by Arlene James
Thanks to you, she thought, and the good Lord, who brought you to me.
* * *
“We should celebrate,” Dale heard himself say as they retraced their steps back to his truck. He felt flush with success, though in truth he had little to gain from this new project unless Garth agreed to pony up additional money, which didn’t seem likely. Dale couldn’t resist the opportunity to see Petra smile, however, and he wanted to make up for getting her into hot water with Garth the day that he’d taken her phone.
To his surprise, she smiled and asked, “What do you have in mind?”
He immediately pictured a dim restaurant and a candlelit dinner for two and started thinking about a good place to go on a Friday night. Then he remembered that he already had an engagement tonight. Disappointed, he decided to ask her to come along. No one would mind.
“Ever been bowling?” She stopped, lifted her eyebrows and pointedly looked down at the brace on her ankle. He smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead and immediately started apologizing. “Sorry. I forgot! It’s just that we have this sort of unofficial team thing going on once a month at the local alley.”
She burst out laughing. “I’d be happy to pass the evening as an observer, if no one minds.”
“We can always use a scorekeeper,” he told her, grinning.
“I can do that.”
“Okay, then.”
He walked her to the truck, helped her climb up inside and drove her to Chatam House. “Want to go back to the hotel or home to Chatam House?”
She checked her watch. “Might as well head home, save Chester the trip.”
“Home it is.”
He stopped the truck in front of the dignified antebellum mansion a few minutes later, then got out and went around to help her alight.
“I’ll pick you up about seven, if that’s all right.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Dale wondered if he would be. So much for waiting until Sunday dinner with his folks! Still, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce her to his friends. He’d just keep things casual until he saw what developed—and pray that what developed wasn’t a giant heartache.
* * *
Before dinner with the aunties, Petra changed into jeans and a bright green, sleeveless, knit top with a high neck in front and a back that dipped several inches. She caught her hair into a loose ponytail at her nape and let tendrils float about her face, hoping that the brace on her foot and ankle didn’t lay waste to her efforts.
Waiting by the front window in the foyer, she saw Dale’s truck as soon as it turned off the street onto the drive. Quickly, she bade the aunties good-night and limped out onto the porch without the aid of the now-hated crutch. She’d told them only that she was going out with friends, lest they get ideas about her and Dale—ideas that she was trying very hard not to get herself.
She made it all the way to the bottom of the porch steps by the time Dale brought the truck to a halt. He hopped out, ran around and almost put her into the front seat before trotting back around to slide onto the driver’s seat. Wearing snug, dark jeans and a simple blue T-shirt, he was in high spirits.
“Looking good,” he said, sweeping her with his gaze.
“What?” she teased. “You thought I’d be all buttoned down like I am at work?”
“Is that what you call it?”
“What do you call it?”
“Classy,” he said automatically.
She laughed, delighted. “And I’m not classy now?”
“Too classy for a bowling alley,” he returned smoothly, “but let ’em eat their hearts out.”
She laughed again. “Thanks.”
When they got to the alley, he grabbed a ball bag and shoes from the backseat then came around to help her out. She walked into the building on his arm, although she could have managed well enough on her own.
Two couples and another guy were holding the lane for them. She knew Garrett Willows, the former gardener at Chatam House, and his wife, Jessa, the florist for Odelia’s wedding. She had also done Asher and Ellie’s flowers. Dale’s sister, Sudie, was there, too. She introduced her husband, Don, a stocky fellow with outrageous dimples.
Dale introduced Larry Colbert, a tall, thin man with startling blue eyes. He had a rather dour look about him, but Petra soon learned that, in this case, looks were deceiving. Larry cracked a joke every ten seconds and generally kept everyone laughing all night long. His wife, Jeannie, worked at the grill in the bowling alley. Tall, with long dark hair, she’d wander over every so often and drop off something for them to eat.
Garrett and Dale tied for second place, with Don bringing up the rear. Sudie and Jessa played against each other, Sudie winning handily.
Don jokingly offered Petra, the official scorekeeper, a bribe of cheese fries to bump us his score.
“Uh-uh,” Dale objected good-naturedly. “My date cheats for me and nobody else.” He winked at Petra, who felt a broad smile spread across her face.
“Oh, I always cheat for my date, never on him,” she quipped.
“That’s my girl!” he exclaimed, taking up his ball again. Petra couldn’t help feeling a thrill at his words, though she told herself not to be a ninny. She wasn’t “his” girl or anyone else’s.
After two games, during which Larry admittedly “smoked ’em,” Jeannie walked over and sat down, while the guys bowled a third game. The Colberts left, Jeannie complaining that she was exhausted after Larry won the third one in a row. Dale, Don and Garrett played one more game, with Dale winning by a whisker. Don did even worse than before, but if he cared a fig about his score, Petra couldn’t tell it. He was there to have fun, and with Larry gone, he became the cut-up.
At the end of the evening, while everyone but Petra changed into street shoes, Garrett invited anyone interested to accompany him and Jessa to the local Renaissance Festival a week from Saturday. Petra noted wistfully that she hadn’t been to the annual festival in at least a decade.
