Lisa Jordan - Lakeside Sweethearts

Agnes tried to pull her hand from his grasp. “Wait, where are you taking me?”

He released her hand and gripped the nicked banister. “Just upstairs.”

Agnes’s eyes studied each step until they reached the top. She lifted a foot onto the first step. Her breath choked in her throat.

Ian scowled and said something, but the roaring in her ears drowned out his words.

Yelling. Accusations. Pleas. Broken promises jostled at a locked door in the back of her mind. Feeling that first step beneath her foot pried that door of memories loose, exposing past aches.

Her heart raced as her breathing quickened. She squeezed her eyes shut. She watched herself reliving the fall—every bone and muscle knocking off the steps—until she landed in a crumbled heap at the bottom, aching for what she had lost.

Those bones healed and the bruises faded, but Bobby’s role in her accidental fall tore away a part of her that could never be put back together.

Agnes wrapped her arms around her stomach. God, please...make it stop.

She shook her head, tears flooding her eyes. “I can’t go up there. I just can’t.”

Turning, she fled to the front door, wrenched it open and stumbled into the sunshine. Without checking to see if Ian followed her, she hurried down the sidewalk past his Ford Escape.

Ian wanted this house to bring his family back together, but how could they find hope when all she felt was pain?

* * *

As long as he lived, he’d never forget the look of torture that contorted Red’s pale face as she stared up at him from the bottom of the steps.

He wanted to gather her to his chest and protect her from her past. But that was impossible. All he could do now was help her to face it in order to heal and have the life God desired for her.

Palming the warm pizza on one hand, Ian rapped his knuckles against Red’s front door, praying she didn’t slam it back in his face.

A moment later, she opened it, giving him a wary smile. “If you’re fixing to change my mind about going upstairs, it’s not going to happen.”

“Of course not.” Ian held out the large red and white box. “Pizza offering?”

“Come in. It’s not polite for a girl to leave a guy standing on her front step.”

“Especially when he’s holding her favorite pizza.”

“Especially then.” She flashed a quick smile, giving him a glimpse of the spunky Red he knew and loved.

The exterior of Red’s brick apartment building lacked character, but her place exploded with color. Cream-colored walls, an orange couch, a bluish-green printed chair with matching ottoman, sheer blue curtains hanging from tree branch curtain rods that had been pushed back to allow the sunshine to spill across the hardwood floor. White daisies in a yellow pitcher sat on a wicker and glass coffee table. And plants in colored pots sat all over the place.

She had exchanged her work clothes for cutoff denim shorts that showcased her bare legs and a blue Lone Star State T-shirt. Red pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and tossed it in a pottery bowl on the end table. She fluffed her ginger curls around her face, then took the pizza from him.

Ian followed her through the living room into the kitchen.

She set the box on the table and pulled two red stoneware plates from the cupboard. Ian opened the lid, releasing scents of yeast, tomatoes and oregano.

She peeked over his shoulder, her hair brushing against his cheek. “You got pineapple and ham. My favorite.”

“Of course.” He took a step back to keep from winding one of those curls around his finger. Hands off. He was her friend. “You want to tell me why you hightailed it out of there so quickly?”

She set the plates on the table and turned away to open a drawer. Grabbing two forks, she looked at him, her eyes shrouded with pain.

She thrust the utensils sat him, then turned and gripped the edge of the sink. “Even after all this time, the stairs...well, they’re a visual reminder of the fall and what I lost that night. I guess I kind of freaked out. Sorry. Anyway, let’s eat before this pizza gets cold.”

She flashed him another quick smile, but this one did little to extinguish the torment in her eyes. She reached into the box to lift out a slice of pizza. Wrapping the melted cheese strings around her finger, she nodded toward the living room. “Let’s eat in there. Grab us a couple of Cokes, will you?”

Leaning against the sink, he watched her leave and ground his teeth together. He wanted to kick himself for pushing her into going to the house when she wasn’t ready.

Way to go, dude.

He grabbed their drinks, then closed the refrigerator door with his hip. Snatching his plate, he headed for the living room.

Red set her plate on the coffee table and pushed the pitcher out of the way to make room for his before sitting on the couch.

Once Ian settled on the cushion next to her, he reached for her hand. “Let’s pray before I start eating like a heathen.”

They bowed their heads while Ian blessed the food.

She echoed his “amen” and gave his hand a light squeeze, sending a shock of heat up his arm.

He pulled his fingers out of her grasp and reached for his pizza. “So, have you forgiven me yet?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Ian. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just...overwhelmed, I guess.” She rested her head against the back of the couch, her hair fanning against a multicolored afghan.

He nudged her shoulder with his. “Still, if it’s too much, we can find someone else to paint. You know what the rooms look like. Choosing colors and all that stuff with Mom won’t be too bad, will it? Then volunteers can handle the rest.”

“No, I don’t want you to do that.” She shrugged, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “The Lord and me...we’ll get it figured out.”

“Maybe this is His way of saying it’s time to move on...to something new.”

“We’ll see. Did I see you sneak in a Cuppa Josie’s bag?”

“If I say yes, do you promise to keep me in the loop about how you’re dealing with the house?”

“Depends on what’s in the bag.”

“Josie’s chocolate macadamia nut brownies.”

Agnes closed her eyes and groaned. “Guess I’ll have to stick with one piece of pizza. I can’t afford to buy new jeans.”

“Believe me, Red. There’s nothing wrong with your jeans.” He threw his crust on his plate and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.

“Ian, I’m in to help with the house. Just let me work at my own pace. I promise to have the job done by your mama’s deadline.”

“You bet. With your talents and my brawn...” He paused to flex his muscles. “We can whip that house into shape in time for Zoe to come home.”

“When are you going to find time to remodel a house in a few short months? Your job keeps you going all over the county. And when you’re not working, you’re harassing me or hauling your nephew to practice.”

“Nice to know you worry about me.” He winked at her.

He liked knowing she cared.

She bumped him with her shoulder. “Well, someone has to.”

“I’ve wanted to fix houses since we took that mission trip over spring break in high school—you remember, when we helped that family fix their house after the hurricane? If I can help others, then I’ll make the time to do it.”

“You talked about my dreams, but when are you going to start living yours?”

“Being a claims adjuster is my job. Pursuing my passion of restoring houses feels a little out of reach. Opening Agape House and bringing Zoe home take priority. My dreams can wait once my family is restored.”

“You’re a good man, Ian, but what about starting your own family?”

“We talked about this, Red.” He scoffed and shook his head. “My life is crazy. I don’t have time right now. I didn’t spend enough time with Emily, remember?”