Shades of Blue

by Karen Kingsbury

  Laura helped Marta set the table. “I have pictures.” She couldn’t contain the thrill in her voice. “Mom took them at the fitting today.”

  “Of the dress?” Marta squealed and then lowered her voice to a whisper. She was in her early fifties, a Polish immigrant with white-gray hair, bright blue eyes, and a vibrant faith. “When can I see them?”

  “After dinner.” Laura looked back at the living room where Brad and her father were discussing one of their ad accounts. “Brad can’t know about them.”

  Laura’s mother walked up with two platters of skewered shrimp. “The food’s ready. Smells delicious.”

  “Thank you.” Marta walked around the table, adjusting linen napkins, making the table look just right. “How much longer for the men?”

  “I’ll check.” Laura ran lightly back into the house. “Hey guys … dinner’s ready.”

  “Be right there.” Her dad sounded upbeat. Whatever the conversation with Brad, it must’ve gone well. “We’re on our way.”

  Outside, the velvet green lawn flowed from the custom wood deck off the back of the estate to the frame of trees surrounding the James’ property. The setting was like something from a movie, and Laura never took it for granted. That God would let them live here, with this life … that He would let her meet Brad — one of her father’s favorite ad executives — and that the two of them were six weeks away from a storybook wedding and a happily-ever-after life together. All of it was more than Laura could believe.

  I don’t deserve this, Lord … Thank You. With all my heart, thank You.

  The guys joined them and her father hugged her gently around her neck. “So you and your mother did some shopping in the city today?”

  “We made final adjustments on the bridesmaids’ dresses,” Laura’s eyes danced as she looked at her mother. “And, well … let’s just say we got a lot done for one day.”

  Brad locked eyes with her as he made his way around the table. The chemistry between them was tangible as he touched her cheek. “I missed you,” his whispered voice was meant for her alone. “I can’t wait to be married to you.”

  His breath against her face, the way his skin felt against hers, Laura was instantly intoxicated by his nearness. Her parents were distracted by Marta, who was bringing the food out. Laura leaned in closer to Brad. “Six weeks feels like forever.”

  Their eyes met again, but whereas Brad would usually make the moment last or maybe reach for her hand, this time he turned his attention back to her parents. “The steak smells amazing.”

  Laura studied him for a few seconds, but then joined in the conversation around her. Nothing was wrong. How could it be, when they were in the final stretch of a year of planning for their wedding? She turned her attention to her father and the way he and Brad were chatting. Work could sometimes cause Brad to be quieter than usual, but tonight he was laughing and talking with her dad about the wedding. Everything was fine. They served their plates, and then her father motioned for them to hold hands around the table.

  “Lord, these are the times of our lives, and we are grateful with every breath. Thank You for Laura and Brad, for the beautiful love they share and for the way they’ve lived their lives for You. No two young people deserve each other more, Father. For that and for this food, we thank You.”

  The evening was warm and the breeze carried with it the smell of freshly mowed grass and the faint sweetness of distant blooming magnolias. Laura waited until the meal was over before she motioned to her mom to distract Brad.

  Rita James was as much her best friend as her mother, a vibrant woman with dark blonde hair and an athletic physique from years of tennis and power walking through the neighborhood. She raised her eyebrows and winked at Rita. Then she took hold of Brad’s arm. “I have a catalogue in the car. Tuxedo styles.” She flashed Laura a quick smile as she led Brad away. “Laura had a few ideas about what you’d like, but come take a look.”

  As soon as her mom and Brad were out of earshot, Laura took the small camera from her mother’s purse and gathered her father and Marta in a corner of the kitchen.

  “What’s this about?” Her dad’s smile hadn’t faded since dinner.

  “It’s her dress!” Marta was the first to Laura’s side. “Come on! Hurry!”

  “Oh … right. The fitting.” He ambled over, but halfway across the kitchen he stopped. “Actually, I think I’ll wait till the wedding day. Something else to look forward to.”

