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Chapter Three

Restless, Belinda immediately changed from the teal dress to shorts and a loose shirt, then walked over to her grandmother’s house rather than phoning to see why she hadn’t been in church that morning. Eloise had ventured into the garden in spite of her sore ankle and was carefully watering a bed of new seedlings. She smiled a greeting.

Belinda pushed her bangs off her forehead. “Whew. I can see why you’re out here watering. It’s sure hot today.”

“No kidding.”

“So, what’s new? How come you missed church?”

“I didn’t miss it.” Eloise shot her a brief glance, then squeezed the trigger of the sprayer again and went back to watching the spritzing water.

“You were there this morning? I didn’t see you.”

“I sat way in the back with Verleen and Miss Mercy. We get a much better view of all the goings-on from there. And now that the church has those hearing assistance doodads, we don’t have to be so close to the front to keep from missing the important stuff.”

Eyes twinkling, Belinda gibed, “You three never miss a thing, and you know it. I’m surprised you don’t sit up in the sound booth and train binoculars on the rest of the congregation through that little window.”

“Ooh, good idea!”

“I thought you’d like it.”

Eloise waited a moment, then said, “So, tell me all about your morning.”

“It was interesting, to say the least.” Belinda blew a noisy breath. “Paul Randall showed up in church, but I’m sure you know that already. I don’t understand why he didn’t just go to services with his aunts.”

“And have to choose whether to go to Patience’s big, fancy church over in East Serenity, or Pru’s little one? That’s a no-win situation. The boy’s not crazy.”

“He’s also not a boy anymore.” She pulled a face. “You were right about Sam getting jealous of him.”

“Aha! I knew it. Wonderful!”

“Not exactly,” Belinda said cynically. “I don’t think I like Sam as well when he’s acting so possessive.”

“Nonsense. That’s a man’s way of showing you he cares. They’re not very good at putting it into words, you know.”

Belinda shook her head. “No, I don’t know. Dad was always hugging Mom and telling her he loved her. He used to hug people in his congregation, too. I don’t remember him doing it much after Mom died, though.” She hesitated, then decided to go on. “At home, he acted like he was mad at me all the time. I would have given anything to get one of his big bear hugs in those days.”

“Oh, honey…” Eloise laid aside the sprayer and enfolded her in a motherly embrace. “Your daddy didn’t mean anything by it. He was just hurting and afraid.”

“Afraid?” She stepped back to study her grandmother’s expression. “Of what? He was always preaching about the strength we should draw from our Christian faith. How could he have been afraid?”

“Because he was human. Preachers are, you know. I think he pulled away from everybody because he couldn’t bear to be hurt again.” She caressed Belinda’s cheek. “He loved you very, very much. That was why he acted so strict about everything. He was just trying to protect you.”

Sniffling, Belinda made a wry face. “Well, it worked. I’m probably the only twenty-seven-year-old virgin in Serenity…or in the world, for that matter.” The rosy color rising on Eloise’s cheeks made her laugh.

The older woman giggled, too. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to avoid getting carried away.” The pink in her cheeks darkened, and her eyes were bright. “I was a very respectable girl, but I’m not sure I could have resisted your grandpa much longer than I did. We were too much in love to want to wait.”

Belinda sighed, shrugged. “I suppose that’s the key. Love, I mean. Sam says I’m a prude. He’s right.”

“You haven’t been tempted?”

“Some,” Belinda admitted. “But we always managed to stop before it was too late.”

“Was Sam upset? Men have very fragile egos, you know.”

With a smirk and a quick shake of her head, Belinda looked bravely into Eloise’s eyes. “Sam didn’t have a thing to do with it,” she said. “He wasn’t the man I was with when it happened.”

Belinda would never forget the night she and Paul had almost stepped across the line. The balmy spring evening was so lovely it was as if it had been made especially for lovers. For them. She’d ridden close behind him on his motorcycle, reveling in the perfect opportunity to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her cheek against his back.

