Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
T he lake reflected the light from the moon. Lucas and Ava sat around the firepit; the canoe beached on the shore beside the deck. Ava had convinced Lucas to stay for dinner. They’d warmed up some of her mother’s chicken and dumpling casserole, poured some wine, and were eating by firelight.
“So, Dr. Phillips,” Ava said with a wrinkle of her nose, “it’s been over half my life since I’ve seen you. Fill me in. Apart from the traumatic events that you’re not planning to tell me, what did I miss?”
He pursed his lips.
“Tell me something I’d never believe.” She paused, stabbing a bite of casserole. “Like, you eventually tried brussels sprouts.”
Humor shone in his eyes.
Ava had attempted—and failed—to get Lucas to taste them growing up. He’d refused to, even though her mother fried them with butter and bacon, and they were out of this world. It had tortured her that he’d never trusted her enough to even try a bite .
“I’m telling you. They’re delicious. Dead serious.”
“I actually tried them in my late twenties.”
She gasped. “For at least eight years I attempted to get you to eat them. What force was stronger than your best friend vouching for them?”
“I thought of you when I ate them for the first time.”
Affection swam around in his eyes, and happiness tickled her chest.
“I was at a formal awards dinner—very stuffy, lots of doctors in training. They served them with filet mignon. I’d had just enough wine that the sight of them didn’t turn my stomach.”
“And? What did you think?”
“Chewy. But delicious.”
Ava held her glass of wine in the air. “I told you!”
He laughed, the sight so wonderful she wanted to lean into him and put her head on his shoulder. He looked fifteen again when he laughed.
“You trying brussels sprouts is a massive life event. What else have I missed?”
For the first time since she’d seen him again, there was life behind those emerald eyes.
“I do have something big … Hold onto your wine so you don’t drop it.”
Ava leaned forward and set her plate on the wide stone ledge of the firepit. “I’m dying to hear this.”
“When I was twenty-two, for three months, I fostered a kitten.”
Her mouth hung open, and she threw her head back and laughed. “Stop it.”
“I did.”
“You hated cats. Hated them. You said—and I quote—‘They always look at you like they know something awful about you,’ which is completely untrue. I have to hear this story.”
“The kitten found me, really. It was pouring rain one night, and I was on my way to my apartment after having drinks with a friend. I heard it crying. Having walked home in the rain, I was soaking wet anyway, so I stopped and listened for the direction of its cries. When I found the little gray thing, its foot was stuck in the city grate.”
Ava put her hand to her chest. “Aw.”
“At first, I was worried it was a feral cat and might bite me or something, but I couldn’t leave it there.
I carefully talked to it and told it I was there to help, and it let me work its little foot out.
It was tired and wet. Even given the ordeal, I expected it to dart away, but it climbed my coat like a tree trunk and settled against my chest, purring. ”
She laughed. “If only it had known your contempt for it.”
Lucas smiled. “I took it home in my coat, dried it off, and gave it some leftover tuna I had in the fridge. Then, I put on the fire, and the little thing slept in my lap all night on the sofa. The next day, I got a small litter box and some food, but I couldn’t keep it. My apartment didn’t allow animals.”
“What happened to it?”
“I hid it from my landlord for three months until I found it a home. A girl in one of my classes named Tiffany took it. I think she still has it. It’s old now, but well loved.”
Ava sank back in her chair. “That’s the best story ever.”
He grinned, the glass of wine making his cheeks pink. “I thought you’d like that one.” He stood with his empty plate and picked up hers. “Should we take these in?”
“Sure.”
She got out of her chair and opened the door for Lucas as he carried the plates into the kitchen.
“How was the casserole?” Martha called from the living-room sofa .
“Delicious,” Lucas said. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Any time.”
Lucas held up a finger and then went back out to the deck, returning with their wine glasses. He uncorked the bottle on the counter and topped them off.
“How are you feeling? Your ribs doing okay?” He handed Ava her full glass.
“I feel surprisingly great.”
“Are you up for a little exercise? What do you say we bring our wine with us and take a walk?” he asked.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
He leaned around the corner. “Mrs. Barnes? Would you like to go on a walk with us?”
“Oh, no, dear, but thank you,” she returned. “You two enjoy yourselves.”
Ava led them to the front door, and Lucas held it open for her. They stepped into the cool evening air and crunched over the leaves that had blanketed the steps and the front grounds of the cabin.
The road was quiet as always. They walked along the pavement toward the old church at the intersection and sipped their wine, not a car in sight.
Spells of chilly air floated in from the nearby trees as they strolled along.
This moment in the crisp woods, the roads peppered with acorns and brightly colored leaves, and Lucas walking beside her, was earth’s equivalent to heaven— paling in comparison, surely, but beautiful just the same.
“You’re a very different person from the boy who moved away all those years ago, but deep down, so much of you is the same,” Ava said.
Lucas blinked and shook his head. “I don’t feel like I have a shred of that boy left after my adult life got a hold of me. What do you see that’s the same? ”
She tapped her index finger. “One, you still love to farm.” She tapped her middle finger. “Two, you can still fish.”
“I didn’t catch anything,” he said with a chuckle.
“You know how, though. You’re a natural.”
“Fair enough.”
“And three, you still … look at me the same way.”
His smile slid away, and he sobered. “How do I look at you?” he asked, thoughts behind his eyes.
“Like we’ve known each other our whole lives and we haven’t been apart for even a minute.”
“I’m sorry I was a bear when I first saw you at Vanderbilt. I wasn’t myself.” He took a drink from his glass. “I’m still not.” He bent down, picked up an acorn, and tossed it into the woods.
“Well, I’m not either, if it makes you feel any better.”
They rounded the curve and then walked along the straightaway leading to the old white chapel.
Dusk had fallen upon them, the sky turning a mix of bright lavender and deep blue.
It had been a long time since Ava had gone to church, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she, like her mom, had lost faith in the merits of church after her father’s death.
But something about that particular chapel tugged at her.
Was it her subconscious begging for answers after her near-death experience? Would she find any solutions there?
When the church came into view, Ava pointed it out. “I saw that chapel when my mom first drove us to the lake.”
Lucas nodded.
Then, something came over her—it was both impulsive and purposeful at the same time. “I might go to the service tomorrow.” She looked up at him. “Wanna go with me?”
Consideration crossed his face.
“Say yes.”
He looked at her. “I suppose I could do with a little prayer and group contemplation. ”
She smiled.
They walked up to the structure. Ava climbed the steps and ran her fingers over the layers of thick paint covering the double doors.
It still had the old skeleton keyhole and ornate brass knob, discolored from the elements.
She tried to cup her hand and see through the stained-glass window, but the view was skewed by the wavy panes.
“I wonder who we’ll see tomorrow. Who goes to this church?” she asked, turning around and taking a seat on the steps.
“No idea. There isn’t a house in sight.” He sat down beside her. “Think we should be drinking wine on its steps?”
“Jesus drank wine,” she pointed out.
“True.” He tipped his glass to his lips and took a drink.
She nodded over to the sign. “Their services are at eight and ten tomorrow.”
“Should I pick you up at around nine forty-five then?”
“That sounds perfect.”