Rescuing Vanessa (A Little Bit of Coffee, Flowers, and Romance) Read online

  Rescuing

  Vanessa

  A Little Bit of Coffee, Flowers, and Romance

  Written by: Christina Li

  Copyright © 2013 Christina Li

  All rights reserved.

  “Art Brushes” Image Courtesy of Danilo Rizzuti

  at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

  License Notes:

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief, cited quotations. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my wonderful husband. This book was truly a joint effort. I can never thank you enough for all the hours you put in working with me on this. I am so blessed to be on your team.

  Thank you, Amy, Relli, Frankie, Zach, and Kiki. I am so blessed to be your mom!

  Thank you, Jesus. You gave me the dream and the calling in the first place and then made a way for it to come true!

  Other Books by Christina Li:

  Fiction

  Violet Miracle, A Little Bit of Coffee, Flowers, and Romance

  Non-Fiction

  Defeat Fear Forever

  HomeSchool/Children’s Books

  Annie’s Adventures: The Chemistry Calamity

  Available in both paperback and eBook (kindle) on Amazon.com.

  “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit,” Romans 8:1 (KJV).

  Chapter 1

  Most people hated driving in the rain, but Vanessa always found hope in watching the wipers swish back and forth. She needed that hope right now.

  When she was a little girl, Grandma had told her that the rain was like our sins and the wipers were like Jesus wiping them all away. Even though there was lots of rain, the Lord could handle it. She needed that reminder today. It was her fourth day driving and she was glad to be almost home.

  Home…At least she hoped it still was. She was from one of the northwest suburbs of Chicago. It had all the perks of a large city with the feel of a smaller town. The suburbs were really smaller cities and townships in their own rights, each one with its own unique flavor.

  The steady drumming of the rain helped her to stay awake. Lowering the window slightly, she stuck her hand out. The droplets were cool on her fingers. When her fingers were wet enough, she used the water to spritz her face. That helped to wake her up, but it wasn’t quite enough. Pulling out an old favorite CD, she put it in the player and turned it up.

  Early afternoon, Vanessa finally arrived, pulling her car into the small parking lot in the middle of the cul-de-sac. She turned off the engine and sat facing her grandparents’ house. It was a town home, chosen because allergies prevented Grandpa from properly caring for their lawn. Here, the association was responsible for all outside maintenance, including mowing, landscaping, and tree trimming. Their house was larger than most, three upstairs bedrooms, a finished basement, and a two car garage. Of all the places in the world, here was where she was safe.

  She hadn’t bothered going to her parents’ house. Both were biology professors at U of I, Chicago, and they were off on another of their many trips to South America to study the plant life of the Amazon Rain Forest. On sabbatical, they had fully winterized the house and wouldn’t be back before spring.

  Finally, she opened her car door and got out. Because of her parents’ frequent trips, her grandmother had let her have an upstairs bedroom. At least it had still been hers when she visited for a week last Christmas.

  She pulled her suitcase out of the trunk. Her entire life had been either packed into the car or put in boxes and mailed. She just didn’t have the energy to get more than her suitcase and backpack. At this point all she wanted was something other than fast food and she longed for the softness of the bed she remembered. Later she would be glad for her art supplies, only the basics had fit into her backpack, but they were enough for now.

  Walking toward the house she paused for a moment, closed her eyes, inhaled slowly, and smiled at the familiar smell of fresh cut grass. Before going in, she couldn’t resist visiting her favorite tree. Touching her hand to the smooth, hard bark, she felt its strength and knew she should be able to easily climb up to her favorite perch on the roof. As a child, this had caused some distress to her grandparents and parents, but the view made it all worth it. There had been many, many times she had taken a sketch pad up there and lost track of time. No one could bother her and she didn’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations (or face anyone’s disappointment). She would definitely be visiting that perch again sometime soon.

  Her key still worked in the lock—same locks since before she was born, probably. She pushed open the door and walked inside. No one was home yet. Her grandparents were most likely still at their coffee warehouse. Grandpa acquired the green coffee beans from various places around the world and did the roasting. Grandma did the accounting, sales, and website. Vanessa could have stopped by there first, but she preferred the quiet instead. There would be many questions to answer later…and as many questions to dodge as well. How on earth had she managed to get herself into such a mess? At least she knew that by coming home she was finally headed in the right direction.

  Her bedroom was as she remembered it from Christmas. Grandma had taken down the holiday lights and garland she had strung around the window and bedframe and replaced them with strings of red, yellow, and orange leaves. The potpourri had a woodsy, autumn scent to it, instead of the pine used for Christmas time.

  It’s good to be home. She should have come back months ago.

  The front door opened and closed with a familiar thumping sound. Grandma and Grandpa were home early! She ran out from her room and down the stairs, the carpet muffling her steps. Rounding the corner, she stopped suddenly when she saw an unfamiliar figure rifling through the mail. He hadn’t seen her. Quickly, she backed away, past the steps and into the kitchen.

  Were her grandparents being robbed? Her heart seemed to be pounding in her ears.

  A large frying pan sat on the stove. Gripping the handle and feeling its heft, she immediately felt stronger. Still, it would be better to catch the intruder unawares.

