Scraps of Love Read online

  Scraps of Love

  By Rhonda Gibson

  This was my first novella ever published. It was in the collection titled: Scraps of Love It has been out of print for several years. It was also my first contemporary romance. I hope you enjoy the read.

  Copyright 2004

  By Rhonda Gibson

  All Rights Reserved

  Dedication

  Special thanks go to my own true-life hero, James Gibson. Thank you for believing in the work God has given me.

  Also, thanks go to my mother, Louise McConnell, for believing in her little girl.

  Above all, I wish to thank the Lord for all things.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Scraps of Love

  By Rhonda Gibson

  Chapter 1

  "Oh no! Not again!"

  Smoke billowed in the small kitchen. The fire alarm blared. Colleen Holliday grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the burned cinnamon buns from the oven.

  She tossed the pan on the stove. Holding her breath, Colleen snatched the step stool and jerked out the alarm's battery.

  "Now, Colleen, don't take out your frustration on the poor alarm." Mr. Wilson chuckled from the seat at the round table by the bay window.

  She wanted to tell the old man to mind his own business but resisted the unchristian temptation. Hanging on to her temper, she hopped off the stool. Colleen set the battery on the counter, and then made her way to the back door.

  "Lord, this bakery is going to be the death of me. I'm not so sure I should keep it open anymore." Colleen grumbled the prayer as she opened the door to escape the smoke and odor of burnt sugar. It wasn't a matter of money. Granddaddy Max's side of the family made sure Grammy's Bakery would never lack for funds, but if she continued to burn everything, she was sure to lose her costumers.

  "Hey, Colleen. Was that your smoke detector going off again?" Jenny Walker grinned, revealing red, white, and blue braces.

  I'm afraid so. I burned the cinnamon buns." She waved the screen door back and forth. Fresh air filled the small kitchen.

  Colleen knew the teenager didn't mean anything by her words, unlike Mr. Wilson, who enjoyed making fun of her lack of cooking skills.

  Jenny pulled her backpack up higher on her slim shoulder. "I've got a few minutes before I've got to get to school. Want me to help you with those buns?" At Colleen's nod, she dropped her backpack and jacket just inside the door.

  She hated to admit it, but the sixteen-year-old could cook circles around her. "Are you sure you have time? I don't want you to be late again."

  The young girl brushed past her, "I'm sure. I'm keeping an eye on the clock. Adam wasn't happy the last time I was late." Jenny went to the stove and grabbed an apron. She tied it around her small waist. "I want to go into Durango with my friends tomorrow. So I'm toeing the line. Adam says if I step over it, I can just forget about the trip."

  Thoughts of Jenny's older brother, Adam Walker, took Colleen's mind off the burnt food. She hated to admit it, even to herself that she looked forward to his daily visits. As a postman, Adam used Grammy's Bakery as the spot where he took his morning break. The memory of his light blue eyes, dark brown hair, and easy smile softened the frown on her brow.

  Colleen shook her head to clear it. Enough day dreaming about a man who would never take her seriously. He hadn't had time for her in high school. What made her think he'd notice her now? Besides, everyone in town expected him to marry Cassie Masters, the kindergarten teacher at the elementary school. They had been dating for more than a year.

  The sound of the small bell ringing over the door indicated that Mr. Wilson was leaving. She couldn't suppress the sigh of relief. Since she'd moved back to the small community of Silverton, Colorado, Mr. Wilson had made a real effort to come to the bakery every morning. She suspected her dad had something to do with Mr. Wilson hanging around so much.

  Her father and Mr. Wilson were friends from days gone by, and Colleen knew her dad felt guilty for leaving on another mission trip to Africa. His solution was to have his friend keep an eye on her. Most days, Mr. Wilson just ordered coffee and read his paper. But there were days, like this one, when he really got on her nerves.

  Colleen pushed all thoughts of Mr. Wilson from her tired mind and focused once more on what Jenny said.

