By the time the two hung up, every care had slipped away—at least for the time being.
On the way to Meagan’s preschool, Rachel couldn’t get the smile off her face just thinking about Allie’s stories—that, and the unrelenting mental reminder that Jason and Candace were no longer dating.
Chapter 12
Thanksgiving Day ended up being a nice day for a drive, with sunny skies and dry roads. Only a smattering of white remained from last week’s snowfall, the first of the season. Jason couldn’t help but wonder what today would bring, having gone about three weeks without talking to Rachel. Curious to see how the family dynamics would have changed without John there, he was concerned for his mom and worried about having another confrontation with his dad. He shifted in his seat, stared straight ahead, and watched the oncoming cars whiz by, one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping a jumpy left knee.
Okay, admit it. You’re as nervous as a rabbit in a fox’s lair. He decided to veer his mind in another direction, and thoughts of Candace immediately surfaced. In some ways, he missed her, but only because he’d grown accustomed to their patterns and routines. They’d meet two or three times a week for lunch or supper, hang out on the weekends when neither of them had to work, and attend church on Sundays and have brunch at a restaurant before spending Sunday afternoon at his condo or her apartment, where they’d watch movies or sports, take walks, or swim laps in the indoor pool at his neighborhood’s clubhouse. Their habits had become comfortably familiar to him, and, sadly, Candace had become somewhat of a convenient companion to him rather than a sweet treasure. He felt guilty at the realization but was also relieved to be out from under the weight of a relationship gone stale. He hoped and prayed Candace would somehow learn to forgive him and find healing.
When he pulled into the driveway at his parents’ house, he saw his dad standing on the front stoop, as if awaiting his arrival. It was sunny, but not particularly warm, and yet the man wore nothing more than a sweater over his shirt. He had to be freezing. Jason cut the engine and hopped out of his Jeep. “Hi, Dad. Mom make you step outside to smoke?” he joked by way of a greeting.
The man put a half smile on his face and nodded, glancing over Jason’s shoulder. “How long you gonna keep that vehicle?”
“My Jeep? A while still. Just got ’er a couple of years ago.”
“She drive nice?”
“Okay. She’s not what you’d call a family car, but she suits me fine.”
His dad pulled on his longish chin to peruse the black, late-model Jeep Cherokee. “No, no. It wouldn’t be a family car, and now that you and that Catherine woman—”
“Candace.”
“Whatever. Now that you two have ended things, guess you won’t be worrying about raising a family for a long time. Unless you already started datin’ somebody else.”
“No! Sheesh, Dad. Where’s Mom?”
He sniffed. “In the kitchen, I s’pose.”
Jason glanced back at the driveway. His Jeep was the only vehicle in sight. “I see Mitch and Arlene aren’t here yet.” He also noted the absence of Rachel’s van, but he refrained from asking about her for fear of really getting the third degree. The thought occurred to him that she might have decided to forgo Thanksgiving, given how it almost coincided with the first anniversary of John’s death. He wouldn’t have blamed her, considering he’d been tempted to do that very thing. Why couldn’t they have combined Christmas and Thanksgiving this year, somewhere in between both days?
“Why don’t you get yourself a decent truck?” his dad asked him, not letting go of the car topic.
“I have one. Think my next car will be an SUV, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Need to keep this thing around for another year or so.”
For some reason, his dad hadn’t opened the door yet, so they stood on the porch like two old geezers, shooting the breeze and shivering. “I had me a good truck when you boys were little. Used it a lot for hauling. It was a Chevy, ’member that? Wouldn’t get me anything but a Chevy.”
No, there’re a lot of habits and old notions you’d never break. “Sure, I remember that truck. John and I used to ride in the back as often as you’d let us. Blue, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, and she was a beaut. Yessir, a Chevy’s the best truck on the road.”
Jason thought about pointing out how reliable his Jeep was. Don’t start anything, he cautioned himself. He decided to switch topics.
“When I pulled in, I noticed you could use a new roof. You want me to reshingle it this spring?”
“I been thinkin’ about that. I planned to check out the yellow pages.”
