Annie laughed. "And you think Sam is the cure for my ho-hum life? Yeah, right." She got up and headed for the kitchen. She hadn't eaten since that morning, and she was hungry.

Susan got up and followed her, lounging on the stool and leaning her elbows on the counter as Annie took out eggs, cheese, mushrooms, half a green pepper, and a small tomato. "I'll admit Sam was pretty wild, Annie. Is that what's bothering you?"

"No. I like him just the way he is. I like him very, very much. I always have." She rinsed the vegetables and put them on the cutting board. "I don't know if I can explain, Suzie."

"Try, would you please? Annie, I promise I won't tell Sam anything you tell me. If that's worrying you . . ."

"You can tell him if you think it might help him back off a little." She smiled at her friend. "Most girls, you included, seem to have a burning desire to get married." She shrugged. "I don't."

"Because your mother hasn't been able to make a marriage work?"

Annie paused from dicing the bell pepper. "Please don't talk about her that way, Susan."

"Sorry."

"No, it's my fault. I told you too much of what went on whenever I was upset."

"You had to talk to someone."

"But don't you see? You've only gotten my side of the story. She wanted me to do well. There's nothing wrong with that."

"She drove you to do well, and that's not right."

"I don't know." She started cutting again. "I've been thinking about my mother, trying to put everything together and make sense of why she's the way she is. There's a history between her and Grandma Leota that isn't clear yet. I want to find out what happened to make my mother so bitter and resentful."

"You can't make excuses for her, Annie."

"I'm not trying to make excuses. I'm trying to understand. Maybe if I can see things from both sides, I can help build a bridge between them."

"Good luck."

Annie knew it didn't make sense to others, but the Lord was speaking to her heart. If she let her head rule her life, she would walk away and seldom, if ever, look back. The way Michael was doing. Maybe it was just protection; maybe it was selfishness. She didn't know, and it wasn't her right to judge her brother. Yet, sometimes she worried that she was doing the same thing. She knew her brother held no deep affection for her-no deep affection for anyone, especially not for the mother who had paved the way for his success. Annie didn't want to become like that. Yet part of her saw the draw of not having to worry about anyone else's feelings or needs, especially her mother's.

During the first month away from her mother, the litany had played in her head: I want my own life! If I make mistakes, they'll be my mistakes. It's my life. Let me live it my way!

But freedom didn't bring serenity. She hadn't been able to find any peace until she contacted her grandmother that first time. Since then, things were changing. Like the seasons, the heat of summer was giving way to the cooling fall. She relished the time spent with Grandma Leota. She was learning so much from her, absorbing vignettes on life. All the while they were in the garden, Annie felt Grandma was talking to her on two levels.

"You need to open up the tree so that the air can circulate and the light can reach into it."

Those words had struck something deep within her. Air and light. Good soil. Living water. Her heart ached, and she knew God was speaking to her though her grandmother.

No matter what Susan thought, Annie knew she was doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing. There was a rightness to it, a sense of homecoming. She couldn't allow anything to get in the way of going forward on this path.

Sam wanted to draw her another way. Not that he meant to pull her away from God. She knew he didn't. He loved the Lord, too, she had learned. He credited Jesus with pulling him up out of the pit he had dug for himself. And yet . . .

Annie sighed. Sam was handsome and charming and intelligent. He had a spirit of fun about him, a boyish delight in tackling life. He was attractive enough to set her pulse racing, but that didn't mean she should allow herself to be swayed. She knew he was not part of the plan God was unfolding to her. She couldn't explain how she knew, not even to herself, let alone to Susan. She just knew. If she went against that knowledge, she would miss the wonder that awaited her. Whatever it was . . .

Pruning.

She smiled to herself as she prepared the omelet. A simple thing like pruning. "You need to open up the tree so that the air can circulate and the light can reach into it," Grandma had said, and all the while Annie was up in that old apricot tree, she kept thinking that people were the same way. God would cut away His people's dead-end ideas, diseased philosophies, broken promises, and twisted dreams. Why couldn't people allow the Creator of the universe to have His will with them so that He could prune and shape them into the people they were meant to be? For then, what a harvest of good fruit there would be come summer!

Oh, God, that's what I want. Oh, Holy Father of life, You who cause things to grow, prune me. Cut and trim as You will. Lord, let Your Spirit come up within me like the living sap of a tree. Let it be Your heart that beats within my breast. Let the fruit of my life be a reflection of Your love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness. Father, I can't do anything without You. I don't even want to try. Be the gardener . . .

"That looks pretty good." Susan was watching Annie fold the omelet in the pan.

