moment.
* * *
Clint guided Paula down the aisle, surprised at her response when he’d taken her arm as the others had done. He didn’t think of her as timid, but he’d felt her guard mount at his touch. When they’d met for the ceremony rehearsal, she’d stood back, observing before she became involved. Beneath her quiet demeanor, he sensed her mind snapping. And that was what did it. She’d aroused his interest. No one had done that for years. He’d chalked it up to her vulnerability. Firefighters had a penchant for helping people in trouble. Though she smiled and chatted once she’d warmed up, beneath her smile, he sensed something deeper churning inside a locked trunk. Yet she couldn’t hide those lovely eyes, the color of caramel, which seemed to match her long, wavy hair.
He almost shook his head at his concocted analysis. The woman was new to town. Some people took longer to get comfortable. He’d spoken a little to her and sensed she wasn’t a churchgoer. Yet faith seemed a stronghold for her family. It was what had helped Ashley through the loss of her young husband, a man who’d never seen his newborn child other than in photographs. Clint’s chest constricted, wondering how he might feel being denied that amazing privilege of seeing a child created from the love of a man and woman.
A smidgen of envy wheedled into his consciousness. Nothing good ever came of envy. Not one thing. Envy caused displeasure and longing, sometimes resentment. Envy thwarted what lay ahead and signaled lack of trust in the Lord. He dismissed this negative thought and pinpointed a new goal.
He hoped the occasion would lower Paula’s guard. He would enjoy learning more about her, and he juggled ideas how to make it happen. His discouragement grew while standing in the reception line. Seeming on edge, she appeared to know few of her relatives and spent most of her time explaining who she was by mentioning her mother, Dorothy, who’d died recently. If she wasn’t comfortable with her relatives, what hope did he—a stranger—have?
The last guest greeted them before heading for the reception hall, but he’d been warned they had to stick around for photos. He studied Paula’s expression and took a chance. “Do you mind posing for pictures?”
“Do you?”
He jerked his head back, an instinctive reaction to her abrupt response. “Not really.”
“Me, neither.”
Her short response held a playful tone, and she made the cutest face, her nose wrinkled while the corner of her mouth curved to a faint grin. He plowed ahead. “Do you think we can escape?”
“If you know Ashley, you already have the answer.”
He liked her snappy responses. “Then we’d better give in and follow them.”
She released a dramatic sigh and hooked her arm through his, different from her earlier reaction, which made him curious. They followed the others to stand beneath the lovely cross where the stained-glass windows puddled brilliant colors on the carpet.
“Ready to plaster on a smile?” He gave her arm a squeeze.
“Ready as I’ll ever be. How about you?”
Making a move, he slipped his arm behind her back and guided her toward the photographer. “Same here.”
She considered him a moment and, to his pleasure, she didn’t draw back.
Rather than scaring her off, he left well enough alone. He’d acted like a naive schoolboy, noticing for the first time that girls were different. Today the same awareness slithered down his spine. It was natural. Four years had passed since being with a woman who attracted him.
He’d pretty much steered clear of women until now, since Elise had walked out of his life without one backward glance. Why she’d waited so long, so close to their wedding day, he’d never know. No wonder he’d been confused. Perhaps one day he would figure out what he’d done wrong.
Trying to be subtle, he studied Paula from a peripheral view. She didn’t seem ready for anything either, so who was to say he and Paula couldn’t be friends? Friendship served both involved. Fun, laughter, companionship. Maybe that was all he needed—time to adjust to a woman’s companionship. It might be easier than he thought.
Paula touched his arm, an inquiring expression on her face. “Come back to planet earth. The photographer is giving you a look.”
So was she, and he liked it.
* * *
Music filled the hall as Paula entered with Clint at her side. She spotted the deejay near the dance floor, a middle-aged man who’d probably been entertaining wedding parties for years.
“I think our seats are over there.” Clint beckoned her to follow, and behind him she admired his physique as he guided her to the bridal table. At first, she’d felt trapped, and it made no sense. Clint had been pleasant company, polite and tempting her smile to appear. For too long, she hadn’t smiled much, and, since coming to stay with her uncle Fred, she’d found herself chuckling at his amusing comments and her cousins’ easy wit. Today she discovered the same kind of playfulness in Clint.
Though his comments didn’t draw out belly laughs, they tickled her. Sometimes he echoed her own terse responses, teasing innuendos that he tossed out on the fly. Nothing at all like Vic. When she allowed herself to face the truth, the “trap” was different. She’d felt knotted in a web but not a spider’s dinner, instead a maze luring her to follow a path different than she’d experienced before. Though tempted by the adventure, a thought struck her. Had Ashley put Clint up to entertaining her? Maybe he was the one who really was trapped.
Irritation bristled down her back. Why dwell on what had been? Somehow she had to stop comparing Clint to Vic. Better she let the present cover the ashes of her past. Beauty from ashes.
“Are you all right? You’re quiet.” Clint pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit.
She managed a pleasant look. “Thinking.”
He slid the chair beneath her and studied her a moment, his dark blue eyes gliding across her features and causing unfamiliar sensations to roll through her belly. “Problems?”
The single word caught her unguarded. “Not really. I was...I was trying to recall where I’d heard the phrase beauty from ashes.”
“Scripture.” He sat beside her as other attendants ambled to the bridal table. “I’m not good at telling you where in the Bible.” He shrugged. “But I know it’s there.”
“Thanks.” He’d impressed her, and what he’d said made sense. Only God could take ashes and make them beautiful. Sometimes she thought about church and faith, realizing life would have been different if she’d had something...someone to lean on. Clint had strength to lift a tree. Definitely strong enough to lean on. Still, he wasn’t God.
“I’m guessing there’s more on your mind.”
Her head snapped upward, nearly giving her whiplash. He’d shifted the chair toward her, and in her preoccupation, she hadn’t noticed.
“I didn’t mean to impinge on your thoughts. Sometimes I can’t stop myself from probing.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “I suppose that’s the firefighter in me. We need the facts. Details. Saving property and lives need quick thinking.”
“But I don’t need rescuing, so you don’t need facts.” She managed a smile.
He shrugged. “Most of us do at one time or another.”
“I guess we all like details. Tell me about you.” Her knack for reversing the conversation gave her control, and she could avoid talking about herself.
“Firefighter...but then you know that. Single.” He held up his left hand and spread his fingers.
No ring, but she’d known that. “How have you escaped so many women looking for a husband?” Instead of a smile at her teasing comment, he couldn’t hide his frown before managing a grin.
“Lucky,