Chapter 3
After a hectic week at Dorsey Furniture and Ella’s Diner, Elizabeth treasured her Sunday morning sleep-ins.
She started the day with a long soaking bath before heading to Java Jane’s for a large latte and egg sandwich.
Finding a cozy corner, she read the local newspaper—print edition—then read the news online, followed by the dozens of management, marketing, and finance articles that dropped into her inbox every week.
She’d developed this routine in college and held it sacred, especially after losing so much time being…ill. She’d never even heard of Epstein–Barr until the doctor’s diagnosis.
However, in Hearts Bend, in Pops and Granny’s place, Sunday morning was church time.
This morning, like every Sunday morning, Pops sang hymns in the shower while Granny blasted worship songs from her kitchen speaker.
Elizabeth burrowed under the covers and tried to sleep, waiting for the solitude to return.
On this particular Sunday, there was a knock on her door. “Bethy?” Granny said. “You awake?”
“I am if you want me to be.” Elizabeth sat up, shoved her curls aside, and focused on the door as Granny peeked in. “What’s up?”
She looked pretty in her periwinkle blue dress and white sneakers. In her late seventies, Granny kept up with the fashion trends while maintaining her grandma authority.
“You look tired,” she said.
“Long week.”
Granny sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re allowed a day off, you know. Do you work at the diner tonight?”
“No. Tina told me not to go anywhere near Ella’s.”
“Good. You need a day to rest. You’ll be in grad school in a few months, back to the grind. I know you’re all healed up, but that virus can—”
“I’m careful, Granny, I promise. And I feel like I’ve rested enough for a lifetime. Sitting around feels like a waste of time, like my life is getting away from me again.” There were days when she was too tired to lift her head and she wondered if she’d ever feel whole.
“Did you ever think life wants to show you something you’re not looking for?”
“Those are what you call distractions, Granny,” Elizabeth said. “If life throws something in front of you not pertinent to your plans, dreams, or goals, you kick it aside and keep moving forward.”
“That doesn’t sound very exciting,” Granny said.
“I do admire your ambition and how you’ve overcome adversity, Beth.
The whole family is proud of you, but take it from an old gal, stop and smell a few roses now and then.
” She headed out, but paused at the door.
“Pops and I would love for you to come to church with us this morning. It’s one of the roses everyone needs to stop and inhale.
” She glanced at her watch. “Is thirty minutes enough time?”
You have to know something about Betty Dorsey. She was smart and kind with wisdom to spare. She loved well. Elizabeth never doubted her grandmother’s affection for her. But when she said things like “Is thirty minutes enough time?” a girl moved. She wasn’t asking a question.
Elizabeth slid out of bed for a quick shower, then dressed in white capri pants, a blue top, and her platform wedge sandals. Church was a big part of her summer memories, but not her life.
When Dad left Hearts Bend for college, he gave up on “religion.” Mom claimed no religious affiliation either, so church never informed the Boston Dorseys’ world, save the occasional Christmas and Easter service.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Elizabeth headed downstairs, wondering if Pops would stop at Java Jane’s for a latte and egg sandwich on the way to church.
In the kitchen, Granny handed her a banana and said they were late.
“So, no Java Jane’s?” Elizabeth said.
“Not before. After. I have a roast in the oven for lunch.” And Granny was out the door after Pops, who wore black slacks with a blue shirt, his gray hair still thick and shiny.
He’d been CEO of Dorsey Furniture until her cousin Will took the helm.
But not before Pops brought the organization into the twenty-first century, even establishing an early partnership with the likes of .
Elizabeth planned to pick his brain before the end of summer.
There’s a thought—maybe attending church while waiting for the most important notification of her life had benefits.
Like a smile from the Man upstairs. She decided to mention it to Him when the pastor had everyone bow their heads and close their eyes.
“Jeff said he saw Ryder Donovan at Ella’s the other night.” Pops glanced at Elizabeth through the rearview mirror as they passed the downtown shops and Java Jane’s. “What was that about?”
“About Jeff making something out of nothing,” Elizabeth said. “Ryder needed to order some kids’ chicken baskets. That’s all. He teaches fire safety or something.”
“At the Kids Theater,” Pops said. “I hear his boss is giving him a hard time. Travis can be a son of a gun.”
“He mentioned the department isn’t willing to pay for the baskets.”
“Sounds like true love to me,” Pops said with a low chuckle.
