He’d pretty much steered clear of women until now, since Elise had walked out of his life without one backward glance. Why she’d waited so long, so close to their wedding day, he’d never know. No wonder he’d been confused. Perhaps one day he would figure out what he’d done wrong.
Trying to be subtle, he studied Paula from a peripheral view. She didn’t seem ready for anything either, so who was to say he and Paula couldn’t be friends? Friendship served both involved. Fun, laughter, companionship. Maybe that was all he needed—time to adjust to a woman’s companionship. It might be easier than he thought.
Paula touched his arm, an inquiring expression on her face. “Come back to planet earth. The photographer is giving you a look.”
So was she, and he liked it.
* * *
Music filled the hall as Paula entered with Clint at her side. She spotted the deejay near the dance floor, a middle-aged man who’d probably been entertaining wedding parties for years.
“I think our seats are over there.” Clint beckoned her to follow, and behind him she admired his physique as he guided her to the bridal table. At first, she’d felt trapped, and it made no sense. Clint had been pleasant company, polite and tempting her smile to appear. For too long, she hadn’t smiled much, and, since coming to stay with her uncle Fred, she’d found herself chuckling at his amusing comments and her cousins’ easy wit. Today she discovered the same kind of playfulness in Clint.
Though his comments didn’t draw out belly laughs, they tickled her. Sometimes he echoed her own terse responses, teasing innuendos that he tossed out on the fly. Nothing at all like Vic. When she allowed herself to face the truth, the “trap” was different. She’d felt knotted in a web but not a spider’s dinner, instead a maze luring her to follow a path different than she’d experienced before. Though tempted by the adventure, a thought struck her. Had Ashley put Clint up to entertaining her? Maybe he was the one who really was trapped.
Irritation bristled down her back. Why dwell on what had been? Somehow she had to stop comparing Clint to Vic. Better she let the present cover the ashes of her past. Beauty from ashes.
“Are you all right? You’re quiet.” Clint pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit.
She managed a pleasant look. “Thinking.”
He slid the chair beneath her and studied her a moment, his dark blue eyes gliding across her features and causing unfamiliar sensations to roll through her belly. “Problems?”
The single word caught her unguarded. “Not really. I was...I was trying to recall where I’d heard the phrase beauty from ashes.”
“Scripture.” He sat beside her as other attendants ambled to the bridal table. “I’m not good at telling you where in the Bible.” He shrugged. “But I know it’s there.”
“Thanks.” He’d impressed her, and what he’d said made sense. Only God could take ashes and make them beautiful. Sometimes she thought about church and faith, realizing life would have been different if she’d had something...someone to lean on. Clint had strength to lift a tree. Definitely strong enough to lean on. Still, he wasn’t God.
“I’m guessing there’s more on your mind.”
Her head snapped upward, nearly giving her whiplash. He’d shifted the chair toward her, and in her preoccupation, she hadn’t noticed.
“I didn’t mean to impinge on your thoughts. Sometimes I can’t stop myself from probing.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “I suppose that’s the firefighter in me. We need the facts. Details. Saving property and lives need quick thinking.”
“But I don’t need rescuing, so you don’t need facts.” She managed a smile.
He shrugged. “Most of us do at one time or another.”
“I guess we all like details. Tell me about you.” Her knack for reversing the conversation gave her control, and she could avoid talking about herself.
“Firefighter...but then you know that. Single.” He held up his left hand and spread his fingers.
No ring, but she’d known that. “How have you escaped so many women looking for a husband?” Instead of a smile at her teasing comment, he couldn’t hide his frown before managing a grin.
“Lucky, I guess.”
Cover. She’d used the same technique. She turned in the chair, her knees brushing his. “You’re kidding, I know.”
He gave her a crooked grin and shrugged, but his eyes probed hers a moment before he looked away. “Truth is I was engaged once, but it ended before the wedding. I’m glad, since I don’t believe in divorce.”
The statement reminded her of her earlier thoughts in the church. How could two people promise a lifetime of love and faithfulness when so much of the world didn’t seem to value it at all? “That’s your religious belief?”
“Yes and no. It’s biblical, but it’s also a gut feeling. I’d only marry if I knew deep in my soul this person loved me with all her heart, and she trusted that I felt the same. Too many things change in life, and I don’t think marriage should be one of them. We need to hang on to a few constants. Faith is one of those I cling to.”
The word cling gave her pause. Her faith fluctuated from one day to the next. “You’re lucky.”
“I’m blessed.” A frown slipped to his face. “Are you saying you’re not a believer?”
His expression made her reluctant to speak. “I wasn’t raised in any faith.”
Instead of drawing back, he eased forward, as if longing to ask about her beliefs, but silverware tinkled against china and glass, and Paula turned to see what caused the commotion. She spotted Devon leaning forward to kiss Ashley as the guests cheered and tittered. She’d forgotten that old kiss-the-bride tradition.
Toasts to the bride and the table blessing ended and, grateful for the break in conversation, Paula eased back in the chair as the waitstaff delivered food to the table and the meal began. Conversation buzzed through the room, and though she and Clint talked, the topics were general and unimportant. The issue of faith seemed to hover above them.
As dishes were cleared, the music began. Clint rose and extended his hand. “Care to dance?”
She hadn’t danced in years and the idea of being in a man’s arms—Clint’s arms—appealed to her. Yet again the question rose. Did he feel obliged to dance with her? Despite her questions, she followed him to the dance floor, her own longing taking precedence. The swish of the silky fabric against her legs awoke her feminine self, a persona she’d ignored the past few years.
