by Hanson
“It wasn't your fault.” Candace tried to absolve him of blame, but she desperately wished she hadn't been persuaded to have boys at the party.
“I guess I’ve been away from kids that age too long.”
She didn't have an answer for that.
“I’m driving to Peoria tomorrow,” he said. “Would you like to come with me? I have to shop for boots before I go bird watching this spring, but we could do anything you like afterward.”
“No, I don't think so.” She apologized for refusing, but was she being honest with him?
“How about brunch? We could go right after church. Bring the whole family if you like.”
She needed to talk to him but not at a family gathering.
“I’ll meet you after church, just the two of us,” she said, not sure why it seemed so urgent to talk to him.
“It was an awful party,” Brooke said when Candace got into the car. “I wish I hadn't had a party at all.”
“I’m sorry. No one can predict how other people will act. Maybe the boys just aren't mature enough for mixed parties.”
“You didn't want me to invite them.” Brooke stopped short of telling her she’d been right, but it was implicit in her silence.
Her daughter sounded so miserable that Candace wanted to cradle her like a baby, but that wouldn't make her feel better.
“Maybe I should have planned it differently,” she said, trying to soothe away some of Brooke's misery. “Next year we’ll think of a better way to celebrate your birthday.”
“I never want another party, ever! I don't even want to go to someone else's.”
Candace knew her daughter would change her mind and go to Tiffany's party, but this wasn't the time to say so.
“There are other kinds of parties,” she said. “Maybe roller skating or bowling.”
“Oh, Mother, only little kids have bowling parties.”
“Well, we don't need to talk about it now. Some parts of your party were very nice. I’m sorry Tiffany got sick, though. She must feel terrible about it.”
“At least I didn't throw up.”
It wasn't much to be grateful for, but Candace was glad for anything positive Brooke had to say.
When they got home, Brooke mumbled good night to her grandmother and went to bed without any urging.
Candace had a restless night, but it wasn't just because Brooke was terribly distressed about the ruined party. In just a little over a year, Candace would be forty; and she didn't have a clear idea of where her life was going.
Was it right to let Heath take Dean's place in her children's affections? He was a well-meaning man, in spite of the fiasco at the party. That was her fault, really, for giving in against her better judgment.
At dawn she awoke feeling as though she’d tossed and turned all night. She prayed for the wisdom to make the right decision, but in the end, the children were her greatest responsibility.
Brooke didn't blame Heath for talking her mother into having boys at the party, but she was terribly let down. She’d expected something entirely different, but nothing worked out right.
Her daughter would recover from her disappointment, although the party certainly would remain a bad memory. But what would happen if Brooke came to love Heath as a step-father, and he was taken from them as Dean had been? Could she risk her children losing a second father figure?
The question plagued her as she got Howie ready for Sunday school. Brooke begged off, saying that she had a headache. Ordinarily Candace would have been skeptical, but she understood her daughter's reluctance to face friends at church right after the disastrous party. She let compassion be her guide and allowed Brooke to stay in bed.
Candace sat through the church service in a haze, knowing what she should do but still not sure it was the right thing. She didn't make a firm decision until she pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where she was meeting Heath.
She didn't see his Jeep, so she waited in her Honda CRV until he pulled up and then hurried over to head him off.
“Good morning,” he said in a cheerful voice that only made what she had to do harder.
“I’m really not hungry,” she said. “Could we just talk for a few minutes?”
“Is something wrong? Is everyone all right at home?” His concern made it even harder to do what she had to do.
“Can we sit in your Jeep for a few minutes?”
“Of course.” He took her arm and guided her, opening the door for her and going around to the other side to take his place beside her.
“Heath, I don't know how to say this.”
“We’ve always been up front with each other. Tell me if something's wrong. Are you upset about the party? I see now that I was wrong to encourage you to let Brooke invite boys. I guess I’d forgotten how adolescents behave.”
“No, it's not that.”
“What then?” His sympathetic tone made it even more difficult to say what had to be said.
“Brooke had a terrible time after her father died.”
“Yes, you told me. She didn't speak for two months afterward. I realize how fragile she is.”
“I’m afraid, Heath.”
He reached over and took her hand, but she pulled it away. “Tell me.”
“Not for myself. For my children. I can't let them be devastated again. They’re becoming attached to you. If something happened to take you away from them, I don't know how they would cope.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said in a low voice.
“Not willingly perhaps.”
“I understand. You’re afraid to take a chance on us. If something happened…”
He did understand. That was the hardest part. He’d lost his fiancée, someone he deeply loved. He’d experienced the agony of loss and knew why she was so reluctant to take a chance on a future together.
“This isn't what I want.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks in spite of her effort to hold them back.
He reached over and touched her face, brushing aside an errant tear.
“Me either.”
“If my children weren't so vulnerable—every time you got into a car or went out into the wilderness to look for birds…” It was no use. She couldn't fully explain her fear.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
“Does this mean we won't see each other anymore?”
