Jamie, Rich’s wife, had packed a picnic lunch for after the game. She invited Paul to join her, Jason and Rich, but he declined, anxious to return home. Jamie and Rich’s little girl, Bethany, was spending the day with Jamie’s mother, so they were free to enjoy an all-adults afternoon.
Jason had eagerly accepted their invitation, and Paul was glad to see it—his two brothers together—his sister-in-law so pleasant and kind. Although Jamie had been part of the family for almost two years, it never ceased to surprise him that his play-the-field brother had married her. Of the three of them, Rich had been blessed with the best looks. His tall, compelling presence had garnered him attention from the opposite sex since high school. In fact, that was where he and Jamie had become friends. Good friends. And their friendship had eventually led to marriage.
Paul liked his sister-in-law a great deal. Compared to Rich’s other girlfriends, she seemed so…unpretentious, even a little ordinary. In many ways she was like Leah.
He sighed as he thought of Diane’s sister. Leah, ordinary? There was nothing ordinary about her! And, to be fair, Jamie was pretty special, too. Maybe it was that still-waters-run-deep thing, but these were self-confident, compassionate women, both of them.
A grateful tenderness took hold of him as he considered the changes Leah had brought to his life in the past month. The changes she’d made in his children’s lives. Her warmth had largely gone unnoticed by him until she’d moved in. Her optimism. Her smile, too.
There was something about her smile that defied description. The way it subtly lifted the corners of her mouth and then made its way into her eyes. He’d always thought Leah’s eyes were plain, an unremarkable hazel. Now he knew better, and he found her eyes, with their changeable color, fascinating. If she wore green, her eyes seemed green. If she had on a blue sweater or shirt, her eyes showed hints of blue. If she wore something dark, the brown highlights revealed themselves.
Her eyes were a lot like Leah herself, Paul decided. Adaptable. Multifaceted.
He’d come to know Leah in the past month. Really know her. Appreciate her and her quiet ways. He’d tried to analyze what had happened to him since her arrival in his home, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. When she’d first arrived, he’d been consumed with his grief, almost afraid to let go of it. What was left for him if he didn’t have his grief? Emptiness? A looming black hole of nothing.
After the first week with Leah, he noticed there’d be periods of time without the harsh pain. He’d feel almost free. Then something would remind him of Diane, of how lonely he was without her, and the pain would return full force. He thought about this new emotional pattern.
Pain.
No pain.
Pain again, but not as intense as before.
Then gone again.
Paul found it curious that Diane’s sister could have brought about so dramatic a difference. More curious still that someone who was practically a stranger to him could ease his misery.
He pulled into the driveway of his home, eager to see Leah and the children. Eager to see their progress with the garden. He put his softball mitt in the hall closet and grabbed a cold soda from the refrigerator. He was tasting his first swallow when he happened to look out the sliding glass door.
And froze.
The can was poised in front of his mouth as he watched the scene in the garden. Kelsey was sitting in her stroller, small arms stretched upward, attempting to catch a butterfly. The boys were digging with hand shovels, intent on their task, with Leah looking on, laughing at something one of them said.
The sound of her laughter drifted toward him, and Paul swore he’d never heard anything more beautiful in his life.
She was wearing faded jeans and a short-sleeved green shirt. She’d left the last two buttons unfastened and knotted the tails at her waist. Her hair was caught by the breeze, and the sunshine cast an iridescent glow through the fine strands.
Paul’s heart constricted, but not with the pain he was accustomed to feeling. He almost wished it was pain. He knew how to deal with that, how to react. But it wasn’t pain he felt now.
It was desire.
A desire so gut-wrenching it took his breath away. It wasn’t anything as simple as sexual need. He’d never thought of Leah in those terms, never considered making love to anyone other than his wife, who was seven months in the grave. What he was feeling was an emotion totally outside his experience. Bigger than mere desire, bigger than the contentment of companionship or the sharing of grief. Bigger than Leah and him.
Strange as it seemed, he felt an overwhelming urge to sit down and weep. Tears burned for release, tightening his chest, stinging his eyes. With effort he was able to hold them at bay.
Hours later Paul still wasn’t sure what it was about that scene that had struck him so hard. Perhaps simply the beauty of those moments. The sky had been bright blue, the sunshine beaming down like God’s smile on those he cherished most. His children, who were quietly happy as they scrabbled in the dirt or grasped at butterflies. And Leah…
It came to Paul then, as he sat at his desk, looking over some bills and bank statements. He understood now. What had affected him so strongly was…life. How glorious life could be. How beautiful. How precious.
For months he’d been in the dark, lingering in the coolness of the shadows. The sudden contrast between light and dark seemed so profound.
When Leah had first come to his house, Paul had been dying. He’d wanted to die with Diane. A month had passed and he’d discovered, much to his surprise, that he wanted to live.
Leah’s shoulders ached. She’d spent most of the morning working in the garden with the boys. Not used to that kind of physical exercise, she supposed it was little wonder that her muscles were rebelling. After lunch, she’d taken a long, hot shower and changed her clothes. The boys were tired; they’d gone down for their nap with hardly any complaints.
