Every Kind of Heaven (14 page)

“Yes, it's chocolate.” Ava bounced up from her chair. “But this is a different recipe than I used with Chloe's cake. This is more like fudge. I call it my triple chocolate dream cake.”

Granddad grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

“He has a terrible sweet tooth.” Gram shook her head, as if in great disapproval, but there was no mistaking the depth of love alight in her eyes. “What am I going to do with you, Silas?”

“Just love me for who I am, I guess,” Granddad grinned at her.

Across the table, Brice recognized that loving glance his grandfather gave his grandmother and understood it for what it was truly, for the first time. Not merely love, but a breadth of love that happened to a man, if he was blessed, once in a lifetime. And he had to be brave enough to grab hold of that rare blessing and not let go, no matter how scary it was.

Opening himself up to love and hurt and rejection again was tough. But truly, Brice realized as Ava pushed in her chair, her purple skirt swirling, his heart had already made the choice.

Ava was his everything. He knew it, soul deep. He wanted to spend the rest of his life loving her, protecting her, cherishing her.

She took two steps and then turned to give him a death-ray glare. “From your chair, I think you can
see part of the kitchen, and you are not supposed to see the cake until it's ready. No peeking. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I see that twinkle in your eye. You're thinking about peeking.”

“If I was, you've made me change my mind.”

“Oh,
sure
I did.” Was it so wrong that she wanted this to be a surprise? She'd worked really hard on his cake, just for him. She'd wanted him to be happy with it. As she headed to the kitchen, it occurred to her that making him happy was taking top priority on her list of the most important things in life, and how scary was that?

With every step she took through the magnificent house, she felt more and more out of place. Sure, his family had gone out of their way to extend their warmth to her, and she was grateful for that, but did that help all the bad feelings that kept wanting to bubble up like lava into a volcano's dome?

No. Not a bit. The pressure was building, and there was nothing she could do about it. She smiled at Wilma, who was busy setting down the cake plates in a totally fancy china pattern, and fetched the bakery box from its spot on the counter.

“Let me set out the cake,” the maid lady said, as if possessive of her job.

“Oh, I want to make sure it's perfect. I'll just unbox it, then.”

“Very well.”

As Ava carefully picked up the box and moved
it out of Brice's sight, she felt the tangible stroke of his gaze like a tender caress to her cheek. Pure sweetness filled her heart, and she did her best to hold back every feeling. Every caring emotion. Every piece of growing affection she had for this man.

She stood frozen, his loving glance holding her in place like a tractor beam.

Don't let yourself fall any more in love with him, Ava. She gulped hard and forced her foot forward. It took a few more steps and then she was safely out of his sight. But out of the tractor-pull of his feelings?

Of course not. She felt the pressure building in the center of her chest, like the rising dome of that volcano about to blow. She felt little and plain and very purple in her dress, in this enormous kitchen that was roughly the size of her apartment. She could see into the next room—some kind of solarium thingy, with rich-looking imported carpets and antiques and more paintings on the walls—probably from some master she knew nothing about.

This was Brice's life, she realized. This was where he grew up, this was his childhood home, he'd had maids and probably nannies and, as she heard the conversation drift in from the dining room, he was intelligently discussing the summer symphony series.

She felt the first crack in her heart as she lifted
the lid of the box. Even so, there was no way to stop her love for him as it brightened in intensity. No way to hold it back. She didn't even know she could hold so much love inside her, but there it was, an infinite amount, welling up right along with the building pressure of the truth. The truth she could no longer deny.

Brice
was
Mr. Perfect. But not
her
Mr. Perfect.

The first stroke of agony burned like fiery lava licking at the edge of her heart. Who knew doom would fall so quietly? The only sounds were the muted clink of Wilma counting out the silver and gold-plated dessert forks and the pleasant murmur of voices discussing Beethoven from the next room.

All she had to do was to lean a little to the right, and she had a clear view of him. Of Brice, looking like a magazine cover model in his designer suit, the ivy league educated, successful son of one of the oldest and richest families in Montana. Mr. Eligible Bachelor, who looked comfortable in this museum of a house. This wasn't the Brice she'd come to know and, sadly, to love.

