Just His Type (Part Three)

by June, Victoria

  The pieces fell into place. "Adrian's father is a minister too?"

  Nate nodded. "Funny thing really. It never occurred to me to ask Adrian what his father did for a living, and Adrian never talked about it. All that time Adrian was so cool, so rock-and-roll, and at home he has this Presbyterian Minister for a father and none of us had any idea. "

  "And so you found God," I murmured.

  Nate shifted until he was close enough to lean his head against the back of sofa only inches from mine own. "I like to say He found me," Nate joked. "He'd taken a lot away from me, but He'd given me so much too. I had to give back."

  "But why did you choose the Ministry?" I asked. "Couldn't you have just led the choir or something?"

  Nate chuckled. I must have sounded petulant but our lives would have been a lot easier in that moment if he didn't have that title of Reverend tacked on the front of his name.

  "You don't choose the church, sweetheart, it chooses you. That's why it's a vocation... like music, like medicine, like teaching... like law..."

  My heart stopped.

  "Why'd you become a lawyer, Adele?"

  "Because it's all I knew," I confessed. "My father is a lawyer, so are my brothers. I grew up with it always. Every night around the dinner table our every conversation was steeped in it. We lived it at our house. You learned music as I child... well, I learned law. I can never remember wanting to be anything other than a lawyer. I don't know what my life would be without it."

  "Why?"

  I thought about it, thought really hard. Everything I'd ever done, ever thought, had been shaped by the rules I learned so young, the dictates I believed in and defended every day.

  "Because it differentiates right from wrong. Because it protects us and gives us something to trust in."

  Nate moved closer to brush a soft kiss against my lips. "What you and I do is the same thing, sweetheart. We just answer to different bosses."

  He gave me time to let his words sink in. I turned them over and over in my mind and I knew there was logic in them. On some levels he and I weren't so different.

  Nate slid down to rest his head in my lap. He let out a weary sigh and stretched his legs across the couch. I picked up my book from the floor and set it down on the end table, careful of the candle at my elbow before I rested one hand on Nate's chest. It had been an emotional afternoon for us both. On impulse, I ran the fingers through his soft hair. He closed his eyes and made a low sound of approval so I kept it up.

  It was Nate's job, his calling, to comfort others, but I couldn't help but wonder who comforted him. If I asked I'm sure he'd say God, but God couldn't hold him and reassure him with His touch.

  I guess that's why He gave us one another, to do that in His stead.

  The thought shocked me. I don't know where it came from and I froze. Nate opened one chocolate brown eye and looked up at me.

  "You alright, sweetheart?"

  "Yeah, I am." For the first time in a long time I believed it.

  I don't know how long we stayed like that, with Nate's head resting on my thigh and my hand over his heart. Esther snored softly at my feet while the fire in the hearth crackled and spit. The wind battered the little house but we were together. . . and safe

  I dozed off and Nate must have too because we both jumped with a start when my cell phone rang.

  Nate sat up and rubbed sleepily at his face like a little boy woken from a nap. My heart skipped a beat.

  I reached for my cell. The display screen said 'Rhiannon', but it was a male voice on the other end when I answered.

  Joe.

  "Rhi's contractions started this morning," he explained in his low, languid voice. "I'm taking her to the hospital. Everyone else is already there, waitin' to meet us. Thought you should know."

  "She's going into labour now?" I glanced out the window. "It's a blizzard out there!"

  "I noticed," Joe drawled with a mixture of exasperation and love. He would drive Rhiannon to hell and back if she asked it of him, a little snow certainly wasn't going to stop him.

  "Want me to pick you up on the way? She's asking for you."

  I giggled. "Asking?" Rhiannon Barnes-Tanner did not ask for things.

  Joe chuckled, in on the joke. "Insisting, then."

  "Well she can insist all she wants, but I'm not at home. I went out this morning to visit... a friend... and the weather's got me stranded out of town."

  I don't know why I didn't tell him I was at Nate's. Within our circle of friends Joe was the most trustworthy to keep my secret, but I didn't feel ready to share it. Anyway, he'd jump to conclusions just as anyone else would, something I couldn't handle right now since I hadn't come to any definite conclusions myself.

  "You okay?" Joe asked. I imagined the look of brotherly concern on his dear face.

  "Yes Joe, we're well stocked and very... snug. Tell Rhi I'm sorry I can't be there. Will you keep me updated though?"

  "Sure thing," he promised. "There's gonna be enough people at the hospital anyway with my parents and siblings and Adam, so don't worry your pretty head about not being there."

  I smiled. Even though he was Lilly's big brother I'd really only gotten to know Joe since his marriage to Rhiannon. I was surprised how much I liked him because Lilly always painted him as the overbearing, overprotective sort. But I'd come to equate his quiet, careful manner with an innate sense of responsibility and an enormous capacity for love. He didn't say much but what he did say was well thought out, and always, always the truth.

