Authors: Lenora Worth
T
his time, she found him in the greenhouse.
He was once again engrossed in his work. The rows and rows of lilies in green plastic pots had two-inch buds, some of them turning the whitish hue that indicated they were ready to open. Heath was measuring a bud, his expression serious as he hunched over his work.
It was chilly in the greenhouse, a cool sixty-five degrees to keep the lilies happy. It didn’t make Mariel happy. She shivered a greeting. “Hello, Heath.”
He whirled, that bemused smile on his face. The smile annoyed Mariel. It was just too early in the morning for him to be so…perky. And to look so good.
“Did you get breakfast?” he asked as he moved down the long row toward her.
“Coffee,” she replied, stifling a yawn. “What about you?”
“Not yet. I came out to check the lilies first.” Then he moved past her, the swish of his jeans echoing down the long, narrow walk. “Come on. I have a pot of coffee and
some cinnamon rolls Sadie gave me yesterday. I’m willing to share.”
Confused, Mariel hurried to catch up with him. “I thought we were going to work.”
“We are. Over coffee.”
He didn’t elaborate, so Mariel had no choice but to follow him. “Where is this coffee and food?”
“My place.”
He held the door open for her. Mariel stepped out into the bright dawning sun, the scent of lilies following her. Several of the other workers were arriving, starting their busy day. She could their voices echoing through the gardens. “Oh, and where is your place?”
“I’m living in the caretaker’s cottage,” he said as he pointed on down the lane, past the big lily field.
“That old place!” Surprised, Mariel shook her head. “Dutch didn’t live there. Why are you?”
“I’m not Dutch,” he retorted as he strolled along.
“You can say that again.”
“Hmm?”
“Oh, nothing. Dutch lives in—”
“I know where he lives. He has a nice brick home on the other side of the property.” Heath stopped to wait for her, his hands on his hips. “But I saw the cottage, and decided I liked it. So Sadie and I struck up a deal. She said I could live there rent-free if I’d be willing to do some renovations on the old place.”
Mariel tossed her long ponytail. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t surprise me. You two seem to be good at striking up deals.”
That brought a frown to Heath’s usually serene face. “If you don’t want to do this, just tell me now. I don’t like wasting my time.”
Surprised by the snap in his words, Mariel wanted to tell him he didn’t have to waste his precious time on her,
but she needed a bit more caffeine to fortify her. And her stomach was growling rudely. “Can we discuss this over that coffee you promised me?”
The smile was back. “Sure. Right this way.”
They walked past the lily field in silence, the lemony-vanilla scent from a thousand near-budding blossoms assaulting them. Mariel heard the bees humming, heard the wind whipping through the tall pines beyond the field, and she understood the peace this place could bring to a person.
It was good to be back here.
Except for him.
She glanced over at Heath. He was looking ahead, his features set as if he were in deep thought.
Probably thinking about how best to “train” me, she told herself. Just to show herself, and maybe him, that she
was
trainable, she stopped and tried really hard to listen to the lilies. She closed her eyes, held her head back and waited.
She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for or what she was supposed to hear, but she wouldn’t let this interloper get the best of her.
Not on an empty stomach, anyway.
Heath watched Mariel as she stood there among the lily stalks. When she lifted her head, her eyes shut and her full lips parted, he felt a hard punch right to his gut.
She was a pretty woman. He’d have to be blind not to notice that right away. Long auburn hair, exotic green eyes. And lots of attitude.
When he’d looked up to see her standing there yesterday, something had fluttered inside his chest, something soft and lovely, like the wings of a butterfly. Now as he watched her, he could understand why Sadie had insisted on bringing her granddaughter home.
Mariel Evans looked as if she belonged here. She wore baggy denim capri pants that showed off her long legs and a loose-fitting, faded blue sweatshirt that made her look like a tomboy. But she was definitely all girl.
“What are you doing?” Heath asked, the question more for himself than her. He wanted to know what she was doing to
him.
He didn’t usually let things distract him. And he never let
people
distract him.
She kept her eyes closed, her head lifted. “I’m trying to listen to the lilies.”
He grinned at that, then stepped close enough to get a whiff of her hair. It smelled just about as good as the flowers. “And what do you hear?”