  "You would think after two weeks you'd get the hang of making simple cinnamon rolls and pastries." The young girl’s voice trailed off as though she realized how insulting her words sounded, and an expression of horror covered her features.

  "It's okay, Jenny."

  Jenny whipped her hands over the front of her apron, "No, it's not. I'm so sorry, Colleen."

  "Really, it's okay. You didn't mean anything by it." Colleen mixed together fresh dough for hot rolls."

  "No, I didn't mean it that way, but I still shouldn't have said anything. Your Grammy has only been gone a month. Adam would say, "There I go again; speaking before I think."

  Pain, sharp and real, sliced through her. Oh, how she missed her grandmother. Guilt still ate at Colleen for not being there during her grandmother's last moments. Tears prickled the back of her eyes. She wouldn't think about it now. She smiled at the teenager. "Jenny, are you going to be late?"

  "No."

  Colleen sensed Jenny's dark blue eyes studying her. She dreaded the words she knew were forthcoming. She narrowed her eyes and stared back at Jenny. "What? Do I have flour on my nose?"

  "I still can't believe Grammy left you this shop and apartment. Why didn't she teach you to cook?"

  They stared at each other for a moment. The comical way Jenny talked at motorboat speed took the sting out of the words.

  "Well, she tried, but I wasn't as good a student as you." A smiled tugged at the corners of Colleen's mouth. "It's not as though I can't cook at all; I just have a little trouble with pastries."

  Jenny returned the smile. "I'll teach you if you want."

  "I'm not proud. Teach away," Colleen joked, bending to watch how Jenny worked her magic with sugar and flour.

  After Jenny left for school, Colleen slid a pan of cookies into the oven. She wiped off the counters and smiled. Chocolate chip cookies were her specialty.

  She hummed as she washed up the last of the morning dishes and thought about Jenny. The girl knew her way around the kitchen. Colleen could imagine Grammy teaching the young lady in this very room.

  She rubbed the back of her hand across her stinging, watering eyes, thankful for the empty bakery. She looked to the table where Mr. Wilson had sat earlier. Why did he choose Grammy's favorite spot to sit every morning? Memories washed over her as tears trickled down her cheeks.

  She remembered the day she'd told Grammy she was going away to college. Oklahoma State University had offered her a full scholarship. At the time, it felt like the chance of a lifetime, and she'd moved to Oklahoma against her grandmother’s wishes.

  Grammy held her hands, listened, and then said, "Colleen, you can't run from God and family forever. When you're ready to come home, I'll be here."

  Had that really been only five years ago? Why hadn't she done as her grandmother wanted and stayed in Silverton? Even now, Colleen didn't want to admit she'd been bitter toward God over the death of her mom.

  "Grammy, I'm not running from anything. I'm going to college to get a business degree. I'll be able to run a business and help supplement your income."

  "I love ya, angel. I'm going to pray
God sends you home soon." The tenderness in Grammy's eyes had almost changed Colleen's plans to leave.

  At Grammy's funereal, Colleen remembered something else her grandmother had said daily, "Child, why don't you give your broken heart to the Lord? He'll heal it, and the pain will go away."

  Those words came back to haunt her as she'd stood and looked down at Grammy's casket. Her heart too pain-filled to endure, she'd made her way to a private corner and sought comfort only her heavenly Father could give. If only Grammy had been there to rejoice with her.

  Colleen picked up the dishcloth and moved to the tables. As she wiped them clean, she prayed. "Lord I need help if I'm to keep Grammy's bakery open. Jenny has agreed to teach me how to bake something other than hot rolls, but I'm thinking I need more than a teenager teaching me how to cook. I don't know for sure what I'm asking for, but I know You can supply my every need." Just whispering the words lightened her heart.

  The bell over the door jingled. She looked up and smiled when Adam Walker pushed through the door. He carried a large package in his arms.