"Are you hungry?" Annie slid the omelet onto a plate and offered it to Susan. "I can make another."

"See what I mean?" Susan took the plate. "You should be telling me to make my own omelet."

Annie laughed. "And have the whole apartment smell like burned eggs? I think not." She handed Susan a fork and cracked two more eggs into the bowl. "You can do the dishes."

Susan ate a bite and waved the fork at Annie. "You can't undo years of animosity, Annie. You know your mother. And don't give me that look. You can't change people. You're only going to get yourself hurt. It's been three months, and she still hasn't forgiven you for stepping out on your own. How do you think you're ever going to get her to forgive her mother after decades of hating her for whatever it was she supposedly did? How?"

"I don't know." But one thing she did know: nothing was impossible for God. For some reason, He had put it in her heart to establish a relationship with her grandmother. Why would He do that unless He had plans? And His plans were always for a good purpose. "I know the Lord is working in all this, Suzie. And I want to be there to see what happens."

Susan chuckled. "Leota is pretty cool. I was a little worried what she'd say about us showing up on her doorstep and taking over the afternoon. Not Sam. He figured he'd waltz in and take charge. Next thing he knows, he's turning the soil in the back forty while I'm transplanting apricot and plum sprouts. That sure taught him a lesson! He told me he ached for a week. I'll bet Grandma Leota was really something when she was young."

Annie rolled the frying pan and the melting butter hissed as it coated the bottom. She poured in the omelet mixture. "I'm hoping she'll tell me more about herself." She cast Susan a rueful smile. "My mother always said I was a lot like Grandma Leota. I'd sure like to find out what that means."

Sam showed up at six o'clock with the promised friend. Annie noticed Susan's eyes light up when she was introduced. Chuck Hauge seemed to think Susan was all he had hoped for as well. "Sam's told me a lot about you."

"Believe everything you heard," she said with a cheeky grin. However, within half an hour, her mood was clearly dampened.

"What on earth is Sam thinking?" Susan said under her breath as she nudged Annie out of the way in the small kitchen and took ice from the freezer. "We have zilch in common. He's got a master's degree in business, for crying out loud. He's been working for some computer company in Silicon Valley for the past year. He doesn't say much about what he does, but he's probably on his way to being a CEO. And here I am, a waitress. He reads the Wall Street Journal. I read the funny papers. He likes sushi. I like steak, well done. He likes classical music."

"You like classical music." Annie barely suppressed a smile.

"Yeah, when I have insomnia."

Annie put the vegetable dip on a tray with crackers. "Classical music is supposed to raise the IQ."

"He doesn't need a higher IQ, and I'm a lost cause." Susan rolled her eyes and shook the ice into a bowl. Scooping a handful of cubes into her soda, she glanced over her shoulder. "Can I get you anything to drink, Chuck?"

Annie grinned at her while putting more crackers on the tray. "There's enough sugar in your voice to draw bees."

"Shut up," Susan said sotto voce. She fixed another soda, then headed back into the living room. "Sam's days are numbered for getting me into this."

Annie followed her and put the tray on the coffee table. Sam glanced at her from where he was standing near the windows, where Barnaby resided silently on his perch. "Pretty morose bird. No change, I take it."

Annie shook her head. "Not a peep."

Susan looked up sharply, her eyes darting flames at her brother. "Not a word."

At Sam's slow, taunting grin, Susan stood. "Why don't we take a walk, Chuck? It's only six blocks to the ocean."

As soon as the door closed behind them, Sam left the window and sat on the couch, one arm resting along the back. "That couldn't have worked out any better if I'd planned it." He gave Annie a slow, teasing smile.

Annie swallowed. "Maybe we should take a walk, too. The air is nice and cool this time of the evening."

"I like it right here, where it's warm." He patted the sofa. "Why don't you sit by me?"

Annie settled in the worn, overstuffed, orange chair Susan had bought from an upstairs neighbor, who had moved the week before. Crossing her jeans-clad legs, she rested her arms on the flat velvet. "This is nice."

Sam just looked at her and shook his head, a rueful smile on his face. "I don't bite, Annie."

"That's not what I heard."

His eyes flickered and his gaze grew serious. "Let's back up and regroup here. I'm not on the make, Annie. I'm not coming on to you so I can sow wild oats."

"I know that."

"No, you don't. You've known me too long. Unfortunately. I wouldn't blame you for thinking I was a complete jerk, considering some of the harebrained schemes I pulled a few years back. You were around enough to hear the fallout." He leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely between his knees. "Look, Annie. I'll put it plain and simple. If your father were anywhere around, I'd feel perfectly at ease telling him my intentions."

