Phoebe's Groom

by Deb Kastner

  Phoebe’s words caused him to stumble, and he pulled up abruptly, halting dead in his tracks. His heart slammed into his chest. He spun around and walked back to the car, leaning into the passenger-side window.

  “What happened? Is she okay?”

  “She apparently slipped on the wet kitchen floor when she was mopping. They think she broke her hip, although they won’t know for sure until they get her to the hospital.”

  “Where are they taking her?”

  “Mercy Medical Center in San Antonio. I told them we’d be right behind them. Now please, Chance. Get in the car.”

  Fear clutched at Chance’s throat and he broke into a cold sweat. His palms were instantly clammy. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.

  Phoebe was asking the impossible. Maybe if he’d conquered his anxiety earlier—years earlier—he might have been okay. But with each passing month, he had allowed his irrational fear to grow until it had become a monster he truly dared not face and conquer.

  He’d always considered himself to be a strong man, but secretly, he knew the truth. He was weak. And he was terrified. He wanted to pray, but how could he turn to God now, after shunning Him for so many years? His pride simply wouldn’t allow it, not even now.

  “I can’t,” he admitted, his voice scratchier than usual because of his dry throat. Instinctively he reached for the black bandana he always wore around his neck, adjusting it over the scar.

  “Yes, you can,” Phoebe insisted. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Your aunt is in the hospital. She needs you.” She clutched the steering wheel with both fists, probably to rein in her temper.

  It sounded as if she was getting annoyed with him. He supposed if he was in her place he’d be a little ticked off, as well. But that didn’t change anything.

  “You and Lucy go ahead to the hospital. Call me when you have an update on her condition. Tell her I love her.”

  “Tell her yourself.” Phoebe was out of the car and up in his face so quickly he barely saw the car door open. Though she was several inches shorter than he, she was still quite formidable. She’d stepped into his personal space and was glaring up at him with so much determination it was almost steaming out of her pores.

  “Look. I don’t have time to argue with you, so I’m not going to try.” Phoebe’s voice was almost a growl. “Clearly you have some serious issues to work through, and if it were for any other reason, I’d let you do what you want and not butt into your private business.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he mumbled.

  “I’m not heartless, Chance, whatever you may think of me. But your Aunt Jo is your family. She needs your strength right now. You need to be there. You need to be there,” she repeated, changing the emphasis.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t,” she agreed, her voice suddenly soft. She reached forward. Chance thought perhaps she was going to grab his shirtfront in her fist. Instead, she laid her palm over his heart.

  “You’re a strong man,” she said, her voice dropping so only he could hear it. “More than you know. Dig into that strength. It comes from God. Wrap it around your heart. He’ll help you through this.”

  He closed his eyes, trying to will up the power she was so certain he had within himself.

  “Think about it. Jo isn’t the only one who needs you right now. Lucy was the one who found your aunt. She’s terrified and in shock and about to shatter into a million pieces. If you can’t do it for your aunt, then at least be there for your daughter.”

  That was playing dirty, but Phoebe was right. Lucy did need him, and probably Aunt Jo, as well. Chance clenched his fists and forced himself to breathe.

  He couldn’t look Phoebe in the eyes. He was afraid she’d see what a coward he really was.

  She reached up and framed his face with her hands, drawing him to look at her, regardless.

  “I don’t know what burden you are carrying around with you, but you need to know that God forgives you,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. “Now you need to forgive yourself.”

  Unshed tears burned in his eyes, as well, but with effort, he blinked them back.

  There was such compassion, such strength in her gaze, that he could not look away.

  “You’re a difficult woman, you know that?” he muttered, threading his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck.

  “So I’ve been told.” Now get in the car was implied but not spoken.

  He nodded before he could talk himself out of it and reached for her hand. If he was going to do this, he was going to need all the support he could get.

  Every muscle in his body tightened as he approached the car. The air burned in his lungs.

