Home for Christmas, page 16
Shifting to a slow jog, he caught up with her long strides and laid a hand on her shoulder.
She shrugged off his hand. “Please don’t touch me. I’ve been trying so hard tonight to ignore everything bubbling inside of me, but if you touch me, I don’t think I can be strong and resist.”
Finn locked his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. Her focus shifted toward the ground, not allowing him to look into her beautiful wide eyes. “Darcy, look at me.”
She shook her head. “If I do…I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Finn couldn’t suppress the chuckle rumbling through his chest. “So warned.” Placing a finger under her chin, he forced her gaze to meet his. “Darcy, I’ve been trying hard not to touch you or hug you or kiss the frown off your face. It’s been a sheer act of divine will that I didn’t drop the wooden flaps and close five minutes after we took over the booth. When Marshall Smith asked you to explain what was in the raspberry jam that made it so heavenly, I wanted to knock his teeth in.”
Darcy bit her bottom lip, failing to keep a grin from her lips. “Knock his teeth in?”
He nodded. He slid his hands under her scarf, stretching his fingers along the smooth column of her neck. “I have been trying a mental court case. My pastor brain keeps telling me to be your friend. To help you figure out what path you need to take next. To support you with your aunt, and to keep our relationship squarely in the pastor-parishioner zone.”
Her lips softly parted. “A good argument. What does your man brain say back?”
“He doesn’t argue, because all he can do is remember what it feels like to do this.” He lowered his mouth to hers with a soft, gentle kiss. The touch was lighter than angel’s wings, but Finn felt branded.
Heat swept through him simultaneously firing all cylinders of his heart. Under his fingertips Darcy’s pulse quickened. Breaking the tender connection, he rested his forehead to hers.
“Well,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I agree with the scientific soundness of your pastor brain, but I have to say Man-Finn might be my favorite kind of Finn.”
“Mine, too.”
43
Ben held Harper in his arms for what felt like minutes but must have been closer to an hour. He assumed the muffled sounds pricking the quiet bubble he and Harper had created was Darcy returning home. Harper shifted and he clasped his hand around her wrist. “You don’t need to go.”
She smiled and stood. “I do. But I can’t thank you enough for listening, for helping me understand my own story a little better.”
Standing, he rested his forehead against hers. “Thank you for sharing.” The temptation to lower his lips and discover if the taste of chocolate and vanilla still lingered pulled at Ben’s reason.
“Can I stop by tomorrow? Check in on Mrs. Penhearst?”
“You only want to check in on Aunt Lulu?”
“Well…I…” Her words seemed stuck.
“Harper, I would love for you to stop by and see Aunt Lulu.” Squatting to her eye level, he locked his gaze with hers. “But I was hoping you might want to see me.”
“Really?”
Shifting her knit cap off her forehead, he pressed his lips to her smooth skin. Her spicy aroma floated through him. The invisible ribbon tying them together tugged him closer to her.
The creak of the back door opening quieted his ardor.
Darcy stood in the doorway, the light from the kitchen surrounding her in a hazy, yellow halo. He felt the pull from his sister. She wanted to talk, and for once he could do more than sympathetically nod.
“Darcy’s here.” Harper said.
“Yep, and I think…no, I know I have something I need to say to her. And tonight seems to be a good night for sharing.”
“That it does.”
“Until tomorrow, Ms. Jessup.”
“Until tomorrow, Dr. Langston.” Harper pressed a quick kiss to Ben’s cheek and pivoted toward the gate.
As Harper slipped into the late December evening, his sister closed the distance between them.
“Do you want to go first or shall I?” Darcy asked.
Ben turned to Darcy. One glance into her brown eyes and he knew she wanted to talk about Harper. Ben wanted to hear about Darcy’s burgeoning romance with Finn, sort of, but what really needed to be said between them might shatter the fragile peace they had found in the last week.
He believed what he told Harper about her dad’s forgiveness. His belief was less steady about how his sister would respond to what Ben was feeling.