Paul had pulled over just outside Sylamore, on a bluff overlooking the river. Reluctantly, she’d released her hold on him and they’d strolled hand in hand toward an immense, flat-topped boulder at the edge of the scenic-view parking area.

Sighing, she’d said, “Look how clear the sky is. You can even see the Milky Way tonight.”

He’d drawn her into his embrace then, and kissed her soundly, passionately. “All I want to look at is you.”

Weak in the knees, she’d slipped her arms around his neck and held tight. “Oh, Paul. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Belinda. I just wish…”

“What?” she whispered against his lips.

“Let’s go sit down.” Paul led her to the boulder, climbed it and reached to pull her up beside him. He took off his leather jacket and spread it out. “Here. Sit on this so you don’t get your clothes all dirty.”

So filled with happiness she thought she’d burst, Belinda did as he asked and snuggled as close to him as she could get. She’d just begun to imagine what it would be like to spend the rest of her life in Paul’s arms when he said, “I may be going away soon.”

That was unthinkable! “No!” Throwing herself at him, Belinda held on as if he were bidding her a final goodbye that very night. “You can’t leave. You can’t. Please don’t go!” Frantic, she threaded her fingers through his long, thick hair and began raining kisses over his face, his neck, his chest.

Paul had managed to keep his youthful urges pretty much under control until that moment. She heard him moan and felt his hands start to rove over her back, then come up under her arms to touch her where no one else ever had.

“Run away with me,” Paul begged, an emotional catch in his voice. “Marry me, Belinda. Marry me.”

She’d almost said yes to more than marriage that night. Breathing hard, her heart pounding, she’d fought her own desires until the immense effort had brought tears to her eyes. One kiss, one forbidden touch, had led to another and another and another.

That was when she’d opened her eyes, looked at the canopy of stars, recognized God’s magnificent handiwork and been reminded of her vow to her Heavenly Father. Somehow, she’d mustered the strength of will to push Paul away in spite of his protests.

To this day, she didn’t know how she’d talked herself into it.

Paul spent the next two days shuttling between Serenity and his office in Harrison, checking tax records and trying to find out if Sam Barryman had the financial backing he claimed. By late Tuesday afternoon he was back in Serenity, waiting for his secretary to call with more information. He poured himself a tall glass of the lemonade his aunts had made and took it out to their front porch.

Prattling, Patience trailed him. “Can you believe it? She went shopping and was so late for her hair appointment she had to go straight to Angela’s!”

“Who? Aunt Prudence?” He tipped the frosted glass and drank half its tangy contents.

“Of course. Who else is the bane of my existence? I made her the appointment because I wanted us both to look decent for tomorrow night. Oh, the lovely parties our family used to host in this very house. And now we’ll get to do it again, right here, one last time.”

“It’s not exactly a party,” Paul reminded her. “It’s a business dinner.”

Patience flipped a hand in the air, bracelets jingling. “Oh, who cares. We’re entertaining. That’s all that matters to me. You’re such a sweetheart to offer to pay for it all.” She patted his arm and smiled wistfully. “I can’t wait to get my money out of this old place and take off on a world cruise.”

“It might be best to invest the profits and use the interest instead of dipping into the principle.”

“Oh, pooh,” Patience said. “My sister can stick around here and sulk away her life if she wants to. I’m going to get out and have some fun.” She smoothed her cap of silver hair. “Which reminds me. Since Prudence has our station wagon, can you give me a lift to the beauty salon?”

Paul checked his watch. “In another half hour or so. I’m waiting for an important call. I told my secretary I could be reached at your number.”

“Oh! Oh, dear. I’m afraid that won’t do. I have to be there in fifteen minutes,” she said, casting him a bright grin. “I have an idea. I can borrow your car.”

Paul nearly strangled on his lemonade. “My new Lexus?”

“Yes! I’ve always wanted to drive a beautiful car like that. It’ll be the thrill of my life.” Displaying a pitiful expression she said, “I don’t have a lot of time left to collect great experiences like that, you know.”

