by Arlene James
“I know you’re very concerned for him.”
“The hotel remodel could bring in enough for him and Mom to live on comfortably, especially if Sudie and I pay off the mortgage early. We have the money for that, but Dad’s fighting us on it. Only makes sense, though. The house and everything else will come to the two of us eventually.”
Petra nodded her understanding. “You would take over the business, I presume.”
Dale nodded. “Dad would still get a cut, but I think I can make it pay well enough to start thinking about a family of my own, even in these tough economic times.”
Petra waited, gaze averted, for him to say more.
“I want a wife and family more than anything, and I know God has someone in store for me.”
“I’m sure He does,” Petra said softly.
Could it possibly be her? she wondered. She had never considered anything that even remotely resembled what Dale envisioned for himself, but she couldn’t deny that he drew her as nothing else ever had. All of the Bowens did. The way they loved and enjoyed each other made her feel that she’d missed something important somewhere. But could being a part of them be enough for her?
Nell took a tumble in the gravel then. Dale sat up, Callie asleep against his shoulder.
“I’ll get her,” Petra said, coming to her feet.
She thought for an instant that he might refuse her assistance, but then he slumped back against the table. Petra hurried as fast as her touchy ankle would allow and crouched down beside the little girl crying in the gravel.
“Here, let me see,” she said, running her hands and her gaze over the child’s limbs. Nell had a red spot on one knee, but the skin wasn’t even broken. “It’s not too bad,” Petra told her. Nell promptly reached up and wrapped her arms around Petra’s neck, snuffling into her shoulder.
Petra awkwardly rose, juggling the child’s weight. Nell had sense enough to wrap her legs around Petra’s waist, which stabilized them both. Carefully, Petra carried the girl back to the table. By the time she arrived, Dale had belted a groggy Callie into her car seat, stowed the basket and started the engine running to cool off the van. Petra handed off Nell and got in on the passenger side.
Dale would be an amazing father, Petra thought, and an amazing husband. She just didn’t know if she should even try to be the kind of partner that such a man deserved. She knew that she didn’t want to be Sudie. She needed…more. She just didn’t know if she was capable of marriage, parenthood and more.
When they arrived back at the hotel, only twenty or so minutes later than usual, Dale got out to open her door. Before she could exit the vehicle, however, Nell called to her.
“Pet-a! Pet-a!”
Dale shrugged when Petra looked to him in confusion, so she got out and opened the back door of the van to speak to the girl.
“Yes, Nell?”
Leaning forward, Nell puckered up her little lips for a kiss. Petra’s heart turned over. She stuck her head inside the van and kissed that little pucker.
“Bye-bye,” Nell said happily.
“Goodbye, sweetie.”
She straightened, her heart in her throat, and nodded mutely at Dale. He brushed a finger across her cheek.
“You’ll thank Hilda for us?”
“Yes,” Petra answered.
His hand cupped her jaw as he softly said, “Kids are not really so mysterious, you know. Mostly it’s a matter of time and attention.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, Petra thought, remembering all those times that she wished her parents had been there to give her the attention she needed.
Dale went around and got behind the steering wheel. Petra walked up onto the sidewalk and waved as the van pulled away from the curb. Her chest felt heavy as she watched Dale and his nieces drive away.
He made it sound so simple and easy, and for him she guessed it was. He lived right there in the house with his nieces, after all, and their mother did not divide her time between job and family. Sudie had all the time in the world to give to her girls, so any extra attention that Uncle Dale could provide must seem like icing on the cake. But what if those were his children and his wife was holding down a full-time job? How simple and easy would it be then?
Yet for the first time, Petra felt an emptiness in her life that had nothing to do with her career struggles. Why couldn’t she be as close to her family as Dale was to his? And what about later in life? Now that Asher was married, he and Ellie were bound to start a family of their own one day, and Dallas fully intended to become a mother at some point. She had always said that teaching was the best of all possible careers for a woman with children because of the schedule. Maybe Phillip would even come down off his mountain long enough to meet someone. Petra wondered if she could be happy just being the aunt to the children of her siblings, as her own aunties seemed to be?
She thought of those summer visits to Chatam House and wondered if she would be able to offer as much of herself to her nieces or nephews as Hypatia, Magnolia and Odelia had. None of them had ever worked a day for pay, after all, so they had been readily available to provide holidays for the progeny of their siblings. If she stuck to her plan, Petra suddenly realized, she wouldn’t be able to offer more than a week or two of vacation time, if that. Could her determination to have a career be costing her more than it offered?
Looking down, she saw tiny smudges on her good suit jacket, but the tears that gathered in her eyes had nothing to do with smudges on her expensive jacket and everything to do with bruises on her heart.
Chapter Eleven
Her doubts stayed with Petra throughout the afternoon and church that evening, a conversation with Dexter and Garth via teleconference at the hotel the next morning, a lengthy and detailed discussion with the city office of building codes later in the day and a visit to the architect in Dallas on Friday. Meanwhile, Dale spent nearly all of his time at Chatam House putting the finishing touches on Odelia and Kent’s new suite.
