Texas Weddings (Books One and Two): A Class of Her Own & A Chorus of One

by Janice Thompson

  twenty

  “Hello there.”

  Laura looked up as Andrew peeked in the door of the hospital room. Her heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. His visit yesterday had been unexpected, but today she had secretly hoped he would come. He stood in the doorway, clearly hesitant.

  Laura laid down the magazine she had been reading. “Well, hello.”

  “How’s our patient today?” he whispered, turning his gaze toward the bed, where Kent lay sleeping.

  She smiled, feeling relief wash over her. “Better. But they are keeping him pretty sedated. He’s been sleeping most of the day.”

  “What about you?” Andrew took a couple of steps into the room. “Have you had any sleep?”

  She shrugged. “A little.” An embarrassing yawn worked its way to her lips.

  He pulled a small bouquet of flowers from behind his back. “I thought these might cheer you up.”

  Yellow roses. I love yellow roses. “Are they for me or Kent?” She suddenly felt like a shy schoolgirl.

  “They’re for all of you. Jess, too.” He handed them to her. She clutched them tightly, suddenly unable to breathe correctly. “I actually have something else for Kent, when he wakes up, that is.” Andrew reached inside his coat, pulling a small package from the pocket.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a CD. Dizzy Gillespie. He’s a trumpet player.”

  “Dizzy Gillespie? How in the world did you know—”

  He laid it on the bedside table. “The football game, remember? After you left, I stayed to watch Kent play. I don’t know much about trumpets or trumpet players, but he looked like he knew his stuff.”

  Laura nodded, stunned. She couldn’t seem to get past the fact that Andrew had handed her three yellow roses, which she still held tightly. They smelled incredible.

  “I downloaded it from the Internet, then burned it to a CD. Hope someone at your place still has a CD player. I know more everyone has gone digital these days.”

  “We have one.” Laura carefully ran her finger over one of the blossoms. “And I’m sure he’ll love it. It was very thoughtful of you.” Very thoughtful.

  “No problem. I enjoyed browsing for it. I’m not much of a contemporary music person, but I love to listen to the old stuff.” Kent stirred slightly in the bed. “Sorry, I guess I’m too loud,” Andrew whispered.

  “No, trust me. Nothing could wake him.” Laura stood, carrying the roses toward the bathroom. “I need to get these in some water.” As she crossed in front of Andrew, their eyes met. He held her captive for a moment with his smile, and her heartbeat accelerated slightly. Laura glanced at the ground nervously, then chose to keep walking.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she said, entering the bathroom. She quickly turned on the tap water with one hand, unwrapping the roses with the other. She glanced around for something to put them in. The only thing she could find was a small glass. “This will have to do.” She broke the stems off at the bottom, then placed them in the glass, which she filled with water. They leaned a little too far to the right.

  “I think I’ll put them on the windowsill.” She walked past him once again, feeling his eyes on her hair. Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I’ve never been alone in a room with him.

  “I was hoping you might be able to take a little break.”

  “A break?”

  “Yeah. I thought we might grab something to eat in the cafeteria.”

  “I don’t know.” Laura looked nervously at Kent, who lay in a sound sleep. “He might need me.” She yawned again. “I am hungry. And I haven’t been out of this room all day. Maybe I could just stop by the nurses’ station and tell them where I’ll be.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She went to Kent’s bedside, stopping to brush a kiss across his forehead. Her heart twisted as she gazed at him. I won’t do it. I won’t get down about this. The doctors say he’s going to be fine. I can be strong. I will be strong.

  She turned to face Andrew, immediately relieved by his presence. “I think I’m ready now.”

  He smiled and led the way out of the door.

  ß

  Andrew sat across the table from Laura in the hospital cafeteria, mesmerized by her conversation. “And then what happened?”

  “Then I told the kids that they were never allowed to eat peanut butter and jelly again—at least, not in the living room!” She chuckled, then sighed deeply. “It feels good to laugh. It really does.”

