“I know that. I didn’t mean that at all. But you need fellowship, Andi. You need encouragement. You need people. Maybe people who don’t work for you.”
“I have a church.”
“Yeah, but it happens to be on the grounds of Promised Land, and the only people who worship there yet are your employees. It’s not the same.”
“That’ll change. When the park opens, and people start coming—”
“I’m talking about now, Andi. How can you stay in tune with God when you’re hanging there all alone?”
“All God’s instruments are a little out of tune, aren’t they?” she asked with a half-smile.
“They don’t have to be. I have a theory,” Wes said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs. “Want to hear it?”
“Sure.”
“My theory is that God is using both of you, but you’re both letting the busyness of his work keep you from any real fellowship with him. Maybe he brought you both back together here to encourage each other. Maybe to renew that intensity you both had back in college.”
“Interesting theory,” Andi said. “But probably wrong. Justin’s not interested in encouragement from me. And he has plenty of intensity. So do I.”
“Maybe it’s not for the right things.”
She looked across the table at him, then smiled softly. “You may be right about that.”
“Iron sharpens iron, remember?”
“Yeah, but the sharper it is, the more dangerous it is.” She slid back her chair and got up, sighing from her soul. “Look, don’t worry about me. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” With the last words, she went through the doorway, but Wes stopped her again.
“Did you know Justin left his coat and tie here today? I wonder if he’ll need it tomorrow. He’s not the type to own two suits.”
Andi glanced at the coat still draped over the back of the chair and the tie crumpled in a heap on the seat. “No, I’m sure he doesn’t,” she said, going back in and picking them up, unconsciously smoothing the fabric over her arm as she set her briefcase down again. “But I’m also sure he doesn’t plan to wear it tomorrow.”
“I don’t know,” Wes objected. “If I read him right, he’ll be out first thing tomorrow getting things set up for the move, ordering new equipment, doing some banking …”
Andi gave Wes a knowing grin and he answered it, no longer trying to hide his ulterior motives.
“Take him his coat, Andi,” he said. “Talk to him. Make friends with him, if nothing else.”
Andi wasn’t fooled. “But something else is more what you had in mind, isn’t it, Wes?”
Wes shrugged and attempted an innocent smile. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Pensively, Andi dropped her gaze to the coat and tie, and she wondered if they smelled like Justin. A sudden warmth washed through her, making her uneasy. “I was considering having a press conference tomorrow to announce that he’s joined us,” she said without meeting Wes’s eyes. “A reception, maybe. The press people love those. Do you think it’s too short notice?”
“Go invite him!” Wes enthused, giving a that’s-the-spirit punch at the air. “No notice is too short for the press. They’re starved for news on Promised Land. Go take him his coat and invite him. You’ll have two excuses.”
“This may come as a shock to you,” Andi retorted mildly, “but I wasn’t looking for an excuse to see Justin.”
“But you’ll go?”
“Maybe,” she said. “I’ll let you know.” Again, she got her briefcase and started out of the room, turning back at the threshold. “And Wes? Thanks for caring.”
Quirking his lips, he said, “Somebody has to do it.” Then, as if the exchange had never taken place, he bent back over his work as Andi shook her head and left the room.
It was difficult finding Justin’s house in the dark, but at last Andi picked it out and pulled into the driveway. Two cars were parked ambiguously on the street between his house and the one next door—making her uncertain if he had visitors or if his neighbors did—but the lack of lighting, except for the faint yellow one through the front curtains, gave the impression of inactivity.
An instant of cowardice flitted through her mind and almost made her reconsider. Why had she come? Wasn’t she just making herself an open target for pain? She picked the coat up, squeezed the fabric in hands that trembled slightly, then brought it to her face. It did smell of him, clean yet exotic, the same unique scent he had worn years ago. Funny how she had never forgotten that smell.
Draping the coat and tie over her arm, she walked over the lawn still soft from the last rain and went up the porch steps leading to his front door. Swallowing back her fear, she rang the bell.
The vibration of footsteps on the hollow wooded floor told her someone was coming. She braced herself and mentally rehearsed her greeting. But when the door opened, it was not Justin who confronted her but a petite brunette with spaniel eyes and a smile that seemed on the verge of laughter. “Can I help you?” she asked, pushing back the riotous curls that were slightly subdued by the bright scarf tied in a bow at the top of her head.
Feeling foolish with the coat and tie over her arm, Andi tried to find her voice. “Hi. I’m—”
“Who is it, Madeline?” she heard Justin call as he came up the hall.
The woman stepped back as Justin approached the door in his usual jeans and T-shirt. He probably couldn’t wait to get out of that dress shirt today, she mused.
“Andi.” His eyes widened in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting—”
“I know,” she cut in, suddenly regretting the whim that had brought her here and vowing never to take Wes’s advice again. “I wouldn’t have just dropped in like this, but you left your coat and tie in the boardroom and I—”
“Come in,” he said, but Andi shook her head, a dappled pink flushing her cheeks.
