Chapter 13
13
Coming together is a beginning;
keeping together is progress;
working together is success.
Edward Everett Hale
B aylin’s nerves tingled and her heart filled with hope on the drive home from the Valentine’s Dance.
Best one ever.
Teddy in that suit, the way he watched her all night long…
Yes, she’d noticed.
His signature smile had turned so grave that no one had even approached him to talk or dance the entire night, which was saying a lot in Green Hills, where a newcomer attracted lots of attention and a young, good-looking newcomer set the proverbial grapevine on fire.
The more she had enjoyed herself, dancing and chatting with friends, the more ominous his countenance had become. She’d delighted in every second.
But then he’d had enough, had stepped in to claim his dance…to claim her heart.
She looked at him across the cab of the truck and couldn’t stop her lips from lifting into a knowing smile. He glanced over and smiled right back. An air of possibilities and promise zapped all around them.
“What’s the agenda for tomorrow?” Teddy asked. “I’m guessing it’ll be a long day with the festival beginning.”
“Very,” she corrected. “Booth set up begins at nine in the morning, so I need to load the trailer between six and seven o’clock. I’ll feed the animals and check water levels before then. The festival technically begins at three, but they don’t open the exhibit doors until after the baseball game. I hired a few high school kids I know from church to help me cover the booth throughout the weekend. Mostly, though, I like to be there to oversee things and answer questions shoppers have. You don’t have to—” Baylin stopped talking when she noticed the look on Teddy’s face.
In the dark, she’d missed his expression of wonderment, joy, and interest at the mention of his favorite sport.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Baseball game?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot to mention it. Schools and businesses close early for the unofficial festival kickoff: a six-inning sandlot baseball game at the park.”
“Who gets to play in it?”
“Anyone who wants to, I suppose.”
“Are you playing in it?”
“I usually cover a spot in the outfield for an inning or two, if they need me.”
“Who is they? Who gets to pick the teams? Do they have equipment? And who umpires?”
“Easy now,” Baylin teased. “It’s just a fun little pickup game. No one cares about the teams and the score and stuff.”
“Yeah, right,” Teddy joked. “Who are the coaches? That’ll tell me all I need to know.”
“The chiefs,” she answered. “Miles Everett, the fire chief, coaches one team, and his best friend, Stanley Crockett, the police chief, coaches the other. You met his son tonight…Michael.”
“Will he be playing?”
“I’m sure he will if he’s not on shift,” Baylin said. “He’s a police officer, just like his three big brothers. In fact, their entire family is in law enforcement, even aunts and uncles. They’re a great family.”
“You know a lot about them.”
“Michael and I were born six days apart, right here in Green Hills. There’s no way I could not know a lot about them,” she laughed.
“Do you play on his team or the fire team?”
“It changes from year to year, but Chief Everett got to me first, so I’m with the GHFD this time.”
They’d reached the farm and the garage; fatigue had set in. Baylin’s pajamas were calling her name.
“The dance was fun,” she told Teddy at her kitchen door. “I’m glad you were here.”
“Thanks,” Teddy said, unlocking the door and handing Baylin her keys. “It was.” He studied her face, a slight smile on his inviting lips. They’d be warm to the touch, gentle and very kissable. “And thank you for the dance,” he said, running his fingers down her cheek. His voice had dropped, grown husky.
Baylin held her breath, wondering if — hoping that — he’d lean down and kiss her.
He didn’t.
After one last long look, he retreated to the barn.
Opportunity missed or disaster averted? If only she knew.
F our a.m. came early.
By five, she’d showered, dressed for the day, and started a pot of coffee.
Layering up to ward off the predawn chill, Baylin stepped out the back door to find Teddy in the chicken coop.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking for eggs,” he answered. “None today… Despite the heat lamps, I think it’s too cold out.”
“I mean, what are you doing awake? It’s insanely early.”
“You’re up.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she argued.
“Maybe I don’t want a choice.” He tossed it out there like the mystery message meant nothing. But what was Baylin supposed to make of it? Was he saying he’d like to stay? At the farm? With her?
She’d had too little sleep, the hour was too early, and the list in her pocket was way too extensive to exert energy dissecting his cryptic statement, but it stayed with her all morning long.
As they fed and watered the horses, Baylin considered how comfortable he’d become in her domain. When he offered to hitch up the cargo trailer to the truck, she noted how nice it was to have his capable help around the farm. And when he saw her flower arrangements, his praise and admiration made her heart soar…
“We’ve got produce crates, the soap and fabric bins, the candles, the home decor tubs, the canned goods, the cookie boxes, the farm t-shirts, two round racks of all the other clothing stuff, stationary junk, and these O’Casey Farm banners and signs. Are we missing anything?” Teddy asked.
“Just one last thing,” Baylin said. “In the downstairs guest room.”
Teddy followed her back into the house and down the hall.
When she opened the door to the bedroom, Teddy looked over her head and stopped dead in his tracks.
“I can’t figure out if it’s a green room, a jungle, or a flower shop,” he exclaimed.
“A bit of all three, I suppose,” Baylin said. “I took the furniture out a few years ago, so I had a good place to put my potted plants over the winter. This room gets the best sunlight since it faces the east. It seemed like a better use of the square footage, since I have plenty of beds for guests upstairs.”
“And in the barn,” he quipped.
“Yes, for the riff-raff,” she razzed.
He responded with a dramatic display of faux indignation, but his attention stayed on the multitude of flower arrangements, some made of silk and others made of dried flowers, covering every inch of the room.
“You made these?”
Baylin’s pulse quickened. Why did sharing a secret passion — a silly hobby, really — make one feel vulnerable and small?
“Yes,” she answered, her voice faint. She’d used a plethora of containers ranging from antique tea pots to wooden bowls to metal tins to crystal cut vases. She’d poured her soul into each of them, desperate to create unique works of art that would bring beauty and joy to their new homes.
“Baylin, they’re magnificent.” He stopped to catch her eye. “Seriously, these are exquisite. When did you create them?”
“I’ve been working on them for months. I thought about taking them to the holiday festival on Christmas Eve, but I chickened out.”
“Chickened out? Whatever for? These will sell like hotcakes…and for a lot of money.”
“I hope so,” Baylin admitted, not sharing in his certainty.
They loaded the arrangements, and with all her wares loaded into the truck and trailer, they made their way to the exhibit hall in the Conrad Hotel.
The oldest, most exclusive hotel in town rolled out the red carpet for big events. Her thirty-foot by thirty-foot booth space included display shelving, large tables, lighting, and electricity. All Baylin had to do was drape the raw wood fixtures and transport inside everything from the parking lot.
It sounded easy, but it required a lot of manpower.
And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:19 popped into Baylin’s mind. Teddy had proved to be a godsend.
They worked at a steady pace for hours.
When Baylin stood back to determine what needed to be adjusted, tears sprang to her eyes. Her projects, each one a reflection of her creativity and determination, looked interesting and inviting…amazing, really, layered and staged and displayed in their best light.
“I’m too hungry for tears,” Teddy said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in for a comforting hug. “I believe you mentioned turtle burgers the other day?”
“Not turtle burgers,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs. “Burgers at The Three-Toed Turtle.”
“Can we go? What about the booth?”
“It’ll be fine, and as soon as all the vendors finish setting up, they’ll lock the doors until this evening. Come on; it’s my treat,” she offered.
“I’ll arm-wrestle you for the bill,” he challenged, leading Baylin out of the hotel.
He didn’t remove his arm from around her shoulder.