What could he say when she put it that way? Patience’s reflexes still seemed keen enough to cope with a short trip across town. She was quick-witted and sprightly, which made her seem more youthful than her twin, even though Prudence always stressed that she was eleven minutes younger.

Sighing in resignation, he reached into his pocket and held out his keys. “Promise you’ll be careful?”

She drew an imaginary X across her chest with a long, lacquered fingernail. “I promise. Now be a dear and back it out for me, will you? I have trouble judging distances in those fancy mirrors.”

“How do you know you do?”

Patience giggled behind her hand. “I’m afraid I’ve been naughty. I’ve been sitting in your lovely black car and pretending to drive it.” She clapped her hands. “This time, I won’t have to pretend!”

Paul rolled his eyes and sighed. Great-Aunt Patience certainly knew how to get whatever she wanted. In her prime, she must have been a real femme fatale. He couldn’t help wondering why she and her twin had turned out so differently.

“Prudence tells me Patience is having the whole affair catered,” Eloise informed Belinda when she stopped by after work the following Tuesday. “All except for my special carrot cake. Pru wanted me to make one as a surprise.”

“Great. If dinner’s no good, I’ll just wait for dessert and fill up on your delicious cake.”

Grinning broadly, Eloise got up and started for the kitchen. She was limping noticeably. Belinda frowned. “How’s your ankle?”

“Fine. It hardly bothers me at all if I stay off it. Just makes me mad is all. I’d like it better if I didn’t have to act my age.”

“Sixty-five isn’t old,” Belinda argued. “What if you were in your eighties like the Whitaker twins? Besides, since when did you act your age?”

Eloise laughed. “Probably never. I suppose that’s what keeps me feeling so young. At least most of the time.” Wincing, she plopped down in a kitchen chair and pointed to the refrigerator. “I’ve got to sit a spell. The cake’s in there. Take a peek.”

Opening the refrigerator door, Belinda immediately spotted the lavish dessert and lifted it out with great care. “Oh, it’s beautiful! You really outdid yourself this time.”

“I wanted it to be extra nice so I used slivered almonds and made a sweet cream cheese icing. Putting it on that footed glass plate dresses it up a lot, too.” She carefully propped her ankle on the chair next to her. “So, can you deliver it for me?”

“Me?” Belinda’s heart did a back flip and landed in a lump in her throat. “When?”

“Well, I suppose you could take it with you when you and Sam go to dinner at the Whitakers’, but it would be much better if it was already there when the caterers arrive. That way, we can be sure Pru won’t be disappointed.”

Reflecting upon the time of day and the fact that the spinster sisters would undoubtedly be home, Belinda got control of her vivid imagination and forced herself to calm down. Paul had kept his promise to avoid her. She hadn’t seen him since Sunday morning. There was no reason to assume he’d be at his aunts’. And even if he was, so what? The problem wasn’t Paul, it was her.

“Okay,” Belinda said with a nod. “I can drop it by on my way to the city council meeting.”

“Uh-oh. I forgot this was Tuesday. No wonder you didn’t change your clothes after work. Never mind, dear. I’ll take it myself.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll stay right where you are and rest that ankle. Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

“No. I’m fine. I’ll have a pizza delivered for supper. Stop by after the meeting if you like and we can share the leftovers.”

Belinda chuckled. “Are you sure? The way those meetings drag on it could be midnight before I’m free.”

“I don’t mind a late visit as long as it’s you,” Eloise said fondly.

Carefully balancing the cake, Belinda leaned sideways to kiss her grandmother on the cheek. “Wow. Love and pizza. An unbeatable combination. I have the perfect life.”

“I think you’ll find there’s a little more to a perfect life than that.”

“Oh, I hope not.” Belinda made the exchange into a silly joke to keep from taking herself too seriously. “I was just getting the pepperoni part figured out.”

Belinda parked her white Tercel on the tree-lined street in front of the Whitaker house, immensely relieved to see that there was no black Lexus in the narrow driveway. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, God.”

