“Good dog.” Steph patted his head, wishing she had a treat.
Nick headed toward her, his eyes no longer on the perimeter of the fence but on her. “You’re right. No more digging.”
“Told you.”
He chucked her under the chin. “Suzette’s to blame. A woman can get under a man’s skin and cause him to do things he’s never done before.”
A man could do the same. He could burrow into a woman’s heart and cause her to feel things she hadn’t felt in years.
Nick rested his hand on her arm. “You have a real way with Fred.”
“That’s what obedience training does. It works.” She hoped she made her point.
He backed up, a playful expression spreading across his face. “Yes, but does it work on you?”
“On me?” She searched his eyes.
He clapped his hands. “Steph, come.”
Her feet moved toward him like a magnet. He slipped his hand on her shoulder and gave her a long look. “Good girl.”
Their eyes locked. She couldn’t move. She blinked, her control draining. She broke the connection, but her gaze lowered, drawn to his lips so close she could almost taste them.
“Great job.” He drew back as if he’d felt the same pull of emotion. “You’re almost as good as Fred.”
Steph found her voice. “If that’s so, then where’s my treat?” Did she really say that?
His eyes flashed. “Hmm? Good question.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Do you own a bicycle?”
Her pulse kicked. “A bicycle? I don’t know if I can still ride a bicycle.”
“It’s like walking. Once you’ve learned you never forget.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I can borrow one for you.”
“That’s my treat?”
He laughed. “It’s Memorial Day this weekend. We’ll go on a picnic. How about letting me grill you a steak?”
“So that’s why you came over.” She gave him a feeble smile as he slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I’ve always had a thing for steak.”
“Me, too.” He grew silent, looking into her eyes.
Friendship. He made a great friend, and though she could live without the steak, affection was another story.
Nick maneuvered the bike he’d borrowed for Steph into his SUV and slammed the tailgate. He eyed his watch. Late again. After slipping his cell from his pocket, he opened the driver’s door with the other hand and swung into the seat. When he’d finally had the brains to ask for Steph’s phone number, he put it into his cell phone, and now he pressed the memory button, shaking his head at his inconsideration. Late should have been his middle name.
The phone rang, and when he heard her voice, his chest tightened. “I know I’m late, but I’m on my way.”
“I understand” is all she said, and that made him feel worse. When he’d been late for his dinner with Al, Nick knew he was irked. But Steph seemed accepting. He didn’t know how to read that. Did she care enough that she forgave him, or didn’t she care enough for it to make a difference?
He slipped the cell into his pocket and backed out of his garage, his mind on the day. He reviewed what he had brought for their picnic—a small grill, charcoal, steaks, bikes and soft drinks. Steph agreed to handle the rest. She was amazing.
The idea of spending the day with her made him smile. No dogs. No time pressure. Fresh air. Time to talk. That’s what he needed. He had so many things to learn about her, and one day he wanted to tell her about his broken engagement, but it opened too many doors right now. Later maybe when he knew how things were going with them. Now they were friends. Friends almost too fast and that scared him.
Her faith. The concern knotted in his mind. He liked her too much. They had things in common—the love of dogs, laughter, pride in their work—but that wasn’t enough. His love for God was primary in his life, and he needed that in his marriage.
Marriage. Where did that come from? His heart had rushed past his good sense. Marriage wasn’t an option until he got his act together and until he felt God’s leading to a life partner. But that’s what bothered him. Nick did feel something different. He sensed Steph had come into his life for a reason and for a deeper purpose. They had a comfortable relationship together already. When he dropped by, the pleasure sparked in her eyes. But he’d also seen the look of question there, too, and he longed to know what it meant.
Perhaps a widow saw relationships differently. He did, though he’d never walked down the aisle. It had been so close. No matter how hard he tried to forget those feelings, they didn’t vanish completely. Incidences dragged them out, making him question himself and shattering his confidence as a man worthy of a good woman. Rejection imploded the spirit, attacking trust, judgment and assurance. He’d covered his hurt for so long. On the outside, he functioned and went on.
But the inside had been shattered.
Still life went on, and Steph somehow picked up some of the pieces of his life and patched them back together without knowing it. He gazed upward at the bright blue sky—the color of her eyes—and sensed today would be special.
The drive to Steph’s reminded him of too many treks to Martin’s. He’d become his gofer, and though he wanted to be helpful, one day it had to stop.
Nick turned left, and in moments pulled into Steph’s driveway and slipped from the SUV. Fred’s nose pressed against the window welcoming him.
He strode to the doorway and rang the bell. Fred’s excitement sounded through the glass but otherwise silence.
He waited.
Eyeing his watch, he calculated he’d made good time. He’d been only forty minutes late. Curious, he wandered to the backyard. No one but Fred’s tail whacking the sliding patio door. Served him right. How many people had he kept waiting?
When he reversed his steps, Steph met him in front of the house, holding a picnic hamper. “Sorry. I spilled salad dressing on my clothes and had to change.”
He grasped the basket, hoping she’d accepted his apology. “I was the late one.” He carried the food to the car while she ran inside and came out with two lawn chairs. “I thought we might like these.”
Nick nodded and tossed them inside, and they were on their way. He felt tension when he pulled onto Rochester Road, and it didn’t subside until he’d crossed Square Lake Boulevard. Steph talked about her day care and her worries about her coworker Emily. He talked about his work. Neither said a word about themselves.
