The Hearts We Mend (3 page)

Diva's tail thumped the floor three times. Canine Morse code for yes.

Evie smiled. Funny how the one permanent fixture in her life was a dog she hadn't wanted in the first place.

It had been Max's idea, buying Cody a puppy for his fifth birthday. There were seven in the litter, golden balls of fluff with liquid-brown eyes and rough bubblegum-pink tongues. While six of the puppies wrestled with Max and one another, one of them had ambled up to Evie while she was filling out the paperwork. But
instead of viewing Evie's favorite pair of shoes as a potential chew toy, the puppy had sprawled on top of them and fallen sound asleep.

“That one looks like a rhinestone-collar kind of girl.” Max eyed the puppy in amusement while his top two contenders battled for attention in his arms. “Hey, little diva.”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Max had laughed, but Evie pointed out that it was her signature on the dotted line.

“She's calm and I'm already outnumbered,” she'd told him. “If we're going to get a puppy, at least we can get one who seems to appreciate a stylish pair of shoes.”

Diva—the nickname stuck—had slept in Evie's arms all the way home.

Just as Max predicted, Cody and Diva had become inseparable over the years. But after the funeral, the dog sneaked into Evie's room, the only one in the house that Evie had declared off-limits even on the nights Max bunked at the fire station.

The mournful cry at the foot of the bed gave voice to the one Evie had been forced to stifle all day. She'd patted the foot of the bed.

“One night,” she'd whispered.

Diva had slept there ever since.

Evie tried to ignore the packed cartons lining the walls as she walked down the hallway to the living room.

What was she going to do with all the empty space?

After Cody proposed to Raine, Evie thought about downsizing. But Max had spent every penny of an inheritance his grandmother had left to him to build her a house in Rosewood Court, the first subdivision in Banister Falls.

I'll fight fires and you keep the ones at home burning, he'd told her.

Every time Evie let Diva out the back door, she saw the wreath of handprints stamped in the concrete patio. Three sets, three
different sizes. Cody's as small as the wings of one of the sparrows that nested in the awning over Evie's kitchen window every summer.

It wasn't just the memories though. In Rosewood Court, the neighbors looked out for each other. Most of them had built their homes in the subdivision at the same time as Evie and Max. It was quiet. Peaceful.

The kind of neighborhood where people felt safe leaving their doors unlocked . . .

“I remember you.”

An image of Jack Vale's face suddenly flashed in Evie's mind.

Even without closing her eyes, she could see him standing at the bottom of the rickety porch steps, a baseball bat resting casually in the crook of his arm.

It was the first time Evie had been caught while taking part in what her women's ministry team called a blessing burglary. That night the target had been Nicki Chapman, a single mom who waited tables at My Place, the diner on Radley Street where Gin worked.

Evie and Gin were sneaking up under cover of darkness with a few bags of groceries when Jack showed up—and misunderstood their intention.

And now here he was again.

There had to be at least a dozen men in the congregation who would have agreed to serve as a temporary custodian. Why had Keith hired Jack Vale?

But at least “temporary” meant that Harvey would return in a few weeks and everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be.

Evie moved a box of Cody's books off the sofa and smoothed out the wrinkles in the fabric.

Something had to.

C
HAPTER
4

J
ack couldn't believe the transformation that had taken place when he unlocked the door of the church on Saturday morning.

A slender glass vase holding an arrangement of peach-colored roses and glossy ferns marked the center of every linen-covered table in the fellowship room. Gold satin covered the fifty chairs Jack had set up the day before. He could practically
see
Evie Bennett wrapping each one like a Christmas present and then topping it off with a tidy little bow.

And speaking of tidy . . .

His first stop was the custodian's room, where, just as he suspected, a new row of Post-it notes had appeared on the wall in the last twenty-four hours.

At least the first one—changing a burned-out lightbulb above the stage—would be an easy fix. Especially when its replacement had been positioned directly under the note calling it to Jack's attention.

He resisted the urge to take a quick detour into the kitchen for a cup of coffee as he made his way down the hall to the sanctuary.

Roses scented the air, and antique lanterns hung from the two decorative posts stationed at the end of the aisle. Like the fellowship hall, the overall effect was elegant. Beautiful.

Like the woman who'd been in charge of decorating it.

Jack shook that thought away before it had a chance to take root. His gut told him that if he wanted to keep this job, he'd better stay as far away from Evie Bennett as possible.

“Morning!”

“Hello.” Jack tracked the cheerful greeting to a sandy-haired teenage boy sitting on the stage. “Can I help you with something?”

“Nope.” The boy cast an appealing, lopsided smile in Jack's direction. “Just hanging out with God for a few minutes.”

The way he said it, without a hint of self-consciousness, had Jack returning the smile. “Sorry for interrupting then. I'll get out of your way.”

“No problem. I have to finish getting dressed before the ceremony anyway. You don't happen to know how to tie a Windsor knot, do you?”

“Sorry. Not a clue.” A Windsor knot? Jack didn't even own a tie. For the first time he noticed the kid's white dress shirt and charcoal gray pants. “You're in the wedding party?”

“I'm the groom.”

“The groom,” Jack repeated. Just to make sure he'd heard him correctly.

“Go ahead and say it.”

A low laugh told Jack that the kid—because, honestly, the new information didn't change the fact that he still looked like one—hadn't taken offense.

“Everyone else has.”

Jack made it a habit never to say things the collective “everyone” said.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” The kid hopped off the stage, stuffing the tails of the shirt into the waistband of his pants as he loped over to Jack. “You're the guy who took Harvey Kinnard's place, aren't you? I've been praying for Harvey and his family.”