“I’ve never been,” Jessa confided, sounding excited about her first time.
“It’ll be the first Saturday afternoon we’ve taken off since we opened Willow Tree Place,” Garrett said.
“And the last until after the wedding,” Jessa put in.
Sudie made a face and said, regretfully, that she’d agreed to help her mother-in-law with a garage sale.
“Which means I’ll be babysitting,” Don declared happily.
“If sitting in a recliner watching baseball on TV is babysitting,” Sudie drawled, to much laughter.
To Petra’s surprise, Dale raised a brow at her and asked, “Want to go? Your ankle should be fine by then, but if not, we could get a wheelchair for you.”
“A wheelchair at a Renaissance Festival?” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Actually, they have wagons made of wood that we can pull you around in,” Garrett informed her.
“I think I can manage for an afternoon,” she decided impulsively.
Dale beamed. “Great! We’ll go in our own vehicle so we can leave anytime you want.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Garrett said.
It occurred to Petra as Dale drove her back to Chatam House that they were actually dating now. One date did not constitute “dating,” but a date with a second and third already planned, well, that couldn’t be called anything but dating.
She wondered again what she was doing. But then she told herself that it was just bowling, a Sunday dinner and an afternoon at the Renaissance Festival, after all. It wasn’t as if they were going steady, or whatever the adult version of that might be. Besides, she owed Dale for coming up with the spa idea and helping her sell it to the BCHS. The fact that she enjoyed his company was just a bonus.
A huge, scary bonus.
When he helped her into his truck once more, she thanked him without quite meeting his gaze.
“I just want to be sure you’re up to dinner on Sunday,” he teased. “My mom would be deeply disappointed if you had to cancel.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“Glad to hear it,” he told her softly, chucking her under the chin.
Her gaze snagged on his, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her again, but then he backed away and closed the door before heading around to the driver’s side. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved, but she had a difficult time sleeping that night because she couldn’t stop thinking about Dale or how much she enjoyed being with him. Only after spending a long time in prayer did she finally drift off, right in the midst of, “Please don’t let me forget my goals.”
* * *
Petra had expected the aunties to question her about her date on Saturday, but they were too consumed with details of the coming wedding to do more than make passing comments.
“I’m glad you finally got out of the house,” Odelia said before holding up a magazine photo of an enormous hat. “You don’t think this is too much for a maid of honor, do you?”
Since the maid of honor in question, Hypatia, hated hats, Petra quickly formulated an appropriate reply. “It’s so lovely, I’m afraid it would upstage the bride.”
Odelia quickly turned the page, hat forgotten.
“I hope you had fun,” Hypatia said, gratitude shining in her amber eyes.
“I did. Thank you. I haven’t been bowling since I was in college.”
Magnolia looked up at that. “Garrett was going bowling last night. I stayed with Hunter so he and Jessa could have the evening out.”
“Yes,” Petra said lightly. “I saw them there.”
“That boy will be calling him Dad long before the adoption is final,” Magnolia predicted.
When Petra said nothing to that, Hypatia spoke up. “And did you see Dale?” she asked innocently.
Petra wasn’t about to lie to them. “Of course.” With that, she quickly excused herself. She’d thought the matter closed until she came downstairs the next morning.
Petra had chosen a simple cotton dress to wear to church and dinner afterward. Sky-blue with yellow, green and white flowers, it sported a square neckline, fitted bodice and full skirt that fell well below her knees. Abandoning the ankle brace, she chose white sandals and left her hair down, pinning back the sides with pearly barrettes. Upon first sight of her, Odelia offered the loan of a pair of daisy chain earrings. Knowing her aunt’s penchant for oversized jewelry, Petra politely declined. Hypatia supported her by citing Dale’s young niece, Callie.
“So tempting for little hands,” she pointed out, indicating a complete knowledge of Petra’s plans.
Odelia, clad in pink gingham, a white straw hat and pink ice earrings the size of jewel boxes, clapped her hands. “How lovely! You’re seeing Dale again today!”
Stunned, Petra managed a polite smile. “As a matter of fact, I’m having dinner with the Bowens after church.”
“You’ll certainly fare better at Hallie Bowen’s table than ours on a Sunday,” Magnolia pointed out.
The aunties “ate simple” on Sundays, doing for themselves so that the staff didn’t have to work on the Sabbath. In keeping with that tradition, Kent would be driving the town car to church that morning.
He tooted the horn after bringing the car around to the front of the house. Hypatia winced, but Odelia ran for the front door with a happy smile. Magnolia and Hypatia followed more sedately. As the youngest, Petra went last.
Before he handed her down into the backseat, Kent remarked, “Odelia has a lovely pair of earrings to compliment that frock, my dear.”
Petra glanced at his red-and-white candy-cane-striped vest and couldn’t help smiling. No wonder he adored Odelia so. They were a matched pair.
“So she mentioned. I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Petra told him.
