17

I’d cleaned every corner of the inn. My eyes watered from bleach or crying, I wasn’t sure which, but I plopped down on the front room couch with a thud, dabbing at my eyes with a ragged tissue.

I picked up the crochet bag and pulled Scott’s wedding present across my lap. Hope made me think of working on it. But if each color represented an event in our life, how should I finish it? If only I could find my cross necklace. I knew it didn’t have any power, but I’d grown accustomed to reaching for what it stood for.

I saw her coming.

Tracy marched up the front porch steps and rapped hard, with a frantic staccato.

“Come in.” I pushed the unfinished crochet project to the side. Had she heard about the breakup? It had to be talked about, I guess, but I didn’t want to now.

She rushed in, dropped her purse and slid to the floor, both hands on my knees. “Why aren’t you at work? Why does Scott look so upset? Is something wrong? What’s going on?” She could barely catch her breath, but erupted with questions.

“Slow down.” I pulled her from the floor to sit beside me. “Take a deep breath.”

The red-faced girl took one giant breath, and then started asking again. “Has he had bad news? I mean he looks awful, all droopy and in a bad mood. Please, Bailey, it’s killing me.”

“As far as I know, he’s physically fine, but he’s struggling with fear. I think he’s afraid he might die, and so he broke up with me.” Tears would not obey my resolve. They trickled out, but I tried to keep my voice calm. “The wedding is off.”

Her eyes grew wide, with large teardrops pooling and spilling over. Her mouth dropped open.

“Tracy, breathe. He’ll be all right, and so will I.” Would I? Would he?

“No way. I understand, but there’s just no living way this is happening, I mean not happening. I mean the wedding, the marriage. It’s meant to be. How can you be so calm?” She crossed her arms, leaned back and looked me over.

“Believe me; I’ve had some rough hours. I’m pretty hurt, but I’ve spent a lot of time praying, and I can only trust God. I don’t really understand anything, except that Scott’s scared. He may come around. But I can’t wait for that.”

“What do you mean ‘you can’t wait for that?’ Are you giving up on him? Come on, Bailey.” Her voice shook.

“Of course not. I’ll never give up on him. I just think that part of his healing may be not having to worry about me anymore.”

“I’m more worried about him without you. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Honestly, I go back and forth, honey, one minute yes, the next no. But I’m dealing with it. I could use your prayers.”

“What will you do?” She put her arm around me. Her mascara made raccoon eyes and black speckled streaks down her cheeks.

“I’d originally promised to stay through the fall. So after Christmas I’m moving back to town with Mandy and Macy if they’ll have me.” The washing machine dinged a finished cycle. Relieved to pop out of this conversation, I jumped to my feet. “I’ll be right back.” I prayed all the way down the hall, switched out the laundry, and prayed all the way back. I steeled myself against her certain protests.

Oddly, she just sat there with her eyes closed. She must need to leave soon, for she hugged her purse to her chest. I slipped next to her and leaned my head on her shoulder. “God’s got this, Tracy. We’ll all be OK. I don’t know how yet, but somehow it will.”

“You’re right, it will.”

The determination in her voice sounded a little more like Scott would come to his senses, and we’d all live happily ever after. Poor thing, I hated how this hurt her. How it would hurt everyone.

A little spunk returned to her eyes as she gave me a hug squishing her purse between us. “I have to go. If you’re not coming to work today, I’d better see if Scott needs me. Just enjoy being lazy around here.” She clutched her purse close and stood.

“I have guests arriving, so I’ve been cleaning. I guess I’ll get back to that.” I walked her to the door.

“So, how’s that wedding present coming along? The lap blanket for Scott?” She pointed to the afghan on the couch, and spoke softly, as though afraid to remind me of it.

The tears came despite my best efforts. My bravery faltered, and my hand flew to my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt Tracy’s arms encircle me, her purse dropping to the floor.

“I don’t know what color to make the last three rows. I had thought white for our wedding, but now,” I began, struggling to regain composure.

She placed both hands on my shoulders and faced me, eyes blazing. “It will be all right, my friend. Don’t you worry. Finish it, and with white.”

I squeezed tears from my eyes, and now I was sure we both looked like raccoons. A deep breath and a quick prayer pulled me back together. I gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks. Hope you don’t have to pull many doubles. I just can’t be over there right now.”