The house was quiet. Paul was working in his den, the boys and Kelsey were asleep, and Leah settled in a living room chair with her library book. Reading for pleasure was something she’d missed over the past few years. But no more than five minutes into the first chapter, her eyes kept drifting shut.
She woke shortly after three, puzzled to find a blanket draped over her shoulders.
“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” Paul teased when she opened her eyes.
Sitting up, disoriented, Leah glanced around. The last thing she remembered was setting aside her book and resting her eyes. Only for a moment, she’d promised herself.
“The garden looks great,” Paul was saying.
Leah’s smile was filled with pride. “Thank you. The boys and I worked hard.”
“I can tell. They’re awake, by the way.”
“And hungry, too, no doubt.” She began to fold the blanket, ready to get up and meet the demands of her nephews.
“Don’t worry about it. We walked down to the store for ice-cream bars. Kelsey went along for the ride.”
“Is Leah awake yet?” Ryan asked as he bounded into the living room. He sent her a wide grin when he saw that she was. “Did you tell her about the surprise?” he asked, looking up at his father.
“Not yet.”
“What surprise?”
“It’s nothing big,” Paul explained. “We brought you back an ice-cream bar. I hope you like double fudge.”
“I love it. Thank you, Paul.” She smiled up at him and, closing her eyes, stretched her arms high above her head and yawned.
When she’d opened her eyes, she saw that he was still watching her. He was frowning, though, which she hadn’t seen him do lately. He turned abruptly and hurried into the kitchen.
Leah followed. Ronnie and Ryan dragged a chair over to the fridge and both of them stood on it, squabbling as they opened the freezer. They took out the ice-cream bar they’d bought for her and carried it over to her, each holding one end. Sitting at the table, she opened the small box. The ice cream had melted a little on the walk home.
“Rob?” she repeated, wondering why Paul would ask about him. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Don’t you think it’s time the two of you went out?”
“No.” Contrary to what Paul seemed to believe, her relationship with Rob didn’t involve any real commitment. Which must seem strange to someone like her brother-in-law, who felt so deeply about people and things.
“Shouldn’t you call him, then?”
“Not really.”
Paul frowned again. “Don’t you care about him?”
She shrugged. “Yes, but…”
“Then call.” He moved off the chair, got one of the portable phones and handed it to her.
“All right, all right,” she said with a resigned sigh. She didn’t know why it was so important, all of a sudden, for her to call Rob, but in an effort to appease Paul, she’d do it.
As it turned out, Rob sounded pleased to hear from her and suggested they go to a movie that evening. When she mentioned it to Paul, he seemed pleased. More than pleased—relieved.
She found his response odd, but shrugged it off.
“You look nice,” he told her when she’d changed for her date several hours later. He was reading the paper, the very one that employed him, when Rob arrived.
Rob, in his mid forties, had never been what Leah would call her “heartthrob.” She doubted that he’d ever been any woman’s heartthrob. Tonight he wore a gray cardigan—the same one he’d worn every time they’d gone out, other than to faculty dinners, for the past three years.
Leah introduced the two men. Rob stepped forward and shook Paul’s hand, but he seemed a bit nervous, Leah noted, which she hadn’t expected.
The boys each wanted a hug, then started to follow her to the door. Paul distracted them and she was able to leave without giving them a chance to ask Rob a lot of questions.
The evening was clear and bright. June weather was generally mild in the Pacific Northwest, and this June was no exception.
“It’s good to see you again,” Rob said as he helped her into the car. He’d always been a gentleman, and it was the small touches, the old-fashioned manners, that made him so endearing. No one was going to define sex appeal using Rob Mullins as an example, but he was considerate and kind.
“It’s good to see you, too,” she said with a slight smile.
He walked around the front of the car and joined her in the front seat. “The college seems lonely without you.”
“Summer term’s pretty slow anyway,” she said briskly, not wanting to make too much of his words.
“True, but I always knew you’d be back come fall. It’s not going to be the same without you, Leah.”
He surprised her by blushing. This was probably the most romantic thing he’d said to her in the three years they’d been seeing each other.
Rob seemed flustered as he inserted the key in the ignition. Leah fastened her seat belt and as Rob backed out of the driveway, a movement in the front window caught Leah’s eye.
The twins, grubby hands pressing against the pane, were staring at her. She smiled and waved.
Ryan waved back. Ronnie didn’t.
Instead, his thumb went into his mouth.
Leah sighed. Ronnie hardly ever sucked his thumb these days.
Her eyes were still on the window when Paul appeared, standing behind his sons. His gaze connected with hers, and something indefinable passed between them. The power of that moment left Leah breathless.
Her pulse burst into a rapid-fire speed.
Could it be regret she read in Paul’s eyes? That made no sense. Maybe he was only reliving his early carefree days with Diane. Or—maybe—he still felt guilty about interfering with what he persisted in calling Leah’s “social life.” Anyway, the moment was too brief to be sure of what he might have meant.
What it was, if it was anything at all, Leah couldn’t say. By then Rob had driven past the house and the moment was lost.
Leah dropped her gaze to her hands, tightly clenched in her lap. Could it be that Paul hadn’t wanted her to go out with Rob? That was ridiculous. He’d practically arranged the date himself.