Petra found, to her dismay, that she missed him, having grown used to him popping in and out of her office every few hours. Talking to him on the phone about business two or three times in the same period just did not satisfy, especially as they both seemed too busy for anything personal. She knew, of course, that he went home every evening to joke and play with his nieces and the rest of the family, and she couldn’t help feeling left out somehow. The sentiment did not fill her with pride. It actually frightened her.
She made up her mind to break their date on Saturday, but when she joined the aunties for breakfast that morning, they were all abuzz over her plans.
“Do you remember the time we went to the Renaissance Festival?” Hypatia asked.
Petra thought back, remembering not just the festival but also the day when Chester had come to collect her at her home in Waco. The aunties often had all the children to visit at one time, but they liked to see them one-on-one every so often, too. All of ten years old, Petra hadn’t wanted to go. Being sent off alone hadn’t seemed like a very good time. She’d climbed into the car so reluctantly that her mother had scolded her.
Then Maryanne had hugged her and said, “I’ll miss you, but I don’t want you to miss this special time with your aunties.”
And it had been a special time. Hypatia had taken Petra to the Renaissance Festival, just the two of them. The other patrons had stared at Hypatia in her silk, pearls and pumps and called her “Milady.” Petra had felt that she was out with the Queen of England. By the end of the day, she had wished that Hypatia was her mother rather than Maryanne. For the first time, she felt a little ashamed about that now.
“Dale will be so proud to have you on his arm,” Odelia predicted, interrupting her reverie.
“Such a nice young man,” Magnolia said. “Garrett quite likes him.” As if that shou
ld be all anyone would ever need to know about Dale Bowen.
They liked Dale so very much and seemed so pleased that she would go out with him that Petra couldn’t bear to disappoint them. Or herself. For the truth was, she very much wanted to go.
* * *
“My lady! My lady!”
Dale looked up at the “archer” on guard at the gate to the permanent, medieval-style, walled village erected among the rolling hills several miles outside of Buffalo Creek and saw that he pointed to Petra.
“Someone has stolen the crown of thy hat, my lady,” the costumed man teased, referring to the canvas visor that she wore with a blousy, lightweight poet’s shirt belted loosely over a pair of skinny red jeans and canvas shoes.
Laughing, Petra tossed her head, causing her ponytail to swing to and fro. “I fear you are right, good sir,” she called, getting into the spirit of the thing. Dale was surprised. He hadn’t expected her to get into the spirit of the thing.
“May I suggest a visit to Lady Flora’s Hat Shoppe to rectify thy plight?” The archer held out his hands, palms up, in the bright sunshine. “Should it rain, thou hast no protection for thy pate!”
“My pate will survive,” she said with a laugh, walking beside Dale as they followed Garrett, Jessa and their young son, Hunter, into the crowd milling about the dusty streets. “The place has grown since I was here last,” she said.
“I imagine so. They add two or three new shops and attractions every year.”
They caught up to the Willows family as they paused at a crossroads to study the carved wooden signs.
“What will it be first?” Garrett asked. “Belly dancing, mud wrestling, jugglers, birds of prey, bagpipers…”
“Mud wrestling!” Hunter exclaimed.
“Bagpipers,” Jessa insisted. “Everyone says they’re the best show here.”
Garrett glanced at Dale and Petra for permission before agreeing. “Bagpipes it is, but don’t think we’re skipping the mud wrestlers. Or the belly dancers,” he added with a waggle of his black brows.
Jessa punched him in the biceps. “Just for that, I want to see Don Juan Carletti next.”
“He’s the guy with the whip, right?” Dale asked.
“I’m told he’s dreamy,” Jessa said to Petra with a grin.
“I’m told he’s an insurance agent,” Garrett muttered. Petra and Jessa burst out laughing, much to Hunter’s confusion. The next instant, a Viking with a horned helmet and sword caught the boy’s attention, and he was gone in a flash. Garrett sped off after him, while Jessa laughed again and shook her head.
Dale bent and spoke softly into Petra’s ear. “Kid was afraid of his own shadow not too long ago.”
“I can understand why,” she whispered. “I was at Asher’s wedding when Hunter’s natural father attempted to kidnap him.”
“Glad they don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Dale muttered. Jessa’s abusive ex-husband was now safely locked away in prison where he belonged.
Garrett dragged the boy back by his wrist. “You can’t take off like that, buddy. It’s too easy to get lost in this crowd.”
“You’d find me,” Hunter said confidently.
“I would,” Garrett agreed, “but think of all the fun we could be having while I was looking for you.”
“And think of the trouble you’d be in when I got you home,” Jessa added pointedly.
Hunter hung his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
She ruffled the boy’s brown hair, and Garrett leaned in to kiss her cheek. Dale beamed on the Willows family, despite the way his heart squeezed in his chest. He wanted what Garrett had, and he couldn’t help wondering if he was wasting his time with Petra. Even if her parents should deem a lowly carpenter fit for their daughter—and the more he knew about them, the more he doubted it—he didn’t know if she could ever incorporate marriage and family into her goals. Even if she should, he wasn’t sure if he could be happy with that.
