13

Hayley glanced out the living room window for the fifth time as she watched for the Hieberts’ arrival. Excitement merged with nervousness and created what felt like moths tumbling in her stomach.

Delicious smells emanated from Lydia’s kitchen and hinted at the meal she’d helped prepare. Odors of sweet and sour pork, jasmine rice, and sautéed Oriental vegetables scented the air and made her stomach rumble. Hayley pressed her hand to her abdomen as she struggled to calm her nerves.

What if the Hieberts refused her help? Would they believe she was capable? Maybe she’d have to be content with a future of a cubicle, calculating taxes for strangers. A mental picture of the Hiebert farm and Laureen’s warm smile swam into focus. They had to accept her offer. She hoped.

A maroon Dodge minivan pulled into the driveway.

“They’re here.” Hayley rushed to open the front door.

“Perfect timing.” Lydia wiped her hands on her apron as she joined Hayley at the entry. “Everything is ready.” Lydia smiled at her husband as he exited his office. “Except, perhaps, for you, my dear.” Lydia reached up and smoothed Dave’s rumpled gray hair. “Been working on next week’s sermon already?”

Dave nodded. “And praying.” He patted Hayley’s shoulder.

Her insides settled down. Somewhat.

Outside, Franklin helped Laureen from the car and held her arm as they climbed the steps. Franklin’s face looked drawn, but Laureen beamed.

Hayley hoped she would still be smiling after they’d discussed her proposition.

“Welcome to our home.” Pastor Dave stepped aside with a flourish. “We’re glad you could make it.”

Lydia pulled Laureen into a hug. “Yes, we are.” She stepped back as Dave and Franklin shook hands. “You haven’t met my husband before, have you? Franklin, Laureen, this is Dave. And you know Hayley, of course.”

Hayley smiled but hung back, certain her inadequacies must be written across her forehead.

“I’ve heard good things about you folks,” Dave said. “May I hang up your coats?”

“Thank you.” Laureen slipped off her bright red wool cape, while Franklin shrugged out of his brown suede jacket.

“Come on into the dining room,” Lydia invited. “Supper is ready.”

Laureen slid her arm around Hayley’s waist as they all followed Lydia. “You can’t imagine how excited I’ve been ever since you phoned.” She lowered her voice. “I must admit I’ve been feeling quite housebound since my little episode.” She inhaled, and her smile widened. “Something smells wonderful, ladies.”

At the table, Dave pulled out a chair near Laureen. “Have a seat. Franklin, you can sit beside your lovely wife.”

Lydia and Dave sat in their usual places while Hayley served the meal. Her hands shook a bit as she set the rice on the table. Please don’t let the Hieberts notice. She needed to prove—to herself as well as their guests—that she was strong and capable.

Moments later, Hayley checked the various serving dishes: rice, sweet and sour pork, vegetables, salad, dressings, and rolls warm from the oven. All set, with nothing forgotten or spilled. So far, so good.

“Looks great, my dears.” Dave’s smile warmed Hayley as he held out his hands. “Let’s pray.”

Lydia’s hand squeezed Hayley’s as Dave prayed.

“Father God, thank You for allowing us to share this meal with Franklin and Laureen, Your servants. Bless the hands that prepared this bounty, and bless our time together, I pray in Jesus’s name. Amen.”

Hayley nibbled her lower lip. Yes, please, Lord Jesus. I want this so much.

Several minutes later, Laureen set down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. Do you share recipes, Lydia? I’d love to add this one to my collection.”

“Of course. Hayley cooked most of the meal, though.” Lydia winked at Hayley. “I think she’s discovered an untapped talent.”

“Well done, Miss Hayley.”

The warmth in Franklin’s gravelly voice brought heat to Hayley’s face. “Thank you. Lydia’s a great teacher.”

Was this the right time? Nerves hit, and one of those pesky internal moths flew into her throat. Hayley grabbed her water and gulped the entire glass. Better, but now everyone was looking at her. She took a deep breath, let it out, and opened herself to rejection. “Mr. and Mrs. Hiebert, would you consider me for your helper position?” At their raised eyebrows, she rushed on. “I’m no expert at housekeeping or cooking, but I’m eager to learn, and I’ll work hard.” She met Laureen’s gaze. “I also know pain and some ways to deal with it.”