Mariel’s eyes flew open in surprise. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“What? I just walked over to you. And you didn’t answer my question.”
She gave him a frown. “I don’t hear anything except the wind in the trees and a few hungry bees buzzing around. I think some of the stalks rustled at me, but that’s about it.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“Yes, I am. Which is why I don’t like this notion of me taking over the farm. Bad idea, very bad.”
He turned away. “Come on. We need to talk.”
She followed him in silence. When they reached the tiny white cottage, he heard her gasp. “You really have been doing some renovating.”
Heath looked up at the newly whitewashed house. “I’m rather pleased with it myself. Sadie showed me pictures of how it used to look.”
Mariel touched a hand to one of the carved porch posts. “This is where she and Grandpa Jonas first lived. Just them in this tiny little house. They were so happy.”
Heath nodded, enjoying the way her expression turned
all dreamy. “Sadie told me all about it. Told me how they built the big house after the boys came along.”
“Yes, a few years after the war. Jonas worked the land and Granny raised the boys and my mom, and tended her gardens.”
“And grew the first of the original White Hill lilies from the ones Jonas brought back after the war.”
She glanced at him, her green eyes reminding him of the first tenders sprouts of a baby bulb. “Yes. Her little flower bed turned into this field. They just kept growing and growing through propagation. People would come for miles to buy bulbs from her.” She looked down then, her eyes sad. “Then Grandpa Jonas had a heart attack and died, right there on the front porch of the big house just a few years after they’d finished building it.”
“He was so young,” Heath said. “He never saw his fortieth birthday.”
“You have been talking to Granny.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, why should that bother me? You need to know the history of this place, I guess, if you’re going to stay here for long.”
Heath stared at her, saw the challenge in her words. “Is that what this is all about? You don’t think I’ll stay here and see this through?”
Mariel walked past him up onto the porch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Heath hopped up onto the porch beside her, then placed a hand across one of the shutters he’d just painted a light yellow. Leaning into the shutter, he asked, “Are you afraid I won’t fulfill my end of this deal? That I won’t stay here on the farm and help your grandmother?”
“Does anyone really stay anywhere anymore?” she asked, the words bursting out of her mouth.
“Do I detect a bit of bitterness there?”
Her eyes seemed to turn to fire. “Look, let’s just stick to the lilies, okay? I don’t need analyzing or training, and I certainly don’t need you trying to figure me out.”
Heath pushed his hand off the window shutter, then held it up in surrender. “First of all, I’m here to stay. I fell in love with this place the minute I came up the driveway. And second, I think I could really enjoy analyzing you, but unfortunately, we don’t have time for that. So, I agree. Let’s get to work. Now quit pouting and come inside and have some coffee.”
“I don’t like you,” she said, her voice calm and crisp in spite of the scalding look she gave him.
“Well, you don’t have to
like
me,” he replied, stung by the bluntness of her words. “You just have to work with me for a month, until you can fully understand how to grow lilies.”
She followed him into the house, her gaze scanning the small sitting room and the long, narrow kitchen. He’d worked hard to refurbish this place, mostly with castoffs from Sadie’s attic and a few treasures he’d found at flea markets. He dared her to say anything about his haphazard decorating scheme.
She didn’t. Instead she said, “I don’t want to grow lilies.”
“Sadie thinks you do.”
“Well, I think this is unnecessary. Granny is just worried because she’s sick. But if she listens to her doctors, she should be around a very long time.”
Heath poured two cups of coffee, then placed them on the old white wooden table he’d found in the barn out back. “Sit.”
Mariel glared at him, but she sat down, her expression full of concern. “Just how sick is my grandmother?”
Heath sat down next to her, then offered her a cinnamon roll he’d just warmed in the small microwave sitting on
the counter. “She’s not telling the whole tale. She’s fainted a couple of times. Last time it happened, Dutch and I thought she’d had a heart attack.” He took a sip of coffee, watched her face for a reaction. “The doctors say it’s angina.”
“She’ll be seventy-six her next birthday,” Mariel said in a quiet voice. “That’s hard to believe.”