  "Tell her I love her," I added with a whisper.

  "I will. She loves you too, Adele. Even if she doesn't say it."

  No one knew better than Joe did that expressions of affection weren't Rhiannon's strong suit. She was proud and brash and she demanded attention, but her overconfident, glamorous exterior hid a lost little girl who desperately needed to love and be loved in return.

  Tears welled at the corners of my eyes. Rhiannon was about to become a mother and I wouldn't be there. "Thanks Joe. Good luck."

  I ended the call and turned to find Nate watching me with a gentle smile.

  "It's time?"

  "It's time."

  Just the thought of what Rhiannon and Joe were experiencing at this very moment made me tear up more and ache for the babies I'd lost. I tried not to think about it often because it still hurt so damn much. A wave of jealousy rose up as I pictured Rhi with her baby. Joe would be a great father. They were about to become a family. I truly felt happy for them. But that didn't stop me from feeling a little sorry for myself and very guilty too.

  I wrapped my arms around waist and turned back to the window, not wanting Nate to see yet another layer of my hurt. Goodness knows I'd laid enough of my problems at his feet for one day.

  He joined me at the window but made no move to touch me. After a long silence, I peeked at him. His eyes were closed, his chin down. It was a gesture I recognized.

  "Are you praying?" I asked, surprised.

  "Yup. You want in on it?"

  "I-I don't know," I admitted. I thought it over for a minute. "Could you just tack my name on the end? Just to let Him know I'd also like whatever it is you're asking for?"

  Nate smiled but still didn't open his eyes. Another long silence passed before he raised his head and his warm gaze met mine.

  "Did you ask for a safe delivery and healthy baby?" I whispered. The question sounded funny once it left my lips. Nate wasn't asking Santa for a good Christmas present after all.

  Nate reached over and slung his arm over my shoulders. "I did."

  "Did you ask for that from me too?"

  "I did," he assured me. He gave me a gentle squeeze. "You can ask Him yourself, you know."

  I shook my head. "I'm not there yet. But I trust you to put in a good word for me."

  There was that soft chuckle again—the one that always sent shivers to my toes. "That's what I do."

  On the other side of the windowpane the snow still fell so heavily it blocked
out any semblance of a view. I worried about Rhiannon and Joe's short drive to the hospital. I worried the doctor might not be able to make the trip to help them. I worried something might go wrong with the baby. I worried that something might go wrong with Rhi.

  I felt so small and helpless. I hated feeling helpless.

  I pulled my arms from around myself and wrapped them around Nate's torso instead. He enfolded me against him and rested his cheek against my hair.

  "They'll be okay," he murmured, reading my mind. "Rhi's a strong person. Women have been giving birth since the dawn of time. There's nothing to it, really. And she has Joe there with her -- you know he'll take care of her. Besides, they're being watched over."

  Like I had been watched over every time I had a miscarriage?

  "You're sound so sure about it." I couldn't keep the bitterness from creeping into my voice. "How can you be so sure?"

  Nate's mouth grazed the top of my head. "I have to be. It's in the job description. Even if you could be with her there's nothing you could do to help. It's beyond our control, sweetheart. All we can do is trust."

  Trust. Not something I was good at. Not anymore.

  I eased out of Nate's arms but he held me Nate tighter, stopping my escape. Eventually I let myself relax into his embrace.

  I could have stood there with him, like that, all afternoon but after a time Nate stepped back and held me at arms length. He brushed the curls from my face and gave me a light kiss.

  "Do you like Scrabble?"

  The question came totally out of the blue. I realized Nate was trying to distract me from my worries and I was silently thankful for the change of topic.

  With a laugh I admitted that I did like Scrabble. I hadn't played in years but with my arsenal of obscure legal terms I almost always won. It would only be a matter of time before Nate found out he was up against a formidable opponent.

  He pulled the game from a lower shelf and set it up on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. We both sat cross-legged on the floor and under Esther's watchful golden gaze, proceeded to battle it out. But I'd underestimated Nate's Scrabble-playing ability. At every turn, he countered me with odd terminology. He was a merciless opponent, which I relished because I loved to earn my victories.

  More than an hour later I threw up my hands and conceded defeat. Nate had pulled ahead by twenty points and the only tiles left in my tray were 'z', 'k', and 'g', none of which were of any use to me.

  He shot me a mischievous grin from across the board. The firelight glinted like gold off his hair. He was so damn good-looking that I forgot to breathe for a moment.

  "Sorry, sweetheart!"

  I glanced down at the last word he played. "Cacomixl? I don't even know what that means!"

  "It's a raccoon-like mammal," Nate explained with a soft chuckle. "Ring-tailed, looks sort of like a cat. From South America."

  I cocked an eyebrow. "Really?" My last word—juridic—seemed positively banal by comparison.

  "Really," he assured me. "If you don't believe me I've got an encyclopedia around here somewhere."