Not that she was scared of running into Paul. She just saw no reason to face him again unless she was forced to. Clearly, the Lord agreed, because the man was gone.

Balancing the heavy glass cake plate, Belinda detoured around an overgrown cedar and made her way along the side of the dilapidated old house. A fat yellow cat sat in the middle of the back porch, licking its paw to wash its face and regally ignoring her presence.

Belinda didn’t want to put the cake down or balance it in one hand to knock on the kitchen door so she called through the screen. “Miss Prudence? I brought your cake.”

No one answered. By nudging the bottom of the warped wooden frame with the toe of her shoe, she was able to pry the screen door open and duck through safely before it banged shut behind her. Except for the tabby cat roosting on top of the refrigerator and the black-and-white kittens playing with a catnip mouse under the table, the house seemed deserted.

“Oh, well. No problem,” Belinda told herself, easily deciding what to do. She’d just tuck the cake into the refrigerator where it belonged and be on her way. That would preserve the freshness of the cream cheese icing and also keep the house cats from helping themselves to a taste after she left.

She yanked open the refrigerator door. Her jaw dropped. So did a package of wilted lettuce and a roll of premade biscuits. The cardboard cylinder around the biscuits popped open as it hit the floor. Startled, Belinda almost made the terrible mistake of jeopardizing the cake in her efforts to stem the avalanche.

At her feet, biscuit dough was slowly expanding through the break in the package. One of the black-and-white kittens was sneaking up on it as if it were dangerous prey. Looking from the crammed refrigerator shelves to the large, footed glass plate, Belinda muttered, “What in the world am I going to do with this?”

Her gaze centered on the odd bowls and half-empty packages of food she could see near the front of the shelves. Could she ever clear a big enough place? Maybe. In an hour or so. Give or take a day.

One thing was certain. She was going to be late for the council meeting.

Paul was upstairs, on the phone to his secretary, when he thought he heard the back door slam. Relieved, he assumed Patience had finally brought his car home.

As soon as he finished his conversation he started downstairs to give her a chance to tell him about the fun she’d had with his poor Lexus. It was insured, of course, but that didn’t mean he’d welcome a dented fender. Or a dented great-aunt!

His running shoes made little sound on the carpet. It wasn’t until he was almost to the kitchen that he heard the soft singing of a woman. That wasn’t Patience. Or Prudence. It sounded like… Belinda?

Slowing his pace, Paul approached with caution. After her insistence that she didn’t want to see or talk to him, Belinda couldn’t possibly be there. It had to be a trick of his imagination. Or a singing burglar with a high, sweet voice, he countered, purposely mocking himself.

He reached the doorway. There was no need to look. Now that he was close enough to hear every word of her gospel song, he was certain his visitor was Belinda Carnes. But why? What was she up to? And why give herself away by making unnecessary noise?

Frowning, Paul leaned against the doorjamb, silently watching her. She was poking around in the refrigerator, a no-man’s-land if he’d ever encountered one. Open bowls, cups and plates were stacked on the closest end of the counter. Wrapped packages of food were piled high on a chair she’d pulled over beside her and she was cautiously sniffing the contents of a large Mason jar, apparently checking them for freshness.

He waited until he thought she was about to step back, then calmly said, “Hello.”

Belinda screeched, jumped and whirled around, all at the same time. The quart jar she’d been holding slipped out of her grasp. It hit the floor flat on its bottom, broke and spurted spaghetti sauce straight up in the air like a garlic-flavored geyser. What didn’t get on her splattered all over the chair, cabinets and floor.

Heart pounding, she confronted Paul. “What did you do that for!”

“Me?” It was all he could do to keep from bursting into laughter. “I’m not the one who got caught raiding somebody else’s refrigerator.”

“I wasn’t raiding it!”

“Oh? It looks to me like you were.” He gestured toward the food she’d spread out. “What’s all that?”

