Love's Prayer (The First Street Church Romances Book 1) Read online

  Maybe if she spoke the words aloud as she read?

  “Always keep the cooler between thirty-four and thirty-six degrees. Otherwise the petals will brown. The controls are around the…” Summer trailed off when the tiny bell over the door jingled to announce a customer.

  A sporty woman not much older than Summer walked swiftly into the space and took a deep breath in. She let out a slow exhale, her lips puckered but also smiling. Fixing her eyes on Summer, she said, “Ahh, you must be this Sunny Summer I’ve heard so much about. Elise Nelson. How you doing?”

  “Yup, I’m Summer. Umm, just Summer, please. Nice to meet you.” Summer shot out from behind the cashier’s desk and offered her hand to the visitor. “My aunt must have told you all about me, huh?”

  Elise shook her head and laughed. “Me and everyone else in town. Don’t tell her I told you this, but Iris is kind of known as the town gossip. Hey, where’s Sunny Sunshine? Is he taking the day off?”

  “Oh, just for today so I can find my bearings before having to worry about yet another thing. To be honest, he kind of scares me.”

  “Oh, no. Sunny wouldn’t hurt a fly. You’ll see. Speaking of flying, I need to zoom out of here pretty quick. I just came to collect a bouquet for a sick friend of mine before visiting her in the hospital. I’m sorry I can’t talk more. If you’re half as wonderful as your aunt claims, then I just know you’ll feel right at home in no time.”

  Elise spoke quickly but enunciated her words well. Unfortunately, Summer wasn’t sure what she needed to do to fill the order.

  Seeing her struggle, Elise piped up. “I placed the order yesterday morning and Iris said she’d set it aside. It’s probably under my friend’s name. Kristina Rose?”

  “Thanks. Have I mentioned I’m totally out of my element here?” Summer jogged back to the cooler, and sure enough a cute and playful arrangement of daisies—or were they asters?—sat waiting for her. She scooped them up and placed them on the counter next to the cash register.

  A huge smile broke out on Elise’s pretty face. “Daisies. Kristina’s favorite. These will really brighten her day. The poor thing just found out… Hmm, I suppose I shouldn’t gossip. You’ll know everything about everyone in Sweet Grove soon enough.”

  “I have no idea what to charge you for these,” Summer admitted. “I haven’t gotten to that part of Aunt Iris’s magnum opus yet.” She held up the overstuffed binder and grimaced, pretending it was too heavy to lift.

  “That’s Iris for you all right. Look behind you.” She pointed just over Summer’s head. “I believe this is a medium wild flower bouquet, so it’s twelve ninety-five.”

  Summer did a face palm. Literally hit herself in the forehead to show her embarrassment. How obvious had that answer been?

  Elise chuckled and handed her a twenty, and thankfully Summer had no difficulties working the register. The many years of experience she’d garnered working at this or that fast food place while growing up proved useful.

  “Will I see you this weekend in church?” Elise asked, accepting her change. “You’re a little older than the others, but the youth group is having a special concert and I’d love to see you there and introduce you around. Oh, I’m the youth pastor, by the way. Did I mention that? Hey, if Kristina Rose is feeling better by then, you can meet her, too.”

  Summer hesitated. She’d been to church before, but had purposefully avoided it ever since moving out on her own. Life was hard enough without feeling judged at every turn, but at the same time, Elise Nelson was kind, friendly, funny, and just the type of woman Summer normally found herself making fast friends with.

  The youth pastor sensed her hesitation and waved her hand in front of her face as if batting at an invisible mosquito. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot there. Just know that you are always welcome. You’ll find that everyone in this town is real nice, and I’m sure they’ll each be stopping by soon enough to say their hellos. I’ll come back around later too, but—man—I’m getting late. Thank you, and bye!”

