A Soldier's Valentine

Emotions had a way of working their way in while he shaped glass. He’d been running on empty when he’d made that particular sculpture. Frustrated and angry after a long deployment, he’d clung to a sliver of hope from a Bible scripture he’d read from the book of Jeremiah. He’d memorized verse eleven of chapter twenty-nine and had held on to its promise. He’d even chanted it when things got rough in the field.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the LORD, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.

“This is so beautiful.” She looked at him in awe. As if she couldn’t believe he’d made it.

“Thanks.” Sometimes, he couldn’t believe it either.

Ginger’s hair was a riot of red curls that caressed her shoulders. A live flame she was, radiating warmth. It seared like a pipe burn, this pull she had on him. Or maybe more like a backyard campfire luring him near, daring him to pull up a log and relax. But even campfires burned if a person got too close.

She nodded toward the workshop. “When will you make new stuff?”

“Soon.”

“Well, that’s real specific.” Even her sarcasm came across sweet.

“How ’bout I let you know.”

Her eyes widened with surprise at the sharpness of his retort. He hadn’t meant to sound so surly.

She didn’t miss a beat, though, and didn’t back down. “Yeah, you do that because I’d love to see how it’s done.”

Great.

But then, what did he expect? Blowing glass was a cool process. So why did the idea of Ginger watching him work make his skin itch?

She looked at him, curious. “How long have you been doing this?”

Zach scratched his temple. “Maybe ten years?”

“All while in the army?”

“Yeah.”

What started as an art class became a hobby, a creative release and then a place to forget. He’d had his studio plans drawn up well before he’d moved back home. Before he’d even found a building. Before he’d been RIFed. He’d always known how he wanted his shop laid out with an open space so his workshop was in full view of the buying public. He wanted to keep an eye on his store while working. Still, he hadn’t expected to become a shop owner this soon in life.

“But how? I mean when did you find the time?”

“I learned during downtime, when I was off duty.”

“Oh.” She didn’t look satisfied. She looked ready to ask more questions.

Zach didn’t want to answer questions. “I’ve got to cut this short.”

He’d promised his mom he’d make it for dinner. And he needed to move the last of his things into the apartment above.

“Oh. Sorry. Thanks for showing me around.” She smiled, hesitated to leave. “I still have to fill you in on the window display contest.”

“Sure. No problem. Another time?”

She nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Okay. See ya later.” He was halfway tempted to invite her along so she could tell him on the way, but that might send the wrong message. He watched her click her way across the wood floor and slip back through the slider into her tea shop. Ginger Carleton was pretty. A pretty, church-going woman.

But too young. Too young for him.

* * *

A few days later, Ginger peered into Zach’s studio. He’d been open less than a week, but shoppers swarmed. Curiosity drove a lot of traffic, but folks purchased product, too, and Zach had made sales. A lot of sales.

She spotted him surrounded by three women, and Captain Zach looked like a trapped wolf ready to snap or chew off his own paw any second now to escape.

He glanced her way and waved her in. Not a welcoming I’ve-got-something-to-show-you wave, more like a get-over-here-now-I-need-you sort of wave.

Ginger clenched her jaw. She shouldn’t covet his customers, but she did. Some had wandered into her shop, but most didn’t. No matter how frustrating it was watching shoppers snub their noses at her tea, it wasn’t Zach’s fault. And ignoring his plea for help might not bode well for renewing her lease come the end of the year.

At this point in her shop-owning career, she shouldn’t need an indefinite rental agreement, but that’s what she’d had with Sally. Ginger felt sold out right along with the building.

But it was Sally’s building to sell, and the woman was well past retirement age. Ginger should be standing on her own two feet by now, not relying on her mentor’s charity. Not filled with envy because Zach’s studio had been hopping while hers barely took a few steps. And even fewer sales.

Reality had a way of taking a sharp bite out of her plans when she least expected it. Taking a deep breath, she rallied her sweetest smile and headed his way. “Can I help?”

A look of genuine relief washed over his face. “Gift wrap?”

“I’ve got some.” She ducked back into her shop and returned with a pile of floral tissue paper and ribbon. More shoppers accosted Zach, so she went a step further. “I can help you at the counter, ladies.”

Zach gave her a grateful half smile.

And Ginger’s heart did a little flip right along with her belly.

Uh-oh.

She swallowed the bitter pill of unwanted attraction and scolded herself besides. Really? Ginger herded the heavily perfumed women with glass ornaments in hand to Zach’s small counter. Underneath were boxes and rolls of Bubble Wrap. She worked quickly, boxing up the glass treasures. It was easy to swirl tissue paper around the box and secure it with ribbon and a pouf of tissue on top. Nice.

Hunting under the counter once more, Ginger found plain paper bags and Zach’s cash box. Inside the locked box with the key still hanging in the lock, she found a phone with an adapter to slide credit cards for payment.

While she checked out the women’s purchases, Zach discussed a custom order with two other women. She overheard parts of the conversation and surmised that they wanted a larger version of his lit smoky glass sculpture. They wanted a unique chandelier in their waiting room.

From the chamber office, Ginger knew all about the medical office geared specifically for women that would open sometime in the summer. Obviously, the doctors wanted softer lighting than fluorescent overheads for their clients.

Ginger peeked at Zach. He stood tall and handsome in jeans and a loose cotton sweater. Even in plain clothes, he had that stiff military bearing. A figure of austere authority.

The women offered Zach a business card and a check as down payment on a piece they didn’t care how long it took to finish. After they’d left he turned toward her. “Thank you.”

Ginger waved off his gratitude. “Custom order?”

“A big one.” He looked grim.

“That’s good news, right?”