In no obvious hurry, Kent tooled along the city streets in the long town car while Petra fought the urge to check her watch. The minutes had never seemed to pass so slowly. When Kent let them out in front of Downtown Bible Church, across the square from the hotel, Hypatia and Magnolia immediately began climbing the steps to the tall, heavy doors, but Odelia elected to wait at the curb for Kent. Petra forced herself to stay with Odelia until Kent parked the car and crossed the street to join them. Only then did she take herself off to her own Bible class.
After what felt like an interminable hour, Petra was surprised but pleased to find Dale waiting for her when the class let out. “Hello,” she said with a smile.
“Hello yourself,” he said, sweeping her with his gaze. “You look like a perfect summer day.”
Thrilled, she smiled and flipped a finger at a single pearl stud in one earlobe. “You don’t think daisy chains would improve my ensemble?”
“Daisy chains?”
She laughed. “Aunt Odelia offered me a pair of earrings to complement my dress.”
“And you wisely declined them,” he commented, hastily adding, “I mean, I’m sure they’d look lovely on your aunt, but on you I prefer a style that’s more—”
“Dainty,” she supplied.
“Classy,” he amended. He’d described her as classy before, and she quite liked the idea.
“Thank you.”
He was looking quite classy himself in dark dress slacks, a short-sleeved, olive-green pullover of some silky knit and ostrich skin boots. Somehow, his bronze-and-gold hair managed to appear neatly combed and charmingly rumpled at the same time. His leaf-green eyes smiled at her, and Petra felt it all the way to her heart.
Dale explained that it would be simpler if they sat together during the service rather than try to find each other afterward. He had a point. The sanctuary aisles tended to clog for long minutes after the service.
They joined his family, Hypatia nodding approvingly from the Chatam pew further down the aisle. The Bowens gave her a warm welcome, making ample room for her and asking about her ankle. She assured them she was fine then blushed when Dale said, “Don’t worry. I won’t let her overdo,” as if she was his to protect.
For the first time, Petra wondered what it would be like to have a man actually look out for her, care about her.
After church, she and Dale got into his truck and followed the rest of his family in Sudie’s minivan to the Bowen house on the south side of town. The Bowens all lived together in a large, two-story home, older but definitely not on the historic register. Sheathed in white siding, it sported a deep front porch and green metal hip roof. A covered stairway, with a landing halfway up, led from the drive in front of the freestanding garage to a doorway on the second floor. That, Dale informed her, led to his private apartment upstairs. His parents lived downstairs. Sudie, Don and the girls all had upstairs bedrooms but shared living space with his parents.
Hallie went straight to the kitchen and put on an apron over her church clothes, trading her dress shoes for house slippers. Walt trudged off to change out of his suit while Don disappeared with the girls and Hallie put Sudie and Petra to work.
“The dishes to lay the table are in the cabinet in the dining room,” she said to Petra, pointing the way with a wood spoon. “Napkins and flatware are in the drawer on the right side. Sudie can get down the glasses and fill them.”
Dale winked at Petra as she went dutifully to lay out the china. She gave him a little shrug, and he went off smiling, reappearing in the dining room minutes later wearing jeans and casual boots with that silky T-shirt.
As he watched her fold white dinner napkins to lay beside the periwinkle china, he further explained the living arrangements. “Don and Sudie have the ori
ginal master suite. Mom and Dad converted the downstairs den for themselves, and there’s an extra room for guests. I even have an extra bedroom in my apartment and my own kitchen. They don’t get used much, though.”
Petra sniffed the air, aromatic with pot roast. “I can see why.”
“Seems a waste to cook for myself when Mom and Sudie are down here cooking for everyone else,” he said.
His nieces ran into the room just then, dressed in play clothes. “Swing us, Unca Dale! Swing us inna tree!”
“After dinner,” he promised. “Maybe Dad will let you watch TV until then.”
“Yeah, thanks!” Don called from the living room. “The game’s on.”
“Donnie Baker!” Sudie shouted from the kitchen. “Let your daughters watch a little TV, and I have news for you. We’re watching a movie after dinner.”
Don groaned, while Walt advised, “I’m taping the game. We’ll watch it later.”
Dale chuckled. “Typical Sunday at the Bowen/Baker house.”
Petra smiled. It all felt terribly comfortable and homey, almost familiar in a wistful way, which made no sense at all. Sundays in her parents’ house were days of near silence with everyone decompressing from a busy week after church. Petra longed for a little of that silence now, a chance to center herself and regain her perspective. At the same time, she sensed a closeness among the Bowens that called to her and made her feel a little sad.
“Dale, the roast!” Hallie called.
“Mom needs me to get the roasting pan out of the oven,” he told Petra. “She’ll be making gravy next, and then we’ll eat.”
“Better get this table done then,” Petra said, shooing him off with a wave of a hand.
His green gaze held hers for a moment longer, then he hurried away. Petra looked around at the wainscoted room with its old-fashioned flowered wallpaper above the painted bead board and the tarnished brass of the light sconces on the wall and marveled that these people were happy, truly happy, here. Somehow, it didn’t feel like enough, and yet when she saw Don and Sudie together or Dale looking at her with those glowing green eyes, she felt such a fierce longing that it frightened her.
