“What?” Claire closed the button with a single movement and lifted her head. She brushed her hair from her face with one hand. “You don’t even know what I was about to say.”
“I thought—”
“I know what you thought.” Claire reached up and closed his mouth with her fingers. “But I was talking about praying.”
“Really?” Tony shifted in his seat. “Since when did you become such a big fan of prayer?”
“Tony.” Claire sat up straight. “I know this may come as a shock to you, but I do believe in God. And in the power of prayer.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No,” she said, interrupting him. “The words have been said. The harm is done.”
He stared at her for a moment. Then his lips twitched. “How about you forgive me and we kiss and make up?”
“Tony, kissing doesn’t solve anything.”
“No, but it’ll help clear my head.” Tony smiled. “And, not to bring up promises, but you did say anytime.”
She chuckled.
“And I’m a woman of my word.” Claire lifted her face to his and pulled him to her. She was really going to miss this man.
Chapter Eleven
“But you have to know what kind of food you want at your reception.” A thread of exasperation ran through Mrs. Sandy’s voice. “The wedding is a week away.”
Claire knew that better than Mrs. Sandy. Normally she would have been looking forward to the Fourth of July, the parades, the fireworks, even the picnics. But this year, Independence Day was also Judgment Day.
“Have you asked Tony?” Claire finished loading the dishwasher and straightened, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
Mrs. Sandy gave a frustrated cry. “Have I asked him?” She shut the kitchen cupboard door so hard the dishes rattled. “Only every day for the past two weeks.”
Claire couldn’t help but smile. And here she’d thought it was only her getting the pressure. Tony had never mentioned that Mrs. Sandy was harassing him, too.
“You two won’t think it’s so funny when you’re feeding your guests peanut butter and jelly,” Mrs. Sandy snapped.
Her words were sharp, but beneath the woman’s gruffness Claire could sense the hurt, and she cursed her insensitivity.
“I’m sorry.” Claire crossed the room and put her hand on Mrs. Sandy’s arm. “You’re right. Tony and I need to sit down and decide.”
“I just want the day to be perfect,” Mrs. Sandy said, smoothing a wrinkle in her apron. “I certainly don’t mean to nag.”
Claire stared at the woman who’d become so dear. She no longer saw the too-tight perm or the ample hips in the polyester pants. She saw a friend, someone who truly cared. And, she realized, that’s what really mattered.
“This isn’t your fault,” Claire said firmly, meeting the woman’s gaze. “You shouldn’t have had to ask more than once. I’ll talk to Tony and we’ll get this settled.”
“Thank you, Claire.” Relief flooded Mrs. Sandy’s face. “That’s good news.”
Unfortunately Claire knew it was anything but good news. Unless she took a big leap of faith and told Tony how she felt, she’d just signed her own walking papers.
“He wants to meet in Des Moines tonight?” Tony leaned back in his desk chair. “Why didn’t he call me himself?”
Harold Clarke shrugged. “I know Larry tried to reach you. But he got your recorder and didn’t want to leave a message. He and I are old friends so he called me thinking I might want to come, too.”
Larry Babcock, Tony’s pastoral advisor from the district office in Illinois, would be in Des Moines for the night. According to Harold, Larry and his wife wanted to take Tony out to dinner.
Although Larry seemed like a nice guy the one time they’d met, Tony knew he’d feel more comfortable if Harold joined them. “Are you going?”
“I’m afraid I can’t.” Harold shook his head, his voice filled with what sounded like genuine regret. “Darlene and I have tickets to some musical in Des Moines.”
Tony hoped his surprise didn’t show. He had no idea that Harold and Mrs. Sandy were seeing each other socially. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Tony couldn’t think of two people better matched. “Since you’ll already be in Des Moines, why don’t you stop by the restaurant before you go to the theater?”
“I thought of that,” Harold said, “but Larry can’t meet until seven and the musical starts at seven-thirty.”
“That’s too bad,” Tony said.
“Will you be able to go?”
“I’ll make it work.” Tony mentally reviewed his schedule. “You say he’s bringing his wife?”
“Yes,” Harold said. “And they definitely want you to bring Claire.”
Tony paused. “I’ll be in Des Moines anyway for a prison ministry meeting. That runs from three to six-thirty. If I grab a ride with one of the other pastors, I could leave the Jeep for Claire. Then we can drive back together.”
“Good plan.” Harold smiled and handed Tony a piece of paper with the name and address of the restaurant in bold print. “Make sure you’re on time. Larry’s always been funny about being kept waiting.”
“We’ll be there.” Tony glanced at the sheet. “Claire and I were planning to go out anyway, so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.”
“You’ve got yourself a nice woman, Tony,” Harold said. “I don’t mind telling you, at first I had a few doubts about how she’d like small-town living, but from what I’ve seen and what Darlene has told me, she’s fitting in just fine.”
Tony smiled. Not only had Claire become a part of the town and the congregation, she’d become a part of his heart in the process.
“That wedding will be here before you know it,” Harold said with a grin. “How many days is it?”
“Seven.” Just saying the number brought the realization that time was running out.
If they held to their original agreement, he and Claire would break up soon. She’d return to Colorado, and he’d stay in Iowa. Alone.