  I shook my head. "No, no... I believe you. I think. I mean, if anyone knows the little-known mammalian wonders of God's creation, it'll be you."

  Nate winked at me. "As recompense I'll cook you dinner."

  My stomach growled in response. Lunchtime felt like it had flown by a million years ago. The blizzard had darkened the world so much it was difficult to tell precisely what time it was. Or maybe it was that so much had passed between lunch and this moment. Either way, I found I was starving.

  Dinner turned out to be fettuccine with an amazing alfredo sauce -- thick, rich, and sinfully luxurious. I think I moaned at the first bite.

  "Where did you learn to cook?" I asked before after I took a sip of the smooth shiraz.

  "My best friend is a three-star chef," Nate teased. "He's taught me a thing or two. Your ex never cooked you dinner?"

  The question, its subject matter and the ease with which he brought it up, caught me off guard but I wouldn't let it show. I didn't like where this was going but maybe if I gave Nate an honest answer, he'd let it go.

  "I'm not even sure he knew how to boil water. Harry lived in a world where everything was done for him. He didn't cook, he certainly didn't clean. If I wasn't home in time to get dinner on the table, he ate out. Even if I was exhausted from being in court all day, he still figured I'd be the one to feed him."

  In between bites of fettuccine alfredo, Nate smirked. "You're doing nothing to improve my opinion of the man."

  I gigged.

  "What did he do for a living anyhow?"

  I twirled the fettuccine noodles around my fork but I couldn't bring myself to take another bite. Yes, I definitely didn't like where this was going.

  "As little as possible," I told him. "When I met him he was going to be a lawyer too, but he didn't keep up with the studying. He tried to become a firefighter but couldn't pass the physicals. Instead he bounced around from job to job... for a while he even sold used cars. Mostly though, he didn't do much at all."

  Nate reached over and touched my hand. "I can't believe you put up with that. You're so driven."

  "I was in love and he was my husband, what was I going to do? He always had an excuse that made sense and I wanted to be the supportive wife instead of nagging him all the time. I'd always known what direction my own life was going to take, but I also know it's not that easy for everyone. I thought Harry was just... I thought he just needed time to find himself, you know? We were young after all, it's not unheard of."

  Nate's brown eyes glassed over for a minute and I could tell he was thinking of his own lost years. His gaze met mine and sharpened.

  "He was very lucky to have you and a complete idiot for not realizing what a treasure you are."

  I shrugged. I know I still carried around a lot of bitterness towards Harry and our failed marriage, but one afternoon with Nate had done a lot to banish the lingering shadows of that hurt. Nate returned the grateful smile I sent across the table.

  We laughed and chatted over the remainder of dinner. My appetite, usually small at best, seemed to expand over the meal, and I ate the entire helping Nate heaped on my plate. A glass-and-a-half of wine later, I was feeling very, very good.

  We stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink and washed up the dishes together with water warmed on the corner wood stove. That stove was a handy thing to have, I realized as I plunged my hands into the warm soapy water; we had no electricity but still enjoyed a hot meal and even hotter water.

  Nate's long fingers brushed over my soap-slick hands each time I passed him a dish to dry. Somehow this everyday, domestic task became charged with an intimacy I'd never experienced before. I didn't want the evening to end.

  Back in the living room Nate piled more wood into the fire. The candles had burned low and he replenished them carefully, casting the room in a soft, ethereal glow. There was magic all around us as I lowered myself onto my end of the couch. Instead of taking his place beside me though, Nate sank to the floor and pulled an acoustic guitar from behind the sofa.

  "Mind if I play for a while? My fingers itch if I don't get it out of my system."

  I shook my head, more than willing to be submitted to the captivating spell of Nate's music. I didn't even make the pretense of reading my book as he played; instead I watched the candle-light flicker off the blond crown of his bent head and the masterful movements of his fingers over the strings.

  Some of the songs I recognized—old folk tunes I'd heard as a child, a few Beatles songs made more appealing and somehow new by the acoustic guitar, familiar radio anthems softened by Nate's talented fingers. I didn't ask him about the unfamiliar songs because I didn't want to interrupt Nate. Anyway, the titles didn't really matter, they were all beautiful.

  When he first began to sing I had to strain to hear him, but his voice grew stronger as he moved through an old David Gray song. The words were husky in the back of his throat and I didn
't dare move in case I missed a single line of "Sail Away". But sitting still became impossible when Nate sang the chorus a second time.

  I sank to my knees in front of him and kissed him with everything I had in me. The guitar shifted between us. His arms were around me and he was pulling me down to the carpet in front of the fireplace.

  At first his touch was gentle, almost unsure, but he grew more fervent as our kiss deepened. This wasn't the careful exploration we'd made earlier upstairs in the music room. This time Nate took from me with frantic hunger and I returned every feeling he brought out in me, every ounce of hope he shared with me. My spine arched up off the floor when his fingers brushed the underside of my breast.