stress pressing in upon her. No sooner than the thought entered her head than she put it into action.
Anne hated to admit that she wanted to see Reid again tonight. Make certain he was okay. They'd not parted in the best of moods. She couldn't understand why he'd withdrawn and snarled like an alpha male when she asked about the symbolism of certain flowers? Why was he so intrigued by that bit of frivolous trivia? Why did he treat it like a life-and-death secret?
Plus, she was still a mite put out that he wouldn't include her in solving his 'flowers-and-their-meanings' puzzle. Next to floral design and basketball, working puzzles was her favorite pastime.
OK, Lord. I know it's a silly thing to get upset about, so with your help, I'll forget it. Help me to focus on reaching Reid with your truth. And, thank you for being there when no one else is.
Perhaps Reid would feel like playing some one-on-one or hangman if he wasn't too late getting home. When they were on the court, all their differences remained on the sidelines.
He was a conundrum. Yep, that's what he was. She liked that word and she liked Reid, but it made for a somewhat uncomfortable relationship.
****
Anne dribbled the ball to the end of the court, spun and launched it through the net. She'd been playing for fifteen or twenty minutes when she heard the van pull in behind the shop. Pretty certain that Reid would hear the ball pounding against the concrete and come investigate, she continued to bounce, shoot and retrieve.
Reid's baritone cut through the darkness. “Hey, where did you get the energy to beat up a basketball tonight. I figured you'd be stretched out and catching some Z's.”
Anne turned and flipped the ball toward Reid. She heard the slap of his hands against the leather before he drove to the basket, jumped and slam-dunked the ball, leaving the rim quivering.
“Tension Take-down. That's what my coach called it. If you're tense, take it to the court and take it down. Those were his favorite words.”
Reid kicked off his loafers. “Let's put it to the test. I need some exercise. I've got a few sore muscles from trying to lift the van from the mud this morning.”
“Speaking of the van, did it run OK?”
“Sure.”
“You were gone so long, I worried that we'd damaged some part of the engine, and it caused you trouble.”
Reid stole the ball and ran for the basket. “Nope, no trouble.”
“Good.”
Hard and fast play took all their breath, and they gave up any effort at conversation. Half an hour later, Anne bent over, slapped her hands on her knees and gasped. “I think you play better in your socks. You were wound tonight.”
Reid sucked in several deep breaths. “It's about time I beat you. My ego was in tatters.”
Anne grinned. “Lemonade or coffee?”
“Lemonade, absolutely lemonade. Coffee would keep me awake.” He shot her a teasing grin. “With this new job I have, I need my sleep and strength.”
Anne brought out the lemonade, and they sat on the warm concrete, sipping the tangy liquid. Anne squelched her desire to ask Reid what else he had done tonight or to bring up the flowers/meanings list. She didn't want the evening to end with them once again on opposite ends of a debate. She let Reid direct the conversation and was surprised when he shared a couple of funny anecdotes from his past.
“God is so funny, sometimes.”
“Huh?”
“I'm sure He laughs with us when we do silly things just like parents laugh with their children. He's our heavenly father and enjoys our laughter.”
“That's nonsense, Anne. I had the greatest father on earth – an atheist clear through. Then evil incarnate arrived in the person of my religious foster father. Huh uh, you won't catch me buying into that wonderful father routine.”
That was the most Reid had ever shared of his past, and Anne wanted to keep him talking. It sounded like he had some serious issues, possibly even abuse. Though she wasn't qualified to counsel him, she could and would certainly continue to pray for him. “I'm sorry you had an unpleasant experience.”
“Unpleasant? No, that's an insipid word. Webster's dictionary has more descriptive terms for the use of fists and boots and curses.”
“Oh, Reid, I didn't know. I'm so sor...”
“Don't apologize. You didn't do anything. Besides, it's past. Over.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence for several moments before Reid spoke again, his voice maintaining its harshness.
“I don't know how you can believe all that religious mumbo-jumbo that you spout all the time. You'd think the Bible had special, secret information.”
Reid's attitude stripped the smile from her face and stole her joy. His words were like a bucket of cold water dumped onto a warm, cozy fire. The hiss of anger ignited in her heart. Why was she so drawn to a man with polar opposite views of faith in God? There was no question about it, she needed to quench this attraction to Reid before it became a demanding thirst and caused her to stumble. Yes, she felt sad that he'd endured a traumatic childhood, but she needed to guard her heart. Help me, Lord. How do I show Reid your love without losing my heart to a lost soul?
Before she could reply to Reid's statement, he continued to expound on his opinion.
“You're an intelligent person, Anne. You don't need a crutch to get through life. You have the talent, the knowledge, and the strength to achieve all you want. Man accomplishes amazing things. Just look around you.”