  Chapter 3

  Ben looked out his bedroom window at the decaying yellow grass that made up his front lawn—if it still even deserved to be called a lawn. The yard had once been his mother’s pride and joy. She’d planted all kinds of perennials along the brick house front and had gone out twice a day to water the grass. But the only plants that were thriving now were weeds that had long since choked out the far more beautiful blooms.

  Weeds.

  Ben’s life had also been choked out by weeds. His mother’s drinking was a weed. His brother’s death was a weed. And the weed with the longest, deepest roots was undoubtedly the dream he had once pictured for himself. No longer did it bring him joy. Now every time he thought of the life he had once envisioned, he felt a deep sense of emptiness.

  And without a life he wanted, what was the point of continuing to exist? Because that’s all he was doing anymore—not living, existing. He stayed for Maisie, who could easily replace him at the store if it came right down to it, and he stayed for his mother. But she wasn’t living either. If he were to leave, she’d either continue to drink herself into a daily oblivion or, finally, the grave. And frankly, neither option felt so much worse than the other.

  Leaving to go elsewhere would, of course, be impossible. There was no money, and he’d never be able to escape the guilt if he abandoned his mother to face her demons alone. The only way out would be by his own hand—an option that seemed increasingly plausible these days.

  Would dying hurt? And would hurting actually be such a bad thing? The days on which he felt sorrow, guilt, remorse, were a welcome change from the general numbness. But he wouldn’t shoot himself like Stephen had, and none of the buildings in town were tall enough to jump from. Otherwise that seemed like a good, swift way to go.

  He could tie himself to the train tracks that crisscrossed the town. It would have a certain poetry to it, given his love of history and his desire to shuttle himself from this world by any means necessary.

  But death by train would simply take too long. This wasn’t the big city with reliable schedules and a train every thirty minutes like clockwork. He’d need to wait, and waiting could make him lose his nerve. If he was going to do this thing, he needed to do it right. That way he could be proud of himself in his final moments. Achieve some small victory before he consigned himself to the history books.

  No one would tell great tales of Ben Davis, though.

  He’d get a single obituary cobbled together—by Maisie probably—and then the town would move on without him. It would be easy since he hadn’t been much more than a shadow for years—a wisp of what he could have been, hanging on to that last thread of hope that continued to fray until there was simply nothing left to hold onto.

  Hanging.

  Yes, that would do it. He could pick up a rope from the store’s tiny hardware section tomorrow. Come home, and…

  Would tomorrow be too soon? Didn’t he need a bit more time to plan?

  Stephen had meticulously planned his suicide down to the letter. Yes, he had planned to make a public spectacle of himself and a mockery of his family. That’s what he had wanted. Ben didn’t want that. If he could find a way to avoid having anyone discover his dead body, then he would. But all bodies turned up eventually, didn’t they? He couldn’t control whatever happened after, but he could control his own actions leading up to the moment.

  Today he would make his peace. Tomorrow he would put in an honest day’s work, continue to plan, figure out the best way to perfect his final living act. Maybe tomorrow would be the day, or maybe he would need more time. Funny how he needed more time to figure out how to effectively end time, or at least his time on Earth.

  Still… One way or another, he’d have his peace and he’d have it soon.

  Ben padded out into the living room where his mother lay sprawled across the sofa, watching the daytime news. He hated days like this, but Maisie insisted that he take at least one shift off per week to relax and
enjoy himself. What would she think when she found out that he’d spent his forced day off like this? He would never know, would he?

  “Mom,” he said, stepping in front of the TV. “Do you ever think about what happens to us when we die?”

  She sat up a little straighter, took a swig of whisky and swallowed it down. “I don’t need to think. I know. Your brother is in Heaven watching over us.”

  Ben bit back a laugh. If there was a Heaven, his brother surely wasn’t in it. And if he were some kind of guardian angel for their family, he’d have long since been fired for poor job performance. “Does that make you feel better? Thinking about Stephen in Heaven?”

  “He’s an angel now, and angels don’t feel sad,” she said without moving her gaze from the television.