But Tony was no longer sure that’s what either of them wanted. During the past six weeks, Claire had become such a part of his life he couldn’t imagine her not in it. And lately he’d started to believe she felt the same.
So why did he feel like a nervous schoolboy when he thought about telling her what was in his heart?
You know why.
Although he was ninety-nine percent sure she returned his feelings, a tiny voice deep within kept whispering the doubts. Claire was so beautiful, so wonderful. She could have her pick of any man. Why would she choose life with a small-town minister? Sure, she liked him, but did she love him? And, more importantly, did she love him enough to want to stay?
Tony squared his shoulders. There was only one way to know for sure. Tonight, he’d ask.
“Okay, we’re set. We’ll meet at the restaurant at seven,” Tony said. “That means you’ll have to leave here no later than six.”
Claire could barely stop herself from coming back with some smart-mouth comment that would really get him going. She knew Tony wanted the evening to go perfectly, but this was getting ridiculous. She’d already sworn on a stack of Bibles she’d be on time.
“Tony, sweetheart, don’t worry.” She laid her hand against his cheek, and his skin was cool beneath her touch. “Haven’t I already said I’d be there?”
“I know you have.” Tony raked a hand through his hair. “But this is really important. This guy is the closest thing to a boss that I have.”
“I realize that,” Claire said, her last bit of patience gone. “That’s why, unless something better comes up, I’ll be there.”
“Unless something better comes up?” He stared in disbelief.
“Just kidding,” Claire laughed.
“Claire.” He growled a warning.
“Tony.” She shot him a saucy smile, but when his stony expression didn’t soften, she gave in. “I’ll be there.”
“Will you?”
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Claire tilted her head. Should she jerk his chain? Or be kind? “Want me to write it in blood?”
Tony hesitated, and Claire thought for a minute he was going to take her up on the offer. Instead he smiled and reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Not necessary,” he said. “I…trust you.”
Claire exhaled. For a brief second she’d thought he was going to say he loved her. But once again, she’d been disappointed. She couldn’t go on much longer like this, not knowing how he felt.
Claire squared her shoulders. There was only one way to know for sure. Tonight, after dinner when he wasn’t so stressed, she’d ask.
Claire brushed her hair, smiling in satisfaction at the way the light from the bedroom window reflected off the dark shiny strands. She glanced at her nails, and her smile widened. After she’d left Tony this morning she’d splurged on a manicure at the local beauty shop.
The woman hadn’t been as good as Yvette, who had done her nails for years, but the French manicure was more than adequate. The scent of the perfume Daddy had brought back from a midwinter trip to France lingered in the air. She’d taken a leisurely bath and then she’d applied it liberally to strategic pulse points, rubbing it in slowly, feeling the skin turn warm and fragrant beneath her touch.
This was it, D-day. Decision day. Tonight she’d lay her heart on the line and see what happened. Funny—she’d never before realized how scary it was to bare your soul to another.
All those times when men had professed to be in love with her, she’d never even considered what courage that simple act took. And remembering some of her responses—dear God, had she actually laughed once?—made her cringe.
If she hadn’t had those experiences, it might be easier to take this step. Actually, she’d been hoping Tony would declare his feelings first. She could then say, “I love you, too,” and they’d live happily ever after.
But he’d never said he loved her. He’d never asked if she’d consider staying forever. Oh, a few times he’d hinted that might be his preference. And the look in his eyes seemed to say he was a man in love, but he’d never said the actual words. Mrs. Sandy was right. Time was running out. They needed to talk.
If only she knew what would happen when they did. Claire glanced at her ring. Would it still be there tomorrow or would her finger be bare?
She lifted her gaze heavenward, desperate for some divine intervention.
Dear God, it’s me, Claire. Tony says when we pray we need to ask that Your will, not ours, be done. So, if it’s Your will, please let Tony and me stay together. I think we could all benefit if I stayed in Millville. But if that’s not in Your plan— Claire paused and swallowed hard—please help me to accept it. Amen.
The thought that God could have a different wife in mind for Tony stabbed Claire’s heart like a knife. She didn’t want to even think about that possibility. Not now.
The knock on the door was a welcome sound.
“Claire.”
She recognized the voice immediately. Claire fastened her kimono tight around her waist. “Come in, April.”
“I wanted to see if you had any red nail polish I could borrow.” April’s gaze lingered on Claire’s silk robe and bare feet. Obviously she wasn’t used to seeing anyone half dressed in the middle of the afternoon. Her eyes darted around the room. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all,” Claire said, before she noticed the glint in April’s eyes.
Oh, so that’s what she was thinking.
Claire stifled a smile and kicked at the bed’s dust ruffle. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m alone. No man stashed under the bed.” She shifted her gaze pointedly across the room. “Or even in the closet.”
April giggled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re too much of a Goody Two-shoes for that kind of thing.”
“Really?” Claire raised a brow. Ever since she’d been old enough to date, she’d established a reputation as a party girl. And sometimes a tease. But never in her recollection had anyone ever called her a Goody Two-shoes.