  “Hop out, Luc,” he said as he opened the passenger door. “You’re going to have to sit in the backseat.” He tried to smile to reassure Lucy, not to mention himself, but he wasn’t so sure he succeeded in the attempt.

  Lucy’s already huge green eyes widened to enormous proportions and her jaw dropped open but she didn’t waste any time switching to the backseat.

  He dropped into the front seat and buckled up. This was it. He hoped Phoebe was ready, because there was every likelihood that he might break down into a full-fledged panic attack. He felt like an idiot. He didn’t even want to know what Phoebe thought of him.

  Phoebe slid behind the wheel and flashed him a reassuring smile as she started the engine. He clenched his hands into fists on his lap as he nodded back at her.

  Green light. Ready or not, this was a go.

  He closed his eyes and, with Phoebe’s reminder of God’s presence fresh on his mind, he did something he hadn’t done in years. He prayed. For himself and for his family. It was a good reminder of why he was taking this risk.

  For Aunt Jo. For Lucy.

  For Phoebe.

  Or at least, because of her strong-armed tactics. Stubbornness and determination were her strong suits. No one else had been able to coax him near a car in four years. And then along comes this diminutive-sized, enormous-hearted woman and here he was, traveling by car to a hospital an hour away.

  Surprisingly, the ride didn’t seem as bad as he thought it might be. Now that he was settled, he was more concerned about his aunt than he was for himself. Phoebe was a careful driver, never speeding or taking risky chances behind the wheel.

  Of course, to him, every move seemed like a risky chance. But Phoebe, the kindhearted person that she was, was clearly aware of his trepidation and drove accordingly.

  As they traveled, Phoebe filled him in on what had happened, how Lucy had been the one to find Aunt Jo and call 911. Phoebe’s voice was full of pride at Lucy’s actions and as she commended the girl for a job well done. Lucy didn’t seem affected by the praise, at least not in either of the ways Chance would have thought. She should be proud of the way she’d handled herself. She could be cutting Phoebe out again with the use of some blistering retort from her sharp tongue.

  But Lucy was quiet. Too quiet. And she wasn’t even listening to her music. Maybe she was still in shock. Chance prayed even harder.

  “You okay?” Phoebe asked Chance as she pulled into the hospital visitor’s lot and parked.

  Chance nodded. “I hope Aunt Jo is faring as well as I am right now.” Now that he was here, he was even more anxious to see his aunt and find out her condition.

  “I’m sure she is. Let’s check in at the emergency room and see if she’s been admitted to the hospital yet.”

  It took them a few minutes to cut through the usual hospital red tape, but eventually they learned that Aunt Jo had been admitted to a ward and was now awaiting surgery on her shattered left hip. Apparently she was going to get those steel rods whether she liked them or not. Chance only wished he could have convinced her to have her surgery before she’d fallen and hurt herself.

  But then, this was Aunt Jo. It wouldn’t take any less than a major accident to get that stubborn woman to pay attention to her own needs.
/>   The three of them were quiet as they made their way up to the fourth floor where Aunt Jo’s room was located. Phoebe looked to be deep in thought and Lucy’s expression was downright terrified. He couldn’t imagine what the poor girl had been through, finding her aunt the way she had.

  He brushed her silky hair back with his palm and then settled his hand on her shoulder. “She’s gonna be all right, Luc,” he whispered.

  “I know.” She shrugged his hand away.

  At least she was acting a little bit more like her old self again, which was probably a good thing.

  They reached the nurses’ station on the fourth floor and Chance asked if they could see Aunt Jo.

  The nurse quickly perused the three of them, and then her gaze landed back on Chance. “Are you family?”

  “Yes.” Chance didn’t hesitate for a second. He reached for Phoebe’s hand and laced his fingers through hers while simultaneously drawing Lucy close to his side. This would not be the time for either one of them to balk or try to refute his words, and they must have sensed that, for both of them played along.

  Lucy was the first one in the door, followed closely by Phoebe, who might have dropped Chance’s hand if he would have let her, which he didn’t. He needed her support. Or at least that was what he told himself. He knew he’d eventually have to explain his actions to both Aunt Jo and Lucy, but at the moment, that was the least of his problems.