  Ben watched her as she became reabsorbed in the news. He suspected she might have a crush on the male anchor for how much she fixated whenever he appeared on screen.

  Her mouth hung open, slightly ajar, and she snorted when they switched to a sports story. “You’re still here?” she asked, turning to discover that Ben had in fact stayed close by.

  Will these be our final moments together? Our final words?

  Just in case, he said, “I love you, Mom.”

  “You, too.” The short sports report ended, and the screen was once again filled with the smile of Susan’s favorite anchor. She smiled back at him, and for a moment she seemed genuinely happy.

  Well, what had he expected from her? She’d formed coherent sentences and returned his declaration of love. That was a lot better than this could have gone.

  Still, he felt unsatisfied as he returned to the solitude of his dingy childhood bedroom.

  He needed to talk to someone in the wake of this enormous decision, and since his mother was otherwise engaged, that left someone Ben hadn’t spoken with—or even believed in—in a very long time.

  God.

  And so Ben dropped to his knees and prayed.

  “God, Jesus, whoever you are. If what they say about you is true, then you’ve been where I am. You stared death down and didn’t back away. And they praise you for it. But the difference, I think, is you didn’t want to die. I do. I want to die so bad, it actually gives me a purpose in life.” He laughed bitterly and choked back a sob.

  “I don’t know whether it’s better that you don’t exist or that you do exist but chose to give me this terrible life. I didn’t deserve this, you know. Then again, maybe you made a mistake and I was supposed to have another life, a better one. But if you can make such a giant mistake, then who are you even, and why do people worship you? No, if you’re real then you’re oblivious, evil or just a jerk. Not somebody I’d want to know.

  “But I’m desperate here, and that’s why I’m calling on you. I…” A sob filled his chest, but he forced it back. “I need help. Please? If there’s a way to repair my life, please do it soon. If not, I’ll see you on the other side, provided you’re real and there even is another side. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I just want—”

  The doorbell gonged, breaking him away from his prayer.

  “Ben!” his mother called from the couch. “Door!”

  “I’m coming,” he called, stumbling to his feet and wiping away the tears that had begun to spill across his cheeks.

  On the other side of the door, a large arrangement of flowers sat waiting on the stoop. Puzzled, Ben reached for the card.

  It read: With all my love, your secret admirer.

  No, these definitely weren’t for him or for his mother. There had been some kind of mistake. What timing!

  He looked around for the delivery person, only to see a small blue sedan turning off his street and back into the traffic of the larger road.

  Well, shoot.

  At least returning the flowers would give him a reason to leave the house. It’s not as if he had anything more to say or do today. No, all that would come later.

  Summer raced from one floral arrangement to the next. Suddenly, Morning Glory’s was flooded with rush orders and she was having a hard time keeping up. Her aunt hadn’t told her what to do if she ran out of stock before the following week’s delivery, and now she wondered if it would really be so wrong to prepare red roses or yellow daffodils for the out-of-town funeral so many residents were flocking to.

  She frantically flipped through the giant binder to find the name and number for the supplier. Maybe they could rush out some lilies to help meet demand. Seriously, who knew the flower business was so tough!

  The bell over the door jingled, and Summer tried not to frown as she looked up to see which customer she’d be disappointing this time. A giant bouquet of roses floated into the shop. Behind them, a good-looking but obviously upset young man about her age. His hair was blondish, his skin tanned, and his green eyes would have been irresistibly gorgeous had there been any light in them.

  Oh, no. What have I messed up now?

  Summer smiled at her customer, but he did not return the gesture.

  “I think I got these by mistake, so I’m just bringing them back.” His low baritone lacked affectation, despite the adorable Texas drawl.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s fine. I wasn’t doing anything important anyway. Have a good day.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to leave, but Summer shot out from behind the counter and blocked his path.

  “Wait, don’t go!”

  “I’m sorry, but I have something I need to do…” It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he just stood there staring at her. His face twisted in a scowl.