Anne sucked in a breath and sent up another quick prayer. She peered into heaven. The stars flashed like sparkles might in God's all-seeing eyes. She would dearly love to bring life-giving words to Reid, but it was clear he had towering walls built around his heart and mind when it came to the things of God.
Please give me words that won't worsen Reid's attitude. Anne pointed a finger at the sky. “Man has indeed done unbelievable and marvelous feats. He's flown high above the earth, even walked on the moon. But he didn't make the earth, the skies and the moon. Man has discovered life-saving medicines and developed complex medical procedures, but man used plants and intricate bodies already in existence. Man invented ingenious machines to provide light, radio, television, and a myriad of electronic devices. But, man did not put into place the laws that govern mechanics and physics. What I see is not man-made, but God-created. Man, who is also created by God, simply built on what God provided.”
“Ahhh, Anne. Where did you get all that. What makes you buy into God and creation?” Reid shook his head.
“Reid, all of nature – every tree, every flower, from the tiniest to the biggest of insects, each and every living thing that walks the earth or swims in the sea – cries out that God is its creator. How would you explain the existence of all this?” Anne flung her arms wide.
When Reid didn't answer, she continued her argument for intelligent design. “You're too smart to think the universe was an accident, a chance occurrence. I like the analogy about the tornado whipping through a junkyard and building a computer or a Boeing 707. How likely is that?”
“Yeah, I've heard that analogy. I admit I'm not certain how things started, but to attribute the beginning to God is a stretch.”
“So s-t-r-e-t-c-h your mind. Logically – God is the answer.”
Reid huffed an impatient breath. “I just can't understand your believing like that.”
“You act like I'm alone in my beliefs. Though you acknowledge my intelligence, you consider me ignorant or needy if I believe in God, the God of creation.”
“I didn't say you lacked intelligence, exactly.”
“Not in those exact words, but think about this. You enjoy the freedom and benefits of this country because the founding fathers of our nation believed in God. The Declaration of Independence states – 'endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights.' If there was no creator, then where do rights come from?”
As Reid opened his mouth to respond, Anne held up her hand. “Let me finish, please.”
Reid grunted assent then crossed his arms across his chest. His body language told Anne his mind was as closed off as his heart. However, she had to persevere.
“Madison, the father of the constitution said - 'The belief in a God All Powerful wise and good, is so essential to the moral order of the world and to the happiness of man...'”
“Anne, I HAVE studied American history, but you take all the 'God talk' too far.” Disgust seeped from his pores like water through a sieve.
Anne forced herself to smile at him. “Let me ask you a question.”
“Sure.”
“What or who convinced you NOT to believe in God and creation? ”
Anne watched him close his eyes. His lips tightened in a grimace. Perhaps she'd pushed too hard. Then Reid appeared to come back from wherever his mind had traveled.
“I'd say my parents were responsible. They both had genius-level IQ's and held more degrees than some universities. They taught me how to research, digging out hidden and obscure facts, and how to separate truth from fiction.”
“But, did they tell you there was no god? Were they proponents of the big-bang, primordial soup theories? How did you come to your conclusions? You don't look like the kind to simply accept what your parents said. Surely you did your own searching in order to come to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“Of course, I made up my own mind after much investigation. I've probably read more than you about all the archaic religions of the world – including Christianity.”
Reid was beginning to get defensive and irritated, and Anne knew she needed to back off or take a different tack, but she had to leave him with something.
What was it her dad used to say? “Insert a splinter! Plant a thought that continues to irritate, to fester and demand attention. In poking and digging to remove the splinter, bits of truth keep breaking loose, requiring more examination – the truth then leads to healing.”
“I'm sure you're better informed about religions than I, but have you read the Bible? You asked how I came to believe what I do. The Bible told me so.”
Reid stood, anger squaring his broad shoulders. “One book, Anne. You depend on one lousy book. I've read dozens, perhaps hundreds, before coming to a conclusion. You spout the Bible as if it holds the keys to everything.”
“Yes, I do. I'm not the only one who believes in the power of the Scriptures. It was John Adams who wrote, 'The Bible contains the most profound philosophy, the most perfect morality, and the most refined policy, that was ever conceived on earth.' Now why wouldn't I want to use the wisdom on its pages?”
“It's just another crutch. Depend on yourself.”
Anne came to her feet, fighting the urge to go nose-to-nose with the tall, academic stuffed-shirt facing her. Say it with love. The words resonated in her spirit. “How is that working for you?”
As if pushed by an invisible hand, Anne stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Reid's stiff torso. After a quick hug, she retreated and looked up into his ebony eyes. Surprise painted his face.
“Do me a favor. Read that one “lousy” book. Start with the Gospel of John. Then let's talk.”