On the dance floor, he pulled her close, his arms holding her fast yet with a tenderness that eased her. He glided effortlessly, their feet moving in sync, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music, a love song that fit the occasion. Others had joined them, and Paula felt less conspicuous. The closeness to Clint filled her with longing, the desire to go back in time and relive her life differently.
She recognized a good man when she saw one, and Clint fit the image. Her thoughts turned to Ashley and Devon’s marriage, a day of joy and happiness for two people she hoped would enjoy a forever life together. Though Vic had dampened her dream for a while, she felt a determination to move forward. The new environment, new friends, new experiences gave her the opportunity to find happiness.
When she looked up, Clint was studying her, his beguiling eyes engrossed as he observed her. Beneath her hand, his powerful frame reflected not only his physical strength but his solid character. He would make a wonderful husband for someone. Her pulse tripped, sending her mind into unfamiliar places.
As Devon and Ashley twirled past, he caught Clint’s attention, and when the song ended, Clint guided her to their table. “I’ll be back in a moment. I think the groom wants me for something.” He tilted his head toward Devon and hurried off.
The intrusion caused her to wonder what was up, but a few moments later, Ashley broke away from her task of greetin
g people and slipped to her side. Ashley sent her a coy grin as she sank into the empty chair. “You and Clint seem to be getting along very well.”
Paula’s heart skipped again, and she struggled to keep color from rising to her cheeks. “He’s being a gentleman. I think he knows I’m a stranger here...even among relatives. I haven’t seen these people in years, and they don’t really know me.”
Ashley rested her hand on Paula’s. “I think it’s more than that.” Her grin needed no words. “But Clint is a gentleman. That’s for sure.”
“What do you mean by ‘more than that’?” Although she understood, she wanted to hear what Ashley had to say.
“He finds you enjoyable company. That’s what I see.” Hope lit Ashley’s face.
“He makes me laugh. Nothing seemed funny while I cared for my mother.” She pictured the pain her mother had suffered. It didn’t leave room for frivolity. “It’s been a long time since my life has seemed...” Words escaped her, and she delved into her vocabulary to find the right way to explain. “Normal, I guess.”
“It’s nice to see both you and Clint comfortable with each other.” Ashley shook her head, a nostalgic look washing over her face. “Did I ever tell you when I met Clint?”
She shook her head, anxious to hear something new about him.
“When I was pinned under the tree, Devon stood over me with Joey in his arms, but another voice slipped beneath my dazed confusion. Clint. I could tell he was nice just by the way he spoke to me.”
She agreed, though she wished Ashley had more to tell.
Ashley shivered. “Even though I met Devon, when I think of that day I freeze. The storm came up so quickly, and I ran out to move Joey’s wagon and put my car in the garage. A couple of minutes, I thought, so I’d left him sleeping on the sofa.” She shook her head. “That was a lesson learned. I’ll never leave Joey alone for a second now. He woke when the tree fell against the house and came outside looking for me. In my rush, I’d left the side door open. He couldn’t find me. Devon said he was crying when he heard him.”
“That’s scary.” She’d heard Ashley relive those horrible moments more than once. But out of bad came good. “It’s wonderful, too, Ash. Joey and Devon found you buried under the limbs. Today proves how great that day was.”
Her cousin chuckled. “I know, but I keep reliving it. Devon told me how Joey kept calling to me, trying to wake me up.”
She patted Ashley’s hand. “Devon is a real hero.”
“He is. A true hero.” Her mind wandered a moment before she continued, “Clint’s the same kind of guy. A good man who’s still single.” Ashley arched her brow. “You know he hasn’t dated much at all, from what Devon says.”
“I didn’t know.” She’d sensed it, though, but Ashley’s reference triggered more questions. “He mentioned his broken engagement. Do you know what happened?”
“Devon doesn’t say much, but from what I understand it was totally unexpected, and it left Clint wondering what he’d done to end their relationship.”
Paula’s chest tightened, recalling the same unwelcome experience she’d also encountered. “Perhaps he did nothing wrong at all. He’s totally thoughtful and nice.” She pictured his endearing smile and quirky comments. Someone that sweet and good-natured had to be easy to be with. “His fiancée may have been the one with the problem.”
Ashley nodded. “You know, I think you’re right. Now all you have to do is help Clint see that.”
“Me?”
Her cousin rose with a playful expression, yet beneath it was sincerity.
“Why me?”
“No specific reason. I just think you’d be the woman to do that.” Ashley squeezed Paula’s shoulder. “I need to get back to our guests, but I wanted to tell you that I’m happy you’ve met Clint.” She spun around, gave her a crooked smile and moved toward the dining tables.
Paula gazed ahead, looking past the tables until she spotted Clint. Why would Ashley think she could do anything for anyone? The only thing on her mind at the moment was to get a job and find a house to move into. She couldn’t take advantage of her uncle for too long. He’d invited her to stay until she got settled. Settled was the key word.
The thought smacked the truth. She’d never been settled. Not really.
Copyright © 2014 by Gail Gaymer Martin
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IMPRINT: M&B Love Inspired, Digital Exclusives
ISBN: 9781488716348
TITLE: A FATHER IN THE MAKING
First Australian Publication 2014
Copyright © 2014 Carolyne Aarsen
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. N.S.W., Australia 2067.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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A Father In The Making Page 19