“Of course not. I understand.”

“And Tracy? Please don’t be hard on Scott. He’s really suffering.”

“No, I get it. He may be the boss, but I’m taking all this to the Boss.” She pointed to the heavens as she scooped her purse from the floor. She bounced out the door, pony tail swaying and mumbling in Spanish. “Habrá una boda! Y en el día señalado. Scott es una locura!” She walked away quickly.

I don’t know what she said. But I thought ‘boda’ meant wedding, and something about Scott being crazy. Poor Tracy.

Poor Scott.

~*~

The missionaries arrived at Shelley’s Heart early in the morning, the day before Thanksgiving.

I met them at the door. “Welcome to Shelley’s Heart.” I’d intended to help them with their bags, but Joel had only one small suitcase.

“Thank you. I’m Joel and this is my wife, Cindi.” He shook my hand.

I liked his open smile, but his eyelids drooped.

“Hi,” Cindi said. “This place looks wonderful.” She ran her hand over the arm of a porch rocker with a longing gaze. Her shoulders slumped.

“You didn’t have to dress up just for me, but that’s a pretty outfit. Suit and tie not required here.” I opened the door and let them pass through.

“Thanks, I made it,” Cindi touched her collar. The bodice had a row of the tiniest buttons. Her smile turned to a yawn as she loosened the belt on her sage green dress.

“We just came from church. Two presentations today.” Joel loosened his navy blue tie and unbuttoned his light blue suit coat. “Cindi and I both spoke, both services. We’re kind of ragged out.” He put his arm around Cindi.

“Of course, long day. Here’s your room. It’s called the Sweetheart Room.” I led them inside.

Both guests gazed around the room taking in their surroundings.

Cindi’s eyes fell on the bed, and another, bigger yawn enveloped her. “Sorry, as you said, long day.” She clasped her hand over her mouth.

“There’s fresh coffee, and tea or hot chocolate, plus some homemade chocolate chip cookies if you’d like. I’ll leave you to get comfortable.” I stepped out of the room. The door closed behind me. I thought ‘furlough’ meant ‘rest.’ Had they been speaking the whole time since they’d landed stateside?

Their rest time gave me a perfect opportunity to run some errands in town. The Phoebe purse had to be dropped off, and I needed to restock my coffee supply. The diner had plenty, but I wasn’t going there.

Phoebe certainly dressed up Mr. Ballard’s office. She talked on the phone as I entered and dripped her super southern accent all over whoever listened on the other end. Perfect, I’d just set the purse with the letter from Darryl inside and slip away. No.

“Bailey, darling! How wonderful for you to visit. Ah, my purse!” She took it from my hands and snatched it open. She thumbed through its contents until she found something she wanted, breathed a sigh of relief, and snapped it shut again. She opened her desk drawer and dropped it in. Was she looking for that letter, and wondering if I’d seen it? Even read it?

“I’m sorry for your trouble, but at least it gave me the chance to go and buy all new makeup. I got this job so fast I haven’t had time to run by. I hope Scott wasn’t too disappointed that I turned down his offer.” She sat in her desk chair, pushed it back from the desk, and crossed her legs.

“Uh, his offer?”

“I went to see him the day he was released from the hospital. He informed me that I was overqualified for waitressing, but he’d check on management for me. I decided I’d rather work in town. Your Mr. Ballard needed a replacement.”

“Temporary.” This girl could embellish a story with the best of them.

“What?”

“He needs a temporary replacement. His secretary will be back in a few weeks.”

“Well, we’ll just see about that,” she said, winking.

Mr. Ballard was an honorable man. I hated to think of how this would end for Phoebe. But that was none of my business. He could certainly handle this feminine bundle of trouble much better than I could.

“I’ll see you later, Phoebe.” I turned to leave, but that pitiable scene from the diner that day flashed through my mind. She’d said she wanted to see what happiness looked like. What was going on with her? I turned and leaned both hands on her desk.

“Phoebe, what’s really going on with you? I had the feeling you were in some kind of turmoil that day in the diner, before you had your spill. Is there something you want to tell me?” Maybe it had to do with that letter from Darryl. If they were back together, it had to be hard for him to be away, and incarcerated.

Her eyelids rose, as did her chin.