  Her heart surged like a cake rising in the oven's heat at the sight of Adam. She forced herself to focus on the box as she walked toward him. "Is that for me?"

  "It's got your name on it." He set it down and sighed. "Boy, am I bushed. Between taking care of a teenager at night and delivering heavy packages during the day, this postman is worn out.

  Colleen caught the hint of teasing in his voice. She shifted her gaze from the box to him. He smiled. A dimple in his right cheek winked at her. His light blue eyes sparkled with merriment.

  "Would some caffeine perk you up? I've got fresh coffee. Want some?" She found it impossible not to answer his smile.

  Adam pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'd love some, thank you."

  She hurried to the coffee pot. Her heart flip-flopped from the effects of his grin and the warmth of his voice. What was it about Adam that sent her heart to fluttering? "Everything," She whispered for her ears alone.

  Colleen poured two cups of coffee. She handed one to Adam and cradled the other in her hands. The heat distracted her from the warmth in her cheeks.

  Dark brown hair brushed his forehead when he bent his head to the cup. The mug looked fragile in his large hands. His blue eyes met her gaze. Intensely aware of his scrutiny, she watched as his gaze swept over her face, and then settled on her mouth.

  Heat rushed to Colleen's face. She looked away from him. "What do you suppose is in that?" She went into the kitchen for a knife to cut through the tape on the box.

  The timer on the stove went off, reminding Colleen of her cookies. She pulled them out, set them on a cooling rack, then grabbed a knife and headed back into the dining room.

  Adam offered her a clipboard and pen to sign with. "It sure is big, isn't it?"

  This time Colleen smiled. Colleen knew Adam had seen larger packages. "Wes, it is." She handed him back the pen and slip board.

  Colleen turned her full attention to the box. The mailing label read: From Ethel Collins. Colleen's brow puckered. She had just spoken with her great-aunt over the weekend, and the elderly lady had never mentioned a package.

  “Aren't you going to open it?" Curiosity filled his voice. He had moved and now stood behind her. A shiver ran down her spine as his warm breath whispered across her ear.

  The tape pulled off with ease. Colleen opened the flaps and peeked inside. Several show boxes filled the container. A slip of notebook paper lay on the top.

  Colleen squinted at the small, scribbled handwriting. Aware of Adam and his interest, she read aloud.

  Dear Colleen,

  Leah told me to send this to you at the store if anything happened to her. She left it here when she moved down there to be closer to you and Collin. She said you should have it all. Since I'm in my eighties and have no other relatives, I’m of mind to agree with her. Please keep our family's memories alive. In the boxes are pictures, letters, scraps of our heritage, and something that every woman in our family has discovered. I hope you can come visit me in the spring. I'm looking forward to seeing what this treasure box brings you.

  Love,

  Ethel

  Colleen sat back. It was almost like a message from Grammy. She smiled at Adam and lifted the first of the show boxes.

  Chapter 2

  Colleen was still looking through the many boxes when Jenny arrived a little after three that afternoon. “You aren’t going to believe what our teacher wants us to do.” She tossed her backpack beside the table and yanked off her coat.

  “It can’t be that bad,” Colleen replied distractedly. She asked herself for the hundredth time what to do with all these old photos, letters, postcards, and scraps of material. Colleen hadn’t even gotten to the bottom of the box before she began repacking it.

  Jenny dropped into the chair across from her. “It is,” she declared.

  Colleen finished packing the box. “Okay, tell me. What does your teacher expect you to do that’s so horrible?” She closed the flaps over the contents.

  “She wants us to create a scrapbook of our family and anything we know about our ancestors. It’s fifty percent of our grade.” Her voice went up like only a frustrated teenager’s can. “Why do we have to do that for history class?” Jenny picked up the two coffee cups and followed Colleen into the kitchen.

  “How long do you have to complete this assignment?” Colleen asked, sliding warm cookies onto platters. Kids of all ages would be storming the bakery in a few moments. A smile crossed her face. Maybe her cookies would save the store from going under.