  “You’ve got a great laugh.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come on. You know. Some women have those really high-pitched, annoying laughs. They hurt your ears. And some have that terrible snorting laugh. That’s the worst.”

  “And I’m neither of those?”

  “No, you have the perfect laugh.”

  “You can’t imagine how long it’s been since I’ve felt like laughing. Lately it seems like my life is just this never-ending cycle of. . .”

  “Stuff?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can relate to that,” he said, feeling it was safe to open up. “I keep pretty busy with all of my students.”

  “What about your family?”

  “My mother passed away three years ago,” he explained.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “I am too. She was a difficult woman, but I still miss her keenly. I spent a lot of time trying to figure her out. She was always so bitter, so frustrated. I never really knew why.”

  “Some people get like that as they age. Life doesn’t go the way they expected it to, and they can’t seem to gauge their reactions.”

  “She always took everything to heart. Wore her emotions on her sleeve. Guess that’s why it bothers me to see women like that.”

  “What about your father?” Laura took a bite of her sandwich.

  “My dad died when I was in my late teens.” Andrew’s heart ached with the memory. “He was such an amazing man. He knew everything there was to know about history, about everything.”

  “Everything?”

  Not everything, Andrew had to admit. His father had been very well schooled, had learned much about the world he lived in. But he had never really cared to learn about the things that seemed important to his mother—church, faith, the Bible. . .

  Maybe that’s why she was so bitter.

  “Andrew?” Laura gave him an odd look.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I lost my train of thought. I was just remembering how my dad treated my mom. He didn’t care for her religion.”

  “She was a religious woman?”

  “Oh, very.”

  “What do you mean by religious?”

  Andrew shrugged. “She went to church a lot. Took me for years. Like I said, I was a Sunday school kid. She preached at my dad a lot, always tried to get him to go with her. But he wasn’t interested. After a few years, I wasn’t either. It just seemed like my dad was more exciting. He was so smart, one of the brightest men I ever knew.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how did your father. . . I mean, how did he. . .”

  “How did he die?” Andrew began to tremble slightly, remembering. He took a deep breath before continuing. “It was a couple of days before my seventeenth birthday. My dad was late coming home from work. My mom got supper ready, as usual, but he just never came. Finally, after a couple of hours, she started making calls. In the middle of all of that, there was a knock at the door—a police officer.”

  “He’d been in an accident?”

  “His car was struck by an eighteen-wheeler,” Andrew said, shaking his head. The memory still carried the pain of a seventeen-year-old boy’s broken heart. “When my dad died, something in me just sort of gave up too.”

  “I can understand that,” Laura said softly. “When my husband passed away, I felt like I couldn’t go on. He was so much a part of me. Or vice versa. I don’t really know how that works, but it hurts so terribly when they’re gone.”

  Andrew looked at her te
nderly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “So your mom was a widow at a young age.”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that. She was in her forties when he passed away.” Andrew suddenly realized what he was saying and how closely it paralleled Laura’s story. “Oh, Laura.”

  “I think I can understand where some of your mother’s bitterness came from. I’ve struggled with it since Greg died. But last Sunday. . .”

  “What about last Sunday?” His curiosity grew.

  “Last Sunday, something happened at church. I’m not sure if I can explain it exactly, but God did something in me. He. . . He. . .”

  Andrew’s heart raced. Last Sunday. Something was stirring in me too.

  “I spent some time at the altar Sunday morning after everyone else left the service. I think, for the first time, I was really able to deal with my unforgiveness.”

  “Unforgiveness?”

  “Remember I told you the other day in the chapel that I had been angry? Angry at Greg?”

  He nodded.

  “I needed to deal with that. It’s one thing to carry around anger and frustration. It’s another thing to get rid of it, to give it to God.”

  She makes it sound so easy.

  She glanced at her watch, suddenly coming to life. “Oh, no. We’ve been gone nearly thirty minutes. I really need to get back to Kent. He might be waking up, and I want to be there for him.” She rose abruptly, wiping crumbs from her blouse.

