Page 21 of A Field of Beauty

She expected to see shame in his eyes, disgust. She didn’t expect kindness. Overwhelmed, she had to look away. She started headingdown the field again, though she really wasn’t going anywhere in particular. She just had to keep moving.

“Hey!” He hurried to catch up with her. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. I am going nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.” She slipped through a row of dahlias and started striding down the other side.

“Hey, stop. Tessa, stop!”

She turned to see him take a large step through the dahlias to reach her. He took a step closer, then another, and then another.

He came close, so close she could smell his soap, and he put his hands on her shoulders to make her look at him. “You know what I love most about...” Their eyes met as he paused.

For a long moment, it seemed as if everything went quiet. Even the birds stopped singing. His hesitation didn’t last long, but there was enough time for Tessa to realize that her confession had done the opposite of what she’d expected. Instead of pushing them apart, they were closer. She held her breath. What was he reluctant to say?

“—composting?”

Composting.She squinted. “What are you talking about?”

“A compost heap is full of mistakes. Full of leftovers and discards. And look what it ends up turning into. Something good. Something nourishing for the earth. Something useful. Maybe even something beautiful. Remember that narcissus bloom you found?” He swept his hands out in an arc, leaving them palms up to indicate the fields around them. “That’s what God can do with our mess. But you can’t fix what you don’t face.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Give that a little thought.” And he left her in the field, puzzling over that bit of wisdom. About halfway down the row he turned and walked backward. “And Ididtell you I went to church. You just weren’t paying attention.” He lifted a finger in the air. “Might be a good time to have a long talk with the Almighty.”

Yeah?she thought.What about purple-hairedLovey? I would have paid attention tothat.

eleven

Flowers grow back, even after they are stepped on. So will I.

—Unknown

The next day’s mail brought an offer for Mountain Blooms Farm from the developer. A fair market value offer, Tessa had to admit. But she just couldn’t sign the papers. Couldn’t even look at them.

Instead, she hopped on her Vespa and drove in circles around Asheville, wandering aimlessly, just like her life felt. How had something like this happened to her? She loved Mountain Blooms Farm so much. She’d poured a year of hard work into it, relishing every minute. She’d even grown fond of worms. And it was all about to disappear.

She felt a text come in on her phone and wondered if Dawson was texting her about something. He should be out job hunting, but instead he was in the field, starting the long process of digging up dahlia tubers. This morning, he told her that until she signed the papers, the farm was still in operation. She should go home and help him. She pulled into a parking lot to turn around andstopped to check her cell phone. It was from Tyler, pleading with her to please forgive him. Eight texts in three days. Six phone calls.

She blocked his number.

Why had she blindly trusted Tyler? She seemed to have terrible judgment about men. Terrible. Was she just a bad picker? Stupidly naive? Doomed to be taken advantage of?

She looked up to see the Cathedral of All Souls right in front of her. She’d driven past it but had never been inside. She got off her Vespa and walked over to read a small plaque. Built in 1896 by George Vanderbilt, it was a parish church for the Biltmore Village. Meant for everyone, it said. All souls.

Even battered and bruised souls?

Maybe Dawson was right. Maybe it was time she had a word or two with the Almighty.

She went inside and slid into a pew toward the middle of the church. She sat down on a needlepoint cushion that she suspected had been made by local parishioners and tucked her chin reverently. She tried to quiet her mind, but it was full of wishes—a wish that this mess would go away, a wish that she could break this terrible pattern of trusting the wrong men, a wish that Mountain Blooms Farm could be protected, a wish that Dawson wouldn’t leave to find a “real” job now, though she knew he probably would and should. On and on her wishes went, one after the other.

She had always leaned on someone to rescue her in a time of need. This time, the cavalry wasn’t coming.

Compost.Dawson’s remark swirled around her head like a butterfly. Could something good actually come out of the terrible mistakes she’d made in high school? Of all the damage she had caused others? She’d never forget that look on Claire’s face when she found Tessa crying in Chris’s arms. Claire was always quick to jump to conclusions. Too quick. She’d shouted that she would never forgive them, not Chris, not Tessa. From the workshop, Jaime overheard and burst into the room to see what was going on. Everything went south from there. In a brief span of ten tofifteen minutes, life changed completely. Tessa, Jaime, and Claire fled from Sunrise, and Chris, poor Chris, went to jail.

In Rose’s letter, she wrote that all was forgiven. But how could that be? Rose didn’t know the whole story. The very thought of facing Rose made Tessa shudder. Of all people, she had disappointed Rose the most.

The sun broke through the clouds, sending rays of color down on Tessa. She lifted her head to see the apse, to the stained-glass window behind the altar. And then she noticed a small glass vase of flowers on the altar, like an offering—a cluster of narcissus blooms. Hold on—they were out of season. They shouldn’t be blooming right now! A shiver went down her spine.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the narcissus bloom on that heap of compost in the sustainability class, when she first met Dawson. The vision wouldn’t let her go.

Tessa took in a deep breath. She needed to go to Sunrise and face her past mistakes. Right now.

She looked straight up at the ceiling. “If you can help me fix this mess I made,” she whispered, “then I’m all yours.”

---