Just when I thought I’d offended her, her face changed.

Her shoulders slumped. She took a deep breath, and real tears brimmed her eyes. “I haven’t had much going on since the thrill and benefits of my title wore off. My mama ran me through one pageant after another. ‘Smile, baby’ she’d always say. ‘Just smile and you’ll have whatever you want.’” She crossed her arms and looked away.

I hadn’t expected this. “May I sit down?”

She nodded. “The thing is I smiled my way through everything, and what Mom said came true. I’ve had everything I wanted, but, I don’t know, there’s this hole.” She placed her hand over her heart as a tear slid down her cheek making a track in her makeup and then dripping onto her arm. “My dad won’t help me financially until I learn to make my own way. He fought Mom tooth and nail over the pageant scene the whole time I was growing up. I can’t do college, and I find that I don’t really know how to do anything. I wing it pretty well, until something of substance is required.”

I knew what she lacked, but just as I breathed a prayer for how to approach the subject of how God could fill that hole, Mr. Ballard came in from his office.

“Phoebe, I need the Davis file, post haste,” he said as he took a sip from the water fountain next to his door, nodded a hello to me, and disappeared back into his office.

“Case in point. I don’t know how to find the Davis file.” She extended both hands with a shrug.

“Where are the files?” I looked around.

“Right inside this little room, here.” She said as she stood and walked that way.

We entered the workroom and approached the file cabinets.

She looked at me, bewildered.

“Seriously, Phoebe? Davis. D. Look it up alphabetically.” I scanned my fingers down the marked drawers, pulled the one marked D, fingered through until I found Davis, and pulled it out.

She snatched the file from me, nose in the air, and cheeks red.

I’d embarrassed her.

“Thank you, Bailey. I have a lot of work to do. I’ll see you later.” She pretty much dismissed me and returned to her old self. Her heels clicked into Mr. Ballard’s office, and I scooted out the front door.

So much for our little talk. I resolved to pray for her and try to be better prepared if another opportunity arose. Who knew when that would be?

The little coffee shop on Main Street where I liked to stock up for the inn was just a few blocks from the historic, antebellum home that housed Mr. Ballard’s law office. A couple minutes later, I parked in front of the shop. I reached for the door handle.

Mandy, Macy, and Tracy were walking down the sidewalk, laughing and talking.

Of course they’d be good friends now that they were working at the diner together so much. I squelched a little hurt. Why should they invite me? I hadn’t been great company lately. My life might be on hold, but they probably needed to get some Christmas shopping done. Who was at the diner? I stopped my thoughts. That wasn’t my problem anymore. The place was too much in my heart, and I couldn’t even go there for a cup of coffee any more.

They all had a shopping bag from the new dress shop on the corner.

I shrugged it off. Besides, there were guests waiting for me at the inn.

Joel and Cindi, who joined me for coffee later that afternoon, couldn’t possibly be the same couple.

“Now that’s better. You’re positively bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Coffee?” I filled their cups without waiting for an answer.

“Something smells wonderful.” Joel rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. He pulled a chair out for his wife.

“Ummmm.” Cindy inhaled the aroma from her cup before taking a sip. She closed her eyes and took a drink. “Ambrosia.”

I laughed. “I know, right? Morning better not come if I run out of coffee.” I served them each a slice of pumpkin bread.

“Please, help yourself to all you want. If you need anything else, I’ll be puttering around the house somewhere.”

“Thanks. This is amazing.” Joel dove in with relish.

I left them to their snack.

The two young missionaries bubbled with conversation for a good half hour.

I figured they might be about done, so I went into the kitchen.

“Join us,” Cindi said.

The refreshed young woman looked open and friendly. But they were here for a rest. I didn’t even try to explain why I didn’t feel hungry for pumpkin bread.

“I’ll have some coffee with you.” I poured a cup and sat down at the table.

“Sorry about earlier. We were just so exhausted. I felt like a spigot had been stuck in me and left on, completely drained.” Cindi took a big breath and blew it out.

“Yeah, really pooped out,” Joel said eying the sweet bread.

I served him another slice. Cindi refused another.

“I guess I don’t understand furlough. I thought it meant a break for you.” It certainly didn’t seem that way.

They looked at each other.

