by Arlene James
Petra sank down on the pew and looked straight ahead, but her stoicism did not fool Hypatia.
“Is something wrong, dear?” she asked softly.
Petra shook her head, her gaze dropping to her lap.
“Didn’t you and Dale have a good time yesterday?” Hypatia asked cautiously.
“Oh, yes,” Petra said, but the eyes that she so briefly turned Hypatia’s way shone suspiciously bright.
Hypatia wrapped an arm around her niece. Few had ever understood the fierce intelligence or sensitive nature of this child. Petra alone among her brother Murdock’s children had doubted herself, setting such impossibly high standards that she was bound to fail. It was not enough for Petra to excel; she had to be the best at whatever she tried. She was much more like her mother, Maryanne, than anyone realized. If only she would believe in herself, she could do anything. She could do things that Hypatia herself could not, like the woman worth far more than rubies. That reminded Hypatia of her advice to her niece when last they’d spoken privately together.
“Dear, have you had a chance to look over that chapter in Proverbs yet?”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I haven’t. Which one was it?”
“The thirty-first. If you’re pressed for time, you can start at verse ten. I think it might clarify a thing or two for you.”
“I’ll read it, I promise,” Petra said with a wan smile.
Hypatia hugged her and made a mental promise to spend some concentrated time in prayer on Petra’s behalf. She had been remiss in her prayers, with Odelia’s wedding just days away, but that would change, starting now.
* * *
What a long, dismal day, Petra thought, walking into her room at Chatam House. For the first time in her memory, church had not soothed her. Just knowing that Dale was in the building and that he would not be seeking her out had nearly brought her to tears, but what other choice did they have? He wanted a wife like his mother and sister. Petra couldn’t imagine not working at something, but she didn’t want to be like her own mother, too often called away when her children needed her.
Still, never to have a child of her own! Petra had discounted children long ago. She had considered marriage and motherhood the price she would have to pay to at last fit in with her family. But what of her family? Her parents were still consumed by their individual medical practices. Asher had his career and now a wife. They would undoubtedly start a family before long. Phillip was off on a mountain somewhere, and Dallas…at least her meddling kept her involved in Petra’s life, but Dallas had made no secret of the fact that she expected to marry as soon as she’d found her “Mr. Perfect.”
Then how will I fit? Petra wondered morosely, but she had no answer for that dilemma. Tired as she was, she feared she might be in for a long, sleepless night.
While changing into her nightclothes and taking down her hair, she thought about Hypatia’s gentle insistence that she read Proverbs. She told herself that she might as well. She didn’t have anything else to do, after all. Settling on the sofa in the sitting area with her Bible in hand, she thumbed through it to the thirty-first chapter of Proverbs and began to read. When she came to the tenth verse, she sat up straight and concentrated, reading aloud.
“A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies.”
Petra went on reading about how such a woman’s husband would have full confidence in her and how busy she would be providing for her family and servants. Why, she would even venture into businesses, buying fields and planting vineyards, trading profitably.
“‘Her children arise and call her blessed,’” Petra read, “‘her husband also, and he praises her: ‘Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.’ Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.’”
Petra let the Bible fall to her lap. That didn’t sound like a housebound woman to her. That almost sounded like a business woman! In fact, it almost sounded like her mother!
Of course, nothing said that a housewife couldn’t be as industrious as the woman of Proverbs, and Petra felt sure that most were, especially those with children. And yet…nothing here said that a woman could not, should not, work outside her home, either, only that her home and family should be the central purpose of her labor. The decision to work outside her home, Petra supposed, God left up to every couple to make for themselves. Each situation was surely different, and so it was up to each married couple to prayerfully choose the best path for them and their family.
She began to read the passage again, pausing when she came to the part that mentioned servants. Well, that didn’t apply to this modern era. Unless…might not nannies and housekeepers, even part-time babysitters, apply here? They certainly deserved their portion like everyone else.
Petra thought of how her mother had always appreciated the staff and chosen them so carefully. Petra had resented them, though, because they were not Maryanne. How many times in her mother’s absence had one of them reminded her of the important work that her mother did? Petra realized suddenly that she didn’t want to do work that might be more important than her family, not even on minor occasions.
Suddenly thankful that she had not been called to medicine or some other equally demanding career, Petra tried to picture her future in light of the revelation in this passage. There was room in God’s plan for marriage and career, for housewives who labored in the home and career women who labored outside of it. So long as home and family were at the heart of a woman’s labors, it mattered not where she labored or at what.
Petra felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. This really was not an either/or situation. She didn’t have to go into acquisitions at Anderton Hotels. It wasn’t necessary to go to Europe. She could balance a job and a husband and children. If she could manage that, she would be a success. She would be a “woman worth more than rubies!”