She and Rob had a pleasant enough evening, watching a popular new romantic comedy, but that look she’d exchanged with Paul was never far from her mind.
Although it was shortly after ten when Rob drove her home, the house was dark and quiet.
“Would you like to come in for coffee?” she asked.
“Not tonight, thanks.”
Leah hated to admit how grateful she was. They hadn’t had much time to talk, thanks to the movie. But although Rob hadn’t said much, Leah knew he felt uneasy about her living situation. He didn’t ask her any direct questions about Paul, but he’d hinted that he feared something romantic might be developing between Leah and her brother-in-law.
She’d let his insinuations go unanswered. To deny anything would have invited argument. If it hadn’t been so completely ludicrous a suggestion, Leah might have laughed.
Paul had loved Diane. Her sister had been beautiful and vivacious; Leah was neither. Diane had been witty and charming; Leah lacked both skills. After loving Diane, there was little chance Paul would ever feel anything more than gratitude for Leah. Deep, heart-felt gratitude, to be sure, but just gratitude nonetheless.
“Could I see you again soon?” Rob asked her, sounding a bit flustered.
“Of course.”
“Next week?”
“That would be fine.”
Rob grinned. “I’ll give you a call, then…say, Monday evening?”
“I’ll be here.”
He climbed out of the car and walked around to her side to open the door. He offered her his hand, which she accepted, and escorted her to the front door. Once again he seemed a little ill at ease. Was he planning to kiss her good-night? she wondered. They’d only kissed occasionally. Light kisses. Nothing urgent and certainly nothing close to passionate.
Rob put his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He gave her the opportunity to object and, when she didn’t, he brought his mouth down to hers. It was by far the most ardent kiss they’d ever shared. But Leah had the feeling that he was testing her with it, trying to ascertain whether there was anything romantic between her and Paul.
He broke off the kiss and stared down at her, as if reading her expression.
“Good night, Rob,” she said, breaking free of his crushing embrace. “I’ll talk to you next week.”
Rob released her immediately. “Okay,” he said breathlessly. “I’ll phone you Monday.”
Leah let herself in and, leaning against the door, she sighed. Not with pleasure, but with relief. The movie had been entertaining, and Paul was right—it probably did her good to get away for a few hours. But she hadn’t enjoyed herself as much as she’d thought she would.
There hadn’t been a lot of opportunity for conversation, of course, but she’d been rather bored with what there was. Rob had seemed—she hated to say it—dull. If he wasn’t hinting at a romance between her and Paul, he was making her sound like a martyr for moving in with Paul and the children. It had made Leah uncomfortable.
She saw a sliver of light from under the door to Paul’s office and was half-tempted to politely tell him she was home.
Before she could make up her mind, Paul came out.
“I thought I heard you,” he said, greeting her with a warm smile. He smiled more often these days, and she marveled at how it changed his whole face—although it never quite seemed to cut through the pain in his eyes.
“I’m home,” she announced, feeling slightly nervous and not knowing why.
“How was it?”
“Fine. We went to a movie.” She told him which movie they’d seen and added a comment about the lead actors.
Paul nodded and buried his hands
in his pockets, striking a relaxed pose. “I’m glad you got out of the house for a few hours.”
“You’re just feeling guilty about playing softball with your brothers this morning,” she said with a slight laugh. “Would you like some coffee? I can make decaf.”
“Yeah,” he said, following her into the kitchen, “I would.”
“Instant okay?”
“Sure.”
Leah filled two mugs with water and stuck them in the microwave.
“You should’ve invited Rob in.”
“I did,” she said, her back to him as she punched the buttons on the microwave.
“So why didn’t he come inside?”
Leah shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Because of me?”
“He didn’t say.” She turned around and folded her arms, waiting for the timer to go off so she could add instant coffee to the hot water.
“You’ll be seeing him again, won’t you? Soon?”
Four
“Yes,” Leah confirmed, frowning. It bothered her that Paul seemed so eager to have her out of his home. “Rob and I will be going out again soon.”
Paul nodded. “Good idea.”
“Good idea?” Leah laughed as she finished stirring decaffeinated instant coffee into the hot water. “Why?” she asked as she handed Paul a mug.
He led the way to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her. “It eases my mind.”
His answer made no sense to Leah. He must’ve read the question in her eyes, because he elaborated.
“There’s nothing I can do to reimburse you for everything you’ve done, Leah. I can’t afford to pay you.”
“Paul…”
“I don’t own anything valuable enough to give you.”
“But Paul—”
“It seems like such a little thing to encourage you to get out every once in a while. I want to be sure you have ample opportunity to do so.”
Paul lowered his gaze to his coffee, his hands enclosing the mug.
“It hasn’t been so bad.” Leah wished she knew of some way to reassure him. Yes, it had taken her a few weeks to work out a schedule for the children, and yes, she was usually exhausted by the end of the day. But she wasn’t making some noble sacrifice, as Paul and Rob were implying. Mothering these children was something she wanted to do. Already she was reaping rewards beyond anything she’d imagined.
The Manning Brides Page 23