“Well, believe it,” Heath replied. “Look, Mariel, I came here last fall for a job. I’ve worked hard all my life, and all that time, I’ve worked with my hands out in the fields and dirt. It’s what I do. My dad passed away about two years ago and my mother moved from California back to Kansas to be near her sisters. I got restless, so I decided to travel. But that got old pretty fast. So I looked for a job, and I found this one. I had the experience, and coming here gave me a new challenge. It’s been great so far.”
“Thanks for the history of Heath Whitaker.” She nibbled her roll, then asked, “Why is it so great here? I mean, I love this place, but why do you?”
He relaxed back against the squeaky wooden chair. “It’s peaceful. It’s…Godly here.”
“Godly?” She laughed out loud.
“You have a problem with godly?”
“No, I just don’t base much on how godly a place is.”
“Obviously, since you live in Dallas.”
“Hey, I like Dallas—we’ve got the Cowboys, both the football team and real-life cowboys, we’ve got the Rangers for baseball, the Galleria, the Reunion Arena—”
“And traffic nightmares and smog and…crowds.”
“I don’t mind all those things.”
“I don’t mean to knock your city,” he said, trying to form the right words. “After all, I did live in California for most of my life. But don’t you ever get tired of all of it? I mean, the hassles, the overcrowded freeways, the constant waiting for the next light to change.”
“Sometimes,” she said, her eyes centered on her breakfast. “But what does that have to do with God?”
“God is here,” Heath tried to explain. “He’s out there in that lily field. He’s given your family a tremendous blessing. Easter lilies represent everything there is about Christ—being reborn, the resurrection, forgiving, living.”
“Wow, you’re really into this stuff.”
Heath smiled. “It’s not just stuff to me. It’s what I believe. It’s what my parents taught me and it’s what your grandmother lives by. And that’s one of the main reasons I like it here.”
“I know. And I don’t mean to knock religion. I’ve just never put it first in my life.”
“Well, here you can do that.”
“Maybe I don’t need to do that.”
Heath shook his head. “I don’t know about you, Mariel.”
“I don’t know about you, either, Heath.”
“Well, we’re stuck with each other for the next few weeks, at least.”
“Yep. Maybe we shouldn’t discuss religion.”
“Or politics?”
“Or anything, except lilies, of course,” she said, but she smiled when she said it. Then she surprised him. “Oh, and by the way, I love what you’ve done with the place.”
T
he sun was setting off to the west. It had been a long, busy day and Mariel was tired down to her very bones. But a sense of contentment settled over her as she sat down on the gray-painted porch steps to stare out over the horizon. The barns and outbuildings glistened a golden-white against the sun’s last burst of rays. The lilies stood tall in the field, reminding her of a green river, their white buds like flowers floating on water. And down the hill, she could just see the shape of the tiny cottage where Heath had made a home.
Home.
This had to be one of the loveliest spots on earth, she thought as memories of her first day at work played through her mind.
She had told Heath Whitaker she didn’t like him, but that wasn’t exactly the truth. She was intrigued by him, no doubt. And he was a very nice man. So what
didn’t
she like about him?
Maybe the way he made her feel—part giddy, part wary,
and completely, very much aware that he was a handsome man and she was a confused woman.
She’d watched him with the other workers. Where Mariel lacked patience, Heath was patient to the point of being annoying. He took the time to explain to her each step of the intricate process of growing commercial Easter lilies, from checking for waterlogged soil, to making sure the baby plants in the back fields weren’t infected with spider mites or the roots weren’t being eaten by hungry gophers and armadillos while they went through their three-year rotation. The workers, both men and women alike, seemed to respect Heath. And he worked as hard as any one of them.
Mariel had watched him as he moved through each greenhouse, giving instructions about fertilization and pruning, checking the delicate buds to make sure they were healthy and pest-free. The lilies had to be perfect.
The forced flowers would be shipped out to florists, nurseries and retail outlets over the next couple of weeks. By the time consumers bought them and gave them to loved ones, or left them on graves in celebration and memory, their blooms would be completely open.
And Heath seemed determined to make sure White Hill was shipping the very best. At least he understood that about this place.
White Hill set very high standards.
That was a challenge, just as he’d told her this morning. That challenge scared Mariel while it enticed her, much in the same way Heath both scared and enticed her. Because Mariel set high standards, too. Maybe that was why she felt so conflicted when it came to Heath.
What if he didn’t live up to her standards?