Ava felt another crack slice through her heart. She lifted the cake carefully onto the counter. She looked at it now through different eyes. She'd put her heart into doing her best job for Brice.

The big blue and red dump truck was parked in the middle of the cake board she'd decorated to look like a dirt and gravel road, made of sugar paste and crumbled chocolate cookies, tacked with sugar
glue and sprinkled with edible gold sparkles, to jazz it up. A construction driver was tucked behind a steering wheel. D & M Construction was spelled out in silver script on the door. The bed of the truck was mounded high with gray boulders, which were individuals bites of iced cake.

Her best dump truck cake ever, and it didn't seem that way now. It wasn't right.

She wasn't right.

Brice's mother tapped into the kitchen and blinked, as if she were totally confused. “That's a cake?”

Yeah, just as she'd thought. Ava took a steadying breath and wished she was centered enough for a quick prayer, too, but she wasn't. “It's what Brice wanted.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“I know, it looks really close to the real toy, doesn't it? But trust me, everything is edible.”

“It's certainly…interesting.” Lynn was apparently struggling for something complimentary to say.

But there was no denying the truth, not anymore. She lovingly slid the elegant white candle that had been laid out by Wilma into the center of the cab's roof. Just one candle, that was all, and it looked out of place on the cake.

She thought of the bright yellow number three and one candles she'd brought for the cake, and decided to leave them where they were—in the back of the bakery box. Lynn Donovan didn't look as if
she'd ever used novelty candles. Only classy all the way.

Which was probably why the woman had such a pained look on her face. “Brice will be pleased with this, I'm sure,” she said stiffly.

Ava caught sight of Brice through the archway, leaning to speak with his grandfather. Her heart cracked a third and final time. She'd been right all along. There was no way this could work.

“You see it too, don't you?” Lynn said quietly. “He's really a good man. He deserves the very best of everything, don't you agree?”

Yes.
Her entire soul moved with that word. She wanted the best of everything for Brice, too. But the man she watched could have been a stranger. Sure, he looked like the Brice she'd fallen for, but the man she knew was a craftsman. He made beauty with wood with skill, discipline and heart. He loved fast-food nachos and drank strawberry milk. He had a sometimes well-behaved dog, an easygoing manner that made her feel comfortable with him, and a sense of humor that made her feel lighter than air.

But
this
Brice, he was the real thing, honest hard-working guy and the most eligible bachelor all wrapped up into one. He was so perfect, that was his flaw. She'd finally found it. She'd known all along this relationship couldn't work, didn't she? But did she listen to her experience, to that little voice inside her head, to the iron-clad no-man, no-date policy that was supposed to keep her from being hurt like this again?

No. She was foolish to think that there could be a Mr. Perfect for her. She always fell in love with the wrong men, and there was no man more wrong for her than Brice Donovan.

She was vaguely aware of Lynn ordering Wilma around, of being herded back to the table, of seeing the anticipation on Brice's handsome face as she slipped into her chair. But her mind was in a fog. Her heart was a total mess. Somehow she had to hold it together.

Ann gasped when Wilma entered, carrying the cake. “Oh, that's delightful. Simply
adorable.
”

Her praise felt like a blow from a boxer's glove, as kind as those words were. Ava swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat. She had to hold down her negative thoughts and keep them from blowing over.

“That looks like the real toy,” Silas said in wonder. “I can't believe that's a cake. Is it really a cake?”

“It's a real cake, Granddad,” Brice spoke up. “And I bet everything on it is delicious.”

“That's not real dirt, is it?” Lynn asked in distress.

“It's crumbled chocolate cookies,” Ava explained gently.

His beautiful, precious Ava. He saw all the love she'd put into his birthday cake. The D&M Construction logo on the door. The dog seated beside the driver inside the little cab. The detailing that had to have taken hours. She'd done this for him.

One look at her and he was hooked like a fish on
a line. He loved her without condition, without end. She sat across from him, and the expanse of the table might separate them, but he could feel the connection of love strengthening between them.