  Laura pictured her dad seeing her dressed as a bride for the first time here, in the house she grew up in. He was right. The surprise could wait. “Good idea.” She showed the photos to Marta.

  The housekeeper drew a long, exaggerated breath. “Laura! It’s perfect.” She looked at each picture and then impulsively hugged Laura. “Sweet girl … no bride has ever looked prettier.”

  They heard voices on the other side of the garage door, and quickly Laura slipped the camera back into her mother’s purse. Brad entered the kitchen first, a tux catalogue in his arms. He gave Laura a bewildered smile. “They all look the same.”

  Her mom was a few feet behind Brad, and her eyes danced at the way they’d tricked him out of the kitchen. She cleared her voice. “I told him you’d help.”

  Laura smothered a giggle and then turned a semi-serious expression toward Brad. “How about after our walk?”

  “Definitely.” The confusion in his eyes eased. They worked with Marta to clear the table and load the dishwasher, and then they walked down the long winding driveway and onto the path toward the west end of the golf course. It was a walk they’d taken more times than Laura could remember, and with the sun setting she could hardly wait for some alone time with Brad.

  They were halfway down the drive when he smiled at her. “The fitting went well?”

  “It’s amazing.” She smiled. “I wish you could see it.”

  “You’d make any dress beautiful.”

  “You showed Marta pictures, right?” His eyes danced as they walked, their pace easy. “The whole get-Brad-in-the-garage ploy.”

  “Brad!” She uttered a single shocked laugh. “What … were you standing at the door listening?”

  He stopped and moved closer to her, brushing his lips against hers, a kiss defined by the restraint Brad had shown since they started dating. But one that took her breath all the same. “You aren’t good at keeping secrets.” He pressed his cheek against hers. “Not from me, anyway.”

  “You can’t see it.” She hugged him close. “But it’s perfect.”

  “Like you.”

  She smiled and stopped herself from saying more. After a long pause she linked her hand with his. “What about your day? Dad mentioned a new ad campaign.”

  “Yes.” A sudden tiredness sounded in Brad’s voice. “Kotton Kids. I’m sort of stuck on this one. Surrounded by baby pictures all day, and still nothing.”

  They turned right and headed up a slight hill. “Baby clothes? Is that the campaign?”

  “Not any old baby clothes. High-end, organic, produced in an entirely green facility, softest cotton ever. That kind of baby clothes.” Brad slid his free hand through his blond hair and sighed. “But nothing came to me.” He gave her a weary smile. “Just one of those days.”

  “It’s weird … how we’ll be talking about baby clothes in a few years.”

  She expected Brad to jump in with a statement about how he couldn’t wait, or how wonderful being a father was going to be. Instead he stayed quiet. After a minute or so, he gave her hand a soft squeeze. “Know what kept coming to me today? When I was supposed to be writing a campaign slogan?”

  “What?” They kept walking. The path headed downhill here and leveled off a few blocks ahead.

  “How we met.” He ran his thumb along the top of her hand, something he did when he was feeling sentimental. “How I knew in the first hour that there’d never be anyone as right for me.”

  “Mmmm.” She pictured them drifting off by themselves at her father’s employee b
arbecue four years ago. “You told me you were earning your MBA at night. Remember?” She giggled. “You’d been working for my dad for a year and somehow I’d missed you.” His arm felt warm against hers. The sensation was wonderful. “You’re amazing at it, by the way. You could sell baby clothes to a bunch of frat guys.”

  “Maybe.” He laughed, but the sound died sooner than usual. “Today was strange.” His pace slowed. “I couldn’t focus.”

  She stopped and faced him, her actions more casual than concerned. She took hold of his other hand and let her eyes get lost in his. “Because of the wedding?”

  “No.” His answer was quick, his face relaxed. “You and your mom make the details seem easy.”