Of course, she should always put the welfare of her family first, and whatever work she chose didn’t have to make anybody’s list of “best occupations.” It didn’t have to win awards or make world-changing contributions to society. She had not been called to that. Whatever she did, though, it had to give her a sense of accomplishment and personal achievement. Much like what she was doing now.
She enjoyed the work she was currently doing, but she had enjoyed many, even most, of her jobs. Dale had told her that she was a good manager. Maybe she would enjoy managing the hotel as much as she enjoyed overseeing the renovation of it. She could do that job and be married, too. She thought of Jessa Willows and how she worked side by side with her husband. Petra had told herself that theirs was a unique situation, and so it was, but if Garrett had stayed at Chatam House as the gardener, surely they’d have found a way to make it all work. Now, if only Dale could see things that way!
But he didn’t. At least, she didn’t think he did.
They hadn’t really discussed it.
Still, all things considered, she felt that she could safely assume that he wanted a stay-at-home wife like his mom and sister.
That meant that she was really no better off now than before. However much she might want to be what he wanted, she just didn’t think that could be her.
Deflated once again, she put aside her Bible and went to bed, but sleep, as she had feared, was long in coming, despite the prayers she whispered late into the night.
Chapter Twelve
“I just don’t understand what you’re doing,” Dallas said, sitting down in one of a pair of mismatched chairs in front of Petra’s desk on Monday morning.
Adopting a brisk tone, Petra stated the obvious. “I was working. Now I’m talking to you.”
“I’m talking about Dale Bowen,” Dallas excla
imed bluntly. “You’re dating him!”
Was dating him, Petra silently amended, taken off guard by the lance of pain in her chest. She said, “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Well, I should hope not,” Dallas retorted. “I mean, I’m sure he’s a very nice man, and he’s attractive enough—”
“Attractive enough?” Petra repeated, shocked. He was more than attractive, for pity’s sake. He was breathtaking, inhumanly handsome. The sight of him, the thought of him, made Petra’s heart pound, and Dallas called him “handsome enough”?
“And he’s a real stand-up kind of guy, too,” Dallas plunged on, “according to Garrett. But you have to admit that he’s just not in the same league as Garth Anderton.”
That much was true. Garth and Dale were as different as two men could be. Garth was urbane, professionally groomed, wealthy, driven. Dale was salt-of-the-earth, handsome without even trying, moderately successful, laid-back, loving—and apparently not interested enough in her to adjust his requirements of a wife. Or was he?
She had assumed, obviously, that they wanted different things out of life, but that didn’t seem quite so obvious anymore. Petra now knew that she didn’t have to be happy with just a career anymore than she had to be happy with just a marriage. Could Dale be happy with a working wife, though?
Oh, if only he’d argued with her when she’d said there was no point in them seeing each other! But he hadn’t. He had, in fact, agreed with her.
Maybe Dallas was right. Maybe she was pining after the wrong man.
Whenever Petra tried to picture herself with Garth, however, the best she could do involved a business suit, a briefcase and a clipboard. When she pictured herself with Dale, they were sitting side by side on a couch or a park bench, laughing and talking. Or he was holding her in his arms, toting her around like a favorite toy, smiling down at her with those rich green eyes, as if she could be the center of his personal universe.
She shivered, missing him with a sharp, aching pang. It didn’t matter that his world felt so foreign to her. Even her confusion and misgivings seemed unimportant compared to this feeling that she had when she thought of him.
She shook her head, muttering, “None of that matters.”
“Listen,” Dallas said, pecking a fingertip on the desktop. “I get it. I really do. The aunties are thrilled. They couldn’t wait to tell me about your dates with Dale Bowen. But don’t you see? They’d be thrilled if it was Garth, too, and he’s so much better suited to you.”
Narrowing her eyes, Petra asked, “What makes you think he and I would suit?”
Dallas spread her hands. “Well, it’s obvious! He’s just so…like you, so effective and good-looking and polished. Not to mention expensive. I mean, the man oozes success.”
Petra frowned. Dallas made her sound like the latest model of stainless-steel refrigerator. Useful, attractive, cold. Was that how Dale saw her? Pretty, desirable, but not worth the price? Maybe he just didn’t understand what the price included. In fact, he couldn’t possibly because she had just figured it out herself. Might it be that he just needed a little time to get to know the new her? She bit her lip, wondering if she dared ask him out now. Suddenly inspired, she got to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Dallas squawked.
“Out,” Petra answered succinctly, taking her handbag from the drawer of her desk.
“I thought you had to work!”
“Life isn’t all work, Dallas,” Petra lectured, enjoying the way her sister’s mouth dropped open.
“Yours has been!” Dallas shot back.
“Then it’s time for some changes,” Petra said, as much to herself as to her sister.
* * *
Dale could not have been more surprised when Petra appeared in the suite that morning if she’d arrived in a puff of smoke.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey.”