She’d never heard him sound so sad.
“For now.” It wasn't a satisfactory answer, but it was the best she could do.
“Tell Brooke and Howie that I think they’re wonderful young people.”
“I will.”
“I love you Candace. No matter what.”
Tears pooled once again. “I love you too, Heath.”
She quietly opened the door and got out and then walked across to her own car without a backward glance. Her vision was blurred by tears, and it took several minutes before she trusted herself to drive. By then, Heath's Jeep was gone.
As much as it hurt, she had made sure her children wouldn't have their lives devastated again.
And it did hurt.
Chapter Twenty-Six
CAMERON KEPT ANABELLE TOTALLY IN THE DARK. HE even insisted that she stay on after church for a brief worship committee meeting, although she could easily have gotten out of it on the excuse that they were having company.
It had been her husband's idea to invite Dr. Hamilton for Sunday brunch, a meal that he was preparing totally on his own. His wife, Anabelle's good friend and quilting partner Genna, was out of town for two weeks visiting relatives in the Chicago area. The doctor had been very happy to accept their invitation.
The big question was: What was Cam up to? They’d only had a couple of cooking lessons, and he’d been unimpressed by the salad recipes. Was he using their guest as an excuse to prepare a high-calorie meal, or did he have something else up his sleeve?
The doctor's car was in the drive when she got home, and the two men were in the kitchen engrossed in conversation.
They went silent when she walked into the room.
After exchanging greetings, Anabelle looked around the kitchen with interest. Whatever Cam was preparing was in the oven, and he’d spirited away any cooking utensils. He hadn't left a clue, even covering a plate with a linen towel.
“Nice of you to have me over,” Dr. Hamilton said. “I try to avoid my own cooking as much as possible.”
“Cam has taken a real interest in it,” Anabelle proudly told him. “We’re even taking cooking lessons together.”
“I’m especially glad to be here today,” he said. “I have news about the flu.”
“No more cases?” she asked optimistically.
“Afraid not. Over the weekend there’ve been thirty-two new cases reported countywide, but they’ve all been in young people under the age of seventeen. This is the bad news, but there is a positive side.”
“It narrows the age range of potential victims,” Anabelle said, anticipating what he had to say.
“Exactly. We only need to target the most vulnerable group, the children. Many of them have already had shots, thanks to early cooperation from the schools and the county health agency. We’re going to have enough vaccine to inoculate every young person who comes to us, and we’ve been promised that the shortage will be over by the end of the month. Maxine is sending out e-mails urging physicians in the area to contact the eligible ones on their patient lists. I’m cautiously optimistic that we can lick this strain, at least in the present.”
“That's wonderful!” Anabelle hadn't heard news this good in a long time.
“The task force did a fine job on the preparedness drill,” he continued. “I have to thank you for all the volunteer time you put into it.”
“It was well worth it, although I’m surprised that seniors, especially the elderly and infirm, don't seem to be coming down with it.”
“No doubt there will be a lot of studies, but my opinion is that the Asian strain of flu that hit hard in 1957 and 1958 gave immunity to a lot of potential victims. I guess this is one time that we can be grateful for an epidemic, albeit one that hit over fifty years ago.”
“Now if you folks are through talking shop,” Cameron said, “you can take your places at the table.”
Anabelle's curiosity grew as they waited for her husband to serve them. She swelled with pride when he put a long glass pan on the table and started serving up a lovely breakfast casserole.
“I used eggs, spinach, and mushrooms with a sprinkling of Parmesan,” he said. “No salt, only a few secret seasonings that I may share with my wife. Or maybe not. I’ve taken to this cooking like a duck to water.”
He had lovely fruit cups at each place and proudly produced a plate of bran muffins.
“Did you know that you can use stiff egg whites in place of shortening in some muffin recipes?” he said.
Not only was the brunch good for his blood pressure and heart, it was delicious. Anabelle enjoyed every bite, but she did have one question: Where was her real husband?
James spent the day Sunday feeling more relaxed and at peace than he had in weeks. It looked like Deerford would escape a full-blown flu epidemic, and his personal life had taken a turn for the better. The payment from the house sale was tucked away in the bank, and they could now decide whether or not to purchase the house they were renting.
Best of all, Fern was in good spirits and her MS wasn't troubling her nearly as much as it had been. James gave heartfelt thanks to the Lord in prayer again and again as he went through the day's activities.
Much to his surprise, Fern made two batches of her delicious cinnamon rolls for their brunch after church.
“What did we do to deserve a treat like this?” he asked, snagging a bit of frosting from the edge of one of the pans. “One for today, and one for tomorrow.”
“Wrong,” she said in a teasing tone. “The second pan is for the cat lady who took care of Sapphire. Even though she didn't notice the extra cat, she must have lavished attention on our runaway. She came home fat and sassy. I thought we could drop the rolls off later in the day.”
“Good idea,” James said, grateful for the thoughtfulness of his wife.