  Lucy rushed to the far side of her aunt’s bed and took her hand. “Auntie Jo, are you all right? I was so scared when they took you away in the ambulance.”

  Aunt Jo was groggy, probably from the pain medicine they’d given her, but she smiled at Lucy just the same. “I’m fine, love. I’m too tough an old bird to let something silly like a fall crack me up.”

  Tough didn’t even begin to cover it. Chance chuckled softly.

  Aunt Jo’s gaze leaped from Lucy to Chance and Phoebe, and he could see the very moment she realized the two of them were still holding hands.

  He froze. Aunt Jo having the accident was bad enough. He didn’t want to add a heart attack to her current list of ailments.

  Yet here he was, his hand comfortably intertwined with Phoebe’s.

  Here he was. Period.

  He waited for shock or astonishment to register on Aunt Jo’s face. Instead, her pale green eyes brightened and she nodded, looking entirely—what?

  Satisfied? Pleased with herself?

  “Thank you again for all your help, Phoebe,” Aunt Jo acknowledged, her gaze turning to the woman by Chance’s side. Chance wondered how she could be so cheerful after all she’d been through this day and the amount of pain she must be experiencing, but there it was.

  “And Chance, dear,” she continued, her pleased gaze shifting to him. “I knew you’d come.”

  Chapter Ten

  STATUS UPDATE: PHOEBE YATES: We’re waiting for my friend to go into surgery, so keep praying for all of us, and for God to guide the surgeon’s hands as he works.

  Count on Jo to lighten the mood, Phoebe thought. The expression on Chance’s face was priceless. He looked like someone had just splashed ice-cold water in his face. Maybe it was the aftereffects of shock, but Phoebe had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling.

  “H-how did you—” Chance stammered. “What do you mean you knew I’d come? I haven’t—”

  “Been in a car since the accident,” Jo finished for him.

  He jammed his fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and nodded.

  “I’m glad you’re here for me,” Jo continued.

  “Where else would I be?” Chance’s already scratchy voice was especially low and rasping.

  “But more than that, you stepped up for Lucy and Phoebe. I’m proud of you, dear.”

  Chance moved to the bedside and gently embraced his aunt. He was so tender, so careful not to hurt her that it brought a raw lump of emotion to Phoebe’s throat just to watch.

  He swiped a hand down his face as he stood. Phoebe wondered if the casual movement was to brush away tears. She thought maybe so. He wasn’t at all the gruff, hard-hearted man that he presented to the outside world. Instead, Phoebe had found him to be a man who felt deeply and devotedly.

  “What time is your surgery scheduled for?” Phoebe asked, giving Chance a moment to compose himself.

  “As soon as the on-call surgeon arrives. You’ll stay with me until then?”

  “Of course,” all three agreed immediately.

  Jo was probably the strongest and most determined woman Phoebe had ever met, but even so, the older woman couldn’t hide the tiny flashes of fear in her eyes. Phoebe wondered if Chance saw it as well.

  She moved up next to Chance. Lucy held one of Jo’s hands and Chance the other, so Phoebe gently brushed a palm over Jo’s shoulder.

  “We’ll wait with you until they take you away for surgery,” she assured the older woman. “And we’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “Oh, dear, that’s not necessary. Who’s going to run the café?”

  “The café can wait,” Chance said gruffly.

  “I don’t want to be a bother,” Jo protested, though she was clearly beginning to weaken her resolve.

  “Auntie Jo,” Lucy protested. “You aren’t a bother!”

  “See?” Phoebe said, her voice forceful. “It’s decided, then.”

  Jo looked as if she was going to argue further, but in the end she simply nodded and released a tired sigh.

  “Are you in pain?” Chance asked solicitously and a little worriedly. “I can get a nurse for you.”