  Jenny set the cups in the sink and started running hot water. “Oh, we have the whole school year. But I really don’t know if I can do it, Colleen.”

  “Why not? That should be plenty of time.” Colleen set the platters of cookies on the counter, and then turned to pull a new bag of flour from the pantry.

  “It’s not the time,” Jenny grumbled. “I don’t know how to do a big project like this.”

  Colleen filled the flour canister, and then studied the young girl. She knew Jenny’s mother and father had died five years earlier in an automobile accident. If it hadn’t been for Adam taking his half sister in, Jenny would have been alone in the world.

  “I do.” Colleen moved to the sink and stood beside Jenny. “I’ll make you a deal.” She waited to see if she had Jenny’s full attention.

  Jenny grabbed several cups and saucers and dunked them into the hot, soapy water. She refused to meet Colleen’s gaze. “I’m listening.”

  Colleen placed an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle hug. “If you will teach me to bake pastries after school, say from four to five, then from five to six I’ll help you put together your scrapbook.” She released the teenager and picked up a cup to rinse.

  “Really?” Jenny continued to wash the dishes as if she were afraid Colleen would take back the offer.

  “Sure.” Colleen began drying and putting away the clean cups and saucers. She set a cup inside the cupboard and paused. “Did you see the big box over there?”

  “Yeah.” Jenny’s teenaged voice took on a note of caution.

  “Well, it’s from my aunt Ethel, Grammy’s sister. She sent a letter saying she would like for me to preserve the memories of all my ancestors. I thought I might put together a scrapbook, too.” She chewed the inside of her lip.

  Jenny squealed with delight. “That would be great! We really would be doing it together.”

  Colleen smiled at the sudden joy she’d just brought her young friend. Silently she thanked the Lord that she was able to give Jenny a reason to enjoy the school project.

  “What do I have to do?” Jenny asked, wiping the counter.

  “First gather up all your pictures, old letters, and stuff you think will help you remember your family. Then you put them together in a photo album.” Colleen dried the remaining dishes and set them in the cabinet.

  Jenny pulled the stopper out of the sink and dried her hands on
a nearby towel. “Mrs. Sword says we can use stickers, die cuts, special letters, all kinds of stuff on our pages.”

  Colleen smiled. “We can.”

  “When can we start?” Jenny asked eagerly.

  “How about we meet at the scrapbook store in Durango tomorrow? I’ll close the bakery at ten, and then I can meet you and your friends after lunch.” Colleen’s gaze moved to the box. Her mind swirled with ideas for the scrapbook. “I’d like to get started as soon as possible on mine.”

  Adam told himself he was just being polite as his feet carried him back to Grammy’s Bakery. That box had been very heavy. He didn’t want Colleen hurting her back trying to carry it the short distance to her living quarters even if the apartment was attached to the bakery. He didn’t dare question himself as to why he cared.

  The smell of hot apple pie caused his mouth to water. Adam pushed the door the rest of the way open and hurried into the shop. His stomach growled.

  “Adam come see what Colleen baked all by herself.” Jenny called.

  He walked into the kitchen. Colleen pulled the pie out of the oven while Jenny looked on with excitement. Adam smiled at Colleen. Flour dusted her pert little nose. Green eyes met his gaze and sparkled with pride. Her curly black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Ringlets had escaped the hair tie and softened her heart-shaped face.

  Adam didn’t understand his sudden attraction to Colleen. He admired the way she had taken over the bakery and tried to make a go of the business. And the way she’d befriended Jenny was wonderful. But there was more, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “Isn’t it beautiful? I can’t believe she did it all by herself.” Jenny pointed at the golden crust of the pie Colleen held in her hands.

  Adam’s gaze ran over Colleen’s face once more. He cleared his throat. “Very beautiful.”

  Colleen’s flushed cheeks deepened to crimson.

  A woman who still blushes at a compliment-no that is rare, thought Adam.