03_A Family To Call Her Own

by Irene Hannon

  “I think you can take a lot of credit for that,” Zach remarked quietly. “Isabel has grown very fond of you—which is easy to understand.”

  She looked up at him, noted the tender light in his eyes, and averted her glance quickly. “Do you hear from Josef often?” she asked, diverting the spotlight from herself.

  “As often as he can get access to a PC, which is every couple of days. Isabel and I check morning and evening for messages, and we send him a note every day when I get home from school.”

  “Speaking of school, how’s your problem student doing?”

  “Pete Cramer? He’s not a problem anymore. In fact, I heard some teachers in the lounge talking the other day, speculating on why he’s suddenly buckled down and gotten serious about his studies.”

  Rebecca smiled. “I could clear up that mystery in one word—you.”

  Zach shrugged. “All I did was offer a little encouragement. And some discipline. Very good advice, by the way,” he acknowledged with a smile. “Anyway, I think he’s going to apply for that week-long writing camp this summer in Michigan that I told you about. The only problem is funding. Which brings me to a subject I’ve been meaning to raise. Do you hire any extra wait staff in the summer, high school kids?”

  “Yes. Do you think he might be interested?”

  He nodded. “It would give him something constructive to do, and he could earn the money for camp. Would you consider talking to him?”

  “Absolutely. Have him come over someday after school.”

  Zach gave her a grateful smile. “I appreciate it, Rebecca.”

  She waved his thanks aside. “I need the help, anyway. And if I can give a job to someone who will really benefit, that’s even better.”

  They reached the end of the block and paused to gaze at the small, deserted park.

  “Would you like to sit for a few minutes?” Zach asked, nodding toward a convenient bench.

  Rebecca thought about the last time they’d sat on a bench together, and her stomach clenched at the memory. A wave of panic washed over her, and she started to refuse. But as her gaze fell on a bed of colorful tulips in the center of the park, the flowers waving encouragingly to her in the gentle breeze, the words died in her throat. She recalled Brad’s sermon, as well as her own promise to herself, and took a slow, steadying breath.

  “Yes. That would be nice.”

  Zach took her elbow as they made their way across the uneven ground, then sat beside her on the wooden bench.

  “Nice spot,” he remarked.

  She forced herself to lean back, then folded her hands primly in her lap and glanced around. “Yes. Sam and Brad were glad there was a park close by, with swings and all, so Emily will have a place to play near home when she gets older. Of course, they didn’t buy the house because of that. They didn’t know then there would even be an Emily. They just liked the house. And that contemporary ranch style suits them, don’t you think?” she rattled off breathlessly.

  “Mmm-hmm. And I like them a lot. They seem like good people,” Zach replied, acutely aware of her unease yet determined not to let that deter him from broaching the subject that had been on his mind for days. “But let’s talk about us for a minute, okay?”

  Rebecca glanced down, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. After a long pause she spoke softly. “Is…is there an ‘us’?” she asked, her voice quavering slightly.

  “I’d like for there to be.”

  “Even…even after what happened the night you…you took me to dinner?” Her voice was tentative, uncertain.

  “Let’s talk about that, too.”

  Rebecca forced herself to look up at him, and the caring and kindness—and concern—she saw in his eyes made her throat tighten. She swallowed with difficulty, searching for an explanation that would be enough to satisfy him but not enough to expose her darkest secret. “I-I’m not a woman who likes to be touched very much.” Her voice was so soft he had to lean close to hear her.

  The obvious question hovered on his lips, but he refrained from asking it. He doubted whether she would tell him why, anyway, not at this point in their relationship. So he’d have to approach her reply from a different direction.

  “In general—or just by me?” he asked, striving for a teasing tone.

  “In general.”

  There was silence for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was gentle. “Touching is part of a relationship between two people who like each other, Rebecca.”

  She was aware of that. It was the source of her fear. “I know.”

  “Do you like me?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was a mere whisper.

  “Then maybe you should define what you mean by touching,” he suggested quietly. He reached over and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, stroking the side of her hand with his thumb. “Does this kind of touching bother you?”

  Her heart began to pound in her chest as she looked at his strong hand linked with hers, and she drew a shaky breath. “Yes.” His thumb stilled, and she hurried on. “B-but not in the way you mean. I…I like that.”

  He resumed the gentle stroking motion, then reached over with his other hand and tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes as he traced a gentle finger down her cheek. “Do you like this kind of touching, Rebecca?” he asked, the timbre of his voice deepening.

  She closed her eyes as his caress sent a shiver of excitement rippling through her. “I…yes, I like that,” she whispered.

  He leaned over then, slowly, and pressed his lips to her forehead, letting them travel gently down the bridge of her nose to her lips. “How about this?” he asked huskily, his breath warm against her face.

  Even though it was Easter, the fireworks that suddenly erupted all around her made Rebecca feel like it was the Fourth of July. “I…I like that, too,” she replied unsteadily.

