“Christie?” His curiosity grew. “I ran into her today at the hardware store.”
“You did?” He fiddled with the earpiece of his glasses. “She come to see you?”
“Buying Peg-Board. Anyway, what do you mean you’ve been thinking about her?”
“I don’t know.” His gaze wandered a moment while he thought. “She doesn’t talk to me anymore, and I’d like to fix that.”
“Fix it? How?”
“Make amends. I don’t know. You’re back, and it seems like we should be talking, too. You’re the one she divorced. Not me.”
Though Patrick felt a grin flash across his face, his dad was right. Christie did seem to avoid his father, and with his health. But what could he do? Christie was as stubborn as he was. That’s one thing that hadn’t changed. “I suppose I could mention you’d like to see her, Dad.”
“That’d be nice.” He motioned toward the casserole dish. “Any of that left?”
Patrick’s spirit lifted. “Sure.” He sprang to his feet and piled some of the food onto a plate. “You need to eat more, Dad. You don’t eat enough.”
“Enough for what?”
Enough for what? Patrick set the plate in front of his dad. “Just enough.”
His father’s question rang in his head. Enough for what? What was enough for Patrick? Not food, but life? He’d let so much slide. So much had faded in his life since he’d become an adult. Yes, he’d found his faith. That had been a revelation. Sean had filled his time and kept him going. But was that enough? Life seemed so long and terribly lonely without someone to share it with.
Chapter Seven
Christie stepped into the cooler shadows of the lovely old church and stood in the archway, searching for her mother’s salt-and-pepper hair and the cute little bald spot on her father’s head.
She spotted them and scurried down the aisle before the service began. When she slid into the pew, her mother’s face made it all worthwhile. Her father leaned across to give her a nod before the organ hit the resounding chord for the first hymn.
The congregation rose, and Christie followed, lifting the thick songbook in her hands, flipping with her finger until she found the page. “Majesty.” The words soared to the vaulted ceiling and reverberated against the thick wooden beams.
She loved the old building. Though modern churches with auditorium seating were popular, her fidelity clung to the tried and true—the church in the wildwood as the old hymn rendered.
As the praise song surrounded her, she thought about the past weeks. She knew she was headed for trouble with Patrick back in her life. More hurt. More sadness. And when Sean came to mind, envy knifed through her, and the whole horrible situation settled over her again. Would it ever go away?
When the song ended, Christie sat and slid the book into the rack as she watched the pastor rise for the welcome and announcements. Her mind drifted to the last time she’d seen Patrick. The name June had dangled in her head the past days, and Christie tried to recall who she was. Patrick had seemed so certain she should know the woman. But she couldn’t put a face to the name. Curious, Christie swiveled her head and spotted Patrick and Sean. Her heart sank when she noticed the same woman beside him. June.
Having no time to study the woman’s face, hoping for recognition, Christie turned back when she heard the pastor announce a reading from Luke 6. She opened the pew Bible, flipped through the pages until she found the lesson and followed along. Her stomach twisted with the vision of Patrick and June together behind her, until a passage stopped her cold. Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.
She sensed the lesson was for her. It had shot through the air and landed against her heart, but what had she judged? Who had she condemned? She had been entangled in envy. She knew that was a sin.
The evidence seemed clear. Patrick and the woman. She’d seen them together twice and had made a judgment about them. She had no right to be jealous. Her mind whirred with puzzling thoughts. Why had he invited Christie for coffee if he had a relationship with June? Why did he persist in wanting to visit Loving Care? Why was he riling her emotions when he had another woman at his side?
She felt deceived again. He’d walked out on her once before, and today she felt as if he’d knocked on her door and then slammed it shut when she’d answered. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.
The words nudged her, and she closed her eyes, asking God to help her understand the anguish she felt. Why? Why did Patrick come back to town and confuse her life? She would move—go somewhere else if she didn’t have Loving Care. Loving care. That’s what she needed now. Lord, forgive me for my lax faith and keep me in Your loving care.
She pushed her shoulders back against the pew and took a breath, feeling a calm settle over her. She had to trust God if no one else. Keeping her mind focused on the message and prayers, Christie rose for the final hymn, relieved. She prayed she could make a speedy escape and not have to deal with Patrick, June or anyone. She’d find her sanctuary at home. Alone.
“Good to see you,” her mother said to her as the service ended.
Christie spoke with them briefly, then made a quick excuse and turned to slip out the side door.
“Where you running off to?”
She stood still as Patrick’s voice surrounded her. Trapped. Garnering courage, she turned to face him. The young woman stood at his side, her face pleasant and genial.
Christie felt her eyes shifting like a search light from one to the other, unable to speak.
“This is June,” he said.
“Hi. We’ve met before.” June stuck out her hand and Christie shook it, numbed with bewilderment.
June chuckled. “You don’t remember. I was at your wedding.”
Wedding? So long ago. How could Christie remember anything of that day? She had been so filled with excitement and wonder.
“I’m Patrick’s cousin from Long Branch.”