“It’s…” Her anger increased when she saw the runny red splotches dotting everything, from the floor to the top of the counter and beyond. “A mess.”

“That’s true.”

“This is not funny, Paul.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” A broad grin was spread across his face. “It looks pretty funny from over here.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, it doesn’t from where I’m standing, and I’ll thank you to butt out.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Okay. If that’s what you want. I suppose it won’t hurt the floor much more if you walk over to the sink to get the paper towels yourself.” With a chuckle he added, “You might want to slip your shoes off first, though. I hope they were red to start with.”

“No. They were white,” Belinda snapped, disgusted. “White linen. And new. I’ll probably have to throw them away now.”

“Not to mention chucking a lot of the stuff on the chair,” he said, pointing.

“I can’t do that. It’s not mine.” Worried, she surveyed the chaos, unsure where to begin.

“Well, I can,” Paul said firmly. “I’ve been looking for a good excuse to dump a lot of those scraps before my aunts make the mistake of eating them and wind up with food poisoning. Wait there. I’ll go get a big trash can from outside.”

He returned almost immediately and set a black rubber trash can at the perimeter of the exploding sauce circle. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Belinda’s conscience was really starting to bother her. She’d snapped at Paul and told him she didn’t want to even talk to him, yet here he was, volunteering to help. “It’s really nice of you to pitch in like this.”

“I beg your pardon?” Arms folded across his chest, he stood back and stared at her.

She didn’t like the shrewd look in his eyes or his posture of authority. “You were going to help me.”

“I don’t think I said that, exactly.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a sly smile. “I believe I said I’d bring you a can. I did. I trust you to decide what’s worth keeping and what should be tossed out.” He raised one hand as if administering an oath. “I hereby promote you from refrigerator raider to garbage sorter. Go for it. Get busy. I’ll just watch.”

“Why you…you…” Belinda barely managed to squelch the desire to tell him off. There she stood, in her ruined shoes and dripping skirt, while he made stupid jokes at her expense. Him and his spotless shirt and perfectly creased jeans and detestable attitude of superiority. What Mr. Paul Randall needed was to be taken down a peg. And she was just the one to do it.

Struggling to keep her rising temper a secret, she said, “I don’t want to track this mess all the way to the sink. Would you mind handing me the roll of paper towels?” It nearly choked her to add, “Please.”

For a few long seconds it looked as if Paul wasn’t going to comply. Finally, he turned and strolled to the sink and back. Sidestepping a splash next to the chair, he held the roll of towels out to her at arms’ length.

Belinda couldn’t quite reach it without moving her feet beyond the main sauce puddle. “You think you’re standing far enough away?” she asked sarcastically. “I won’t bite.”

“Maybe not, but you sure are a mess.” Paul chuckled heartily. “The stuffy Serenity Chamber of Commerce should see you now!”

If her conscience had ever possessed the slightest chance of stopping her, Paul’s mocking, overbearing attitude had erased it. He was going to get what he deserved and more. Right now.

She bent, and filled her hands with cold, spilled spaghetti sauce and flung it at him as she straightened. “Oh, yeah? Well, let’s see how you like it.”

Paul saw determination light her expression, but his subconscious refused to believe what was happening until it was too late. Gooey globs of sauce caught him in the side of the head and trickled down his neck. He yelled like he’d been scalded. “You little brat!”

Belinda was elated. It was high time somebody in Serenity stood up to Paul Randall. How funny he’d looked before he’d realized what she was doing! Laughing till her sides hurt, she saw his expression sobering. He cast around, finally reaching for the sugar bowl on the kitchen table, then lifting it above her head.

Belinda ducked and backed away, her arms raised to ward him off. “I’m warning you. Don’t you dare, or…”

“Or what?” Paul’s large hand closed around her wrist, held her fast in spite of her struggle to escape. “What will you do? Tell dear old Sam? Ooh, I’m scared.”