  Zach pulled back then, far enough to look into her dreamy eyes filled with unbridled yearning and ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it back softly from her face. “Well, I don’t see much of a problem here, Rebecca. You like me, and I like you. And you also like being touched, whether you realize it or not. So here’s my suggestion. We’ll have one simple rule. If I touch you in a way you don’t like, tell me and I’ll stop. How does that sound?”

  She swallowed, deciding that she might as well be honest with him up front. “Zach, I…touching like this is…it’s nice. But I…I can’t handle the…the heavier stuff.”

  He looked at her speculatively. “Is that why you don’t date?”

  She nodded mutely, her face suddenly forlorn and sad. “I have dated a little. But whenever things got…close, I…I freaked out. I scared the men to death and embarrassed myself. Needless to say, they never came back. And I wouldn’t have gone out again if they had.”

  He frowned, the unspoken question again hovering between them. What on earth had made her so paranoid of physical closeness? She was not a cold woman. Far from it. She was loving and warm and kind, and he could see the repressed passion in her eyes, struggling for release even now. Something had frightened her at some point in her life—badly enough that she’d denied her desires all these years, given up her dreams of a husband and family. But what? Again he almost asked the question. And again he decided that patience would serve him better. She would tell him when—or maybe if was a better word—she felt comfortable doing so. Forcing the issue would only make her close down.

  He drew a deep breath and took both her hands in his, angling his body to face her, his eyes intense and serious. “Do you know what I think?” he asked. She shook her head mutely, and he continued. “I think you’ve never had a real chance to find out whether you can handle the heavier stuff.”

  She frowned. “But I told you, I—”

  “Rebecca,” he stopped her gently. “Let me finish. I’d be willing to bet that none of the men you dated went out with you long enough to give you a chance to feel comfortable with them, to establish a trust level. They probably got int
o the so-called heavy stuff right up front. Sort of the same mistake I made the night I took you out for dinner,” he admitted with a disarmingly rueful grin.

  She flushed and bit her lower lip. She’d never really thought about that before. “You might be right,” she admitted slowly.

  “Well, I’m in no hurry,” he assured her, even as he silently acknowledged that those words weren’t quite true. But he cared enough about this woman to let the relationship progress at whatever pace she set. “We’ll just take it a day at a time, okay?”

  Rebecca stared at him, finding it hard to believe that at last a man had come her way who not only had integrity, but patience. It seemed too good to be true. Yet the tender touch of his hands and the warmth of his eyes were real enough. How could she refuse?

  “All right, Zach. If you’re sure.”

  A smile spread across his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And by the way…”

  “Yes?” She looked at him quizzically when he paused.

  He touched her nose with the tip of his finger. “You really were the most beautiful lady at church today.”

  “So did you have a nice day?” Brad asked, coming up behind Rebecca as she stood at the window watching Isabel show Zach the baby rabbits.

  She turned, her face filled with a soft radiance that reflected both her new hope and the feeling of being at peace with her decision. “Yes. It was lovely. Thank you.”

  Brad stuck his hands in his pockets, then gazed out at Zach and Isabel for a moment before turning again to his sister. “I like him,” he said simply.

  She smiled, and a faint blush colored her cheeks. “So do I.”

  “Rebecca, I…” He paused and expelled a long breath. “Look, I don’t want to interfere in your life. Dad does enough of that for both of us,” he observed with a quick grin. “But I want you to be happy. I don’t know why you’ve never married, although I’m sure you have your reasons. But I also know that you should be married. You have so much love to give, and you’d make a wonderful wife and mother. I hope you…well, I hope you give things a chance when the right man comes along.”

  Rebecca reached over and laid a hand on his arm, her throat constricting. “Thank you for caring so much, Brad. And I— I’m working on it.”

  “Well, speaking from personal experience, I can only say that the rewards are great when you find the right person,” he replied with a gentle smile.

  “I can tell,” she assured him. She turned to watch Zach and Isabel making their way back toward the house, her tiny hand trustingly tucked into his powerful one. “I guess I’ll just have to ask the Lord to guide me on this one.”

  He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “I can’t think of anyone better to ask,” he agreed. “And I’ll do the same.”

  Rebecca poured Zach’s coffee, then sat down at her dinette table.

  “This is good cake,” Isabel declared, digging into the large rose on top of her piece.

  “Well, I’m just glad I could share the rest of it with two of my favorite people,” Rebecca said warmly, her eyes meeting Zach’s across the table. She’d been floating on a cloud ever since she and Zach had talked in the park yesterday. He gave her a lazy smile as he sipped his coffee, and her pulse lurched into overdrive.

  “My birthday is next month,” Isabel informed them as she polished off the rose.

  Rebecca forced her gaze back to the little girl. “So I hear. And I think we should plan something very special. Don’t you, Zach?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “A party?” Isabel asked hopefully, her eyes lighting with anticipation.

  “Of course. You can even pick the menu for dinner.”

  “Spaghetti. And French fries. And corn on the cob. And…and chocolate cake!” she declared, ticking off the list without hesitation.

  Rebecca laughed. “Well, that’s not the most nutritious menu I’ve ever heard. But it is your birthday, so I suppose we can eat like that for one day.”

