Carly decided for him. “I do. C’mon, Dad.” And with that, she trotted off into the sanctuary holding hands with Lulu as if it were the easiest thing in the world. His daughter had no idea that just walking into the space set a lump of ice into Bruce’s gut that threatened to send him running for the door.
“We don’t bite,” Kelly said. “Well, except maybe cookies.”
“Ha,” he said drily, too tense to appreciate the attempt at humor.
“Consider it a test run for the wedding, then,” she said, starting to follow the girls to a pew that was way too close to the front for his taste. He’d have preferred the far corner of the last pew, but it wasn’t going to happen. “This way, the ceremony won’t be your first time in here. Familiar spaces are always easier, and the day will be tough enough already.”
At least Kelly got how hard this wedding was going to be for him. Other people got it, sort of, but Bruce knew they couldn’t really understand the painful happiness Tina and Darren’s wedding represented for him. Everyone else was caught up—and rightly so—in the happiness that weddings ought to be. He’d been ecstatic on his wedding day, still a tiny bit unbelieving that he’d landed this beauty who seemed so far out of his league. Stunned that the woman who’d left him dumbstruck at their first meeting had actually fallen for the likes of him, just a normal guy.
A normal guy. Funny how “normal” looked so appealing. Something still beyond his reach. And yet, without the weight of his history driving people to smother him with concern, he could almost feel something close to normal here.
Why? Because it was different? Free from the soaking of memory that usually caught him up short? He’d tried to return to church back in Kinston, he really had. But the place just could never be anything but where they held Sandy’s funeral. Kelly talked as if she drew hope and encouragement from her church, but he wasn’t there yet. He wondered if he ever would be again.
Bruce took his seat in the small pew, he and Kelly flanking the girls on either side. He tried to discount the weirdly family-ish feeling sitting in a pew with these three people gave him, finding it ridiculous. He’d known two of them for one day. Just because Carly made instant friendships didn’t mean he had to. Be nice, yes, but get close? No.
Rather than look in Kelly’s direction, Bruce scanned the small sanctuary. Maybe his strange sense of comfort came from the fact that this place looked nothing like the large and fancy church back home. It was a bright and simple space. Peaceful. With the character that came from years and history. Neat but not fancy. Perfect for the kind of wedding Tina and Darren wanted.
Not that sitting here was effortless. More than once one of them had to “shush” the excited girls. Kids were such naturals at instant friendships. Carly’s smiles and stifled giggles were worth a prickly hour in a strange sanctuary, weren’t they?
Except sitting through the service didn’t actually feel that strange. Did he still have a bone to pick with the Almighty? Sure, that wasn’t going to disappear after the mountain of pain he’d been climbing over the past two years. But church itself? Church was different from God, even though he couldn’t quite say why. Church was people. Back home in Kinston, it was nosy, prodding, pitying people with concerned faces and endless hugs. People who said “How are you?” with such an invasive persistence. Church with a bunch of people he didn’t know ended up a lot easier than church with all those he did. The unfamiliarity gave him space to just be, somehow. Was it a deep, spiritual experience? No. But it wasn’t nearly as awful as he’d expected it to be.
Sure, it felt awkward when Carly and Lulu raced off down the hallway with the other children, leaving a gaping space in the pew he and Kelly occupied. He watched Kelly fidget and take pains not to look his way, so he knew she felt it, as well. An uncomfortable awareness threatened to distract him from the service, and he fought to keep his attention on Pastor Mitchell’s message about the true nature of love.
He was relieved no one quoted the “love is patient, love is kind” verse Sandy’s sister had read at their wedding. The message instead focused on the strength love brought to the world. How love stood up against the darkness with God’s relentless care for His people. How love transformed and redeemed. How God’s love could do things that human love so often failed to do: find the good, grow the hope, see the true value. He liked the pastor’s idea that love was a constant outside of human relationships. It helped him think there could and would be love left in the world despite the huge chunk of it that had been ripped from his life. Maybe he wasn’t ready to see that love now, but perhaps he could again someday.
