“How are you feeling?” she asked with concern.
He grinned. “It’s just some bruises, no big deal. How are you?”
“Fine.” They reached the front door and she ushered him inside. Ian circled the living room while Lizzie poured two glasses of iced tea.
“What happened to your pictures?” He asked, taking the glass she offered. She told him about Jacob’s visit and the revelation that his mother had done the drawings.
“That was nice of you.” Ian took a seat on the couch, his tall frame folding like an accordion, and took a long gulp of tea. Lizzie wanted to say something, to let him know how much she appreciated him saving her, but she couldn’t find the words. The silence between them stretched on.
“Would you like to go out to dinner?” Ian blurted out.
She nearly dropped her glass as she reached to set it on the table. “Tonight?”
“Sure, if you’re free.”
He leaned forward his hands reaching across the coffee table. “I’m sorry I haven’t called or come by since the party. I should have. I just…” He stood and walked to the opposite end of the room and back, Lizzie’s gaze following him.
“I like you, quite a lot actually.” He came to a stop in front of her and dropped to his knees, grasping her hands. “I didn’t realize how much until I saw that man standing so close to you. I was jealous and sad, then I saw you were afraid and I was furious. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d hurt you.” Ian’s voice trailed off as his eyes met hers. Lizzie felt like she could look into those eyes forever. She squeezed his hands.
“But he didn’t hurt me, you saved me,” she whispered. She leaned forward her forehead touching his. A pair of dogs barked at a passing car, crickets chirped in the sultry afternoon, and they sat unmoving. Slowly Ian lifted his head until his lips met hers. His hands moved up her arms to her neck, which he cradled. She leaned into the kiss, twisting her fingers in his thick black hair. After a minute, he leaned back and smiled.
“Does this mean you’ll have dinner with me?”
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE
Ella Fitzgerald crooned on the stereo as Lizzie opened her closet door. She shuffled through the hangers searching for the perfect outfit. A flowing black skirt caught her eye and she pulled it out, laying it on the bed alongside a pair of black pants and a red dress. She reached for a deep blue tunic and a white button down with three-quarter length sleeves. She eyed each of the outfits critically, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, she chose the red dress, a sheath that hugged her curves, and silver sandals.
She touched up her make-up and shut-off the bathroom light ten minutes before Ian was scheduled to arrive. She wandered around the house, too excited and nervous to sit. Every five minutes she paused at a window, pulling the curtain back to check the driveway.
At precisely eight o’clock headlights panned the windows. She opened the door before he could knock. He came up the steps wearing a black suit coat and dress pants with, a cornflower blue shirt, and bold red tie. He stopped the moment he saw her. Lizzie recognized the appreciation in his eyes and the motion of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” Lizzie demurred, her gaze dropping to the ground, a light flush coloring her face. Ian offered her his arm and walked her to the car. She waited as he opened the door for her. When she was tucked inside, he shut the door and moved around to the driver’s side.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he backed into the street.
“It’s a surprise.” He grinned and refused to tell her anymore. She watched out the window, taking note when Ian got on I-4 westbound, her brain ticking through the possible restaurants in this direction, an endless list to be sure. When he exited on Sandlake Road her list narrowed, sifting through her memory of all the eateries in Dr. Phillips.
“Seasons 52?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Roy’s?”
Ian laughed. “We’ll be there in a minute.” He turned into Plaza Venezia and drove through the large parking lot, passing several restaurants, pretending to park then pulling through to the next aisle.
“Stop it,” Lizzie exclaimed, her laughter bringing tears to her eyes.
He maneuvered the car into a spot outside of the Samba Room and Lizzie squealed with delight.
“I’ve been dying to come here.” She bounced in the seat with excitement. Ian came around the car to open her door. They walked into the restaurant arm in arm and were seated within a matter of minutes. They talked about their childhoods, their dreams and passions, and the events of the past few months.
When they finished their meals and the dishes were cleared, Ian took her hand and pulled her up. “Now it’s time to see how you dance.”
“Oh I don’t know. I’m not very good.” She tried to resist but his smile melted her resolve. The salsa music was fast and infectious. The couple stepped on each other’s toes several times, breaking into new gales of laughter with each misstep, but before long they found a rhythm and spun around the dance floor like pros.
Two hours later, they tumbled out onto the sidewalk, the air cool on their flushed skin. Lizzie couldn’t remember feeling this happy before. She slipped her hand into Ian’s. He gave her a tender look and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her close. She breathed in his cologne, the scent of pine and spice filling her nostrils, and knew this aroma would always recall this night.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX
Jeffrey swirled mouthwash, gurgled, and spit. He looked in the mirror and fussed with his hair, pulling individual strands into place. He wore jeans, a black polo, and black loafers. A knock on the door alerted him to Wally’s arrival. He flicked off the bedroom light and grabbed his keys as he passed the coffee table.
Stepping outside, he greeted Wally. “We gotta hurry, the band starts at eight.”
“Why are we doing this again? No good bands start before ten,” Wally grumbled.
“Because Michelle isn’t returning my calls and I need to talk to her.” Jeffrey opened the passenger door of Wally’s truck and slid inside.