“Why don’t you let me take care of it? I can make the calls, get you the best deal—probably even at cost. I have some good connections.”
His dad made a sniffing noise, stuck his chin out, and stuffed his hands into his pant pockets. “Don’t put yourself out. You have a company to run.”
“It’s no trouble, Dad. It’s what I do. I’ll handle it for you.”
“I’ll handle it myself.” His tone sounded almost as obstinate as his retort.
Jason’s spine stiffened with ire, matching his dad’s stubbornness. “Okay, fine. Have it your way. Far be it from me to offer my help. I probably wouldn’t do it to suit you, anyway.”
At precisely the moment his dad opened his mouth, the door also opened.
“Jason, honey, when did you get here?” his mom asked, mouth and eyes equally round. She wiped her hands on her stained apron and swept four fingers through her short, dyed brown hair. “Goodness, I never even heard you drive up.” She looked from one to the other, her forehead etched with worry lines, then quickly snagged Jason by the coat sleeve as if sensing the tension and pulled him toward her. “For goodness’ sake, get yourselves inside this instant. It’s freezing out here.”
He gave his dad a penetrating look, but the man refused to acknowledge it; he just slipped past his wife and into the house in a swift, wordless move. Jason shook off a chill and bent to kiss his mom on the cheek and whisper a greeting, hating that the day had started on a sour note for which he was somehow responsible.
“Sometimes, I think he’d have preferred to bury me, instead,” Jason said moments later in the kitchen, hands folded over his chest as he watched his mom make final preparations, scurrying from the stove to the sink and back to the stove again. His dad had retreated to the living room to turn on the television. Music from the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade resonated from the room.
With dropped jaw, his mom turned and propped two thin hands on her narrow hips, shooting Jason a disdainful look. “Jason Evans, don’t you ever utter such a ridiculous thing again, do you hear me? Your dad loves you more than you know.”
“But John was always his favorite.”
“Why would you say such a thing?” She picked up a gravy-laden wooden spoon and resumed stirring. The kitchen was filled with the most delectable smells, and his stomach grumbled, eager to partake of the meal. “Your dad came to all your sporting events. You’ve always made him proud.”
Skipping over her reassurances, he moved away from the doorframe and came to stand next to her, his back to the counter, legs crossed at the ankles. “He never asks about my work,” he muttered under his breath, though loud enough to reach her ears. “John had a desk job in a big sales firm, big office—big windows overlooking the big city. Me? I sit in a dirty chair behind a cluttered, marred-up desk in a little Podunk town. I think Dad sees me as less successful than John. He doesn’t even know I run a multimillion-dollar business. John got the nice, big, two-story house, the landscaped yard, the wife, and the two kids. In Dad’s eyes, I’m probably still floundering.” He hated using his mom as a sounding board, but sometimes his frustration mounted almost to the boiling point.
“No, Jay, he doesn’t see you like that.” She drew her shoulders back and exhaled deeply. “It’s your perception of things.”
“I just offered to reshingle your roof this spring. Why would
n’t he accept?”
“He’s proud.”
“Other things around this house could use some sprucing up, and I could take care of them for you, too, but he’s so blamed stubborn.”
She winced and gave her head a single shake. “Don’t I know it. Your dad loves you, honey, rest assured of that, but he’s been having an awful time lately. I think it’s that, you know, the one-year mark is only two days away.”
“Mom.” His voice gentled. “Don’t you think I know that? I was there, remember? I relive it in my head every single day.”
He could see the tears building in the corners of her eyes, and he hated to have caused them. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she ceased her activity, turned to face him, and placed a palm to his cheek. Those worry lines returned to her aging yet pretty face. “He carries something, but I’m not quite sure what.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t explain it, really, but it’s as if he hauls around a burden that he won’t lay down. I wish he could learn to give his hurt to the Lord…the way you have.”
Her words sent a rush of regret through his blood—regret for allowing his dad to generate in him such anger and defensiveness. Yes, indeed. The way I have.
Lord, please take away these feelings of distrust and confusion and mend my relationship with Dad before it’s too late.