“The best thing about God’s love is that you don’t have to reach for it,” Pastor Mitchell said. “It reaches for you. Sometimes even before you want it or feel ready for it. Wherever you go, there it is. All God asks of you is to turn and see it. Let it in.”
People were always quick to tell him what he needed to do to move on. Join this support group, read this book, do this, stop doing that. Mitchell’s sermon was the first message he’d heard that told him to just be, and maybe crack himself the tiniest bit open. Maybe struggling to escape the fog wasn’t the answer. Maybe he just had to wait for the fog to lift on its own.
And wasn’t that an uncomfortable notion. Waiting? Getting—what had the pastor called it—expectantly still? The very thought made every inch of his insides itch.
When the girls returned for the final hymn, each bearing a generously frosted giant heart cookie wrapped in pink sparkly cellophane, Bruce couldn’t decide if he wanted to stick around or run.
The girls, of course, were busy making plans to spend the entire day together. “Can Lulu come to lunch with us?” Carly asked.
“Well, now...” he hedged, not wanting to be rude, but needing some space after the jumble of his reactions this morning.
Clearly he hadn’t hid it well, because Kelly stepped in. “The grown-ups decided we’d each do lunch on our own.”
They hadn’t, of course, but he was grateful for the out she gave him. “You just spent a whole hour with each other. I think you can live through being separated for lunch.”
A chorus of little-girl moans erupted until Kelly held both hands up. “Enough of that. Carly, we’ll see you at one o’clock.” She turned to Bruce. “Thank you for coming to church with us. I hope you got something out of it.”
He did—he just couldn’t exactly say what.
Chapter Four
“Do you think Carly and Mr. Bruce liked our church, Mom?” Lulu asked as they loaded the dishwasher from Sunday lunch.
“I can’t say for sure, sweetheart.” She’d been surprised that Bruce and Carly had shown for church, but he’d looked unsettled during most of the service, and hadn’t spoken much afterward.
The man was impossible to read. Had he been irritated by the country congregation, or just needed some time to process his reaction?
“Carly’s fun. I really like her.”
I can’t really say the same for her father, Kelly thought. “She seems like a nice friend to have.” She handed a glass to Lulu.
“Carly said our church is tons more fun than the one she used to go to when her mom was alive.”
Kelly felt her heart pinch the way it always did when young Lulu talked about a parent dying in such a matter-of-fact way. It shouldn’t ever be normal, not to any child. And yet Carly’s remark told her a lot about Bruce, didn’t it? He’d been part of a church community, and then cut himself off—for whatever reason—after his wife’s death.
Why? Kelly couldn’t imagine how she’d have gotten through the dark days after Mark’s death without the support of MVCC. The congregation had held her up, prayed her through, even fed her. Though her own parents were far away in Texas, she’d never been alone, but had multiple invitations to choose from on those crushing first holidays and birthdays. How could anyone do it alone like he seemed to have? She wondered
if the bruised nature of his soul—and he surely appeared to be a wounded soul to her—had come from that isolation. It made her sad and wary at the same time. Whatever small connection she felt with the man or his adorable daughter had to be tempered by the fact that he was a long way from healing.
“How much longer till they get here?” Lulu whined.
“Oh, just enough time for you to get your math worksheet done,” Kelly said, pointing to Lulu’s backpack on its hook by the door.
“Mom, it’s Sunday. Pastor says it’s rest day,” Lulu retorted, one cocky hand on her slim hips.
“Then maybe you’ll need a nap to pass the time,” Kelly teased.
Lulu rolled her eyes. “Fine. Math is better than naps. But not by much.” She pulled a folder out of her backpack and flopped down on the kitchen counter with a dramatic sigh. “Third grade is hard.”
Thirty-one is harder, Kelly moaned in the silence of her heart. And lately, for a host of reasons, thirty-one alone felt extra hard.