Embarrassed, she looked away from the intensity in his eyes. "I'm flattered."

"Flattery isn't what I had in mind. Trust is a little closer to the mark."

She looked at him again, dismayed. "I don't distrust you, Sam."

"Is that so? Then why am I sitting here, and you're sitting way over there?"

If frankness was what he wanted, she would give it to him. "You still move as fast as you ever did, and I'd like you to put the brakes on. Right now."

He sat back slowly. "Okay," he said after a long moment. "So maybe I am in overdrive. The engine is a little heated. I'll drop it down to first. Is that better?"

"Think about driving down a different road. I'm not going to get involved with you, Sam."

"Involved." His mouth tipped. "What a loaded word."

"We're friends. I don't want to do anything to spoil that."

He grinned. "Now there's an age-old kiss-off if ever I've heard one. I've used it a few times myself." His expression softened. "Okay. Friends, it is. Which means we can go out and have some fun instead of deciding on plate patterns. What would you like to do?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea."

"We'll just go and see what looks interesting. Late supper. Some swing dancing. A walk on Pier 39. Whatever."

"What about Suzie and Chuck?"

"We'll leave them a note."

"I don't know, Sam . . ."

"All right. We'll stay here. Fine by me. Just the two of us. No television. I'll try not to make a pass at you, but I can't guarantee anything."

She laughed. "You are incorrigible."

He grinned. "That's what all my teachers said. Now what'll it be?"

She softened at the look in his eyes. Poor Sam. She hoped he wasn't hurting as much as she had when her crush on him was in full bloom. "I'll get my jacket."

The Lord always left a way to escape temptation, and she intended to take it.

Chapter 12.

Leota swept the small brick patio. It had been months since it had been done. The air was fall-brisk and made her bones ache, but she wanted the small area cleaned up before Annie arrived. It wouldn't do to sit around like an old woman all the time and let Annie and her friends do everything.

Pausing, Leota straightened, admiring the work that had been done over the past month. The garden no longer looked unkempt and abandoned. The trees were pruned, bushes trimmed and shaped, vines thinned and tied to frames and trellises. And with one smile from Annie, that handsome young fellow who'd come with his sister had turned soil in the victory garden. He'd even mulched, then repaired the broken slats in the lattice.

Smiling to herself, Leota leaned on the broom, resting while she looked over the potted plants set here and there on the small patio and retaining wall. Some desperately needed repotting-another lesson for Annie, if the girl was so inclined.

"Grandma!" Annie came around the corner. "There you are. When you didn't answer your doorbell, I figured you'd be out here."

Leota felt warmth return to her bones as she looked at her granddaughter. Annie's blue eyes shone with love, and her smile lit Leota's heart. "You're early." Thank You, Lord. Oh, thank You.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not." Leota looked at what Annie had brought-a pipe with twisting metal curling out in various directions. "What on earth is that?" As soon as she said it, she worried she had hurt Annie's feelings. What if it was an art project she had completed?

Annie laughed. "Whatever you'd like to think it is. Heat rays. Sound. It's a metal sculpture. I bought it at a garage sale."

Thank heavens. Someone's white elephant, no doubt. "What are you going to do with it?"

Annie bit her lip. "Well, I thought it would look interesting in the garden. I have some rustproof spray paints-yellows, oranges, and reds. It'll look like sun rays."

Leota looked it over again, trying to rouse some enthusiasm. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen.

"Oh, Grandma, I'm sorry. I should've asked first. I can take it home."

Leota laughed. Well, why not put it in the yard? The garden was no longer just hers anyway. It was Annie's as well. Why not let her play in it? "I think it has potential. You plant it in the middle of the lawn, if you want." She'd been curious to see what Annie would do when given a free hand. If this was the first hint, Leota knew she was going to be in for quite a show.

Arba Wilson's children were playing in their backyard. One paused to peer over the fence. "What's that thing?"

"A garden sculpture," Annie said happily. "Would you like to come over and help me set it up?"

Leota felt a flicker of irritation. She didn't want to share Annie.

"Could I?" The little girl jumped off the fence and ran up the back steps. "Mama! Mama! The lady asked me over. No, not the old one, the . . ."

In less than two minutes, the little girl, her older sister, and her brother showed up in the backyard. Leota stood holding her broom and watching. After a few minutes, her irritation wore off. Their enthusiasm amused her. How long since she had had children in this yard? Wasn't that why she had planted the garden in the first place? To draw her children out of the house?