Sam was the last person Belinda wanted to tell about her willing participation in such a childish tussle. “I don’t need anybody to help me get the best of you, mister,” she shouted. “I can do it alone.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” With her free hand she reached up to spread the sauce across his cheek, adding to the mess because her fingers were still coated with red, too.

Paul immediately upended the sugar bowl over her head, then let her go with a sarcastic remark, “There, darlin’. That should help you be a little sweeter.”

“Why, you…” Belinda felt as if he’d dumped a whole pail of grit in her hair. Sugar granules were trickling over her scalp and down her neck like sand in an hourglass. Without thinking, she squeezed her eyes shut and leaned forward to bat at her loose hair. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten that her fingers were still smeared with sauce. When she realized what she was doing, she began to shake her hands like a kitten who’d just stepped in a dish of milk and didn’t know what to do with its wet paws.

“Hey,” Paul taunted, “it looks like you’re making marinara sauce in your hair. I love that stuff. I usually mix mine in a bowl, though.”

Belinda was so furious she was speechless. At that moment it didn’t matter to her if they were in someone else’s house or not. They’d already made such an awful mess it couldn’t get much worse. Paul Randall, however, could get considerably dirtier. She’d see to it. It would serve him right.

Still bent over, her hair hanging down to hide her face, she peered at the assortment of food she’d stacked on the chair. Most of it looked too old and too dry to stick to anything…except maybe whatever treasure lurked in a margarine tub that was within easy reach.

She grabbed the plastic container and popped off the lid, thrilled to see it still held half its original contents. She scooped up a handful of the greasy yellow margarine, straightened with a screech and lunged straight at Paul.

He didn’t catch her hands in time to stop the attack. A gob of margarine plopped onto his shoulder. Without hesitation, Belinda smeared what was left of it on his cheek. “There. You’ve always been too slippery for your own good, anyway. Now you can slide your way out of town instead of riding off on that stupid motorcycle of yours.”

Jaw clenched, Paul grabbed a red and white whipped cream can from the counter, aimed it at her face and pushed the trigger. The can spit and fizzled ineffectively.

Belinda stood her ground, laughing at his futile efforts to even the score. “You lose.”

“Oh, yeah?” He began to shake the can frantically, then turned it upside down. Glaring at her through narrowed eyes, he started to advance, whipped cream nozzle at the ready. “I never lose, lady. Not anymore.”

Putting up her hands to ward him off, she started to back away. Maybe it was time to call off the hostilities. Judging by the angry, determined look on Paul’s face, maybe it was past time. Belinda decided to quit while she was ahead. “Truce, truce!”

“Truce, my eye,” Paul said menacingly. He wiped his slippery cheek on the sleeve of his shirt and took a slow step toward her. Then another.

She squealed. Ducked. Turned to run. Scrambling, she slipped on the wet floor and lost her balance.

“Crazy woman…” Paul dropped the whipped cream can and lunged to catch her. If his hip hadn’t wound up accidentally braced against the counter, their mutual momentum might have carried them both to the floor. Just in time, his arms closed safely around Belinda’s waist.

“Let me go,” she screeched, twisting and fighting back.

“Hold still and calm down,” he countered. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Oh, sure, you are.” She pounded her fists hard against his chest. “Just like you helped my father’s church, right?”

“You never give up, do you?”

Suddenly, the back door slammed. They both froze. Paul wheeled to face the noise, swinging his wriggling burden around with him.

Already short of breath, Belinda gasped. The Whitaker sisters were standing just inside the door, their mouths open, looking totally stunned.

Prudence recovered first. She gave a little squeak, snatched up the nearest cat and clasped it to her breast, holding the poor Siamese so tightly it began yowling and struggling to escape.

Arching one thin, plucked eyebrow and starting to smile, Patience said, “Well, well. Look at the naughty children.”

Paul tried to explain. “Aunt Patience, I…”

She ignored him and began to reminisce. “I remember a few food fights Pru and I had when we were girls. But I can see we were rank amateurs compared to you two. We didn’t have nearly this much fun!”