Cousin. Long Branch. Christie looked at June, dazed that she’d forgotten. She’d only met her once—at the wedding. “I’m sorry, June. The wedding was—”
“No need to apologize. I lived in California for a while after that so I wasn’t around when you and Patrick were…” Her voice faded, and she gave Patrick a helpless look. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“No problem,” Christie said. “I understand.”
Relief swept across June’s face as it had already whisked over Christie.
“I’ve been wanting to drive over to see Uncle Joe, but my schedule has been so crazy,” June said. “I’m glad I came.”
“That’s great you could visit,” Christie said, managing to cover her embarrassment.
Patrick rested his hand on June’s shoulder. “She’s been good for Dad. He’s having so much fun talking about old times when June’s dad and he were boys. Too bad she has to leave today.”
June agreed, and Christie struggled to listen to the conversation while her mind filled with awe. She’d only asked God moments earlier for help and already He’d answered her prayer. Do not judge, and you will not be judged.
The words struck her. She’d judged and condemned. Yet God had answered her prayer in the blink of an eye. Another reality struck her. Jealousy. She’d envied June while concocting a romance between her and Patrick. The feeling startled her. Christie tuned back into the conversation, realizing that she needed so much more from the Lord. More than she could ever give in return.
Patrick stood near the stock room amazed at the traffic in the store. Fix-up time, he assumed. The weather had been perfect for outdoor repairs, so business was good.
His thoughts were with his father. He would miss June. Her visit had given him so much pleasure, and Patrick had noticed lately that his father’s coloring had faded. He looked pale and drawn. Time to see the doctor, he figured. He checked his watch, anxious to have the day end.
As he turned, his stomach knotted. Jason’s sister, R
oseann, was heading his way, her smile as bright as a beacon. She waved, and Patrick lifted his hand in greeting.
“How are you?” she said, closing the distance.
“Busy today,” he said, keeping the focus on business.
She pivoted and eyed the customers. “I suppose it keeps bread on the table.” She searched his face.
Patrick recognized her discomfort but had no way to offer her assurance. She was a nice person, but his thoughts were in too many places to deal with romance.
“Jason thought you’d give him a call,” she said. “He hasn’t seen you around.”
“I haven’t been socializing much. My life’s not my own lately.”
“You have to have fun sometime,” she said.
“Between my dad and Sean, I have my hands full.” And then there was Christie. He wished her image didn’t rise into every conversation.
“I realize that.” She tucked her hands in her pants pockets and faltered. “I like kids a lot. I’d love to come over and make you a home-cooked dinner. Or even baby-sit, if you need me.”
Patrick’s knotted stomach became a tourniquet. “That’s really kind, Roseann. Right now I have a sitter.”
“I’d hoped to see you or maybe get a phone call,” she said.
Honesty, Patrick thought. Why beat around the bush? He could save the woman embarrassment by telling her the truth.
“You and Jason have been friends a long time, and so have we. I thought that—”
“I think I need to clear the air, Roseann. You’re a very nice woman, and, you’re right, we’ve been friends a long time. Right now, I’m struggling with some issues.” He felt as miserable as Roseann, and he shuffled his feet looking for a way to be kind.
“I have someone else on my mind, and—”
“It’s Christie, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“I thought so.”
“We were married seven years before I walked out on her. I’d like a chance to explore that relationship if she’ll let me.”
“I’m here,” Roseann said, “if you need a friend.”
“Thanks,” he said, extending his hand.
She placed her fingers in his, her hand clammy and limp. He could see discouragement in her eyes.
“Tell Jason I said hi,” Patrick said. “I’ll try to call him one of these days.”
She stepped back and gave him a nod before turning away.
Patrick watched her go, realizing how rejection must feel. He’d turned his back on Christie, too. If he’d inherited one trait from his mother, it was avoidance.
“I’m so happy for you,” Christie said, giving Annie a hug. “So when will you bring home the baby?”
“In another month. At twelve months she’s not exactly a baby.” Annie’s face beamed. “Ken is ecstatic. He can’t believe he’s going to be a father.”
“She couldn’t have two more perfect parents,” Christie said, poked by a smidgen of envy, but if the joy wasn’t to be hers, she delighted in Annie and Ken’s happiness.
“Thanks, Christie. For two old codgers, this will be such an experience.”
“Old codgers? You’re both in your forties.”
“Right, but that’s old to begin parenting.” Annie’s face brightened. “But God is on our side. I know we’ll have to adjust, but it’s what we want. We’ve prayed for this day.”
“It’s wonderful, Annie. I can’t wait to meet her.”
“You can be our first visitor.” Annie gave her another hug and bounded from the room with more energy than Christie had seen in her since they’d met. Annie had been a good employee. Just the kind of person Christie had needed—motherly and loving and with a passel of wisdom.
Christie turned toward her desk and stopped at the work table, catching a glimpse of the blueprints for the addition. She needed to get things settled. She’d been so scattered she hadn’t remembered to make the bank appointment. She moved to her desk and made a note to do that. While she was there, she added Milton to her note. She wanted to contact him when he returned from his business trip to give him her answer, an answer she should have given a long time ago.