Or worse, what if
she
let her grandmother and him down?
“What am I doing here?” she mumbled, her dirt-stained hands dangling over her bent knees.
“Looks like you’re waiting for supper,” a deep, chuckling voice said from the corner of the house.
“Dutch!” Mariel jumped up to hug the jovial man who’d been like a grandfather to her.
Dutch Ulmer grabbed Mariel and lifted her a foot off the ground in a bear hug that took her breath away. Then he dropped her back down, a wide grin splitting the wrinkled crevices of his aged face. “Look at you, girl. I declare, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
“You, too, old man,” Mariel teased, her own smile hiding the “happy” tears—as Sadie would say—misting in her eyes. “So you finally decided to retire—maybe do some of that fishing on Caddo Lake you’ve always talked about?”
“Yes’m,” Dutch said, taking off his faded LSU ball cap to rub a hand over what was left of his once-red hair. “I reckon I can go fishing or courting or whatever else I set my mind to.”
Mariel laughed. “Then what are you doing here?”
Dutch rubbed his rounded belly. “Your granny asked me up to supper, to see how things are going with you and this new fellow. I been out of town—went down to New Orleans to visit my sister. How are things going?”
Leave it to Dutch to get right to the heart of the matter, Mariel thought. He was around the same age as her grandmother, but he’d never married, and everyone knew he’d carried a torch for Sadie for close to four decades. Everyone that was, but Sadie. She considered Dutch to be a good friend and a trusted manager. Sadie refused to look beyond that.
Mariel had to wonder if she didn’t have a lot of Sadie in her, since she refused to think of Heath Whitaker in any terms other than co-worker and manager.
“Things are going,” she said in answer to Dutch’s question. “I think Heath is a good replacement—he can never fill your shoes, of course, but he’s a hard worker and he knows all there is to know about lilies.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Dutch said, nodding his head, his gray-tinged red whiskers glistening in the sunset. “I wasn’t sure at first, but your granny, she has such good instincts about these things, I had to listen to her.”
“She consulted the Bible, as usual,” Mariel said as they walked up the steps together.
“Whatever works,” Dutch replied, grinning. “Ain’t never failed her yet.”
Before they went into the house, Mariel lowered her voice. “Dutch, I’m worried about her. She’s finally listening to the doctors about her health, but I’m afraid she might have waited too long.”
Dutch bobbed his head, his watery blue eyes brightening. “We all tried to tell her. Stubborn woman, that one. Glad y’all got her to the doctor, at least.”
“You can thank Heath for that,” Mariel said, that touch of resentment settling over her in spite of her gratitude to Heath. “I think he and my grandmother have bonded.”
“That’s good, that’s good,” Dutch said, a knowing grin on his face. “You don’t cotton to that, do you?”
“Am I that obvious?” Mariel said, her voice still low. “I guess I’m just worried. I mean this scheme to get me here to possibly take over the farm—it seems as if Granny is trying to run my life, and that’s not like her. I don’t like being shoved toward a man I don’t even know.”
“Is that what she’s doing?”
“I think so. Why else would she summon me here? I think she’s matchmaking under the guise of having me take over the farm.”
“Maybe she’s killing two birds with one stone.”
At his snicker, Mariel only shook her head. “I don’t
know what’s going on. And I don’t know enough about Heath to form an opinion one way or another on either his managing methods or his personal assumptions regarding me.”
Except that my heart does a double beat each time the man looks at me.
“If it’s right, you’ll know enough,” Dutch said as he opened the screen door then bowed with a great flourish, his hat in his hand. “And remember, your grandmother is a very wise woman.” He winked. “After you, young lady.”
Mariel entered the cool, dark hallway, resolve making her spine stiffen. No use to whine to Dutch. He was on the other side already. He’d always be loyal to her grandmother, so Mariel couldn’t hope to have an ally in him. Not that this was a battle. It wasn’t. She could tell them this was all ridiculous and just leave whenever she got ready.
That shouldn’t be too difficult.
But when she walked into the kitchen to find Heath there laughing with her grandmother, her treacherous heart admitted what her head didn’t want to hear. It would be very hard to leave White Hill now.
Now that she’d spent a whole day following Heath around. Now that she’d realized she really did like him.
A lot.