  “She’s been great.” Laura thought about the breadth and scope of pulling together a wedding reception for more than three hundred people. A wedding at the Liberty House in Liberty State Park, no less. The celebration would be covered by the local papers and topped off with a fireworks display at the edge of the Hudson River. Her father had spared no expense, and though they had a wedding planner, her mother had coordinated the photographer and videographer, the catering, and the invitations — which went out a week ago. “I love that she didn’t make a single decision without our input.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He eased one hand free and framed the side of her face. “Your mom’s having a good time with this wedding.” The corners of his lips lifted some. “No question about that.”

  “So it’s not the wedding?” If Brad was bothered, she wanted to know why.

  He pulled her into his arms and ran his hand along the small of her back. “No. I promise.” When he eased back he kissed her forehead, and then rather than linger on her eyes, he took hold of her hand again and resumed their walk. He talked about Kotton Kids and a conversation he had with his dad, Carl, in North Carolina, and how he was looking forward to the honeymoon.

  But he didn’t bring up the strange way he’d felt that day again.

  Not until Laura was getting ready for bed did she realize he had never actually explained himself, never told her what was at the root of his feelings that day and why he’d felt strange. She remembered what he’d said during their walk, how she couldn’t keep a secret from him. She smiled at the truth of that statement. With Brad she was an open book, transparent in her feelings, the way she’d been from the beginning. But what about him?

  An uncomfortable question bumped against her heart as she climbed into bed. Not that she had any reason to worry, but here was something she hadn’t thought about before. She couldn’t keep a secret from Brad, true. But for all their closeness and time together, for all their shared faith and dreams and the way she felt she knew everything about him, she wasn’t sure about this:

  Could he keep a secret from her?

  Four

  BRAD TOOK THE DRIVE BACK TO Manhattan more slowly than usual, getting through the Holland Tunnel without ever realizing he’d entered it in the first place. The night with Laura and her parents had been perfect. The weather, the dinner in her family’s backyard, the walk after. All of it. Their lives and the impending wedding belonged in a Disney fairy tale. How any guy managed to win over a girl like Laura James and wind up so integrally a part of her family was something only God could explain.

  But there was a problem.

  Brad turned off the radio and focused on the road ahead. He’d stuffed the truth every day since he met Laura, and always he’d told himself the same thing. She didn’t need to know. His past was long behind him, and like he reminded himself the last time he was back in Wilmington, he wasn’t the same person anymore. Every time his thoughts found their way back a decade, he came out of the process convinced that his past was locked in a dark closet at the backside of his heart, where it would stay. No reason to drag it out into daylight, kicking it and poking it to see if there was still enough life in it to impact his future.

  Or his great love for Laura.

  He needed to run. Living and working in the city didn’t allow him enough time to run outdoors the way he used to do when he lived near the Outer Banks, back when he was a Carolina beach boy with calloused feet and tanned arms. He would have to get on his treadmill and stare at the city lights. Run until the effort it took to draw a breath killed his ability to remember that far back.

  It was the Kotton Kids campaign, that’s what was doing this. That and the date, of course. He gripped the steering wheel more tightly than before. God … why is this happening? Why now? I made peace with You, didn’t I? Wasn’t that enough? Every mistake and misstep from the past doesn’t have to be public knowledge, right? Especially something so awful as … so awful as that.

  There was no audible answer, nothing that rang across his soul.

  Laura’s face filled his mind. She was perfect. He remembered seeing her for the first time. He’d been working for her dad nearly a year, and he’d missed the company Christmas party. When he showed up at the employee summer barbecue, Brad was saying his hellos to Randy and Rita James when he saw her across the lawn, a vision in a sleeveless white linen dress. Blonde hair and tan shoulders, but most of all, a smile that filled her face. He wandered over to Phyllis, the secretary who had been with the company almost since the beginning.

  He made small talk for a few minutes, then he hesitated and nodded toward the place across the yard where Laura was talking with a group of people. “Who is she?”

  “Her?” Phyllis smiled fondly. “Randy James’ daughter.”