  “Let’s see,” Zach reflected, reaching for his calendar. “Your birthday is on a Monday. Maybe we could have a picnic Sunday, too. That way we can celebrate for two days.”

  “I like picnics,” Isabel declared. “Mama and Papa and I used to go on picnics sometimes.”

  Her face clouded, and Rebecca’s heart ached for her. She tried desperately to think of something to distract the suddenly solemn little girl. “A picnic would be great,” she agreed. “In fact, why don’t we have a slumber party, too?” she suggested with sudden inspiration.

  “What’s a slumber party?” Isabel asked curiously.

  “Well, you bring your pajamas over on Sunday night and sleep here with me. We’ll make cookies and watch movies and stay up late.”

  “That sounds like fun!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “Can Uncle Zach come, too?”

  Rebecca almost choked on her coffee, and her gaze flew to Zach, who grinned at her engagingly.

  “Can I?” he asked innocently, his eyes twinkling.

  “There’s room in the bed,” Isabel said, her voice eager as she turned to Zach. “Rebecca has a big bed,” she told him.

  “Is that right?”

  By now Rebecca’s face was flaming, but Zach ignored the pleading glance she sent him. He actually seemed to be enjoying the situation, she thought in dismay. It was clearly up to her to get out of this. “Isabel, sweetie, slumber parties are…they’re just for girls,” she stammered.

  “Oh.” Isabel’s face fell. “I wish Uncle Zach could come.”

  He chuckled. “So does Uncle Zach. But Rebecca’s right, honey. The kind of slumber party she’s talking about is just for girls,” he explained, giving Rebecca a wink that made her nerve endings sizzle.

  “We’ll still have lots of fun,” Rebecca promised, her voice slightly uneven.

  “Well…okay,” Isabel capitulated.

  They moved on to other, less volatile subjects, and it wasn’t until Zach and Isabel were leaving that the situation heated up again. She walked them to the door, wondering how Zach would say good-night, knowing that their options were extremely limited with Isabel there. Which was really for the best, she told herself, though for some strange reason it didn’t seem so.

  When they reached the door, she glanced at him expectantly, and although she thought she saw a flame flare suddenly in his eyes, he simply leaned over and kissed her forehead. Rebecca tried to stem the tide of disappointment that swept over her, forcing herself to smile and wave as she watched them climb into the car. Not until she closed the door and leaned against it did her lips droop. It was true that she wanted to move slowly, but at this rate she wouldn’t even get a proper kiss until Isabel left. At which time Zach might very well leave, too, she reminded herself, her spirits taking a sudden nosedive.

  She was just sliding the second lock into place when a soft knock sounded on the door. Frowning, she opened it to find Zach smiling at her from the other side.

  “I told Isabel I forgot my wallet,” he explained.

  “Oh. Come on in,” she said, turning toward the living room. “I didn’t see it, but—”

  “Rebecca.” He cut her off and reached for her arm, restraining her as he slipped inside and shut the door behind him. “I lied.”

  She turned to him in surprise. “Why?”

  Gently he took her hands and urged her toward him, looping his arms loosely around her waist. “Because that brotherly peck on the forehead didn’t quite cut it for me as a good-night kiss,” he admitted huskily.

  Rebecca swallowed and stared up at him, her hands flat against his chest, the pounding of his heart vibrating beneath her fingertips. “Oh,” she breathed softly.

  “I’d like to kiss you properly, if that’s okay.”

  She swallowed with difficulty, as delicate color suffused her face. “Y-yes. I think that would be n-nice,” she murmured.

  Zach stared down at her, telling himself to be slow and gentle and attuned to every nuance of her respo
nse. Which was extremely difficult, when what he really wanted to do was pull her close and capture her lips in a kiss so thorough that she would be left breathless. But he knew that impulsive approach would end up killing, not creating, desire.

  So instead he left one hand resting lightly at her waist while he cradled the back of her head with his other, his eyes burning into hers as he slowly lowered his head to claim her lips.

  Rebecca was frightened—frightened of her reaction, frightened of what would happen if things started to move too fast, frightened at the prospect that he might lose control and forget his promise to go slowly. But as his lips closed over hers—gentle, warm and coaxing, demanding no more than she was willing to give—she slowly began to respond. Her kiss was shy, tentative, cautious, but it was given freely. Her hands crept around his neck of their own volition, and she buried her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she felt the pressure of his hand at her waist tighten ever so slightly. But she wasn’t frightened. He seemed in control, and she could handle this level of intimacy.

  When at last Zach released her lips, he drew a long, shuddering breath and pressed her cheek against his chest, his chin resting on top of her head. He held her like that in silence for several long moments, his hand rhythmically stroking the small of her back. Never in a million years would he have believed that he could be so moved by just a simple kiss. But Rebecca’s shyness, her inexperience, her sweet response just about undid him. He needed a few moments to compose himself. When he’d blithely made the promise to let her set the pace, he’d had no idea how difficult it would be to keep. If nothing else, he would come out of this experience with better mastery of his self-control, he though wryly.