“After six months of once a week, only now you’re deciding to step it up?” Rachel asked, her eyes wide.
“Are you complaining? Should I have done it sooner?”
Both of Rachel’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, no, I’m not complaining. Just…observing. But it’s not going to work. What do I have to do to get you to underst--”
“Have you had supper?” Damian interrupted, not wanting her to get started on that subject.
“Supper?” Rachel looked momentarily confused then shook her head. “It was busier than we had anticipated. I hadn’t really thought about eating.”
“How about we grab a bite?” Damian suggested.
“A bite? To eat?”
Damian grinned. Yeah, keeping her off balance was definitely his best idea yet. “Nothing fancy, just a quick bite at a burger joint. Or the deli.”
“The deli?” Rachel’s eyes lit up for a second then dimmed. “They’re not open at this time of night.”
Damian looked at his watch. “Maybe not, but the burger joint is.”
“I’m sorry, Damian, but I’m beat. I just want to go home and crash.” Though she didn’t appear tired, Rachel’s tone held a weariness that Damian couldn’t ignore. “I don’t have time for your shenanigans.”
“My shenanigans?” Damian laid a hand on his heart and faked a wounded look. “I’m just wanting to help out a friend.”
Rachel gave him a withering look, but Damian spotted the spark of humor there as well. “You’re a friend with ulterior motives.”
“Well, guess I can’t argue with you there.” He pushed away from the counter. “Okay, I’ll leave you be…for today. See you at church on Sunday?”
Rachel nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Are you going to the carol singing Sunday night?”
“I’m planning to.”
“Good, I’ll see you there, too.” Damian headed for the door. He opened it, letting a rush of cold air into the store, but didn’t step out right away. He turned back, as much to get one last look at her as to say, “If you need anything, anything at all, you be sure and give me a call, okay?”
Rachel’s brows drew together. “Okay,” she agreed with apparent reluctance.
Damian nodded, glad she hadn’t flat out said no. He wasn’t happy to be leaving her alone, but figured she expected him to push her into going out for a bite to eat. It all went back to his plan to keep her off-balance. Do the opposite of what she was expecting him to do.
He sat in the truck for a few moments, watching Rachel go about her ritual of closing up the store. “Okay, Lord, if this isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing, you better let me know.”
He didn’t want to pressure her, but the signals he got from her were mixed. Something told him that she was fighting her feelings for him. Damian drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and wondered aloud, “What’s going on in that mind of hers?”
Frowning, he started the truck and pulled away from the store. The only gift he wanted that Christmas was the gift of Rachel’s love, and the only gift he wanted to give to Rachel was his heart. He’d love to start off the New Year knowing that his future with her was secure. But of course it could never be that easy.
*****
Rachel tried to keep from watching the lights of Damian’s truck blend into the stream of traffic on East River Road, but she failed. Once his lights were indistinguishable from the rest of the traffic, she slumped against the counter. Twice in one day. Rachel wasn’t sure her heart could handle it. Usually she saw him twice on Sunday, but she prepared herself in advance for that, and most the time he was busy with his responsibilities. Never had he just stopped by the bookstore twice in one day. Three times in twenty-four hours, if she counted the previous night’s visit.
Pushing aside thoughts of Damian, Rachel quickly finished the deposit for the night. She closed up the shop then stopped at the bank to drop the deposit off before heading home.
As she pulled into her driveway, Rachel gazed at the dark house and wondered, not for the first time, if she should sell it. She loved the house that had been her home for the past seventeen years, but it was really too big for a single person. When her grandmother had died and left the family home to Rachel’s mom, it had seemed like an answer to their prayers. They’d left Chicago and come to Minneapolis, both of them trying to escape heartache and disappointment by the men who’d betrayed them. Now the house had been left to her, and there would be no one to whom she could pass it on when she died.
Maybe it was time to sell.
Rachel grabbed her purse and briefcase from the passenger seat. Weariness enveloped her like a heavy cloak as she let herself in the back door. A familiar silence greeted her. She flicked on the light in the kitchen and tossed her stuff on the counter. Living alone meant never having to clean up after someone else or tolerate another person’s idiosyncrasies, but for Rachel it also meant being lonely.
She grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and opened it as she walked into the living room. Her large Christmas tree sat in the corner of the room, decorated but unlit. Using her foot, she pressed the switch on the power bar near the tree. The tree burst into colorful life as its lights began to flash and twinkle.
She put on a Christmas CD before slumping into her favorite chair, a plush recliner. Rachel tugged the blanket from the back of the recliner to cover her feet and legs, and wondered if the rest of her life was going to be like this. Loneliness settled deep within her.
She’d resigned herself to not having Damian in her life as anything more than a friend, whether he wanted to accept that or not. It could be no other way. How could she open her heart and share her secrets, knowing that in the end it would cause heartache? Like it already had in the past. She had only to listen to his dreams of a future to know that what he wanted and what she could give were two different things. Oh, he’d be nice about letting her down -- he was that sort of guy after all -- but it would still hurt. And with her heart already hurting from the loss of her mom, she didn’t need any more pain.