“Hey, what smells so good?” Nelson asked, bounding into the kitchen wearing a faded red shirt that could have come from the rag bag.
“Goodness, I thought you threw that shirt away ages ago,” Fern said.
“I dressed up for church,” he argued.
“Of course you did,” James said with a grin. “I don't need to tell you how to dress anymore.”
“While we’re on the subject of clothing,” Gideon said as he came into the room, “did you have to wear that ratty tweed sports coat this morning?”
James laughed in unison with Fern. When had their son changed from sloppy-boy mode to fashion consultant?
“Next week I’ll wear my brown suit,” James said in a good-natured voice.
“But don't wear that yellow tie with it,” Nelson chimed in. “It doesn't look dignified.”
Dignified! James smiled broadly, feeling extraordinarily blessed by his family, his career, and his faith.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CANDACE WAS GLAD SHE’D HELPED OUT BY WORKING on Saturday even though she felt unusually drained of energy Monday morning. At least the worst of the flu threat had bypassed them, and she wasn't quite so worried about an epidemic in the Birthing Unit.
What really made her feel bad was the rift between Heath and her. A week had passed since she put the brakes on their relationship, and she missed his cheerful phone calls. Her house seemed empty Saturday evening without him to share a movie or a long talk.
Sunday was even worse. Both kids felt let down that he hadn't come to see them. Howie, especially, was disappointed because he wanted to challenge Heath in one of his board games. But Candace knew that she missed him far more than her children. His understanding and warmth made her feel young and vibrant again.
The morning dragged with only one new patient who probably wouldn't be ready to deliver until evening or later. Riley was involved in catching up on reports, and there wasn't much to distract Candace from her gloomy thoughts.
She didn't especially welcome her lunch break. It meant that she still had hours of relative inactivity before she could go home unless things got busy in the Birthing Unit.
Before she could pick up a tray to go through the cafeteria line, she felt a hand on her arm.
“Come to lunch with me,” Heath said.
She didn't even think of saying no. “I’ll get my coat.”
“It's warmed up quite a bit. You can use my jacket.”
He draped his dark green Windbreaker over her shoulders and hustled her out of the hospital.
“My Jeep is in the back,” he said.
“We can walk to the Corner. It's a beautiful sunny day for this time of year,” she said.
“Not before I say what I have to say.” He took her hand and led her around the corner of the building, but they stopped before she could even see his vehicle.
“I spent the whole weekend thinking of what I could say to you,” he said.
She wanted to say so many things to him that she didn't know where to start.
He didn't give her a chance. “I know I was out of line, trying to play super father to your kids. I adore them, but you’re a wonderful mother. I never meant to interfere.”
“You didn't interfere. The kids adore you. They missed you this weekend.”
“I missed them, but my days were empty without seeing you.” He pulled her closer to a windowless brick wall, shivering a little because the April wind was still chilly.
“Mine too.” Candace felt tears of happiness welling up in her eyes.
“Don't cry. What I want more than anything in the world is for you to be happy.” He brushed a tear away from her cheek and put his arms around her.
“Please, Candace, give me another chance. I love you more than I have words to tell you. I’m not trying to replace your husband
or the children's father, but I think there's something important between us.”
“I was afraid, Heath. I didn't know what I’d do if I let myself love you, if I let the children make you part of their lives, and then we lost you.”
“There are no guarantees in life,” he said so softly she just barely heard. “We take chances every day of our lives, but it's so much better to risk loss than not to have loved at all. I’ve thought and prayed about what our love would mean to us and the children, and I think our faith will see us through the rough spots.”
Candace was silent for several long moments, but when she answered, her heart spoke for her.
“I’m blessed to have you in my life, and so are the children,” she whispered.
Heath's arms closed around her, and she thanked the Lord for giving her this second chance at happiness.
Before Elena could get to the elevator, Penny rushed toward her waving a manila envelope.
“This came to the hospital for you,” the executive assistant said, her cheeks unusually pink from rushing to catch up. “You really shouldn't have personal mail sent here.”
“I don't know what it is,” Elena said, “so how could I stop the mail carrier from bringing it here?”
“Well…” Penny said, apparently stumped for an answer. “Just so long as you don't make a habit of it.”
Elena was alone when the elevator door closed, so she quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the large photograph and the enclosed note.
Dear Friend Elena,
I can't possibly thank you enough for completing my beautiful quinceañera gown. It is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. I’m sure it helped my grandmamma recover more quickly from her surgery, knowing that you finished what she had begun.
God bless you for your great kindness.
Rosa Acuna
Elena stared at the photograph of a beautiful young girl with her dark hair pulled back from her forehead and held in place by a small veil. She had delicate features and a shy but pleased smile. The dress hugged a tiny waist and flowed to the ground, showing only the tips of her ballerina style shoes. She was wearing elbow-length white gloves and holding a bouquet of flowers, looking like a bride but too young to take such a serious step.