“I've never seen anything like this,” his dad said from the head of the table. “You have a talent, Ava.”

“It's not hard at all. You'd be surprised how easy it can be. And fun, too.”

“Can you make other things, besides trucks?” Granddad asked.

Ava bit her lip, looking as sweet as sugar icing. “Well, I just did a ballet shoe the other day. That was a first for me, but I've done all sorts of things. Everything from football cakes to a medieval castle.”

“I'll ask for the medieval castle for my next birthday,” Brice told her.

She beamed her beautiful smile at him, the one that gleamed like a little dream.

I'm in big trouble, he thought. Just when he'd thought he was so in love with her, he'd fallen as far as he could go, he fell a little more in love with her. As his dad started the first notes of “Happy Birthday” and everyone joined in, he didn't have to wonder what he would wish for: Ava.

She was his dream come true.

B
rice pulled the car to a stop in a spot marked for visitors, in the shade of tall poplars that lined the grassy lawn of her apartment complex. Ava knew he was going to ask her what was wrong, and what was she going to say? That she'd done it again. It was all her fault. She'd brought this misery down on herself.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “I hope my mom wasn't too much. She comes across a little sharp, but she's a softy down deep. My grandparents love you. I think you've got lifelong customers. Granddad wants to order a cake for his birthday next month. You might want to start thinking up something with a golf theme.”

“I'll get right on it.” Her voice sounded strained, but it was harder than she thought to hold back so much pain. The thing was, when you'd been struck
by misfortune as much as she'd been, you learned to cope. There was that first initial hit that hurt deep, but then shock set in and it didn't hurt so much. You could figure out how to cope until the shock wore off. And she was just about there. She could feel the press of hot, sharp emotions slicing through the defensive layers of her heart. The burn of tears gathered in her throat, rising up, too.

“Why do you look so unhappy?” He studied her, leaning closer, his gaze tender with concern.

“I'm not unhappy.” That was the truth, she told herself stubbornly. She wasn't unhappy; it was much, much worse. She'd known better, but here she was with the wrong man. And here she was, exactly where she tried to avoid being, clutching every shard of her broken wishes. Why had she done this to herself? She'd known from the start this would happen. She should have listened to the fears inside her heart and resisted his kindness and his charm and his affection.

Then again, how would she have resisted caring for Brice? He was perfect. A thousand on a scale of ten.

“Did something happen I don't know about? My mother was unkind to you.” He said it as if he'd expected her to be.

“No, she was fine. The problem is all me. It's me. Just like it always is.”

“How could that be possible? You're perfect to me.”

His words were the final blow, echoing around
the damaged chambers of her heart. Agony clawed through her, so sharp and deep she squeezed her eyes shut against the physical tangible pain. How could a feeling hurt so much?

“Perfect?
That's
the problem. You just can't see it yet. You can't see me yet. And if tonight didn't do it, then I don't know what will.”

“What are you talking about? Whatever it is, I can fix it. Just tell me.”

Wouldn't you know it? She'd finally found a good man, a more-than-stellar man, and he was still the wrong man for her. How was he going to fix that? He couldn't see, yet, that this wouldn't work out. It couldn't. There was absolutely no way.

She was never going to be anyone other than someone who lost her keys, who liked the color purple, who liked cross-stitch on the wall instead of fine art. She didn't belong in his world.

She was doing them both a favor, cutting their losses now. Before they fell even more in love. Think how devastating that would be, right? Because every day she spent with him, she loved him more. So think what he would come to mean to her in a year. In two. How much more would it hurt her heart then, when it finally hit him that she wasn't the woman he'd made her out to be?

He deserved the right woman. The woman he thought she was. The woman he expected her to be. Since her vision was blurring, she released the seat belt while she could still see. The thunk of it sliding
into place behind the seat hid the sob that caught in her throat.

“Are you crying?” Brice sounded distressed.

“Nope.” If she could blink the tears away, then she
couldn't
be crying. Really. Even if the burning behind her eyes was getting worse.

“You look like you're crying.”

“L-looks can be d-deceiving.” She groped to find the door handle.