Rachel rolled the can between her hands and stared at the Christmas tree, the lights blurring as her gaze lost focus. This was the first Christmas she’d be truly alone. Last year her mom had still been alive, though the cancer had been eating away at her body. Rachel had spent a lot of time at the hospital with her, and in the end it had been time well spent, since her mom had died the following February.
Negative thoughts crowded her mind, and self-pity crept into her heart. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and prayed aloud, “Please, Lord, help me to get over this. I don’t want to dwell on the negative things in my life when I have so much to be thankful for. Just help me to get through this first Christmas without Mom. I know she wouldn’t want me to be down, but it’s so hard being all alone. Let me feel your presence, Lord, and give me some opportunities to minister that will take my mind off what is dragging me down.”
Still keeping her eyes closed, Rachel focused her thoughts on the good things in her life. Mentally she made a list. The store and the success it’s having. My health, which I’ll never take for granted again after Mom’s struggle. The church -- hopefully there will be a place for me to minister now that I have the time. And even Christmas, what it really means -- not just the presents and family gatherings, but Jesus’ birth.
On that positive note Rachel opened her eyes. The strains of “Silent Night” calmed her heart, and the lights of the tree seemed just a bit brighter. Finishing off the can of soda with a final sip, she got up to throw it away. On the way to the kitchen she stopped to get her mail from the mailbox at the front door. Standing at the kitchen counter, she quickly flipped through it, pausing only when she saw an envelope addressed with heavy masculine scrawl.
Frowning, Rachel slit the flap. She pulled out a card and opened it. Even though she knew who had sent it, her gaze searched for confirmation in the sender’s name. Seventeen years. It had taken seventeen years, but finally she was getting a card from her father.
Please forgive me. He certainly hadn’t beaten around the bush, Rachel thought. Because of what I’ve done I have no right to even ask for your forgiveness, but still I must. I know I haven’t been the world’s best father, in fact, I’ve probably been the worst, but God has begun working in my heart lately, and I need to make things right with you and your mother.
He didn’t know Mom had died, Rachel realized. She had never had a contact number for her father, and when she’d tried to reach her brother after their mom had died, she’d discovered the number had been disconnected. Letters she’d sent to him had been returned. She had tried her best to let them know, but in the end she’d been left alone to grieve.
Her brother had kept in contact with them at first, but there had been nothing from him in over six years. Last she’d heard, he had been on his second marriage and their father had been on his third. Clearly the decisions they’d made in their lives had brought them no joy.
Rachel turned her attention back to the card to read the remainder of her father’s message. Now that Christmas is nearing, I just had to send this to let you know I’m thinking of you. I’m missing you more than ever this year, and my heart is filled with a deep longing to see you again. Or at least talk with you. Will you call me? The number he gave was still a Chicago area code.
If you can’t afford to call me directly, please call collect. I’ll always accept the charges. You have every right to not want to talk to me. This will be the only time I contact you, because I don’t want to interfere in your life. I will leave it up to you even as I pray that you will give me a second chance.
A second chance? She slammed the card down on the counter, causing her hand to sting with the impact. He had run off with a woman not even seven years older than Rachel had been at the time. Even though he’d been a Christian, a deacon in their church, he’d fallen into the arms of a younger woman and, without a thought, had torn their family to shreds. No one had seen it coming. One day he’d just up and left. He didn’t deserve a second chance.
She would not be calling him or contacting him in any way. Surely God wouldn’t ask that of her.
Resolutely she pushed the thoughts of her father away and sorted the rest of the mail before retreating upstairs to her bedroom. A few minutes later she stepped into the shower and let the hot water sluice over her, wishing it could wash away all the worries and negative things that pulled her down. Just when she’d begun to put aside her sadness, the card from her dad resurrected it all and added anger to the mix.
Reluctant to leave the warmth of the water, Rachel took her time and tried to think about anything but Damian or her father. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much success. Rachel knew she had to do something about Damian. She had hoped he’d just pack it in after so many months of her refusals, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Was she going to have to tell him everything in order for him to leave her alone?
If she didn’t call her father, he’d just leave her alone; or at least that was what he had said in his card. But Damian…for some reason he had set his sights on her, and something told her he wouldn’t be as easy to discourage.
Tossing aside the towel she’d used to dry off, Rachel grabbed a pair of old sweats and a baggy sweatshirt and pulled them on. Back in the bathroom, she draped another towel over her shoulders and combed through her hair, squeezing the water out as she went. Her movements slowed as she thought of all she’d kept in her heart for the past seventeen years.
Her secrets had gone to the grave with her mother, and Rachel had hoped they would stay there. She didn’t want to have to reveal the scars on her heart or her body to anyone. Damian deserved someone whole in body and in spirit. There would always be parts of Rachel missing. One part she had given away seventeen years ago. Another part had been cruelly taken from her.
Rachel’s hand dropped to her stomach. It hadn’t always been flat, but now beneath the flat surface was a hollowness she couldn’t fill. A part of her was missing that could never be regained. No matter how much she wished it could.