“You can get any chick you want, what’s the big deal with this girl?”
“I don’t know,” Jeffrey admitted. “But she’s cool, not like most other girls, and I think it’s time I change the kind of girl I’m interested in.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with the other women you’ve gone out with. They’ve all been pretty hot if you ask me.”
Jeffrey didn’t respond and they rode the rest of the way in silence. They found a parking spot several blocks from the club and joined the throng strolling along Orange Avenue, surprised by how many people were out this early. When they reached the Loaded Hog, a crowd spilled out onto the street, making it nearly impossible to get inside. The band was already playing and the crowd seemed to be there specifically to see them. They danced to the music and cheered. Jeffrey was surprised to see several spectators singing along.
He recognized the song from the last time he’d seen Michelle play and knew she must be thrilled with this crowd. It took him thirty minutes to reach the bar and he wondered what had happened to make the band so popular. When the set ended, the audience erupted in cheers. He caught glimpses of Michelle’s face through the bobbing heads and saw her smile, her eyes dancing with delight. The crush of people thinned some and Jeffrey moved toward the back door hoping to catch Michelle on the way to her car.
“Michelle,” he called as she lifted her guitar case. She glanced his way but didn’t acknowledge him. He called again. She said goodbye to her bandmates and headed toward the door.
“What do you want?” she snapped when she met him.
“I just want to talk,” he said.
“I don’t know what there is to say.” Michelle pushed the door open and walked past a garbage dumpster. Jeffrey grabbed for her arm but she shook him off.
“I’m sorry. I was a jerk, more than a jerk.” He stood by as she placed the gui
tar case in her trunk. “I like you and I was hoping you might give me another chance.”
“I’ve dated guys like you before. You think you own the girl you’re with.” She touched the scar on her eyebrow. “I’ve learned my lesson and I’m not going down that road again.” She slammed the trunk closed.
“No, that’s not me at all. Really. I don’t know why I acted the way I did. I’ve never done that before and I would never hurt a woman.” He felt desperate, needing her to understand him.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it.” She started back toward the club. Jeffrey stood rooted to the spot, watching her back disappear. He kicked a beer can across the dark lot, shoved his hands into his pockets, and went to find Wally.
“Come on, I need a drink,” he barked when he found his friend.
“Why can’t we have one here?” Wally asked. Jeffrey glared at him and made for the door. On the sidewalk, he moved fast and Wally struggled to keep up.
“What’s the hurry?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jeffrey crossed the street and ducked into Bar BQ Bar.
The men spent the next several hours bouncing from one bar to another, Jeffrey never satisfied with one location for more than thirty minutes. Each time Jeffrey said it was time to move on Wally grumbled but followed his friend. When they reached Casey’s, the bar was sparsely populated, a jukebox in the corner blared pulsing music, causing the patrons to shout at each other. They ordered drinks and turned to scope out the women. Jeffrey leaned on the bar, his shirtsleeve sticking to the surface.
Wally found a lady he liked and scurried across the room. Jeffrey watched Wally chatting up a woman in a pair of tight leather pants and tiny top that displayed her midriff. The smell of urine, beer, and stale cigarette smoke was overpowering. He twirled an empty glass in his hand, surprised at how sober he felt, and disgusted by the desperate charade surrounding him.
He felt disconnected from his body, as though he was watching the scene from above. His disembodied gaze traveled from face to face searching for answers. He saw himself facing a beautiful woman, her lithe frame leaning into him but he appeared oblivious to her attention. She ran her soft finger along his cheek and he flinched, brought back to himself. He took a step away from the woman and glanced toward Wally who was still engrossed with Miss Leather Pants. Jeffrey dropped his glass on the counter and made his way out of the bar.
Outside, he stood on the street corner drawing in deep breaths, trying to cleanse the putrid odor of the bar from his nostrils. Even out here, he could smell the stench of desperation, now mingled with fried foods, car exhaust, and pine. He looked up the street toward Orange Avenue catching a glimpse of white lights crisscrossing the courtyard between The Globe and the Wall Street Cantina. The lights blurred and he stumbled forward, the screech of tires stopping him in his tracks. A black Mustang thumping with loud bass music swerved to miss him; the driver laid on the horn and cursed out the window as he passed.
Before stepping off the curb again, Jeffrey checked in all directions and moved across the street, away from the crowds. He passed though the park at Lake Eola, hands shoved in his pockets, head down, careful not to make eye contact with the homeless seeking handouts. All the tables outside the restaurant, Hue, were filled with late diners, the laughter bellowing like church bells.
The sidewalk grew darker as he left the party behind, moving into the more residential area of downtown. Fifteen minutes later he stopped. The street was silent except for the occasional rustle of leaves. The windows were dark, curtains pulled tight, protecting the inhabitants from prying eyes. Jeffrey turned up a walkway lined with Gerbera daisies in shades of red, yellow, and orange, cheerful and inviting even in the darkness. At the front door, he hesitated before raising his fist and rapping. He waited then rapped again, this time with urgency.
The front porch light flicked on and he noticed a motion at the window before the door opened. Lizzie stood in the doorway wearing a thick robe cinched around her slim waist. She squinted at him and pulled the neck of the robe closed.