  Jo’s gaze met Phoebe’s and a spark of humor returned to her eyes as they shared an inside, thoroughly female joke. Count on a man to want to do something to fix the problem. Or at least pretend to when he really had no control at all.

  But there was something they could do, Phoebe realized.

  “Chance?”

  “Hmm?” His gaze flickered to her.

  “Your aunt will be going into surgery soon. Shall we pray for her?”

  Phoebe knew she was taking a big risk by asking a question like that, and if Chance chose to see it that way, he could feel like she was putting him on the spot.

  While she doubted he would show his resentment, she braced herself for his indifference and for him to blow off the whole idea of prayer as a waste of time. Instead, he placed his aunt’s hand in Phoebe’s and took her other one, silently inviting her into the family circle as he reached for Lucy’s hand, as well.

  Phoebe held Jo’s hand and waited, wondering if Chance expected her to do the praying.

  He cleared his throat. “I, uh, haven’t done this for a long time, so I may be a little rusty.”

  Phoebe squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

  “Heavenly Father,” he started softly, reverently—not at all what one would expect from a man who claimed not to believe in God. “We lift up Aunt Jo and ask You to be with her. Give her peace and comfort. Guide the surgeon’s hands as he works. In Jesus’ Holy Name, Amen.”

  He glanced at Phoebe, clearly looking for reassurance. She smiled back at him, her heart welling with emotion. His prayer had been heartfelt. Real.

  Aunt Jo sniffled, and both Phoebe and Chance were instantly on the alert.

  “What’s wrong?” Chance asked, a note of panic to his raspy voice.

  Jo smiled through her tears. “Nothing is wrong, dear. In fact, everything is so very, very right.”

  Chance looked bemused.

  Jo’s gaze shifted to Phoebe. “Now I know why I broke my hip.”

  “Because you’re too stubborn to listen to me even when I’m right and you know it?” Chance asked, his lips twisting into a half smile.

  Phoebe leaned forward and kissed Jo on the cheek. She knew exactly what the older woman meant. There was something bigger than they could imagine going on here, the hand of God at work in someone’s life.

  In Chance’s life.

  The surgeon knocked and entered the room. After explaining the
procedure to Jo and Chance, he asked the three of them to leave the room so Jo could be prepped for surgery.

  “We’ll be praying,” Phoebe assured Jo. She wanted to give Chance and Lucy a few seconds of family privacy with their aunt so she left the room. It wasn’t long before they caught up to her in the waiting room.

  It wasn’t easy to wait and worry. Eventually the three of them visited the hospital cafeteria for a quick bite of dinner, but then they found nothing to do other than to settle down in the waiting room. Phoebe and Chance sat quietly sipping lukewarm coffee, while Lucy flipped channels on the nearby television and played music on her MP3 player. Before long, though, the girl fell asleep, all stretched out on a small couch, her arm tucked under her head.

  “Thank you,” Chance murmured.

  Phoebe looked up from the out-of-date women’s magazine she’d been leafing through. “For what?”

  Chance nudged his chin toward his sleeping daughter. “For being there for Aunt Jo and Lucy. My daughter will probably not ever admit it, but you really saved the day.”

  Phoebe smiled. “Lucy called 911 before I ever got there. She did exactly what she needed to do, even if she didn’t think so at the time. You should be proud of her.”

  Chances eyes turned a glistening obsidian. “I am proud of her. I just forget to tell her sometimes, is all.”

  “You’re a good father. Lucy is blessed.” Phoebe didn’t realize how much she meant the words until they’d come out of her mouth, but it was true. Chance was doing the best he could to be a good father to Lucy, and she instinctively understood that it was something Chance desperately needed to hear right now.

  “I’m not so sure Lucy would agree with you on that point,” he said with a wry smile. “I haven’t been there for her. I don’t know how to be there for her. Not like her mother would have been.”

  “You manage. Better than you think.”

  Chance was silent for a moment. Thoughtful.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done today, do you?”

  “Done?” she repeated, having no idea what he was talking about. She tried to follow his train of thought but couldn’t get there.