  “Look, I know I don’t know you and you don’t know me, and I totally believe that I made a mistake and that those flowers were meant for someone else. Honestly, I’m so sure of it, I don’t even need to check. But I’m kind of dying here trying to keep up with all these orders, and—oh!—I really shouldn’t say it like that. Not when someone actually died. Did you know Rebecca James? Everyone is putting in orders for her funeral even though it’s out of town, and I don’t have enough flowers, and I can’t even properly deliver the ones I do have, and I’m just so overwhelmed, and—and—and…”

  Oh, please don’t cry! Please don’t cry! Summer fanned herself in a desperate attempt to regain her cool.

  “Ben.”

  “What?” she croaked, just on the edge of a full-out bawl.

  “I’m Ben. How can I help?”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You know that song by Sheryl Crow? You’re my favorite mistake? I’m sorry I sent you that order by mistake, but—boy—am I glad I did! It’s like fate brought you here to help me out. Because I swear, I’m about to lose it, and, and…” The tears threatened again and Ben reluctantly patted her on the shoulder.

  “No problem. I’ll stay for a little bit and pitch in. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she sniffed. “By the way, I’m Summer. And you, Ben, are my new best friend.” She reached her arms around him and gave him a tight, enthusiastic hug.

  He stiffened in her arms, but she didn’t care. Having another real live person here to help out made all the difference in the world right then.

  “What can I do to help?” he asked, pulling away and pacing toward the cooler. It already looked like he knew what he was doing more than she did.

  Summer chewed her lower lip as she thought, then said, “Let’s figure out where those roses you brought in were supposed to go, and then I need to figure out how to get more lilies in here so I can start filling some of these orders.”

  She shuffled through the huge stack of note paper at the cashier’s desk, searching for the details on the arrangement Ben had just returned. “Huh, that’s weird.”

  “What?” He came around the counter to look over her shoulder.

  “Seventeen-oh-one May Lane,” she said, pointing to the place on the page where she had scribbled the order details. “I could have sworn that’s where I dropped them off. Is that your neighbor or something?”

  “No, that is my addr
ess.”

  “Oh, shoot. Then I must have taken the order down wrong. With all my love, your secret admirer,” she read aloud, then gave Ben a knowing smile. “Are you sure you don’t have a secret admirer?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of something in my entire life,” he quipped and finally—finally!—graced Summer with a smile of his own. It helped, but not enough to make her feel better about making such an awful mistake.

  “I’m really not cut out for this,” she said with a sigh. “Luckily, it’s only for a couple months while my Aunt Iris is away on her cruise.”

  “Well, let’s make the most of the time we have. That’s all any of us can do, right?”

  She looked up at him and his eyes locked on hers as if he were searching for some kind of answer—but not one she had.

  “Sure, I guess. Okay, let’s do this.” She tossed the order slips back into the drawer and then picked up the binder. “Are you sure you don’t mind staying to help for a while? I thought you said you had something important to do?”

  “It can wait,” he said, fingering the petals on one of the roses in the arrangement that still sat nearby. “It can wait.”

  Chapter 4

  Something had begun to crack light into Ben’s dark heart, and her name was Summer Smith. He’d stayed on for about an hour to help her sort out orders, and then had borrowed her car to go pick up some new arrangements on rush order. There had been no shortage of hugs and thank yous and truly genuine smiles that afternoon, either.

  By the time Ben returned home for the day, he found that even he wore a smile on his normally placid face. Was he really so simple? Was this all it took to give his life meaning again—a pretty girl and a few kind words?

  It seemed ridiculous that all his problems could be solved so easily, and yet…

  He didn’t know why he had stayed to help in the first place. Or, for that matter, why he’d even ventured to return the wrongly delivered flowers. Perhaps it all came down to the fact that Ben had always put others before himself. Normally that meant simply doing a good job at any tasks assigned to him, being pleasant more or less, and staying out of people’s way. But Summer was different. She actually needed him—and that felt great.