  Tip-toeing back down the hall, she spied the man in the living room. He was on his knees rifling through some newspapers and magazines. Who was this guy? And, how dare he go through her grandparents’ things?!

  Quickly, before she lost her courage, she crept up behind him, gripped the frying pan with both hands and swung with all her might. Home run! His head made a nice satisfying gong against the pan before he toppled over. Checking him, she was relieved he was still breathing, but definitely unconscious. Now what should she do with him?

  She dashed back into the kitchen, adrenaline still coursing through her, and threw open several drawers hoping to find rope of some kind. Unfortunately, all she could find was duct tape, pink, tiger-striped duct tape.

  Shaking her head, she went back to the unconscious man and taped up his hands and feet. Now that he couldn’t hurt her, she stared at his face. Goodness, he was awfully handsome for a robber. His glasses were slightly askew and she fixed them.

  What was wrong with her?! He was a heartless thief. She should call the police and get rid of him as quickly as possible.

  Then Vanessa heard the garage door opening. Her grandparents were home. Looking at her burglar one more time, she hurried out to greet them.

  “Grandma, Grandpa, it’s so good to see you!” Vanessa hugged her grandfather as he stepped out of the car and then her grandmother.
/>   “Vanessa-Girl!” exclaimed Grandpa with a big grin.

  “What a lovely surprise!” piped Grandma.

  Vanessa stood there staring at them and smiling. She loved the soothing sound of Grandma’s British accent and her grandfather’s Chicago accent. They seemed genuinely happy to see her. Grandma even wiped away a tear. She should have known they would welcome her. Then, “Oh, I almost forgot. You need to call 9-1-1. I caught an intruder in the house.”

  “What?!” Her grandfather hobbled as quickly as he could into the kitchen.

  Must be all this rain messing with his hip again. Vanessa and Grandma followed close behind him. “I saw him in the house snooping around and I clocked him good in the back of the head with a frying pan!” she said proudly. “I tied him up with duct tape in case he woke up.”

  The man on the floor was coming to when they all arrived in the family room.

  “Vanessa! What have you done?!...”

  Chapter 2

  Grandma knelt on the floor next to the man and pulled at the tape around his hands. Her grandfather handed his wife his pocketknife.

  “You mean he’s not an intruder?” That panicked feeling started to grip at Vanessa’s throat. Oh dear. So much for wanting her to stick around indefinitely. How difficult it would be to get the utilities back on at her parents’ house?

  “My head.” The man was sitting up now, moaning and holding his head in his newly released hands with bits of pink, tiger striped duct tape still attached.

  He had an English accent. And what beautiful eyes. Oh for goodness sake! She had knocked the stars out of an innocent man. Stay on task! “Who is this man?” she asked her grandparents sheepishly.

  “Vanessa, this is Professor Daniel Greyson, anthropology professor at Harper College. We told you about him at Christmas time, remember? He was back in England on holiday, but he’s the one who’s been renting out our apartment in the basement going on three years.” Her grandmother sounded exasperated. She forgot to unbind his feet and, leaving the pen knife on the floor, went off into the kitchen to get an icepack.

  “What happened?” Daniel asked. He tried to stand up, but then he seemed to realize that his feet weren’t moving independently of one another. “Why are my ankles bound…with pink duct tape?” He blinked several times, furrowed his brow, then winced when he tried to tilt his head.

  “Actually, it’s pink stripes.” Vanessa offered. What a stupid thing to say. Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut? Did she want to make things worse?!

  “Oh. So I see.”

  Vanessa’s grandfather picked up his Swiss army knife and carefully sliced through the remaining tape, freeing the professor’s legs. When Daniel finally stood, he swayed a bit. He lost his balance, sending him into new spasms of wincing and moaning as he crashed into the antique end table he was at originally at the beginning of this whole mishap. “Excuse me, I seem to be seeing stars.” He reached out his arms to try to steady himself. Mr. Bennett grabbed one and motioned for Vanessa to help him get the man onto the couch.

  “Daniel, are you all right?” Grandma asked as she handed him an icepack. Vanessa cringed at the obvious worry emanating from the woman.

  “I think so. So, what happened?”

  “Well…” Where was a friendly alien to beam you up to uncharted galaxies when you needed one? “Daniel, right?”

  He wrinkled his brow and winced yet again. “Yes, and you are?”

  “Vanessa Bennett. Nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand to shake. They could be on friendly terms for a moment at least. Oh well, moment’s over. Better come clean. “I’m so sorry about your head. I’m afraid I thought you were breaking in. You might have left a dent in Grandma’s pan.” Perhaps if she made him laugh he might not hate her too much.

  He chuckled as he noticed the weapon of his demise still next to the end table on the floor, then groaned slightly. “Apology accepted.”

  Vanessa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Would you like some tea? Or coffee? Or water?” She felt like she was babbling.

  “A good cup of tea would be nice.”

  She started to get up, but her grandmother had already anticipated it.