  Andrew stood to join her. “I should probably go, anyway.” They stared at each other in silence for a moment before either spoke.

  “Thanks for the roses.”

  His heart leaped as she reached to squeeze his hand. “You’re more than welcome,” he said, not wanting to let go.

  twenty-one

  On Thanksgiving morning, Andrew visited the hospital once again.

  By now, Laura had grown accustomed to seeing him. He had become as familiar as the flowers from friends at church, which lined the windowsill. However, she hadn’t expected him today. Not on Thanksgiving.

  She stood as he entered the room. “Why are you here?”

  “I just had to see for myself. Jess told me he was up walking around this morning.”

  “Jess? You’ve talked to Jessica?”

  Kent groaned loudly, interrupting them.

  “Looks like he’s awake, all right.”

  “I can use all the sympathy I can get.” Kent struggled to roll over in the bed. “My arm is killing me.” He let out a dramatic moan.

  “I’ll bet,” Andrew said with a laugh. “But this too shall pass. I’m Andrew Dougherty,” he said, nodding in Kent’s direction.

  Laura watched for her son’s response. “Kent Chapman.” There was an extended pause as he looked Andrew over. “So you’re the infamous professor. We meet at last. Thanks for the CD, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome. But I see my fame precedes me.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Kent nodded. “I’ll say.”

  “I’m not sure how to take that,” Andrew said with a laugh. “So I’ll just take it as a compliment.”

  Kent looked up his mother. “He’s not half as bad as you said, Mom. He actually looks like a pretty nice guy.”

  Laura groaned loudly. “Kent. . .”

  “So,” Andrew said, looking her in the eye, “what has your mom been saying about me?”

  Laura’s heart hit the floor. She sent a glaring look Kent’s way, but it didn’t seem to phase him.

  “She says you’re tough as nails.” Kent looked up at her curiously. “What’s that other name you use so much, Mom?”

  Laura’s gaze shifted to the floor. Slave driver. But she couldn’t force herself to say it. Why did she suddenly feel like such a heel?

  “Hateful?” Andrew guessed, looking at them both.

  “Nah. That’s not it.” Kent shook his head. “It was something else. . . .”

  “Prideful?”

  Laura looked up on that one. He had been prideful, though she had never said so.

  “No,” Kent said. “I think it was. . .” He lost himself in his thoughts for a moment before answering. “Slave driver. She said you were a slave driver.”

  Andrew shook his head, then gave Laura a nod. “Can’t argue with that one,” he said, almost playfully. “Looks like she hit the nail right on the head.”

  “Well, anyway,” Kent said, “you don’t seem like such a bad guy. I don’t know what she was talking about.”

  “Thanks, Kent,” Andrew said. “I’m glad someone in here sees me for who I am.”

  Laura groaned aloud at that one.

  “So, what are you doing here, anyway?” Kent’s question was blunt, but frankly, Laura had been wondering the same thing. Why did Andrew keep showing up day after day? She looked up at him. Just a few short months ago they had felt so differently about each other and now. . .

  Now she didn’t know what to think. He had become a regular member of the family.

  “I’d do the same for any of my students,” Andrew said, his eyes looking straight into Laura’s. She felt her face flush.

  “Sure you would,” Kent said.

  “Anyway, Jess said to tell you ‘hello.’” Andrew reached over to straighten up the flowers in a nearby vase.

  “You’ve seen Jessica today?” Laura asked incredulously. How could that be? Her daughter hadn’t been up to the hospital since early morning, and it certainly wasn’t a school day.

  “Yeah. Well, I took a turkey over to your place before coming here.” He spoke the words with a slight tremor in his voice. His focus shifted up to her face.

  “You did what?” She couldn’t believe it. He had actually been to her house. “How do you know where I live?”

  “Oh, well, I. . .”

  Ah. Of course. His friend in the registrar’s office. I’ll have to remember to report him later.