He slung an arm over Darcy’s shoulders and guided her to the fire. His sharing would have to wait. “Tell me all about your oversized crush on Pastor Finn.”
44
Darcy sat on the edge of the smooth Adirondack chair and twisted to face Ben. Telling her brother what she was feeling always made the emotions real. When she was little and being bullied or when she fell in love with Reed Thompson in the seventh grade, expressing her heart to her brother brought the experiences into three dimensions.
What she was feeling for Finn was real. Along with perfect organizational skills and the ability to turn a three-word sentence into a multipoint project plan, denial was one of her key strengths. Despite her best efforts of leaning into her core strengths, she wasn’t able to ignore her feelings any longer. Darcy’s heart was filling up with Finn Tarrington. “It’s hard to start.” Darcy lifted her gaze to Ben’s.
The fire light revealed the tender kindness at the core of her brother. No matter the undeserved anger and pain she had tossed on him, Ben continued to love without malice or condition.
“Darc, whatever you say will be between you and me.”
She nodded. “I can’t seem to stop kissing him.”
Ben’s face contorted as if he had taken a bite of liver laced with jalapenos and vinegar. “Aww, Darc, did you have to start with the physical? Could you not have eased in with some fourteen-year-old girl emotions?”
“Gee, thanks, Ben. I appreciate your understanding.” She twisted to stand, but felt the thick grasp of Ben’s hand on her wrist.
“I’m sorry. Tell your story however, you want. I’ll listen. I promise…no more judgment.”
With a sigh, she turned back to Ben. Honest and authentic compassion once again reflected in his matching set of brown eyes.
“I probably should have eased into the kissing.”
“It would help a brother out.”
“And when we get to your turn. You can gloss over the lip-locking action between you and Ms. Jessup.”
Ben shook his head. “No worries there.”
“You haven’t kissed Harper?”
“We are talking about you and the Pastor.”
“I know…but seriously? All those moony eyed looks and you haven’t kissed her?”
“Darcy, my infinite patience is finding its end…”
“OK. Right.” How was Darcy supposed to sum up what she felt for Finn? Or why she had these feelings for him? “It seems so sudden, and yet, I can’t really explain it…I feel as though I’ve always known him. I’ve been trying to resist. My life is chaos. And I never deal with chaos very well.”
She glanced at Ben expecting him to comment, to outline every mistake she’d made in the last five years. Since the moment he’d discovered she lost her grant, Darcy had been waiting for the inquisition about her stalled research and what she would do in the future. But Ben had been silent about her next steps. If the situation had been reversed, Darcy would have hounded him at every meal, coffee, and walk the two had, but not her brother. Challenging the next steps and planning for the future were firmly in Darcy’s wheelhouse. Giving people air to breathe to figure out their own journey was Ben’s greatest gift. And, he had graciously been giving to Darcy for over five years.
“Ben, I’m scared.”
In an instant, Ben snatched her in his arms. “Don’t worry, Darcy. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
45
Running was a gift Finn rediscovered in seminary. As an undergrad, running was a part of the demanding routine of a Division I athlete. He had hated every pounding footfall. But, a half a decade after the requirement of running ended, Finn realized the beauty he found in the simple movement. Arms swishing and legs stretching released his mind from the burden of his thoughts. And, as odd as slogging through the icy mix of fresh snow buttressed against the salt laden blackish gray street scrapings might seem, Finn felt pure peace with the subzero air burning in his lungs. His runs gave him time and space to work through unanswered questions and to discover what direction God was calling him to follow.
The last several mornings, his running questions came from a single source: Darcy Langston.
When he’d first met Darcy, he sensed the fear and uncertainty tightly coiled under her tense surface. He empathized with the odd mix of emotions. His teens and most of his twenties had been burdened with the twin feelings. Finn wasn’t certain how the Lord was asking him to intervene in Darcy’s life at their first meeting. He dreaded he might have ignored God’s true purpose for bringing Darcy into his life in favor of his own longings and a few stolen kisses.