He shrugged. “‘Fraid not. We got to come home for a few months, but we have to visit our supporters, speak at churches, and find more funding. We are so grateful to our supporters, but it can be exhausting. We’re already tired when we get off the plane.” He reached for his wife’s hand.

“I have some brochures of the area attractions. What will you do while you’re here?”

Joel and Cindi looked at each other. “Nothing,” they chimed in unison.

“Actually, I plan to travel from the front porch rocker to that delicious bed and back all day. I’m already dreading check out time.” Cindi’s eyes drooped again.

“Why don’t you stay another night?” These kids needed rest.

“We would love to, but we can’t afford it. We had to hire a babysitter so we could get this night alone.” Joel stood and retrieved a picture from his wallet. A tow-headed little boy and girl grinned from the photo.

“Ben’s four and Ally is three.” Cindi’s pride shone in her eyes.

My heart went out to these young servants of God. I had no idea about life in the mission field, although I could well imagine. To come home and not be able to rest or relax broke my heart. How could they return to the field without being rejuvenated? I could at least help this one little family. I’d discuss it with Mom.

“I’m going to meet my mother in town in a bit. Please make yourself at home. Feel free to raid the refrigerator, and the diner you passed on the way down has great food. See you later.” I cleared their plates and then went upstairs to get my purse. I couldn’t find my wedding planner. Looking through it would only hurt me, but I wanted it just the same. I hoped I hadn’t left it at the diner.

As I headed out the front door, the missionaries were already in their room with the door closed.

~*~

Mom shook her head and frowned when she heard the Cummings’ story.

“I wish we could do something.” I rearranged salad with my fork. I should probably eat, but nothing looked good.

“Why don’t you and I sponsor them for a few days? Maybe they can get their kids and stay at the inn through the Thanksgiving holidays,” Mom said.

“Brilliant, Mom!” I dropped my fork and clapped my hands.

“Your grandmother always did things like that.” Mom’s mouth spanned a grin.

I let that memory sink in. The succession of missionaries through Pinewood Manor marched before my mind’s eye. How could I have forgotten that?

“It’s a shame there’s no more Pinewood Manor to put them up.” Mom lifted her cup to her lips, but stopped mid sip.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I set my cup down. The empty paper cup fell over into my salad plate.

“I said it’s a shame there’s no more Pinewood Manor to accommodate them.” She stared intently at me, mouth open.

I tried to relate Mom’s sentence with her purposeful gaze. Realization jolted me. “Mom, a place for missionaries? Build a retreat or something?” I snatched a pen and notepad from my purse.

“Something like, yes. And they don’t have to pay.” She snapped her fingers.

I wrote notes as fast as my brain could process. “And a place for their kids to play and...”

An hour passed as Mom and I received revelation. Before the hour vanished, The Helen Barkley Missionary Retreat birthed in our hearts.

“So much to do. I’ve got to tell Scott.” As soon as the words tripped from my tongue, my face fell.

Mom patted my hand. “Tell him anyway, Bailey.”

“Maybe.” He hadn’t called or even sent a text since the day he broke up with me. I’d barely seen him in passing. At least now I’d have something worthwhile to occupy my mind. I reached for the blank space on my neck again. Oh, Gran, my life is upside down again. At least I’ll not sink to the depths I did before. Life without Scott just doesn’t feel good. I turned my heart to prayer for strength, for Scott, for the couple at the inn, and the huge venture we would soon undertake.

“I’ve got something to do, so I’m headed out,” she said, her cheeks coloring.

“Ah, a date with Toppy? Is that a new dress?” My mom’s happiness warmed my heart. She deserved it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She quickly changed the subject. “I say let’s get the holidays out of the way and then get serious. We’ll need lots of help to get this going. I don’t have a clue.” She tossed her paper cup into the trash.

“Me, either. Sounds like a plan, though. Love you.” I gave her a hug.

“Love you, too. Offer the Cummings missionaries a week on us. Maybe we can get some ideas from them about how best to benefit people like them.”

“Good idea. I’ll pick their brains.” Rested up brains, if I had anything to do with it.

“Oh, and Bailey. Toppy and I are hosting Thanksgiving Dinner at the diner tomorrow. You’ll be there, I hope.”

I just stared at her. Did I want to be in close proximity to Scott?

“Bring the Cummings family. And you need to tell Scott about our plans.”

Trapped.