  “Jess says she wants you to come home and have Thanks-giving dinner with her,” Andrew explained. “She misses you.”

  “I have to stay here. Kent needs me.” As much as she would love to go home for a few hours, she simply couldn’t. Her conscience wouldn’t allow it. How could she leave Kent alone?

  “Aw, Mom, I don’t need you. I’d feel better if you went home and had Thanksgiving with Grandma and Buck.”

  “My mother and stepfather are coming over later this afternoon,” Laura explained. “In fact, my mom plans to bring a turkey too, I think.”

  “Well, there should be plenty for all, then,” Andrew said with a laugh. “So why don’t you go on home, and I’ll stay here with Kent?”

  “You would do that? Why?” Why would he make such an offer?

  “Sure. Why not?”

  She stood for a moment, contemplating his offer. Maybe she could go home for a few hours. Kent didn’t seem to mind, and she would love to take a shower and get cleaned up before coming back to the hospital for the night. A Thanksgiving dinner certainly wouldn’t hurt either.

  “Are. . .are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” Laura looked back and forth between Kent and the professor.

  “I don’t mind if he doesn’t mind,” Andrew said.

  “Get out of here, Mom. You deserve a break.”

  “I won’t be gone long. Maybe a couple of hours.”

  Andrew dropped into a chair. “Take your time. We can play cards, or watch TV, or something.”

  Laura looked intently at him, hardly recognizing her own voice as she spoke: “Well, maybe you could. . .maybe you could join us for Thanksgiving dinner in about an hour and a half. That is, if Kent doesn’t mind staying here alone for awhile.”

  “I told you, Mom, I don’t need a sitter. Go home and eat until you’re sick. Just bring me some turkey when you’re done. And some sweet potatoes.”

  “You’ve got a deal,” she said, heading for the door. She turned back, looking at Andrew once again. “An hour and a half?”

  “Great,” he said, then directed his attention to Kent.

  She left the roo
m, headed out into the hallway. It was only when she was about halfway to the car that she realized what she had done. “The professor’s coming to my house for dinner.”

  She thought about him as she made the drive home. She’d grown attached to him over the past few days and had come to rely on his visits. Beyond that, she had learned to enjoy his company, really enjoy it. He was a good man, a kind man.

  Is that wrong, Lord? Are my feelings wrong?

  She prayed as she drove, trying to come to grips with her changing emotions. Laura approached the house with a smile on her face, anxious to see her family. “Is anyone home?” she called out, opening the front door.

  “We’re here, Mom.” Jessica exited the kitchen wearing a flour-covered apron.

  “What in the world?”

  “I’m helping Grandma. We just finished rolling out the homemade biscuits. I mixed them myself.” Jessica threw her arms around her, planting a floury kiss on her cheek.

  Laura acquired a noseful of the white, powdery stuff and sneezed. “Uh-huh. I can see that. How long ’til dinner’s ready?”

  “A little over an hour,” Laura’s mother said, popping her head out of the kitchen door. “And don’t be late.”

  “That gives me plenty of time for a shower.” She headed for her bedroom. “I feel grungy.”

  “Well, we certainly can’t have that at the dinner table. Go take your shower, Mom. We can smell you from here.”

  Moments later, Laura relaxed under the steady stream of warm water. It felt like heaven. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw herself, head tightly pressed against Andrew’s shoulder in the chapel of the hospital. He certainly hadn’t seemed to mind. She hadn’t either. In fact, she had enjoyed the moment, more than she would have admitted just a few short days ago.

  “This is so crazy,” she said, leaning against the shower wall. Laura’s mind drifted to the smell of his jacket, a brand of cologne she hadn’t recognized. Nice. Not too strong, not too light. It suited him.

  “Is my heart ready for this, Lord?” she whispered.

  The peace that followed suddenly motivated her. Laura reached for the shampoo bottle, pouring a large dollop of the golden liquid into her palm. “The professor’s coming to my house, and I’m standing here as nervous as a school kid.”