As the thought left her mind, the telephone jingled. Christie lifted the receiver with a secret hope.
“Christie? Hi. I’m back.”
Milton. Her heart dipped and rose to her throat. “How did it go?” She always asked and he would expect it.
“Wonderful, but I missed you.”
She couldn’t say it. It would be a lie. “Milton.”
“Yes?” The enthusiasm had drained from his tone.
“We need to talk.”
Christie backed out of the parking lot and rolled out onto the highway. She needed something to fortify her spirit. She’d agreed to have dinner with Milton on Friday. Tomorrow.
A yellow light flashed to red, and Christie pressed her foot on the brake. Looking ahead, she saw the Dairy Dip. Ice cream. If anything fortified her and gave her courage, it would be something sweet and creamy on a hot day. The late-July temperature had been in the nineties.
When the light changed, she crossed the intersection and turned into the parking lot, rolling past a couple of outdoor umbrella tables. The image of a man with dark hair and classic profile flashed past her window as she pulled into a spot. She sat a moment, her eyes looking heavenward at the roof of her car. Lord, is this your work?
She stepped out and validated she’d been correct. Patrick and Sean sat at an umbrella table.
“Hi,” she said, as she neared them.
“Christie,” he said.
“This must be a day for an ice-cream cone.”
“Ice-cweam cone,” Sean repeated, holding up his treat for Christie to see.
She smiled at the boy as Patrick rose to greet her, and she grinned at him, seeing him so formal. She remembered times near the end of their marriage when she had walked into a room and he didn’t acknowledge her presence.
“Have a seat.” He motioned toward an empty chair. “What would you like?”
“I’ll get it,” she said, moving past.
He touched her arm. “Let it be my treat. Vanilla and chocolate swirl? You used to like those.”
Touched by his remembering, she grinned. “I still do.”
He gestured again to the seat beside him. “Keep an eye on Sean, and I’ll be right back.”
She slid into the chair and turned her attention to the boy. His cheeks were rosy from the sun, and she noticed his skin had tanned to a rich shade as Patrick’s always did in the summer. Chocolate ice cream had smeared his mouth and ran from his chin.
“Does that taste good, Sean?” she asked.
He nodded his head, his tongue too busy catching drips.
Christie lifted a napkin from the table and wiped the goo before it fell to his knit shirt.
He looked down at the napkin, then back to her with a giggle.
“Here you go,” Patrick said, slipping into the plastic chair and handing her the cone wrapped in a napkin.
“Thanks,” she said, dragging her tongue along the cool mound of sweetness. “Yummy.”
“Yummy,” Sean repeated.
Patrick grinned at them both, his eyes searching hers until she became addled.
“I’m glad you happened by,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“Me?”
“You.”
“What about?” she asked, puzzled, though she didn’t know why. She thought of him all the time, too.
“About lots of things, but my dad mentioned you the other day.”
“Your father?”
“Yes. He said he’d like to see you.”
“See me? For what?”
Patrick tilted his head as if he wasn’t sure. “I suppose to make amends. Smooth things over.”
“There’s no amends needed. The situation has been uncomfortable for both of us and I guess I’ve just—”
“He understands and so do I, but he’d just like to clear the air.”<
br />
Christie studied his face, wishing she could leap up and say she agreed, but she found it difficult and still had no idea what she was harboring. “We’ll see” was all she could come up with.
Patrick shrugged. “That would be nice if you could. It’s not just my father that makes me think of you.”
That statement sent a jolt through her chest.
He held the cone, looking uninterested in the melting ice cream. “Coming home to Loving has brought back lots of memories.”
Christie had her own remembrances—times so difficult and confusing.
“Not the bad times. The good times,” he said. “We had a lot of fun back then.”
She couldn’t deny that. “We did, I suppose.”
“Remember the time we left for that wedding, and I guaranteed you I knew where it was.”
“How could I forget? By the time we got there, we were the last ones in the receiving line.”
Patrick grinned. “I never would stop for directions.”
“You didn’t like to ask for help back then.”
His look bewildered her. Patrick leaned closer and slid his hand across the table near hers. “I still don’t, Christie. I’ve never learned to ask. I even struggle to ask the Lord for help, and I’m not much better at saying things I should.”
She wondered if his words held a cryptic message. If so, she missed it.
“I’ve spent so many years trying to forget my childhood. I’d been hurt so many times. Felt abandoned so many times.” He caught a drip on his cone with his tongue, then faced her again, his eyes searching hers. “You know what?”
“What?” she asked, her voice knotting in her throat at the emotion she saw in his eyes.
“You were one of the only people I talked to who seemed to listen and understand.” He slid his hand closer and brushed her fingers. “That meant more to me than anything.”
The touch sparked up her arm, taking her breath away. “I—I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more, Patrick. I’m not sure I understood well enough.”
“Not totally, because you had such a stable family. But you tried, and that meant everything.” He drew in a lengthy breath and leaned against the chair back.
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