Laureen and Franklin shared a long look, and Hayley squirmed. Those moths in her stomach were having a food fight. She pressed a fist to her abdomen while clenching and unclenching her jaw. Please, say yes.

Finally, Franklin cleared his throat. “You are an answer to prayer, young lady.” He exchanged another glance with Laureen. “We rather hoped you’d turn out to be the one our Lord chose.”

Hayley gasped. “Really?” They’d wanted her even before she’d asked? Wonder bubbled up, turned into tears, and trickled down her face. She grabbed her napkin to blot her cheeks, but Franklin spoke again.

“Two questions. How soon can you start, and do you have your own vehicle?”

Twisted metal, broken glass, and excruciating pain exploded in Hayley’s mind. Her hands flew to her face.

~*~

Trevor’s stomach rumbled, and he looked up at the Honda wall clock. Almost one. No wonder he was hungry, especially since he’d skipped breakfast. Burger and fries would hit the spot, but he didn’t feel like eating alone.

A glance into the office warned him off inviting Carlos. The scowl and the way he pummeled the keyboard shouted “do not disturb.” Happened every month about this time, when bookwork demanded attention. Better Carlos than him.

Trevor spied Ryan in the far corner polishing the chrome on a rebuild. “Hey, Ry, want to grab a bite?”

Ryan looked up, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, sure. Just let me tell the boss. Maybe we could bring something back for him.”

Shame punched Trevor. Between the opportunity in Toronto and the mess with his folks, he’d pretty much shut out everyone else. His mind skimmed over his interactions with coworkers the last couple weeks. Rejecting invitations, growling when asked for his opinion, general surliness…he’d been a jerk.

He’d given his notice and he would miss these guys, especially Ryan. Trevor had enjoyed mentoring the younger man in repairing old bikes. Would he find someone to teach at Lowrider Cycle, or would he be the one occupying the bottom rung of the ladder? He shrugged off the unpleasant thought, grabbed his jacket, and held the door open for Ryan.

Thirty minutes later, his plate empty, Trevor relaxed against the hard plastic booth while Ryan finished his bacon cheeseburger. It felt good to be away from the shop for a few minutes. Away from the twinges of guilt attacking him, the solemn looks from Carlos, and the eagerness of a couple of the newer guys as if they couldn’t wait to take over his work. A grunt escaped.

Ryan looked up. “What?”

“Just thinking.”

“About the new job?”

“Yeah. Only nine more days.” Emotions Trevor didn’t want to name warred for dominance.

Ryan leaned back and crossed his arms. “So you’re really going.” His mouth twisted. “Can’t blame you. I know you’ve got big dreams, and I hope it all works out for you.”

The doubt in Ryan’s voice irked Trevor, and he glared at his friend. “You don’t think it will?”

Ryan held up his arms as though to ward off a blow. “Whoa, I didn’t say that. But I’ve heard some things. How well do you know the boss there?”

Trevor frowned “Not well. I had a couple of interviews with him. He knows his business. Good enough for me.”

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, looked away and back again. “OK, let’s change the subject. Have you seen today’s paper? The Harley chopper by the guy at Bridge City Choppers was featured today. Pretty fancy, but nothing compared to yours.” He grinned. “Yours is up next. Bet the phone will ring off the hook tomorrow.”

Trevor had forgotten about the interview and newspaper contest. So what if his bike won the People’s Choice contest? He’d be gone before it’d do him any good. Might bring work to the shop, though. “Afraid I can’t get too pumped about it now.”

Ryan’s grin disappeared. “No, I guess not.” He slid out of the booth. “I’ll pick up Carlos’s lunch, and we can get back to work. Some of us appreciate what we’ve got here.” Ryan stalked to the order counter.

Trevor’s lunch settled in his gut like an entire socket set. The kid must be jealous. He obviously resented that Trevor had gained a job at one of the biggest motorcycle shops in Canada. Then something Ryan said earlier prodded his memory.

What had Ryan heard about Vince Starr?