His hand caught her wrist, holding her in place. Why did the affection she felt in his touch feel like the final straw? The tears she'd held back so carefully leaked one by one down her face.

“Okay, I might not know what's going on,” he said, “but this isn't right. Did I do something?”

She shook her head, more tears rolling down her face.

“Did I say something?” She shook her head again, leaving him at a total loss. He felt his chest crack with pain for her. “Ava, please tell me what's wrong. I can't fix it if I don't know what is broken.”

“Oh, see how awesome you are?” She choked on a sob. “You just don't see it, do you? This just can't work. I mean, hello? I told you from the start. I'm a romantic disaster. I always pick the wrong man, and now there's you. What am I going to do about you?”

His thoughts were going in different directions, and his guts were telling him she was about to break up with him. It was his experience that women who were happy with you generally didn't sob like that.
He could feel her emotionally pushing him away, although she hadn't moved a muscle. “Wait a minute. I'm not the wrong man. Why are you saying that?”

“B-because it's the truth.”

“It can't be the truth.” Tenderness filled him, and a love so deep that it couldn't be measured. “Because I
know
this is right.”

Did she have any idea all the vulnerability he saw in her big violet-blue eyes? That he could feel the worry and fears in her heart? That he could hear the unspoken agony she hadn't spoken aloud? He thought not, so he said it for her: “I love you. Just the way you are. I love that you forget your keys and know how to make a dump truck cake and that you always make the sunshine seem brighter, the world better,
my
world better.”

She didn't answer. It didn't look as if she could, her hand at her throat, her eyes bright with emotion. He knew what she needed to hear. He knew he'd been holding back the truth in his heart, and now was the time to lay it on the line. He knew how much his reassurance meant to her. They were linked emotionally, spiritually; he'd known she was special to him from the beginning. She was heaven sent.

It was hard to find just the right words, so he went with what was in his heart. “I love you, Ava. This is the real thing. I'm very serious about you. You have to know that I'm in this forever. That one
day, I'm going to get down on one knee and ask you to be my wife.”

Her eyes widened in unmistakable fear. Fear. He hurt for her. Yeah, he understood exactly how that felt to be so terrified, but he was taking the risk. “This is the only way to get past the panic. You have to take that leap, Ava. You have to look at the man I am, and the promises I've made and have already kept and believe that I will be that man for you. Forever.”

Her lower lip trembled. “See, that's what scared me. And if I'm this scared, it has to be a sign, right? That this is never going to work. Love ends, and I have to be smart about this.”

“No, you're being scared. I can feel it, Ava. I can feel your heart, and right now, I'm sure in a way I've never been. Because I can feel how much you love me and how terrified you are.”

“Yeah. I'm afraid for a reason. This is all wrong, and my heart is going to be totally devastated when you figure out that I'm just me. Just Ava.”

“Just Ava? See, that's where you're wrong. You are my everything. My dream come true.”

“
That
is why it can't work.” She pulled away from him, when everything within him longed to draw her closer. Misery marked her face and shadowed her eyes. Sobs tore apart her words. “But this is better than you deciding down the road that I'm not what you want. That's what happened to my parents, you know. I watched it happen. I m-made it happen. Love isn't always enough.”

“But—”

“No, don't say it.” She stumbled out of the seat to get away from him, but he was saying it anyway.

“I want
you
, Ava.”

She truly believed that he loved her. She only had to look at him to know that his love for her was deep. She felt so close to him she could sense his soul as if it were her own, and she could feel his love for her there, a love without measure.

But without end? That was the question. And she feared it had a different answer. If only she could peek into the future and know for sure, then she could find a way to think clearly past the fear overtaking her.

Love wasn't always enough.

That's why she did what she had to do. To be smart about this. To be logical. To hold it together. She could keep calm, hold her heart still, and keep her emotions frozen. She
would.
Really. She just had to make it as far as her apartment—she was almost there—and
then
she could fall apart. Into a hundred thousand tiny pieces, but not here. Not now. Not in front of Brice.