Jack liked him even more. “Jack Vale.”

“Cody. It's nice to meet—”

“Cody?”

Jack turned at the sound of a familiar voice.

He'd expected to see Evie again. But not this soon.

And not wearing a dress made from some sparkly fabric that matched her eyes and skimmed over curves Jack hadn't noticed on Thursday night. Much. Evie's ash-blonde hair, swept into a sleek coil at the base of her neck, drew attention to the perfect symmetry of her face.

She reminded Jack of a sculpture he'd seen in a gallery once. A marble statue of a woman kneeling in a garden, her face lifted toward the sun. Jack had lingered for a moment, admiring the sheer beauty of the workmanship, while a thin satin rope reminded him to keep his distance.

And so did the thin gold wedding band on Evie's finger. The one she was twisting with the careful precision a person would use to unlock the combination on a safe. The one Jack hadn't noticed until now.

Cody grinned. “Hey, Mom.”

Mom.

Jack was still trying to come to grips with that when Evie stepped through the doors of the sanctuary.

“The photographer will be here in about twenty minutes.” She took a sweeping inventory of her son's attire, from the unbuttoned shirt to his stockinged feet.

“I'm almost ready.” Cody reached for the gray suit jacket draped over one of the chairs to back up the statement. “Have you met Jack yet?”

“Yes.” A hint of color tinted Evie's cheeks, making Jack wonder which of the two meetings she was remembering. The one when he'd cornered her on his brother's porch or the one in the storage closet at the church.

“Jack and I were just discussing the Windsor knot,” Cody said cheerfully.

Evie aimed a pointed look at her son's open collar. “I believe it starts with a tie.”

“And I happen to have one of those.” Cody searched the pockets of his jacket. “Somewhere.”

Apparently Evie wasn't immune to the kid's charm either because a smile tempered her exasperated sigh. “Well, once you find it, you have to stay put until you hear the music start. No wandering the halls trying to catch a glimpse of Raine.”

Cody's feet practically left the floor when Evie said the name. “Have you seen her? How is she doing? Is she okay?”

“Raine is fine. The last time I saw her, she and Gin were on their way to the Morettis' house. Liz offered to do their hair.” Evie nudged Cody toward the double doors. “Now go. Watch for John. He has your boutonniere.”

“I hope he brought something to eat too.” Cody patted his stomach. “I'm starving.”

“Would you like a cheese sandwich?” Jack offered his lunch from the day before. The one he hadn't had a chance to eat because his schedule had been dictated by a cheerful row of pink Post-it notes. “Help yourself. Bottom drawer of the fridge . . .”

Cody didn't wait for him to finish the sentence. The doors swung shut behind him.

Leaving him alone with Evie Bennett. Again.

Okay, Lord. What's going on?

Because suddenly, getting a job at Hope Community Church didn't feel like a blessing.

It felt more like a test.

Jack Vale managed to look intimidating even when he was surrounded by sunlight instead of shadows. Maybe it was because Evie was used to Harvey, who showed up for work every day wearing tan Dockers and a dark-green polo with a lighthouse, the Hope Community logo, embroidered on the pocket.

Jack, in faded, loose-fitting jeans, a black T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, and a pair of scuffed Frye boots, looked more like the leader of a biker gang.

“I didn't realize your son was the one getting married today.” Jack speared his hands into his front pockets. “He seems like a nice kid.”

Evie's spine straightened. “Emphasis on
kid
, I suppose?”

“No emphasis at all. But I'm guessing his age is a touchy subject?”

Evie was so taken aback by the blunt honesty of the question that she couldn't help but respond in kind.

“It shouldn't be. At least not for me. Max . . . my husband . . . and I were Cody's age when we got married. We just seemed . . . I don't know.
Different.
”

“Funny how that works.” Jack's eyes crinkled at the corners, making him appear more approachable.

Evie pivoted toward the entrance to the sanctuary. “I should check on Cody—”

“There you are!”

Ginevieve blocked Evie's path on the other side of the double doors. She wore the dress Evie had helped her pick out at Felicity's Bridal Shop on Main Street, a dark-gold satin that complemented her mahogany hair and green eyes. “Lisa and Liz smuggled Raine into the church through the back . . .” Her gaze locked on Jack, who'd followed Evie into the hallway. “What are
you
doing here?”

Judging from the way Jack's eyes narrowed, he'd recognized Gin too. “You're the partner in crime.”

Gin didn't look the least bit offended by the label.

“Ginevieve Lightly. But today I'm the mother of the bride.” Gin suddenly smiled—
smiled
—at Jack as if they were long lost friends. “And you're the baseball-bat guy.”

“Baseball bat?”

Evie tried not to wince when Dan joined them.

“Remember the night we planned the blessing burglary for Nicki?” Gin was still smiling. “I told you about the guy who thought Evie and I were providing the party instead of dinner, remember?”

“I don't remember you mentioning a baseball bat.”

Dan wasn't the kind of person who judged someone by the length of his hair or the type of clothing he wore, but the frown that settled between his brows meant he'd switched into protective mode. Evie had always considered it one of her friend's more endearing qualities. Now she was struck with the sudden, inexplicable urge to stomp on his foot.

“That's because it wasn't important.” Gin's way of reminding Dan to mind his manners was a playful but equally effective shoulder bump. “Just a lack of communication.”

Dan's gaze shifted back to Jack. “You communicate with a baseball bat?”

“I was
holding
a bat.” Jack's lips quirked. “So it was more like a nonverbal
mis
communication.”