Heath liked being around Mariel. A lot. And that surprised him. A lot.
They’d worked together side by side, her asking questions, him giving her precise, clinical answers. But there was nothing precise or clinical about how she made him feel. That was more like warm and fuzzy and confused.
He knew as little about her now as he did this morning. She didn’t allow for much personal information. So far,
he’d learned that she enjoyed her work in computer graphics but had needed this few weeks of downtime—why?—that she had a small apartment just outside Dallas and that she loved her grandmother enough to indulge Sadie while Mariel was visiting. Beyond that, Heath had found very few details about the real Mariel Evans.
Heath had always prided himself on the details.
Growing lilies was all in the details. Everything had to be calculated, based on the calendar, based on when Easter would fall. The details had to be worked out months ahead of time, and an accurate timetable had to be followed. Once that was in place, the details moved to the actual growing process, the staggering of the bulbs from babies to mature plants to forced blossoms in a greenhouse.
Details and timing. His world revolved around those two things.
Now, when he looked up to find Mariel laughing and smiling with Dutch, the details flew out the window and he had to wonder if his timing was a bit off.
She looked adorable with dirt smeared across her face and mud caked on her capri pants.
Adorable
did not fit into the details.
“Hello,” she said, her eyes on her grandmother. “Look who I found lurking around the porch.”
“Dutch,” Sadie exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’m glad you’re home from New Orleans. How was your trip?”
Dutch rolled his eyes. “Mardi Gras—bah! Me, I can live without that ‘throw me something, Mister’ baloney. One big party. I told my sister to get me out of that crazy city.”
“You didn’t enjoy carnival?” Heath asked, his eyes following Mariel.
“Not one bit,” Dutch said, his eyes on Sadie. “Didn’t want to even go to a parade, but my nieces and nephews
thought I’d get a kick out of it. After five minutes, I’d had enough. Missed my little house and my little garden. And peace and quiet. Glad to be home.”
“Well, come on in and wash up,” Sadie said, turning back to the stove. “I’ve baked a ham and there’s potato salad in the refrigerator. We’ll have ham sandwiches for lunch the rest of the week.”
“Granny, you don’t have to cook so much every night,” Mariel said. “I can cook for us.”
Sadie chuckled. “Honey, we don’t eat that low-fat frozen cuisine around here.”
“Well, you have to start,” Mariel pointed out. “Ham isn’t good for your arteries.”
“It’s lean, and I’m only going to have a sliver,” Sadie replied. “And I made the potato salad with all low-fat ingredients and plenty of green peppers and onions, just as the dietitian suggested. And I made a fruit salad for dessert. Does that meet your approval?”
“Yes,” Mariel replied through a yawn.
Heath gave her a thumbs-up, then grinned. “Are you tired?”
“Tired and sore. Granny, I’m going to get a quick shower and change, then I’ll set the table.”
“Okay. Should be ready in about twenty minutes.”
Mariel whirled, glanced at Heath, then left the room.
Dutch and Heath both turned to Sadie. “Fruit salad?”
“It’s ambrosia,” Sadie replied smugly. “With marshmallows and coconut. But I did use low-fat sour cream.”
“If you made it, I’m eating it,” Dutch said with a tip of the head.
Heath saw the love in the other man’s eyes. Dutch was hopelessly devoted to Sadie Hillsboro. What was in the air around this place? Maybe because it was springtime, everyone was getting all mushy around here. Anyway, he
decided, there was a lot more going on at White Hill than just growing lilies.
A whole lot more.
When Mariel emerged about fifteen minutes later, washed and wearing a long pink cotton T-shirt dress, and smelling like a garden, Heath vowed to stick to work. Stay the course. Follow the plan.
Only, sometimes, God had other plans. He wondered if that was why Sadie wanted Mariel and him to work together.
Was there a future for them in Sadie’s plan? In God’s plan?
For once, Heath didn’t have the details laid out before him. He couldn’t calculate this situation.
He smiled at Mariel, but his heart beat a fast tempo, a tempo that didn’t give him any answers. Then he remembered what his father had always told him.
God was in the details, too.
Heath would just have to let nature take its course and see how the next few weeks played out. Mariel had wondered if he had staying power.
Now Heath wondered the very same thing about her.