Chapter Two #2
Lesley leaned against the counter, crossing her feet at the ankle. She hung her head, thinking over how much of the conversation
with Cole she wanted to relate to her sister. The memory of her actions made her realize how ridiculous the whole thing had
been.
“Maybe I should be more concerned.” Terry broke into her thoughts, and her eyes flickered over her sister briefly. “But I’ve
continued to pray about this neighbor thing.”
“You have?” Lesley’s head shot up.
“If you want to know the truth, I’ve been worried about you lately.”
“Me?”
Terry stretched a piece of plastic wrap across the top of the cheese. Her gaze avoided Lesley’s. “I know how you feel about Dale and I know”—she took in a deep breath and hesitated—“That you’re not seeing anyone else. So I started praying that God would bring a new man into your life.”
“You’re nuts! Do you mean to tell me that you’ve been praying that God would move a man in next door?” Gathering speed, her
words seemed to stumble over her tongue. “And . . . and not just any man, mind you, but an unreasonable, mysterious boor?”
Lesley witnessed the silent laugh her sister struggled to disguise as Terry turned and pretended to stir the already cooked
meat. “Nothing so dramatic,” she said at last.
“What, then?”
“Well, I’ve continued to pray about the neighbor situation, that’s true, but I assumed another girl would move in.” She hooked
a long strand of dark hair around her ear. “I don’t know why. But I have been wondering about you and Dale.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
Terry set the spoon on a dish at the side of the stove and turned. “Are you two fighting again?”
“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
Linking her hands behind her back, Terry shrugged. “See what I mean?”
Not willing to admit anything, but unable to ignore the taut line of her sister’s mouth or the concern etched about her eyes,
Lesley nodded.
“You need someone new in your life.” Terry’s voice was gentle, loving. “That’s been my prayer. You can’t be angry with me
for that, can you?”
Dusk was purpling the sky when Lesley pulled into her driveway and shut off the car’s engine. The conversation with her sister
had been more disconcerting than she cared to admit. Her thoughts remained troubled as she opened the door. The aroma of stewing
meat captured her immediate attention.
What was the matter with her appetite? No lunch and no interest in dinner.
The phone rang, jerking her attention beyond the kitchen.
“Hello.”
“It’s about time you got home. Just where have you been?”
“Evening, Dale.” Lesley released a slow breath and ignored his question. “What can I do for you?”
“The party. I want you to know you’re going to Larry’s party with me or that’s it. In other words, we’re finished, through,
over.”
The decision wasn’t even difficult. “Then so be it,” she told him stiffly.
“Listen, baby, you don’t mean that.” Dale’s tone grew coaxing and gentle. “What’s the matter with a little fun now and then?”
The sound of his laughter was slurred.
So, Dale had been drinking again. He was probably with Larry. She couldn’t see fighting with him, especially over the phone.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Meet me for lunch?”
“Okay.” Reluctantly Lesley agreed. She didn’t want to be subjected to another confrontation of wills. No matter how adamant
she felt about Larry’s party, Dale dismissed her feelings. Terry was right. This mixed-up relationship with Dale must end,
and the sooner the better.
With growing concern over the craziness her life seemed to have taken on over the past couple of weeks, Lesley forced herself
to eat dinner.
After doing the dishes, she set up the sewing machine on the kitchen table and brought out the white material she’d purchased
for the church Halloween costume. The radio was playing mellow sounds, and soon Lesley found herself involved in the project,
her troubles forgotten as she sang and worked.
A loud knock on the front door froze her actions. Removing the straight pins from her mouth, she hesitated long enough to murmur an urgent prayer that her visitor wasn’t Dale. Several times in the past he’d phoned her when he’d been drinking, but she’d never had to deal with him physically.
The doorbell chimed in short, impatient rings. Clenching and unclenching her fist, Lesley looked out the front window. Dale’s
car wasn’t in her driveway. But unfortunately she couldn’t see who was on her step. With no choice, she opened the door.
Cole Daniels glared at her irritably. “For someone who can take care of herself with her vast and intimate knowledge of karate,
it took you long enough to answer the door.”
Lesley decided to disregard his sarcasm rather than argue with him.
“What do you want?” she asked pointedly.
“What are the walls made of, anyway? Cardboard?”
“Are you trying to tell me the radio’s too loud?” How could anyone object to the soothing sounds of mellow music?