His envy must have shown on his face, for as they once again fell in behind the Willows trio, she softly said, “I think you’d like to be a dad.”
“Absolutely,” he told her.
“Could you go for a ready-made situation like Garrett’s?”
“For the right woman,” he answered unhesitatingly. He ducked his head to look at her over the rim of his shades, adding, “Although, starting from scratch would be ideal.”
Petra fell silent. He could almost hear her thinking about what that meant. Starting from scratch meant babies, and babies meant diapers and feedings and round-the-clock care, the kind that a mommy could best provide. Lots of women worked and had babies, of course, but Dale knew that he wouldn’t want an infant of his raised by nannies or sitters. Some professional women were fortunate enough to be able to stay home for a few years, but he realized that many failed to return to the work force at all or found their careers stymied when they did. If he knew that, then Petra undoubtedly did, too.
Again, he wondered if he was wasting his time with her. Not that it mattered. He knew he’d spend every moment with her that he could. Besides, they were having great fun.
Dale had been to the Renaissance Festival so often over the years that he could recite several of the shows line for line, but he took fresh joy in seeing Hunter and Jessa experience it for the first time. Even Petra seemed agog at much that took place, oohing and aahing over the costumes and shows. She shuddered at the sword swallower and cheered during the joust. Much to Hunter’s delight, she and Jessa had flowers painted on their cheeks and attached colorful veils to the backs of their visors. Armed with a newly purchased sword carved of wood, Hunter especially enjoyed a demonstration of trained dogs that herded everything from camels to ducks.
“I bet my cat, Curly, could do that,” he said, while the adults traded amused looks.
By late afternoon, stuffed with turkey legs and anything the cooks could get on a stick, the boy was too tired to walk and Petra had begun to limp. With heat shimmering up off the dusty ground, Jessa pronounced it time to head home.
They prodded the boy out to the edge of the grassy parking area, but then Garrett ran ahead to get Jessa’s delivery van and drive it around to pick up his wife and son. Petra insisted on walking to Dale’s truck, but about halfway there he got tired of watching her limp along and swept her up in his arms to carry her. She laughed and protested, but he liked carrying her, and he knew her ankle had begun to pain her.
On the ride back to Chatam House, they chatted about the day, recounting their favorite parts.
“You have to admit,” she said, “that Don Juan was very good.”
“For an insurance agent,” he qualified dryly. A lavishly handsome man, despite the leotard and lace, the fellow certainly could crack a whip, but Dale hadn’t liked the way that he flirted with all the women in the audience, even if it was part of the act. It didn’t help that Petra had seemed rapt during the performance.
She cut him a speaking look, chuckled and said, “What about that guy who sat down at the picnic table with us?”
“Sir Alonzo del Fuego Miller,” Dale recalled. “Did you notice that he never once dropped the sixteenth-century vernacular? We must’ve talked half an hour, and it was always ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ and ‘at the behest of the hostler.’ Pretty interesting job, training horses for the joust.”
Talk went on in that vein until he pulled the truck to a stop in front of Chatam House. He got out and went around to open the door for her, but she put up a hand to stop him from helping her out.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hurting,” he countered, watching her gingerly climb down from the truck. She turned at the edge of the brick walkway and parked her hands at her waist.
“I spent the day at a Renaissance Festival. I think I can manage to g
et into the house.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “It’s your ankle,” he said, sauntering forward. “Just remember that I can always carry you if need be.”
She spluttered with laughter. “You like playing the he-man, don’t you?”
“Gets you into my arms,” he quipped.
She sobered then, her whole face falling into a sad frown. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“Me, either,” he had to admit, though it hurt to do so.
“I—I’m just not sure that we want the same things,” she said, making it sound as much a question as a statement.
Dale sighed. “I know.”
“Doesn’t seem much point to it then, does there?” she asked softly.
“I guess not.”
Now that they’d both voiced their doubts, he supposed that was that. Oh, how he wished he’d kept his clever quip behind his teeth! But what good would that do?
After a moment, she said, “Thank you. I had a great time.”
“Me, too,” he told her. The urge to kiss her again seized him, so he hastily stepped back. “See you tomorrow. At work.”
She nodded, and he turned away, coiling his hands into fists as he hurried around to the driver’s seat of the truck.
What was it Corinthians said? He recalled the verse as he drove away from her.
“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”
“Well, I’m enduring it, Lord,” he said aloud, “but I don’t see a way out.” Not the one he wanted to see, anyway.
* * *
Waving at Sudie Baker across the wide sanctuary, Petra put a smile on her face, but Hypatia noted that it did not reach her eyes. Glancing back, she saw that Dale Bowen was studiously avoiding so much as a peek in Petra’s direction.
Oh, dear. Trouble. And Hypatia had thought the two young people were getting on so well.