“Please, Pops, you’re ridiculous.” Still, their brief exchange outside of the diner popped into her head at odd times during the week. Staff meeting. Working the window at Ella’s. Driving home. Now, while driving to church.
She couldn’t remember when she met him. Ryder was always a part of her summer landscape. She’d friended him on Facebook and Instagram, but he rarely posted. Not much more than an annual photo of him fishing or hunting.
“I can still see you waiting in the living room for him to pick you up for youth group.” A grinning Granny looked back at Elizabeth. “You always looked so pretty.”
“Well, I didn’t want to look ugly.” Youth group? She’d forgotten all about it. Those had been fun Sunday nights.
Pops turned into the church parking lot, and Elizabeth followed her grandparents toward the double doors and into the sanctuary, smiling and shaking hands as Granny said, “This is our granddaughter, Beth. Matt Jr.’s daughter. You remember her from working at Ella’s in the summer.”
Then there was the whole Dorsey crew to embrace: Ethan and his wife Julie; Will, handsome and single; Jeff and his girlfriend Ursula; Uncle Mac and Aunt Shell; Uncle Luke and Aunt Reece.
“We’ve got seats saved up front.” Jeff hooked his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder. “How’d it go with Ryder?”
“How’d it go? He ordered kids’ chicken baskets. End of story.” She chose the last seat in the family row, just in case she felt like leaving early. The hallowed atmosphere felt strange to her. She preferred the hallowed halls of a university. That was her sanctuary.
As the rows filled up, she tried to remember if she’d enjoyed church as a teen. She had. Maybe? A few of Granny and Pops’s friends recognized her and stopped to say hello. Then just as she started to relax, a masculine voice whispered over her shoulder.
“Is this seat taken?”
Finding Elizabeth in church was even more of a surprise than finding himself waking up early with a hankering for a holy place. Travis had been on him all week. Not just about expenses, but everything.
Did you get the brush cleared off Bramble Road?
I’ve not seen your environmental report. Are you going to do your job or not, Donovan?
Had the man hired him as some sort of scapegoat?
Ryder worked late only to wake up early.
He’d spent most of last week collecting soil samples and planting seedling trees, checking the lake and the docks.
But he didn’t mind. The forest was his sanctuary.
His home. Yet this morning, he sensed a nudge toward the sanctuary of saints.
Then he saw Elizabeth and stopped mulling over how much he’d rather be in his kitchen stirring up homemade waffles with crushed pecans.
When he sat down, a soft note of her scent pulled him toward her.
He tried to focus on the singing and preaching, but all he wanted to do was face Elizabeth, talk to her, reach for her, and step in close.
Then, as the pastor finished up his message, he invited everyone to stand—God bless him—and hold hands.
Ryder looked at Elizabeth. She peeked at him.
He offered his left hand while Jeff’s girlfriend took his right.
Elizabeth’s soft palm slipped into his as the pastor prayed something about walking in the law of love instead of love of the law, but the drum of his pulse muted every other word.
On the amen, Ursula let go, but Elizabeth held on for an extra moment or two. Or was he holding on to her?
“How were your chicken baskets?” she said, finally dropping his hand.
“The kids loved them.”
“And learned only they could prevent forest fires.”
He laughed. “Exactly. Especially in this dry, hot weather. We need rain.”
Someone tapped him on the arm—Styles, a buddy from high school—and while Ryder slightly resented the interruption, he wasn’t sure where to go next with Elizabeth.
By the time he finished reminiscing with Styles and meeting his wife and daughter, Elizabeth and most of the Dorseys had exited. But Granny D. caught him in the parking lot.
“Come to lunch. I’ve a pot roast in the oven.”
“Are you sure?” Purely rhetorical. “No” was not an option with Granny D.
She made a face. “Of course I’m sure. Head on over, and no, you don’t have to bring anything.”
When the Dorsey crowd trailed off toward their cars, Ryder stood alone with Elizabeth. “Guess I’ll see you at lunch.”
“I guess you will.” Her smile captured him.
Not good, Donovan. First of all, she was leaving in a couple of months. Second, he’d made an art form out of guarding his heart. Relationships caused pain. He’d learned that from his parents.
But then there was Elizabeth Dorsey. Somehow, she changed the game for him, and he wasn’t sure he knew how to play.
Monday morning, Elizabeth woke early for an online Pilates class, trying to shake the sense of Ryder’s hand in hers. But it clung to her skin, sinking in, causing her to want things a girl destined for Wharton should not want.