  Brad couldn’t take his eyes off the young woman. “What do you know about her?”

  “She doesn’t date. She plays tennis and writes poetry and she visits sick kids at the children’s hospital. She’s more about God than guys.” Phyllis smiled in Laura’s direction. “She’s just what her daddy says. One-in-a-million.”

  Somehow he could tell that about her. He thanked the secretary, and half an hour later he’d worked up the courage to position himself near her. Finally he stepped into her path and held up his hand, his heart slamming about in his chest. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this …”

  Laura looked surprised. She stopped, the wind playing in her blonde hair. “You’ve been meaning to tell me something?”

  “Yes.” Brad’s days as a cutup back at Wilmington High School helped him fight his fear. He kept a mock-serious look on his face, his tone confident. “Here’s the deal.” He cocked his head to one side and gave an innocent shrug of his shoulders. “I think we’re gonna be better off as friends.”

  She took a moment to register what he said. Then she scrunched up her brow and managed a confused laugh. “Do I know you?”

  “Not yet.” He did a few thoughtful nods of his head. “But you will. And when you do, I think we’ll be better off as friends.”

  Her eyes were still narrowed, curious. “Why’s that?”

  “Because, see,” he took a step closer and lowered his voice — as if he didn’t want anyone to hear the next part. “You’re not my type. I like brunettes.” Another shrug. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.” He grinned. “You know?”

  She nodded slowly. “And when are we supposed to start this great friendship?”

  “Today?” his expression lit up with possibility. “I work for your dad … this is the employee picnic.” He shrugged. “No better time.”

  Laughter filled the space between them as they both gave way to the craziness of his request. “What’s your name?”

  “Brad Cutler.”

  “Hmmm.” Laura surveyed him, teasing. “I can’t believe it.”

  “What?”

  Humor shone in her eyes. “I’ve heard about you, but my dad never mentioned this.”

  “Mentioned what?” His heart was beating more normally by then.

  “That you were a struggling comedian.”

  He laughed a little awkwardly at that. “Meaning you’ll be my friend?”

  For a few seconds it looked like she might still say no, even after he’d done his best
to charm her. But then she laughed again and agreed. “Who can’t use another friend?”

  He found her a chilled bottle of water and challenged her to a game of horseshoes. She beat him, but only because he’d never been more distracted. They talked about their shared faith and their passion for charity work, their love for MercyMe’s music, and their dream of traveling the world. Time flew, and far too soon the party was wrapping up, the employees heading home.

  Brad hadn’t wanted to leave, but it would’ve been awkward to stay. He shoved his hands in his pockets, searching for the right words. “You don’t … have a glass slipper, do you?”

  “What?” She giggled. Clearly she was enjoying herself the same way he was. “Are you always this funny?”

  “I’m serious.” He felt his smile let up. “I want to see you again.”

  “My schedule’s pretty full.” Her eyes sparkled. “I’m not sure … I have volunteer work three days next week. The children’s hospital is moving its library.”

  “I can help.” Suddenly the idea sounded better than dinner on the Hudson.

  Laura laughed, but in the end she welcomed Brad’s help. He was at her side each of the three days she worked that week, showing up as soon as he got off work, and by the following weekend they’d found a connection neither of them was willing to walk away from. The whole time he thought about what Phyllis had said about Laura. That she loved God more than guys. He figured that was the way things should be. Loving God more.

  He’d been raised that way — to love God above all else. The way he should’ve loved God all his life. After all, college had been about finding his way back to God, and by the time he met Laura he was ready for a relationship founded on faith. Brad felt challenged and convicted by Laura’s innocent beauty, determined that whether he could win her attention or not, he would be the guy his parents had raised him to be. His father, Carl Cutler, was that sort of godly man. Now it was Brad’s turn to follow him.

  One night that first month, they met for coffee a few blocks from her father’s office. They found a table near the window where they laughed over lattes and life. She came from a wealthy socialite family, and her parents were as invested in charity work as they were in their faith.