Rachel and the kids arrived at the same time as her parents and sister. Meagan rushed across the room to leap into her grandpa Evans’s arms, failing to notice Jason standing off to one side. Just as well, he told himself. He needed to gather his bearings after getting his first glimpse of Rachel in over three weeks, anyway. So, he hovered in the shadows, enjoying his obscurity. Man, she looked good—cheeks flushed, blonde hair curved around her oval face and spread unevenly across her shoulders, wisps of it catching on her red wool coat as she handed off a salad to Jason’s mom, then gave her a hasty hug. The room was aflutter with excitement and friendly greetings. Tanna, carrying a bundled Johnny on her hip, bent to pet Rosie, the Evanses’ overexcited terrier, and Arlene and Mitch Roberts talked as they removed their coats and hung them on hangers in the entryway closet, their covered dishes having been placed on the nearby sideboard.
Finally deciding to make his presence known, Jason moved away from the fireplace in the adjoining room and the overstuffed chair he’d been standing behind and caught Rachel’s eye. It was not his imagination, the glimmer of pleasure he saw in that single glance they exchanged. Yes, he saw it all right, even though she quickly adopted her casual manner.
“Hi, Jay. How are you?” she asked.
“Very good, thanks.” He stepped forward and gave her a light squeeze—quick, friendly, and reserved. It took great effort, but he managed to turn his attention back to everyone else. Hugs all around seemed to be the order for the next several moments, Meagan leaving the circle of her grandpa’s arms to rush into Jason’s, little Johnny squirming to get out of his heavy winter gear, and Tanna happily helping him. When Rachel finished unbuttoning her coat and slipped out of it, Jason’s dad stepped forward to take it from her. She thanked him and, in the process of handing it off, shot Jason another hurried glance, this one accompanied by a timid smile.
She looked like a million bucks in her fitted jeans, coral-colored cable-knit sweater, and floral neck scarf; her glossy, mauve lips looked sweet enough to kiss. Lord, help me; I can’t take my eyes off her. No sooner had the thought struck him than his dad shut the closet door with a sort of pronouncement, prompting Jason to look at him.
When he met his dad’s eyes, he saw a savage fire in their depths.
***
“Grandma, pass the rolls.” Meagan’s chipper voice interrupted the flow of the dinner conversation.
“Please,” Rachel inserted, giving her daughter a look that propelled her to sit up straighter.
“Please.”
The rolls were passed without incident as Johnny banged incessantly on his tray, seeking everyone’s attention, and Rachel attempted to quiet him with another spoonful of mashed potatoes, which he promptly spit out. For at least the dozenth time, Jason caught her eye and smiled, making Rachel’s heart react with strange little pitter-patters. She could have screamed at herself for letting his presence affect her so. She’d thought for sure ignoring the majority of his phone calls, e-mails, and text messages would have cured her of these unwelcome emotions, but no. As a matter of fact, all she could think about was that “almost kiss” some three weeks ago.
Her parents and in-laws kept up their constant prattle, covering everything from the recurring cancer of an elderly lady up the street to last Saturday’s church potluck, from the knock in Tom’s car engine to, of all things, her dad’s dental appointment last week and the discovery that he’d need a tooth implant. Glancing around the table, she noticed that almost everyone had finished eating, so she started to clear the table.
“You don’t need to do that, dear,” Donna said, blotting at her chin with a napkin and then pushing back her chair.
“It’s no bother, really. You and my mom prepared most of the meal, so cleaning up is the least I can do. Tanna, could you watch Johnny?”
“You bet!” the teen said, grinning. “It beats rinsing dishes any day.”
“I’ll help clean up,” Jason offered as he scooted back in his chair and stood.
“You?” Donna asked with a smirk. “When was the last time you carried anything to the kitchen sink?”
“Come on, Mom. I’m a decent housekeeper,” he protested. “Well, okay, if you don’t mind dust and clutter.”
“Hmm. Yes, I’ve seen your condo,” Donna said.
She and Rachel’s mother tittered and resumed their discussion. Thanks to their countless years of friendship, they never wanted for topics of conversation. The men took up the subject of college football and exchanged speculations about the upcoming face-off between the Detroit Lions and the Green Bay Packers.