When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, Lulu scampered off her seat and made it to the door before Kelly even put down the magazine she was reading.
“It took forever!” Carly announced once Lulu mentioned how long the wait had seemed.
Kelly gave a soft laugh at the girls’ enthusiasm. “Remember when two hours was forever?” she asked Bruce.
“Not really,” Bruce replied, scratching his chin.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we got a snow day this week that closed school so you could come over again?” Lulu said as she opened the hall cabinet where the driveway chalk was kept.
“Are we gonna get lots of snow, Daddy? You said Miss Tina wanted to be a snow bride.” Carly clearly thought lots of snow sounded like a marvelous idea.
“Then I’d like four inches, please,” Kelly offered. “Fluffy not icy, with a nice, quiet wind. And sunshine by ten in the morning on the wedding day.”
Bruce furrowed his brow. “Not too particular, are you?”
Kelly gestured out the window. “We look gorgeous in a few inches of snow and bright sunshine. Like a postcard.”
“What about all of Miss Tina’s pretty flowers? Won’t they freeze?” The little girl’s concern was touching.
“No,” Kelly assured her. “I made sure to use flowers just right for a winter’s day.” Kelly was especially proud of the creative mix of winter-hardy amaryllis, anemones and silver brunia balls she’d designed, perfectly accented with pine and red ribbons. Like the cake Yvonne had designed, Kelly was sure nothing matched it anywhere in Asheville.
“Here’s the chalk for hopscotch,” Lulu pronounced, holding up the bucket. Obviously, there was not a minute to waste.
“Hat,” Kelly reminded Lulu.
“And mittens,” Bruce chimed in, for Carly had a hood on her sweet pink-and-purple jacket.
“Mom,” Lulu moaned, followed by a copycat “Dad” from Carly, though both girls obeyed the instructions.
They watched the girls race out the side door without so much as a single look back.
“I feel bad adding to your load on a Sunday...” Bruce began.
“Oh, no,” she cut in, “you’re actually helping. Keeping Lulu occupied can be a bit of a challenge sometimes.” Kelly caught the mix of relief and reluctance in Bruce’s eyes. Was he glad that Carly was so excited to play or sorry she’d left him so eagerly while they were supposed to be on vacation together? All of the above, she thought to herself. Every single parent knows that mix. “I can call you at the inn when they finally wear out, or—” it might be nice to grab an hour of productive solitude while the girls played, but she also had something particular she wanted to ask Bruce about “—I can make some coffee. I’m a big fan of afternoon coffee.”
She was surprised when he said, “Coffee sounds great, thanks.” Maybe he didn’t quite know what he’d do with himself while Carly was occupied. While part of her envied that kind of space in his life—the room to take a vacation without worrying over a million details connected to her job—she also remembered feeling like she’d never fill the lonely hours of her long days in that first year with Mark gone.
Kelly waited until they’d settled at the kitchen island, watching the girls draw and play a round of hopscotch, before she said, “Carly said something to Lulu at church this morning. About the unicorns.”
His look told her he didn’t really want to cover this topic.
She pursued it anyway. “She told Lulu her mother sends the unicorns, and she asked Lulu why they didn’t have any in the valley.”
Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and set down the coffee mug. “I don’t know where this unicorn business came from. She started talking about them the day before Sandy died, when we knew it would be any moment. She was looking out the window as we were getting ready to go to the hospice center and all of a sudden she looks at me and says, ‘Mom’s friend the unicorn is in the woods behind the house.’ Just like that. Like there was nothing unusual about it.” He sighed. “I played along. I mean, what else could I do in all that sadness?”
“That’s not a bad thing,” she offered, hoping to soothe the dismay still lingering in his eyes at the memory.