“I can’t. I just wanted to bring this by.” Awkwardly she held out the arm over which the coat and tie were draped.
“Is it the pizza?” a man’s voice called from the kitchen.
Justin’s eyes locked intimately, almost apologetically, with Andi’s, and he reached out and took the coat off her arm. From somewhere deep in the house she could hear music and other voices, and another man appeared behind Justin. “Nope, not pizza,” he said.
“We were having a little celebration,” Justin said quietly, leaning toward her as if blocking out the others. Lowering his voice to an almost whisper, he said, “Please come in. I want you to meet my staff.”
Feeling that a refusal would cause more of a scene than simply stepping inside for a moment, she acquiesced. “I really don’t want to interrupt your celebration.” She glanced at the other two men who had drifted curiously into the living room.
Justin gave her a soft smile, the first truly soft smile he’d given her in years. “This is Andi Sherman, everybody,” he rumbled softly.
With subdued smiles, as if they were in the presence of the wizard who had granted them passage home, they stepped up one by one to shake her hand. Madeline, with her pixie smile, and B.J. and Nathan and Gene.
“As you’ve heard, we’re waiting for pizza,” Justin said. “You could help us eat it.”
The thought of kicking off her shoes and relaxing with these people who seemed so comfortable around each other was more appealing to her than she wanted to admit, but they were his friends, not hers, and it was his celebration, and she was quite sure that the invitation had been extended out of politeness. He would probably be horrified if she took him up on it.
“No, I really can’t. I have to go. It was nice meeting all of you.” She started toward the door, and Justin followed her out into the darkness, his back dismissing the others. Leaning his wrist on the jamb beside his head, he gazed down at her, stopping her heart. Starlight glimmered in his eyes, a radiant heat with more power than Andi remembered. She forced herself to meet his gaze directly. “I’d like to give a press party tomorrow night to announce ou
r merger,” she said quickly. “Can you be there?”
Justin shrugged. “Sure.”
“Good,” she said, taking a step backward. “It’ll be formal. You’ll have to wear a tux.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
Andi glanced toward her car to hide the awkward look she knew was apparent on her face. “Well, then I’ll see you tomorrow night—at seven—if I don’t see you before.”
“You might,” he said. “We’ll be in and out of the offices all day tomorrow.” When he made no effort to say more, Andi started down the porch steps, but his voice stopped her. “Sure you won’t stay for a while?”
Andi breathed a silent, frustrated laugh at the possibility and shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Where do you have to be?” came the next unexpected question.
Andi dropped her eyes. “The hospital.”
“Oh.” She wished instantly that she hadn’t said it, for she hated his sympathy. That was not what she wanted from Justin.
“Well,” she said with an exaggeratedly light sigh, “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night, then. I’m looking forward to doing business with you, Justin.”
“So am I,” he said, so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear.
Wrenching her eyes from his, she started across the lawn.
“Andi,” he called through the night breeze.
Andi stopped and turned slowly back to him again, holding her hair back from her face as the wind waged war with it. He didn’t speak for a moment, and she felt like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move until he unlocked his gaze. “Thanks for bringing the coat over,” he said finally.
Nodding, Andi got in her car and cranked the engine. Flicking on the headlights that she knew would blind him to her, she let her eyes steal back to him, leaning pensively in the doorway.
Loneliness gripped her and refused to let go as she drove the distance to the hospital, where the other man she had loved and lost lay in wait.
Chapter Seven
The hospital room was still too cold as Andi stepped in, so she went to the closet and found another blanket for her father. Carefully, she laid it over him, tucked it around him, and leaned over to kiss him. “Hi, Daddy. It’s me, Andi.”
There was no answer, just her father’s blank stare. She sat down in the chair beside his bed and stroked his hair back from his forehead. He had gotten a haircut today, she realized. Her mother must have done it.
“Daddy, we signed all the papers today. The cartoon characters I told you about, Khaki’s Krewe, are part of Promised Land now. I think they’re going to add so much. I wish you could see one of the cartoons yourself. You’d love them.”
Her voice fell on deaf ears, for all she knew. Leaning both elbows on the bed, she gazed down at her father, wishing from the bottom of her heart that she could somehow snap him out of this trap he was in. She reached for his hand, laid across his stomach, and squeezed, wishing, praying, that he would squeeze back. If she just had a sign.
But there was no sign.
“Are you even in there, Daddy?” she asked helplessly. “If you were, couldn’t you tell me somehow? I really miss you.”
She waited, hoping for a sign—a squeeze of the hand, a blink, a change in his breathing pattern—but there was none. Finally, she let go of his hand and sat back in her chair. She felt tired … so tired. It was as if she hadn’t slept in days, and something inside her felt empty, weak. Where was the joy Christians were supposed to feel? Where was the hope?
Her tear-filled eyes found her father’s Bible, where her mother had laid it beside his bed. She had been reading it to him. Since his accident, her mother had read aloud all the way to Habakkuk. She hoped her father could hear, that it brought him some pleasure, some relief.