In the kitchen, Jason and Rachel worked side by side, he handing off plates to her, she rinsing and then stacking them in the dishwasher. “So, good job of ignoring all my voice mails these last few weeks, young lady. What was up with that?”
She scratched the tip of her nose, then wiped it dry with the back of her hand, avoiding his gaze, even though she felt his eyes fall to her face, where, she was certain, a blush had blossomed. “I told you that we needed to keep a good distance between us. I was doing my part to make that happen.”
“Ah, yes, I remember you saying that.” He scraped food remains into the wastebasket and handed her another plate. Rosie sauntered in, toenails tapping the tile floor, tail wagging, doubtless hoping for a handout. “You’re my sister-in-law, Rach, so we’re bound to run into each other. It’s not a crime, you know.” He leaned too close to her ear. “Are you still beating yourself up over that long-ago kiss?”
“Don’t bring that up,” she hissed through clenched teeth, suddenly feeling the beginnings of a headache.
A blessed moment of quiet passed between them, albeit short-lived. “Candace and I broke up.” The plainspoken disclosure caught her off guard. He handed her a couple of water glasses, and she placed them in the top rack. Then, after dropping a piece of leftover turkey into Rosie’s drooling mouth, he passed her one last plate.
“Your mom told me. I was sorry to hear it. Are you—all right with it?” She finished situating the plate and stood up straight, allowing herself a glimpse of him. He slanted his face and arched one thick brow, his cocoa eyes catching her gaze and holding it captive. After a moment, his lips curved into a furtive grin and he cut loose a slight sigh. “Actually, yeah, I’m good.” A nod followed. “Really good.”
Just then, Meagan bounded into the kitchen. “Uncle Jay! I just had a really, really, really good idea!”
Her towheaded child wrapped her arms around his middle and planted her feet on top of his shoes, balancing like a ballerina. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down, grinning. “You do? And just what is this
brilliant scheme of yours?”
Her luminous, blue eyes gazed up and twinkled with purpose. “That you can come over to my house after a while and watch Cinderella!”
Chapter 13
Of course, Rachel had tried coming up with a number of reasons why watching Cinderella that night wouldn’t work. First try: “Uncle Jay probably needs to get up early for work tomorrow.” Wrong, he’d told her. He’d given his crew the weekend off. Next attempt: Meaggie had to get to bed at a decent time. Fine. They could make that happen as long as they started the movie before six o’clock. Third try: Uncle Jay would probably get bored. Another negative. How could spending time with his adorable niece possibly be boring?
With all of her arguments defeated, Rachel had relented.
Now, hours later, they were seated on the sofa at Rachel’s, Johnny snoring in her arms, a light blanket thrown over his pudgy body, Meagan tucked between Rachel and him, dressed in pajamas, fully intent on the animated movie. Out the corner of one eye, Jason glimpsed Rachel—couldn’t help himself—and warmed at the notion that they resembled a little family. But then, he reminded himself of the utter foolishness of such musings. Rachel was his sister-in-law, and he would do best to keep that fact straight in his head—and his heart.
While the ugly stepsisters ranted their evil taunts at Cinderella, Jason stared blankly at the widescreen TV above the fireplace, his mind reliving the day’s events—watching football with the men after dessert while the women played Scrabble in the dining room and Meagan bounced from one end of the house to the other, Johnny squealing with delight at his ability to pull himself up and stand on his own, snagging the attention of his grandfathers between football plays. Jason had kept one eye on the next room, where Rachel had been seated at the card table with her back to him, and the other eye on the “big game.”
Any other time, he would have been enthralled to watch the rival teams compete, but thoughts of John had been so close to the surface, and last Thanksgiving felt like yesterday. He’d noticed the lack of any mention of John during dinner and figured the others either didn’t want to deal with the pain or hoped not to upset Rachel. Frankly, he’d been just as happy to let the subject rest. He could only imagine his dad’s accusing eyes shooting arrows at him. No, it was best left alone.
Tender Vow Page 12