How did she put all that he meant to her in a few parting words? She was clueless. Panic blinded her. Fear gathered like a hurricane in her stomach. It felt like disaster striking one more time as she took a step away from the car. How could the action meant to save her from pain—to save them both from terrible pain—feel like the worst mistake ever?

Because you're afraid, Ava. She took another step back, not at all sure if she could keep going. What she knew for sure was that she could not reach out to him. The hurricane of fear in her stomach began to gust, like the edge of the storm hitting shore.

The plea in Brice's dark eyes, the sadness settling into his handsome face, the sincerity of his good soul, felt like the summer heat on her skin. It just went to show the power of this bond—at least on her side—and how much she stood to lose, to be hurt.

Walking away was the best choice. There would be no happily-ever-after ending for her. True love didn't exist for a girl like her. And if it did, would she take the chance to find out?

That made her step falter. There was Brice, climbing out of his car, coming for her. And she could feel his love for her—he was sincere. He did love her. But how did she tell him she was afraid it wasn't enough? That one day he would look at her and see a disappointment.

Lord, please help me, here. Show me that I'm doing the right thing. Please, I'm begging You.
She took another step back, she'd chosen a direction and she had to stay on it. She needed the strong safety net of her faith, of her stable life, of the path she'd stepped off of when Brice had walked into her life.

Her cell chirped and vibrated in her little pocketbook. Saved by her family. The Lord worked in
mysterious ways. She dug the phone out and flipped it open without even looking at the screen. She could feel that it was one of her sisters. Hopefully not calling to ask how the dinner with Brice's parents went.

“Ava?”

She didn't recognize the woman's thin and strained voice. She glanced at the caller screen. It was her stepsister's cell number. That couldn't be right, could it? The woman did not sound like Danielle.

“I—I'm so glad I caught you.” Danielle choked out a sob. “Katherine's up hiking in the mountains with Jack, and she's out of range. Aubrey isn't picking up. I know you're probably in the middle of dessert or something, but c-can you come?”

“Absolutely.” Ava felt her strength kick in. Now she knew why she'd felt as if doom was about to strike. “Come where? What's wrong?”

“It's
J-Jonas.
He's been sh-shot.”

“Shot?” Shock washed through her. Jonas was shot? That didn't seem possible. She thought of her tall, kindly brother-in-law who always seemed so invincible. “You mean he was working tonight?”

“Y-yes. He's c-covering for someone on vacation, and—” Another sob broke her voice. “I'm at the hospital and there's no one to t-take the k-kids.”

“I'll do it. Is Jonas going to be okay?”

“They d-don't kn-ow. Please c-come.”

“I'm on my way.” She snapped shut the phone. Okay, talk about a sign. There was Brice, watching
her with concern in his eyes. So big and strong, everything within her ached for his strong arms around her. She longed for the safe harbor of his love.

How did she know that his promises were real? That she wasn't letting her fears rule her life? How did you know if a love would last? Well, she'd asked for the Lord to show her the way, and this was it. Her family was what mattered, the people she'd been able to love and trust all of her life. Not some romantic dream.

For a breathless moment their gazes met and she felt his empathy, his concern for her never wavering, steadily pulling her closer like a tractor beam.

How did she give in? How did she walk away? Panic crashed like a storm, stealing her breath, leaving her ice cold in the brazen heat. As afraid as she was to walk away and lose him forever, she was more terrified of really leaning on him. Of really trusting him.

“This is for the best,” she said. “Family is everything. I think that when you love someone, you truly love them. That it's like the Bible says:
‘Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.'
That's not what I think we have.”

She watched the pain fill his eyes, and she hated that she was hurting him. But it was for the best. It was the right thing to do. You couldn't go into a serious relationship already knowing it couldn't work.

And if that was her fear talking, then maybe that was for the best, too. Because how could a man as truly wonderful as Brice love her that way?

“Did you say that Jonas was shot?”

Somewhere in the dim recesses of her brain she remembered Danielle saying Jonas and Brice had volunteered together once. So it was only normal human concern behind his question. Somehow, she made her voice answer. “Yes. He was covering someone's shift tonight, I guess, and that's all I know. I promised my sister. I have to go.”