“That’s what I thought, but then one came—or at least, Carly said one came—every day after that. Her eyes sort of lit up when she told me. I figured it was something she...needed somehow. I mean, for weeks I thought I heard Sandy’s voice in the hallway or saw her out of the corner of my eye after she was...gone. I figured this was the same thing.” He looked down at his coffee. “The child grief counselor didn’t seem to be worried, and I was barely holding it together as it was—I was in no shape to lecture Carly about the dangers of counting on unicorns.” A heartbreaking worry filled Bruce’s expression. “But now that’s coming back to haunt me, since she hasn’t seen them lately.”
“I’m not a grief counselor—a survivor maybe,” Kelly replied, “but from what I can tell, she seems to be coping okay to me.” She glanced out the window where the girls were having a grand time. “There’s still lots of joy in her.” She decided to go out on a limb. “You, on the other hand, look pretty wrung out.”
He shifted his weight and shook his head. “Nah, I’m okay.”
Kelly offered a smile. “I used to say that all the time, too. Long before it was even close to true. Everybody thinks I’m coping great—and most days I am—but there are still days...” She knew she didn’t have to finish the thought.
“Lulu’s been so nice to Carly. Your daughter’s a great kid.”
Now, there was something a struggling single parent couldn’t hear often enough. “Thanks.”
“How old was she when your husband died?”
“Six.”
Bruce swallowed hard. “Carly was only three when Sandy died. Does Lulu remember her dad?”
Kelly’s heart twisted. Wasn’t that the crux of it for everyone in their shoes? “Yes,” she reassured him. “I make sure she does.”
* * *
He could make sure Carly remembered Sandy. The need to do that drummed like a pulse through him every single day. He was glad to hear of Kelly’s success on that front, but it still bugged him that conversations with Kelly Nelson always went places he didn’t want to go. He would have been better off reading a book in his hotel room instead of sitting here asking questions he shouldn’t and having answers pulled out of him he didn’t want to divulge. Why was she able to get things out of him like this? And why had he let her drag him back to church, for crying out loud?
He hadn’t really minded church as much as he thought he would, but he sure wasn’t going to mention that in front of Kelly. At this rate, she’d probably have him attending potlucks or some widowers’ Bible study by Friday.
He didn’t live here; he was just a visitor. So why were she and Lulu so bent on making him and Carly feel welcome? Was that a valley thing? A
wedding thing? Or just a Nelson family thing?
One half of him didn’t want to keep talking to her, but the other half of him was desperate to know how she pulled off the control she seemed to have. The control he couldn’t seem to find. “When’d you get your balance back?” he blurted out after a short pause in conversation. His life felt like a bicycle most days—living a crazy need to keep pedaling so he didn’t tip over.
She gave a quiet laugh. “You’re assuming I had any in the first place.”
“You’ve got more than I can manage at the moment. I don’t know how much more scrambling I’ve got left in me, you know?” He shook his head. “That’s a stupid thing to say.” The gentle recognition he saw in her eyes kept making him blurt things out.
“Oh, no, I get it. Busy feels good—well, better than the alternative, at least. Some days I wonder if there’ll ever be enough of me to make a decent life for Lulu and me. I mean, running the flower shop in a tiny town—even a tiny wedding town—isn’t exactly a surefire plan for solid success. Well-adjusted people don’t lie awake at night wondering how much longer a flower cooler named George will hang on.”
Lie awake at night wondering how many more days. Isn’t that exactly what he’d done on Sandy’s last days? Terrified to fall asleep for fear he’d miss the moment she slipped away from him?
Kelly looked up at the ceiling. “Now who’s saying stupid things? That was insensitive, to say the least.”
“No,” he said. “Kind of feels better to be able to say it. People are always so careful around me. I don’t want to be this fragile. I’m tired of being less than okay, on the verge of okay, anything but okay. Only I don’t know how to get to okay from here.” He looked over to see Carly looking into the kitchen window, waving to him with a happy, floppy mitten. “How to get her to okay. I mean, the whole unicorn thing. Either she isn’t seeing them, and she’s upset, or she is seeing them—which means she’s living in a fantasy instead of reality. That can’t be okay.”
Snowbound with the Best Man Page 4