  Daniel took the cup and saucer gratefully and leaned back into the couch. “Thank you, Mrs. Bennett,” he said. She noticed that the tea had milk in it, the way her British grandmother liked it. He put his feet gingerly on a nearby ottoman her grandfather had pulled over.

  Would it be better for her to get him talking to try to take his mind off of his head or to leave him alone and be quiet?

  The question was answered for her, though. “I’ve seen so many pictures of you here,” Daniel started slowly. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Your grandparents talk about you often.”

  She wasn’t quite sure what to say as her face heated up. Some of her childhood pictures were not flattering—at all. “It’s nice to meet you too, although I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

  He nodded and then grimaced again.

  “Perhaps you should see a doctor.” Grandpa sounded worried.

  “No, I think I’m quite all right. I’ve a very hard head, you see.”

  “It did make the pan into a nice tintinnabulum momentarily.” Vanessa tried to avoid the two pairs of eyes narrowed her way.

  As Daniel chuckled and flinched from the pain again Vanessa wished they’d met like ordinary people. For the past three Christmases, Daniel, or more correctly, Professor Greyson, had been all her grandparents had talked about. When they had first told her about an anthropology professor taking their basement apartment, and that he was British, she had pictured in her mind someone along the lines of C.S. Lewis, with a bowtie, in his later years. It was something of a shock that he was so young. He could barely be much over 30, if even. His hair was light brownish, the color of a latte, Vanessa’s favorite coffee. His eyes were also brown, but with hints of gold, more the color of herbal tea, though they were somewhat hidden behind black hipster glasses. He was quite lean, but healthy. She suspected Grandma was trying to fatten him up. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he wasn’t short either. He projected confidence and inspired trust. How could she have ever supposed him a threat?

  It seemed the bowtie was the one thing she had gotten right.

  He finished his tea and set his cup and saucer down on a coffee table. Standing slowly, he said, “I simply must get some work done before lectures tomorrow. Thank you so much for the tea. And the ice pack.”

  As everyone protested, he simply held up a hand, palm facing out. “Honestly, I’m all right.” Facing her grandmother, “I apologize but I’m not going to be able to join you for dinner this evening. I’ve got to do a few things here then a dinner meeting with some colleagues.”

  Then, going somewhat haltingly over to where Vanessa sat, he held out a hand and said, “Your grandparents and I have been praying for you for quite some time.”

  Not sure how to respond, she shook his hand. His eyes were deep and soulful, wonderfully inviting.

  “Good evening,” Daniel said and left the room.

  Vanessa regarded the comfortable room, so familiar, so precious. There was one large couch which Daniel had recently vacated and a smaller loveseat. Her grandfather occupied his favorite large chair and matching ottoman. All three were light green, the color of new grass. She sat on the loveseat and rubbed her hand over its soft leather. She knew she was stalling, but she wanted to put off the inevitable as long as possible. Grandma came back with another tray containing an entire pot of tea, milk, sugar, and cups and saucers. She set it on the glass table to the other side of the couch. Then she sat down next to Vanessa and poured two cups.

  Vanessa smiled at the familiar ritual. Grandma poured the milk first, then added the tea. It was the proper way in Britain. She offered sugar, but Vanessa declined. Her sweet tooth was less sweet than when she was little. Holding the warm cup in her hands and sipping the delicious infusion, once again, she felt the ‘rightness
’ of being home. A moment later, her eyes widened as Mrs. Bennett dropped in three spoonfuls and stirred. Was her grandmother nervous?

  After a few sips the silence was no longer comfortable. “So.” Now that Vanessa was alone with her grandparents, she should probably come clean, at least as much as she could. “What have you and Daniel been praying about?” Okay, prepare to dodge and keep the focus off herself as much as possible.

  Grandpa cleared his throat, but Grandma answered, “We were so worried about you. It seemed each time we saw you, you were a little more beaten down, more sad, more lost. You didn’t seem to be willing to come back home to stay, so all we could do was pray.”

  “Thank you.” Sighing, she knew she needed to tell them something. “Well, you got your answer. I’ve quit my job and I’m here for a while. I hope you don’t mind, but Mom and Dad’s house is all shut up, so I thought I could stay here.” She couldn’t help the tremble of hope in her voice.

  “You know you can stay with us for as long as you need to,” said her grandfather.

  “Was it difficult to leave?” Leave it to Grandma to cut right to the tough questions.

  “Actually, no.” But she knew that wouldn’t satisfy. “The politics at work had changed for the worse and there was no surprise when they cut my hours along with my pay. I was ready… and I wanted to come home.”

  “I’m glad, Dear.” Vanessa was glad she didn’t push for more details, but worried at how much she guessed. Grandma leaned over and patted her arm. “You have so many gifts and abilities. The Lord will use you if you let Him.”

  “Yes.” She bit her lip, fighting back her insecurities, then raised her chin. “Please forgive me. I know I’ve hurt you by leaving and by not listening. I know now that I should never have taken that job in California. It was wrong. I guess I thought that I could get an ‘in’ into the art world that way and I didn’t want to listen to anything else. I thought I knew better. My pride got in the way of truth. They never were interested in showing any of my work. They wanted a grunt for all their drudge work.”