When Reid didn't answer, Anne sent him a grin. “Come on. Aren't you just dying to change my mind? To prove me wrong? I think I have the right of things. In fact, I'm absolutely certain I know the truth.”
“Hurump!”
“You want me to prove the existence of my God. Here's the real challenge for you, Reid. Prove to me there is no God. Prove to me the non-existence of anything.”
When he didn't respond except to glare at her, Anne tried to lighten the tension between them. “I'll even give you the book, and if you'll read it, I might...might let you win at basketball again.”
“Hah! You are simply too stubborn to listen.” Reid huffed, turned and jogged around the corner of the building.
Anne heard his angry steps pounding up the stairs, and felt as if each one punched a whole in her heart.
****
Rage and frustration fueled his muscles. Taking the stairs three at a time proved to be a cakewalk this time. He reached the landing and almost yanked the door off its hinges before remembering to unlock it.
Yes, it was childish, but slamming the door behind him acted as a release valve for some of the tension gripping his body. He paced from one end of the long room to the other and back again. Over and over.
Prove the non-existence of anything.
The more he thought about Anne's last words, however, the angrier he grew. How could she question his ability to decipher truth. The son of two geniuses, his IQ ranked with the best. He held not one, but three masters and one doctorate degree. His intelligence was regularly pitted against the best criminal and legal minds in the world. His research prowess pushed him to the top of his field. He was much sought-after – a mastermind.
And tonight, a silly little florist, an arranger of flowers, had the nerve to question him. To challenge HIM to read the Bible, to disprove her belief in God!
Prove the non-existence of God. Prove the non-existence of anything.
Was it possible? Doubt began to blossom in his mind, but he nipped it in the bud.
He would love to see Anne's face should he reveal his academic achievements. Tell her all the secrets surrounding him and his projects. He would show her!
No, he couldn't do that, but it was nice to imagine putting her in her place. How impressed she would be.
At the end of his tirade, Reid threw himself down onto the leather sofa. Anger bubbled in him. He would boil over like a pot on too high a flame if he didn't siphon off some steam. He stomped into his bedroom, snatched his tennis shoes and with a glare at the too tall bed, he returned to the couch to put on his shoes. Tying the laces, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He'd put a few miles on the treads of his Nikes and pound out his frustration and anger at the same time.
He was letting Anne get to him on too many levels, and it was time to shore up his defenses. One more day to help her in the shop, then he was back to being a stranger in town. No more friendly encounters, no more sharing meals. No more watching her silky black hair glisten in the light. No more basking in her warm laughter. No more battles on the basketball court. No more...no more!
His anger and energy drained from him like run-off after a heavy rain. Had he really let Anne's words drive him to pitch a fit? To blow a gasket? Throw a TANTRUM! Had he really acted like a thwarted child?
YES!
Man, what a jerk you are, Derringer.
Suddenly, he didn't feel so smart or important. Shame crept in, but he kicked it to the curb. He had nothing to be sorry for. He'd stated the truth, and it wasn't his fault she was caught up in an out-dated religion. It wasn't his responsibility to prove to her the non-existence of God.
Prove the non-existence of anything.
Was it possible to prove something didn't exist?
With an impatient shake of his head, Reid reminded himself he had a job to do and determined to get at it. He didn't have time for philosophical debates.
He spun around and started for home. Before he'd gone a mile, clouds rolled in unseen in the dark and with one rumble of thunder to announce their intention, they dumped water by the bucketfuls.
For four miles Reid splashed through the rain, finally squishing up the stairs to his apartment. When had the steps multiplied? They stretched out before him like a stairway to the stars.
Stars that God created. Prove the non-existence of God – or anything.
Anne's voice echoed in his head along with the drumbeats pounding against his brain.
Reid fought thoughts of Anne as he showered and dressed in sweats, then mopped the trail of wet footprints running from the front door to the bathroom.
A shiver shook his body. He must have gotten chilled from the rain. Soup sounded like a perfect antidote. While heating a can of tomato bisque, he checked his supply of bread. No green fuzz sprouted from the dark rye, but it closely resembled giant croutons, dry and hard. Only one way to deal with the situation. He toasted the dried slices and slathered them with butter. Not exactly a gourmet meal, but it hit the spot and filled his empty belly.
Still cold, Reid pulled on an old blue hoodie, slipping the hood over his head to keep the cool air from creeping down the back of his neck. He settled at his desk and pulled his files and laptop from his locked cabinet. Work – every man's savior. He'd gathered some interesting tidbits from the meeting of vets tonight. Plus he wanted to brainstorm some ideas using the meanings of the different flowers. See if something popped up. He'd put in a couple hours refining the details on the last murder, then hit the sack.