She picked up the Bible and opened it. Her father’s own notes were written in the margins of almost every page, verses were underlined, passages highlighted. Her eyes fell to the passage on the page the Bible had opened to, in the first chapter of James.
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
She’d read the passage herself, many times, but tonight she saw her father’s notes winding around the margins of the page. She turned the Bible sideways and read what he’d written.
“We should consider our personal trials and sorrows joy because of what they can allow God to do in us. If we let our trials break us, God can’t use us. But if we go in to those trials knowing that God is going to do something great with us, something for which he has to strengthen us in advance, it all comes into perspective.” Then he had jotted, “Romans 8:28.”
She didn’t have to look that up. It was one of her favorite verses. Aloud, she whispered, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
The words from the Bible, along with her father’s words, and his cross-reference, all combined to wash a wave of comfort over her. Tears filled her eyes, and she caught her breath on a sob. Was this the sign she had looked for? Had her father written that passage just for her, knowing that one day he couldn’t tell her himself?
Probably not. But another of her fathers had known. God had led her to it tonight.
“It’s hard to consider it joy,” she whispered to God as she read back over the passage. “But when I think it’s all for good, that there’s a reason, that you have a plan … it’s easier.” She dropped her forehead on the edge of the bed, and fell deeper into her tears as she closed her eyes and tried to pray. “Lord, help me. I don’t want to be alone, and I am. And nothing seems to be working out …”
Another verse that had once been dear to her came to her mind. “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”
That was it. She had not been seeking the kingdom of God first. It had come somewhere down her priority list, after the problems with the building of the park and staving off the government officials, but somewhere before relationships and recreation. Here she was so encumbered with busyness, most of which she called God’s work, and ignoring him completely. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Forgive me, Lord.”
She tried to list off the things she needed to repent of: pride, arrogance, neglect, apathy … “Daddy,” she whispered, “how does God keep his patience with me?”
Her father didn’t respond, but it was okay, because the peace that came over her told her that her heavenly Father did. She got up, pressed a kiss on her father’s temple, and whispered, “Good night, Daddy.”
Quietly, she slipped from his room, and headed back to her apartment on the grounds of Promised Land.
Chapter Eight
Justin had expected to run into Andi when he’d shown up at the Promised Land office building the next day, but she had been too obviously scarce. His disappointment surprised and angered him, for he didn’t want to spend every moment at work wishing she’d come through the door. That wasn’t productive. Besides, if she did, they would only fight, or have one of those stiff conversations packed full of double meanings and barbs that were left to hang. Was that what he wanted? To see her so she could get his adrenaline pumping?
No, that wasn’t why. He knew that as clearly as he knew that his merger with her had been a great idea. But he wanted to admit neither.
He had finally gotten most of his stuff moved into the building when he realized that the time was sneaking up on him. While his staff was in his living room—formerly his studio—discussing where they would all eat that evening, he had slipped away to take a shower.
He had plenty of time, he told himself, and as he dressed in the silly tuxedo shirt he’d rented earlier that day, he wished that he could appear at the reception as himself—in jeans and sneakers. But being part of corporate Americ
a meant making a few concessions, he supposed. He tucked the shirt in, put on his cummerbund, and wondered who had invented a getup like this. It was neither practical nor reasonable, and he felt like a clown dressing in it now. He looked down at the limp tie in his hand, and wondered how in the world he would tie it.
“Madeline!” he yelled through the door.
“Yeah!” she shouted back.
“Come give me a hand with this blasted tie, will you?”
Madeline came around the corner, her curls bouncing in her face, and she laughed out loud at the sight of him. “I never thought I’d see the day!” she said. “You look like a million bucks. Guys!” she shouted. “Come get a load of this!”
The others filled the doorway quickly, mocking him with catcalls and whoops. “I told you,” Madeline teased. “You’re lookin’ good.”
He shot them looks that said he wasn’t buying. “Can you tie this tie? It’s too short. I can’t figure out—”
“It’s a bow tie, Einstein. Here, let me do it.” Mechanically, she began to tie the tie. “I didn’t have three brothers for nothing, you know. Andi’s gonna swoon, Justin. The minute she lays eyes on you, she’s just gonna swoon.”
“Andi’s never swooned in her life,” he said irritably.
“You watch. When you walk in, she’ll have to grab onto something.” She demonstrated by grabbing onto a chair. “Her eyes will roll back up in her head. Her face will turn pink, and she’ll stumble back …”
He laughed as she pretended to faint, then caught herself. “Now when she does it, Justin, you have to get right over there and catch her. It’s the only gentlemanly thing to do.”
Still laughing, he checked the tie in the mirror, wishing he could loosen it a little. “You sure don’t know Andi Sherman.”
“Justin, I’m a woman. I see things that you can’t. I saw the look on Andi’s face last night when she was here. This relationship may have been dormant for eight years, but it’s not dead for her, either.”