And Claire wasn’t sure she liked the picture it brought to mind. An image of her high school valedictorian, with her wire-rimmed glasses and a tissue clutched in one hand, flashed before her. “I’ve never thought of myself that way.”
April shrugged and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You can’t help what you are.”
Claire narrowed her gaze and reminded herself April was still young. And obviously stupid. She laid her brush down on the dressing table. “Whatever would make you think that about me?”
“Well…” April thought for a moment. “For one thing, you’d never think of sleeping with a guy before you were married.”
“Actually I have,” Claire said.
April inhaled sharply. Her eyes widened. She leaned forward in eager anticipation. “You and Pastor Karelli have—”
Claire laughed. “You’ve got it all wrong. I meant I’d thought about it. Not that I have done it.”
“In youth group we learned that having the desire is the same as doing it.”
“I know in God’s eyes a sin is a sin,” Claire said. “Personally I think there’s a big difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it.”
“So—” April picked a speck of nail polish off her thumb “—are you glad you’ve never done it?”
Claire paused and thought for a moment. This was an issue most teens faced, and Claire sensed April was no exception. The problem was Claire wasn’t sure she should be the one to help. “Isn’t this something you should discuss with your mother?”
“You want me to ask her if you’re glad you’ve never had sex with our pastor?” April raised an innocent gaze. “How would she know?”
Claire laughed again. She wasn’t sure April would have the nerve to approach her mother with such a question, but Claire could only imagine Mrs. Sandy’s face if she did. “You’re a crazy one, April Sandy.”
“Yeah, I know. But you still haven’t answered my question.” The girl seemed unwilling to let the subject drop, and Claire knew she would have to give the girl some kind of answer.
She thought of all the times in the past she’d been tempted to cross that line, not just with Tony but with other guys she’d dated. Before Tony it hadn’t been so much not doing it because of the right versus wrong thing, but more because of fear. Of letting anyone get too close.
But with Tony it was different. Somehow, without her even realizing it was happening, she’d let him and his God into her heart. And now, doing what was pleasing to God did matter.
“I am glad I’ve waited,” Claire said finally. “The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve realized that God knows what He’s doing.”
April studied her, her look clearly skeptical.
“You don’t believe me,” Claire said at last.
“Sure I do,” April answered, a mischievous smile tipping her lips. “But I also think that you’ll be happy to see the Fourth of July. I think you’re ready to make some fireworks of your own.”
“April!” Claire tried to feign a shocked look but couldn’t quite pull it off. She ended up giggling.
“I only know that’s how I’d be if I was marrying a hunk like Tony Karelli.” April heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I just hope my blind date tonight turns out to be half as cute.”
“Blind date?” Claire’s surprise was genuine. No one had told her that April and what’s-his-name had broken up. “What happened to…” She snapped her fingers, trying to recall the guy’s name.
“Oh, him.” April waved a dismissive hand. “He’s long gone.”
“What happened?”
“Too immature.” April wrinkled her nose. “I like my men older.”
Claire shook her head and wondered what April considered older. Nineteen? Twenty? She remembered the college guy she’d dated when she was seventeen. When you were that young a couple of years was a big difference.
“You better watch yourself, April.” Even
to her own ears, Claire sound more like a mother than the girl’s peer. “Those older guys can be trouble.”
“I can take care of myself,” April said with the cocky insolence of youth. “Anyway, we’re just going to the lake with some friends. Don’t worry about me.”
Claire hoped that was true. Right now she had her own problems to worry about. Time was flying, and she still needed to decide what she was going to wear. Tonight she wanted to look her best.
Two hours later Claire was convinced she’d succeeded. She’d chosen the red Versace. It fit as if it had been custom made for her figure, accentuating her curves without appearing too bold. The dress was one of her favorites.
She’d worn it a couple of weeks ago for the first time, and all night Tony couldn’t keep his eyes off of it. Or her. Anticipation surged, and Claire glanced at the clock, eager for the evening to begin.
She could leave early, but what would be the point? Tony would be lucky to get to the restaurant five minutes early. Plus, Claire found she rather enjoyed having the house to herself.
Being alone gave her time to think. And plan.
What would he say when she told him she loved him? Would he be surprised? Shocked?
The ringing phone intruded on her thoughts, and Claire waited for April to grab it. Until she realized April had long ago left for the lake. Claire picked up the receiver.
“Hello.”
“It’s April.”
April spoke so softly Claire had to strain to hear her. She wondered if the girl was on her cell phone. “April, could you speak up?”
“I can’t.” Despite the bad connection, Claire could hear the tremble in April’s voice. “Claire, you’ve got to come and get me. I’m at the Nordstrom place, north of town.”
Claire remembered the farm. There had been a barn fire there several weeks before, and she and Tony had gone out to see if there was anything they could do to help. “What are you doing there? I thought you were at the lake.”
“I can’t talk. Just come. Please.”
The phone went dead. Claire paused, the receiver still cradled in her hand. A shiver traveled up her spine. Something was very wrong. The Nordstroms were in Illinois visiting their daughter. And their youngest son, Wayne, had to be at least twenty-two or twenty-three. He was way too old to be in April’s crowd.
Redeeming Claire Page 12