Seeming unsure of herself, she licked her lips and unconsciously widened her stance, straining the seams of the straight, navy blue skirt that she wore with a matching short-sleeved sweater. She’d left her hair down but had pulled the front back to make a little pouf on top. It was a very sophisticated look, but then she was a sophisticated woman.
Setting aside the paintbrush he’d been cleaning, Dale wiped his hands on a blue rag and gave her his full attention.
“What’s up? Problem at the hotel?”
She shook her head. “No. This is personal.”
Personal. Doubly surprised, he stuffed the rag into a pocket on his coveralls and spread his hands, waiting for her to speak. After what she’d said on Saturday, he couldn’t imagine what personal matter she could have to discuss with him, but considering how he felt about her, he’d be a fool not to listen. Still, he braced himself. Maybe she thought she hadn’t made her disinterest clear enough.
After sucking in a deep breath, she doggedly said, “I’ve met your parents, but you haven’t met mine. I was wondering how you’d feel about having breakfast with them on Wednesday morning? They plan to leave for home again before lunch the day after the wedding.”
That didn’t quite compute for Dale. He tilted his head, going over her words in his mind. “Are you asking me to have breakfast with you and your parents?”
“On Wednesday morning,” she confirmed.
She could’ve knocked him over with a feather. After Saturday, he hadn’t expected to see her again except at work. Now here she was, asking to introduce him to her parents? That could only mean that she wasn’t any more ready to give up on him than he was on her. A giddy feeling welled up inside of him, momentarily robbing him of speech. Eventually, however, he found his voice.
“Okay. Sure. But can I ask why?”
“I want you all to meet,” she replied calmly. “I realized, you see, how much I learned about you by meeting your family, and I thought that meeting my parents might help you understand me.”
He blinked at that. “I thought you said we were wasting our time.”
“I did,” she admitted, “but I’m wondering if I was wrong. I mean, we work so well together, and you must know that I…” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how I feel really, but I know I’ve never felt this way before.”
That was good enough for him. For now. The only problem was that Wednesday suddenly seemed far, far away.
“How about dinner tonight?” he asked impulsively. “We can talk.”
She made a disappointed face. “I’ve been invited to the rehearsal dinner tonight. I only helped write place cards for the wedding reception, but Kent insisted.”
“I see. I guess you’re busy tomorrow, too?” Dale pressed hopefully.
She huffed a sigh. “It’s Odelia’s wedding day, and frankly I don’t even know what I’ll be wearing yet.”
“Whatever it is, you’ll look beautiful,” he assured her.
She smiled brightly enough to temporarily blind him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Uh, about Wednesday, when and where?”
“I’ll have to let you know,” she told him apologetically.
“That’s fine.”
They stood there staring stupidly at each other for several seconds before she said, “Well, I’d better get back to work.”
He nodded. “Me, too. All of my gear needs to be out of here by tonight. They’ve already started moving in some stuff as it is. Best get to it.”
Nodding, she turned to go then paused. “Will you be at the wedding?”
He had meant to attend the wedding, but after Petra had more or less broken things off with him, he’d toyed with the idea of backing out. Why torture himself by spending the evening in the same room with her? Now wild horses couldn’t keep him away, even if all he could do was wave at her from a distance.
“I’ll be there,” he told her. “I know you’ll have family around you, but maybe we’ll see each other then.”
She nodded. “I’ll look for you.”
“Do that,” he encouraged, wondering if it was too late to have his one and only suit dry cleaned. Then again, maybe he ought to buy a new one. He suddenly wanted to look his very best.
* * *
Watching Petra literally waltz across the landing from the doorway of Odelia and Kent’s new suite, Hypatia smiled to herself. She turned her gaze heavenward. Well, well. Looked like her prayers had wrought a change for the better. Hypatia felt a keen sense of satisfaction at the notion of Petra and Dale together. She knew that Dallas hoped for a union between Petra and Garth Anderton, but Hypatia couldn’t help feeling that Dale would be a better partner for Petra. She had nothing against Anderton. He was a charming rascal, after all, but Dale was so grounded and solid. He would prove a more than adequate partner for a professional woman, or any woman for that matter.
Slipping into the sitting room that she shared with her sisters, Hypatia found the thick portfolio that she used to organize wedding details—as much as it was possible to organize with Odelia changing her mind about something every other minute—and carried it back out onto the landing. She walked to the open doorway through which Petra had emerged and looked inside, just to be sure that she had her facts straight. Dale was packing away a paintbrush. Glancing up, he smiled at her.
“Can I help you with something?”
“No, no,” she answered. “Just thought I’d look in on you.”
“Ah.” He glanced around. “Almost through here. I’ll be out of your way before lunch.”
“You’ve done an admirable job,” Hypatia told him, “and I know Odelia and Kent appreciate it.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” he returned, smiling.
Hypatia inclined her head. “I won’t keep you any longer.”
“Have a nice day.”
“You, too,” she replied softly, taking her leave.