“Hey Pastor Finn. Not too cold for you this morning?”
Finn lifted his gaze to the lone runner gliding toward him. “Not in the least, Chief Taylor. I thought we had agreed to drop the ‘pastor’?”
Police Chief Sean Taylor slowed to a stop in front of Finn. “I’ll drop the ‘pastor’ when you start calling me Sean.”
“Deal.” Finn glanced at his watch. “How much further do you have to run?”
“Until my wife has the first pot of snickerdoodle coffee brewed.” Sean nodded toward the faint light shining through the window of Only the Basics café. “Probably another twenty minutes or so. Want some company?”
Finn nodded and started a slow steady pace across the center of town.
Sean easily matched him.
When Finn had moved to Gibson’s Run, his uncle recommended he meet with all the town leaders, both official and unofficial. Although a few years his senior, Sean was the one city leader who felt most like a friend and less like a judge.
“The decorations are really beautiful,” Sean said.
“Mmmhmm…”
“Heard you were going ahead with Tessa’s play.”
“Mmmhmm…”
“Saw you kissing Lulu’s niece.”
Finn skidded to a stop. “What?”
Sean slowed; a wide grin stretched across his face. “Thought that might get your attention.”
“How? When? Where? Why?”
“Slow down, Scoop. It was last night. I was on patrol, short end of the stick since we have to bring in part timers for the festival. I happened to drive by Lulu’s house and saw you and the lovely Ms. Langston.”
“Dr. Langston.”
“Fancy. What’s the deal? I thought the two of you just met?”
Finn nodded, unsure of how to explain the rash romantic entanglement. The simple answer was he had lost his mind and good sense with one smile from Darcy Langston. The not so simple answer was he was one slip away from falling in love with a woman who was likely to leave little more than tread marks across his heart when she left town in three months.
“It’s complicated.”
“Life’s complicated.”
“We’ve been spending a lot of time together because of the play and…”
“Really, man? That’s your answer? A children’s play? Not much of a romantic angle.”
“Well, what’s your story with Maggie? Did you fall in love with her over snickerdoodle coffee?”
“Yes. And I saved her from a stalker who had tracked her all over the country.”
“Oh…” Well, that kind of deflated any romantic notions Finn had for falling in love during a children’s Christmas pageant.
“But it’s not a competition. If Maggie didn’t have that dirt bag following her, I’m sure our story would be something equally as charming as falling in love during a children’s play.” Sean patted Finn’s shoulder. “A little advice… be a little more discreet. If the LAS ladies find out you’re putting the moves on Lulu’s niece, they’ll have you at the altar before your cousin’s wedding in January.”
Sean started to jog. Finn matched his pace, but his brain zoomed with new worries. Somehow in the whirlwind of stolen kisses and boomeranging emotions, he forgot about the Ladies Aid Society. The fact the LAS members weren’t in the front of his mind spoke volumes for how enthralled Finn was with Darcy. The mere thought of the LAS ladies becoming aware of his feelings for her kick started a searing pain at the base of his skull.
“Silence is the best answer, my friend. If you’re not careful Sissy Jenkins will be giving you an earful on your morality clause while simultaneously handing you bridal magazines and save the date cards.”
Pain shot from the base of his head through to his eye.
What if Sissy Jenkins knew he’d kissed Darcy? His personal nightmare before Christmas.
46
The bell dinged announcing new customers at Only the Basics café. Harper shifted her gaze to the door, but didn’t recognize the foursome bundled in tightly wrapped scarves and varying shades of puffer jackets. The Christmas Festival was fully engrained in the Buckeye nation, bringing new and old faces from all over Ohio. Countless Ohioans adopted Gibson’s Run as their Christmas home away from home year after year. The half-mile walk from Mom’s to the café was made through a maze of people already enjoying the festivities. By Harper’s estimation, the visitor count seemed to be almost as high as last year’s record breaking first day.
