Page 49 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
PICTURE OF LOVE
By Virginia’dele Smith
(Non-Paranormal)
1
Having challenges in your life opens doors for you.
Payal Kadakia
Tempted to kick and scream, Scarlett St. James settled for stomping a foot and emitting a low growl before lifting her fist to pound on the massive door yet again. She’d knocked twice, waited for someone to answer, and then knocked —aggressively— three more times. . .all to no avail.
The offending wooden structure — albeit gorgeous, with its floral and vine carvings which spoke of skilled craftsmanship from days long gone — towered over Scarlett and looked to be six inches thick and a hundred years old. Could whoever existed on the other side even hear the ruckus she’d made?
There had to be someone inside.
Scarlett checked a note crumpled in her jacket pocket:
Monday, September 28 at 9 a.m.
114 Church Street, Green Hills, Oklahoma.
She was in the right place, the exact spot where the two ladies had said to go.
They hadn’t mentioned it was an actualchurchon Church Street. If they’d said so,Scarlett might’ve thought twice about showing up.
But their offer had been too good to ignore: a jobanda place to live.
By the sound of M’Kenzee Stewart’s description, not just a job, but a prime gig as the woman’s assistant. The position paid well — beyond well — and not only would the hours allow plenty of time for Scarlett to work on her own pictures, M’Kenzee had flat-out demanded Scarlett do so. M’Kenzee wanted to mentor her. . .M’Kenzee Stewart. One of the country’s most famous photographers! And as a bonus, the job came with lodging for as long as Scarlett wanted it. And not just a place to live, but according to M’Kenzee’s sister, Maree, a furnished apartment on Main Street, in downtown Green Hills, where the landlord covered all bills and utilities. In exchange, they asked Scarlett to keep the unit and the fabric design shop downstairs neat and tidy. That was it:neat and tidy. They didn’t even expect Scarlett to do the deep cleaning because Maree paid someone else to take care of that — every week.
When the two women visited the camera shop where Scarlett had been working in a less-than-desirable neighborhood of Dallas, she’d been bunking on a cot in the storeroom and showering at the truck stop half a mile down the road. Everything she owned fit inside a suitcase, the matching train case, a canvas duffle, and two camera bags.
Scarlett had picked up the suitcase — battered but massive — at Goodwill. It weighed a ton and could’ve been the first iteration of wheeled luggage, but she’d liked the floraltapestry pattern and adored the companion cosmetic bag. One look at the pair and Scarlett had envisioned a glamorous woman in the late 1980s walking toward her first-class flight in high heels, a pencil skirt, and a sleek blazer, complete with wide shoulders and a tapered waist. That woman stood tall, commanded attention, and traveled in style.
The luggage had served that woman well, taken her places. Scarlett vowed in the middle of the musty thrift shop that she’d give the pieces an opportunity to live again, to thrive again. They’d takeherplaces, too.
Scarlett had bought the duffle bag at an army surplus store attached to an antique shop. She’d found the unused military-type gear pretty cool, but the endless stacks of discarded field jackets and frayed-edged bags left her heart heavy. Stenciled ink or an embroidered patch with a soldier’s name identified every item. They’d belonged tosomeone. Where was that someone? Had he or she earned a promotion, received nicer, newer, fancier gear and tossed the old for the new and the better? Or had they paid the ultimate price, rendering their gear unwanted and unneeded? Scarlett couldn’t stand the thought that the original owners might be forgotten. After debating which soldier would journey with her, Scarlett had used her last twenty-five dollars to purchase the World War II army-green duffle bag once owned byHarold B Foster 31267745. Scarlett wasn’t religious, but she’d prayed for Harold, for his family, and for the whole and happy life she hoped he’d lived.
Yes, if she’d known M’Kenzee and Maree were sending her to a church, she’d have asked more questions. They hadn’t seemed like Bible-beaters at the camera shop. Scarlett had appreciated that neither woman seemed to look down theirnoses at her torn jeans or worn-out tennis shoes. They’d not asked too many questions or looked aghast when Scarlett had admitted to living in the store and confessed she didn’t have transportation to get to Green Hills. But standing outside the idyllic church with its heavenly bell spire, stained glass windows, and impenetrable doors, Scarlett worried the two sisters might’ve fooled her.
To be fair, Scarlett had nothingagainstchurch people. But neither did she invite preachy do-gooders’ pity.
“Banging down that door won’t make the good Lord come any quicker,” a cranky voice sounded behind Scarlett. She turned to find two elderly women looking up at her from the sidewalk at the bottom of the wide steps leading to where Scarlett stood. “Are you deaf as well as dumb?” one woman asked in the same crotchety way. “Just open it!” she barked.
“What Judge Roberts means to say,” the other woman said, in a much kinder tone, “is that the church doors are always open. . .at least during waking hours.” Dumbfounded, Scarlett remained frozen in place, stock-still, proving the first old lady right. “It’s unlocked, dear. Go on in.” The woman’s smile soothed Scarlett’s tattered nerves. In a strange trance, Scarlett absorbed a sense of peace.
“Come on, Sadie,” the mean one said. “Surely she can figure it out.”
Then the nice one gave Scarlett a slight nod and an encouraging wink.
She watched them go and turned back to survey the door once more. She shored up her strength with a deep breath, uncertain why her heart fluttered faster than a mockingbird’s wings. The doorknob, warm from the morning sun, heated Scarlett’s palm as she pushed the lever down, eased the door open, and walked on in.
2
I’m just looking for an angel with a broken wing.
Jimmy Page