“The radio’s fine. I’ll listen to that. It’s you I can’t take.”
“Me?” She folded her arms across her chest in a pure instinctively protective habit. It was either that or slam the door in
his face. What was there about this one man that could make her more unreasonable than any other? “Was that all?” Her voice
was dipped in acid.
“Please.” He pivoted and walked away.
Lesley closed the door and spun around. Her sister had been praying that God would send a man into her life? That ill-mannered
beast couldn’t possibly be him. She didn’t need to be a devoted Christian to recognize that a mistake had been made.
Lesley lay awake for a long time that night, her heart heavy. She tried reading the Bible. A smile flickered over her lips.
Terry had once told her that if she had trouble sleeping, instead of counting sheep she should talk to the Shepherd.
She liked to think of herself as a strong Christian.
She’d been raised in a God-fearing home.
From the time she could remember, Jesus had been a large part of her life.
She had never done anything without first considering her Christian values.
Maybe that was the problem—she hadn’t really been exposed to certain things in life.
But then, did she want to be? Everything seemed so muddled in her own mind.
Just when she felt she could sleep, Lesley rolled over, tugged the blankets to her shoulder and sighed a prayer. A noise interrupted
the peaceful solitude. Her eyes shot open. What was it? Sitting up in bed, Lesley strained to hear the soft tapping sounds.
A typewriter? Tossing back the covers, she wandered into the living room and then the kitchen. The sounds were more distinct
now: definitely the sounds of a typewriter.
Cole Daniels was a writer? Maybe he was only doing a letter. She opened the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of milk.
Sitting on the couch in the darkened room, Lesley pulled her long gown over her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees.
After an hour of constant tapping sounds, she decided two could play his game.
Shoving her feet into large fuzzy slippers, Lesley jerked her coat off the hanger, opened the front door and stalked across
the driveway.
He didn’t answer her first polite tap. She waited and, like him, buzzed the doorbell, in short, impatient rings.
“Yes.” He nearly took the hinges off the door when he pulled it open.
“I can’t sleep with all that racket you’re making.”
“Racket?” He looked puzzled. “You mean my typing?”
“You’ve got it.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a movement that could have been considered a half-smile. “I’ll try to hold down the voluminous
roar.”
“I’d appreciate that. Good night, Mr. Daniels,” she said in a stiff, polite voice.
“Miss Brown.” He closed the door even before she’d turned around.
Lesley had hung up her coat and returned to her bedroom when her doorbell rang a second time that night. Even Dale had the
common decency not to come this late.
With a sense of dread, she opened the front door. “Now what?” she demanded.
Cole was leaning lackadaisically against the doorjamb, a pair of earmuffs dangling from his index finger. “I thought these
might solve your problem.”
Lesley’s back went rigid. “And I assure you the only problem I have is you.”
He shrugged as if to say the matter was out of his hands. “Then don’t blame me if my typing keeps you awake, because I plan
to do exactly that every day and every night until . . .” He left the rest of what he was planning to say go unspoken.
“Until what?” she prompted.
“Never mind.” His eyes narrowed. “Good night, Miss Brown.”
“Mr. Daniels.”
Their eyes met and held: his dark, fighting to disguise his amusement; hers bright and angry.
Gently she closed the door and leaned against it, her hands behind her back. Never had she reacted this strongly to a man.
Lunch with Dale didn’t go well the next afternoon—not that Lesley had expected it would. In the end she was forced to insist
that she wouldn’t attend Larry’s party with him. Her decision was received with ill grace, but then she’d known from past
experience that Dale was a poor loser.
After work, Lesley changed into her jeans with plans to wash her car. Before turning on the water, she decided to play it safe and let Cole know what she was doing.
Lightly she knocked on his door. The new car was parked in the driveway, but she never knew what to expect with him.
“What do you want now?” He threw open the door, and Lesley had to stifle a startled gasp. It didn’t look as if he’d gone to
bed. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before. A day’s growth of beard darkened his face, and his eyes were narrowed
and angry.
“I wanted you to know I was planning to wash my car.”
He stared back at her blankly.
“The water pressure.” Her eyes regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you all right?”
His confirming nod was swift and abrupt.
“Have you been writing night and day?”
He didn’t seem to hear her. Instead he slouched against the frame of the door. Even in his condition there was an air of quiet