“Jeffrey?” She clung to the door as if to steady herself. “What time is it?”
“I’m sorry,” He stammered. He twisted his wrist to glance at his watch and found it was one fifteen in the morning. “I didn’t think about how late it is.” He took a step back turning to leave.
“I’m up now,” Lizzie replied. “Is something wrong?”
He dropped his head to his chest his gaze following the toe of his sneaker as it drew circles along the wooden planks of the porch. He could sense Lizzie watching him and growing impatient.
“I was out with Wally,” He started, then paused. “I’m not feeling like myself, do you mind if I sit down?”
She opened the door wider allowing him to step inside. He took a seat on the sofa sinking into the deep cushions. She curled up in a chair across from him and rested her cheek on her palm. Jeffrey looked at her and felt his disconnected spirit rejoin his body.
“Wally and I were out, hitting a few clubs. I went to see Michelle.” His thoughts jumped around, trying to find the right words. He paused and looked at his hands, gripped together in his lap. “I wanted to apologize to her, to tell her I was a jerk, but she didn’t even care. I think she was afraid of me. I’m not a bad person, I just…” He raised his clenched hands to his head.
“So how did you end up here?” Lizzie asked.
“I don’t know.” He looked up at her. “I left Wally and started walking, next thing I knew I was in your front yard.”
She leaned forward and placed her hands on his shoulders. “You aren’t a bad person. You’re kind and generous. I don’t know what happened between you and Michelle, but if she can’t see what a wonderful man you are then it’s her loss.”
Jeffrey’s skin tingled where her fingers brushed his neck. He looked into her eyes and saw the same tender expression Camylle had often given him. He swallowed and spoke, considering each word. “You remember when you told me I was still grieving for Camylle?” Lizzie nodded. “I think I might be ready to listen.”
She released his shoulders and stood up. Jeffrey watched her move into the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
Before he could answer, she had filled the pot with water and scooped grounds into the basket. As the coffee pot gurgled, she busied herself with pulling cups from the cupboard.
“That isn’t necessary,” he said, confused by her reaction. He’d expected her to jump at the chance to give him the God speech but she seemed flustered.
“It’s not a problem. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.” She turned and pulled milk from the refrigerator.
He looked around the room, wishing he hadn’t come. He wondered what Wally would do when he realized Jeffrey was gone. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and sent his friend a text message. When he looked up Lizzie was returning with a tray containing the coffee cups, a bowl of sugar, and a carton of milk.
“Thanks.” He took a cup and inhaled the earthy aroma.
She settled on the couch next to him, tucking her legs underneath her. “Where would you like me to start?”
Jeffrey, lifting the cup to his lips, stopped in mid-air, taken by surprised. “I, I don’t know,” he stammered. “Isn’t there some kind of formula speech you’re supposed to give me?”
Lizzie laughed. “I wish it were that easy.” She set her cup on the table. “Truth is, I’ve never walked anyone through this before. The church I went to before my parents died had a program called FAITH, an acronym. F is for forgiveness, everyone has sinned and needs God’s forgiveness.”
She reached for the Bible on the coffee table and opened it. He watched her expertly flip through the pages. “In Romans three verse twenty-three it says ‘for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.’ Does that make sense?”
He thought a moment and nodded. “I guess it’s comforting in a way, but if we all fall short then what hope is there?”
“The
hope comes through Jesus.” Lizzie flipped the pages again. “In Ephesians chapter one verse seven it says ‘In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace.’ This refers to the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.”
“So you really believe Jesus was the son of God?”
She looked at him earnestly. “I do, that is the basis of my faith.”
“So if he died for us then why isn’t everyone forgiven?”
She flipped back in the Bible. “That brings us to the A, available. Forgiveness is available to all. I’m sure you know John three, sixteen, it’s on signs at every sporting event. ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.’”
Jeffrey was amazed at her recitation.
Lizzie looked at the words before her, running her fingers along the line before looking back at him. “Here it is, Matthew chapter seven verse twenty-one, ‘Not everyone who says to me, Lord, Lord, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father in heaven.’ There are a lot of people who claim to believe in God, but they do not follow his will. They think if they simply live a good life they will get into heaven, but that isn’t the case.”
“But how do you know the will of God?” Jeffrey felt overwhelmed as if she were speaking to him a foreign language.
“Well, I’ll admit that’s something I have struggled with tremendously, but I have come to believe that if I study the Bible, the word of God given to guide us, then I will grow in knowledge and understanding. What I have come to understand is that part of God’s will for his children is to spread his word so others can come to know him.” She paused and met his eyes. “So people like you can find salvation.”
“I’m afraid to ask what the I stands for.” Jeffrey tried to laugh, but felt a weight on his chest.
“As I was saying, many believe if they live a good life that will get them into heaven.”Sh flipped back to a chapter she’d been holding with her thumb. “I stands for impossible, as in it’s impossible to earn your way into heaven. Here in Ephesians chapter two verses eight and nine it says, ‘For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God-not by works, so that no one can boast.’ That means no number of good deeds can buy your way into heaven, only faith in Jesus Christ can.”