The bell jangled. Correction. The visitor count had increased by one too-handsome-for-his-own-good Italian.
Tucked in a corner and out of his immediate line of sight, Harper allowed herself to take in the fullness of him.
Always dressed to perfection, Marco’s wool coat was tailored like a second skin and his scarf was the perfect shade of red against his deeply olive complexion. His thick black hair glistened with a sprinkling of fresh snow. Handsome he was, but she knew her imminent danger had yet to fall on her. She was a sucker for those Mediterranean blue peepers.
His slow perusal of the shop was nearing her. She sucked in a deep breath to steady against the onslaught of his warm blue gaze. The dramatic combination of beautiful skin and angelic eyes had nearly undone Harper eight years ago. Would he notice if she kept her eyes shut during their coffee?
“Ciao, mia bella!”
He walked toward her with his arms outstretched. Like Pavlov himself was commanding her, Harper stood and met his embrace. His kiss grazed each cheek. Heat radiated from his body and if she closed her eyes, she could easily step through the odd time portal that arrived last night with Marco. The familiarity of his touch was a bit like coming home and yet, totally exotic. She tried to ignore the aroma of sandalwood and leather rolling off him, flooding her with memories interwoven with his scent. She gently pressed him away and gestured to the chair opposite her.
Unwinding his scarf, his gaze scraped the length of her. “Mia bella, how do you look more beautiful today than yesterday?”
“Marco, you wanted to talk over breakfast.” She scooted a lemon and orange sweet roll and tall to-go cup to him. “Americano with four shots.”
He nodded and took a tentative sip. “Mmm…very nice.”
“I’m here. We have breakfast. Now talk.”
“Why the rush, mia bella? Has America hardened you? Go. Go. Go?”
Harper clenched her teeth. “Marco, I don’t have the patience.”
“How have you been? Your work goes well? Your mama, she good?”
“This was stupid.” Harper twisted in her chair and tugged at her parka.
“Wait. Please.”
“Why…why are you here after eight years? And don’t give me, ‘I happened to see your Christmas Festival in the paper.’ I want the truth.”
“Yes. Well, I didn’t just happen to come to your Gibson’s Run.”
“Gee, really?”
His lips lifted at the corner. “Papa acquired a boutique hotel chain with locations in the US and Canada. I came to the States to oversee the transition. One of the hotels is in Columbus. I was so close to you, how could I not come? When I saw in the paper about the festival and your lights, I thought it must be a sign. I miss you, Harper. Not a day goes by when I do not miss you.”
His voice flowed through her, liquifying the steel bars protecting her heart. Shake it off, Jessup. Shake it off. “Marco, it’s been eight years. You could’ve called. Emailed. Snail mailed?”
“Would you have taken my call, mia bella? I think not.”
She couldn’t argue his truth; but not for the reason he thought. “So why now? Why after all this time? At Christmas.”
“I missed you. I also keep up with your career. You always were so talented.” He glanced out the large store front window toward the square. “Look at what you created out of a small town of nothing?”
Harper followed his gaze. Even in the full morning of a gray December day, the thoughtful lighting design twinkled over the festival. Each angle was postcard picture ready with festival goers leisurely roaming from booth to booth. The sight tweaked a bit of pride bubbling up in her heart.
“Harper, this beauty is more than simple lights strung over a town square. This is artistry. You are an artist. An artist even more talented than my simple mind could fathom all those years ago.”
Heat spread over her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to the white top of her to-go cup. “It wasn’t just me. It takes a village.”
“Mia bella, do not be modest. I know your signature. This masterpiece screams Harper Jessup original.”
Sucking in a deep breath, she willed the tears threatening to spill to stay place. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to say.”
“Not kind. Truth. And it is part motivation for me to come to your Gibson’s Run.”
“What do you mean?”
“This beauty. The way you made your town glow with warmth and welcome. This is design that cannot be taught. It must be felt. I came to see you, yes, but also to see your work. To show others your work.”