Drawn as if attached to a string, Rachel dropped her towel on the floor and left the bathroom. With slow steps on the plush carpet she entered the room down the hall that had been hers as a teenager and flicked on the light.
The room hadn’t changed at all since she’d moved out of it after her mom had gotten sick. It starkly reflected the woman she’d become when they’d moved from Chicago to Minneapolis. Her room there had been frilly and lacy. Posters of her favorite stars had decorated the walls, and tapes of Twila Paris, Michael W. Smith and, on occasion, Petra had played in her stereo. She’d left all that behind, the innocence of her youth, and this room reflected the woman she’d become.
Rachel crossed the sparsely decorated room and opened the closet. A couple of pillows and a comforter sat on a shelf above a scarred wooden pole from which dangled a handful of empty wire hangers. She dropped to her knees and reached for the carpet in the far corner of the closet. It came away from the floor without effort. She pulled it back and secured it under her knees then stared at the bare wooden floor now revealed.
The box hidden beneath the floorboards called to her, and Rachel almost gave in. Almost. But she was too emotional tonight to look at the contents of the box. The thoughts alone overwhelmed her. To hold mementos – dried flowers and tear stained letters - of such a difficult time would be more than she could handle right then.
She skimmed the wood floorboards with quivering fingertips; then, with the slightest movement of her knees, Rachel released the carpet and let it flip easily back into place. Her secrets would stay hidden tonight. And if only she could convince Damian to turn his attentions away from her, they could stay hidden forever.
Chapter Three
The clock on the dash of her car confirmed Rachel’s suspicions. She was late. Thoughts of heading home filtered into her mind, but the silent house that waited for her held even less appeal than walking in late for the singles’ Christmas carol practice.
Rachel pulled open the heavy wood door of the church and stepped into the foyer, already tugging off her gloves to unbutton her coat. Sounds of a piano came faintly from another part of the church. Quickly she hung her coat on the rack before heading for the fellowship hall. Just outside the door she paused to run a quick hand over her hair, smoothing any wisps. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped into the room.
The first person she spotted was Damian. He sat on a stool in front of the group and glanced up at her arrival. Rachel hoped she was the only one who saw his eyes widen and his smile become just a bit warmer.
“Rachel!” He stood and motioned her forward. “We’re glad that you decided to join us.”
The group turned towards her, and even though Rachel knew most of them, she felt a little nervous. She hadn’t been a part of their group for a couple of years.
“Hey, Rachel,” a voice called out. “Come sit with me.”
Rachel spotted Serena Menard, the church secretary, waving, and she gratefully went to sit on the chair next to her.
“I hope it’s okay I’m joining even though I’ve missed a few practices.”
Damian sat back down, the heel of his boot catching on a rung at the bottom of the stool. “It’s fine. You are not the only one here for the first time. Since we’re singing Christmas carols that most of us have sung for years, I think it’s pretty safe to say the practices aren’t crucial. We’re not doing this for perfection, although that’s always appreciated. We want to sing for those seniors from our hearts. If the Lord has laid it on your heart to be here tonight, who am I to argue?”
He lifted the sheaf of papers in his hand. “Okay, let’s try ‘Oh Little Town of Bethlehem’ and see how we sound.”
>
“Here.” Serena handed her a copy of the papers and picked up another set from the stack on the chair in front of her.
Rachel found the page Damian indicated although she knew the words by heart. The piano played an intro, and together the group began to sing. Rachel easily picked up the soprano part even though Serena sang alto, and she felt a surge of joy as their voices blended on the beautiful song.
The practice went smoothly with Damian leading it. Rachel found her attention wandering at times as she watched him. The black turtleneck he wore stretched across his broad shoulders and tapered neatly into a pair of black slacks. His choice of black contrasted perfectly with the blond hair and blue eyes that told of his Swedish ancestry.
“We’ll have one more practice next Saturday. Then on Sunday we’ll meet a little early just to have a final run-through. We’re to be at the home by seven, so please be here by six-fifteen. Even if you don’t make the practice next Saturday, we’d love to have you join us at the seniors’ home.” Damian stood. “Let’s close in prayer.”
After his prayer, people stood and began to mingle.
“I’m so glad to see you here, Rachel,” Serena said as she collected the song papers. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” Rachel handed her a set of papers from an empty chair. “The store was really busy. That’s why I was late.”
“Hey, better late than never.”
“Serena.” Mark, a man Rachel didn’t know too well, approached them. “A group of us are going to Bakers Square for coffee and dessert. Interested in joining us?”
“I really shouldn’t,” Serena said. “I’ve got tons of stuff to do but…their Caramel Pecan Silk Supreme pie is to die for. I just know there’s a piece there with my name on it.”
Rachel grinned. “Personally I like their Brownie pie.”
“You’re not helping, Rachel,” Serena said with a mock frown. “Now there’s no way I can resist. How about you? Want to join us?”
“Yeah, Rachel, join us.”
Waiting For Rachel: A Christian Romance (Those Karlsson Boys) Page 3