When he turned off University Drive to Seventh Street, he saw the entrance to Rochester Municipal Park. The fountain spilled water into the pond as they passed, and they wended their way to the picnic area. Though they hadn’t been the only ones to choose this setting for a holiday celebration, Nick found a space and parked. He pointed out an empty picnic table close to a family reunion or some special occasion where balloons rimmed the area. “Okay?”
“It’ll work,” Steph said, grabbing the chairs and the picnic hamper while he carried the cooler.
Steph plopped the basket onto the table. “I found this old thing on a shelf in the garage. I forgot I owned it.”
She’d opened the basket lid and drew out a plastic tablecloth while he hurried back for the grill, anxious to get the fire going so he had time to enjoy her company.
By the time he’d started the coals, Steph had set out a bag of chips and had settled into one of the lawn chairs. He grabbed two soft drinks and drew up beside her. The silence made him uncomfortable. Sounds from the party floated past them, and he watched the people a moment, wishing their cheerfulness would wash over him.
When their silence became unbearable, he knew he had to say something. “Great day, isn’t it?” He winced at his mundane effort. He hated the distance he felt, and he definitely couldn’t start blasting her with questions.
“I love it. The peace. The cheery voices over there.” She motioned toward the revelers. “I’ve never had family relationships like that. I think I missed something.”
“When I was young, we did
. Aunts, uncles, cousins. It was nice, but when we became teens, that ended that.”
She leaned her head back and drew in a lengthy breath. “Time moves on, and sometimes I think everyone wishes he could latch on to the moment and keep it in the present.” She turned toward him. “You know what I mean? Those wonderful days when everything goes right.”
He nodded, realizing that’s probably what he’d tried to do for so long. “Since that’s impossible, I suppose we have to make new wonderful days.”
She grinned and shifted her hands from her lap to the arm of the chair.
Nick longed to weave his fingers through hers. The urge was so strong he rose and checked the coals, then returned. “A while longer.”
“This is nice. No rush.”
Silence again.
Nick folded his hands against his stomach and leaned back, yearning for the old comfort between them to return. Getting more edgy, he straightened in the chair. “Did your brother show up yet?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I hate to say this, but I hope he doesn’t come. I know he wants me to fix his problems, and I can’t do that anymore.”
Nick didn’t want to ask what she meant. He tried to smooth the frown from his forehead. “You mentioned he doesn’t live in Michigan.”
“Right. When my parents moved to South Carolina, my brother followed. He moves with the wind—or where there’s a windfall.” Her back straightened, and she sounded bitter.
“And your mom?”
Her posture yielded, and she lowered her head. “She died a few years ago shortly after my parents moved south. It was sudden.”
Nick’s pulse skipped. His own loss remained heavy. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Thanks. She was a good mother. No one can replace her.” Despite the family struggles, Steph realized her mother had done the best she knew how. She leaned back again. “I thought my dad might come back to Michigan, but he was raised in South Carolina. He has a life there now.”
“And your brother stuck around.”
“When we were all grieving Mom’s death, Hal moved in with Dad. But from Hal’s phone call, I’m guessing Dad’s ready to kick him out again.”
“That’s probably for the best. He needs to get his own place. I could never live with my parents. Or my brother, for that matter.”
Steph bolted forward, surprise etching her face. “I thought you lived with your brother.”
His back stiffened. “Not on your life. I have an apartment.”
“An apartment?” She shook her head. “I assumed you lived with Martin.”
“Why would you assume that?” But he knew the answer. Air rattled from his throat. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.” The picture flashed through his mind. “It seems like I’m there all the time, doesn’t it?”
“It seems as if you’re there more than he is.”
He sank deeper into the chair. “You’re right. He’s always asking me to do something for him. For some reason, I comply. I’m like that with people. If it’s something I can handle, I try to be helpful.”
“That’s admirable.”
Though she said it, he noticed a flash of question on her face.
“Be honest. Say it.” She didn’t. “Don’t admire me too much. I can do physical things—walk the dog, stop by the cleaners—”
“Fix a fence.”
That’s another thing he’d forgotten to do. He hadn’t taken care of the fence. “Right.”
She leaned forward, searching his face. “What can’t you do?”
“I can do anything that’s physical, but when it involves emo…When it hurts—”
Her eyes captured his. “You mean, you can respond to tasks and favors, but when it comes to things of the heart, you fail.”
Nick felt blood drain from his body. She’d recognized it too easily. “That’s one way to say it.” He rested his elbows on his knee and wove his fingers in a knot, unable to look her in the eyes anymore. His mother’s face hung in his thoughts. “Emotional things bother me. I hate seeing anger in Martin. I don’t understand it.” He glanced at her, then lowered his eyes again. “One day I want to get to the bottom of it.” He started to tell her about his mother, but he hesitated. “At the same time, I don’t like to see weakness in me.” He gripped the chair arm, wanting to forget the conversation and just cook the steak. That’s something he did well.
Steph drew back, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“No one likes to admit weakness, but we’re all weak at times, Nick. It’s part of life.” She reached over and laid her hand on his. “Men prefer action. It’s natural. They like to fix things.”
“I try to do what God wants me to do. The Bible says show kindness.”
She stiffened and withdrew her hand. “Showing kindness sounds like a good way to behave.”
Nick knew this was time to ask about her faith, but fear stopped him. Maybe he didn’t want to know. “But I miss the boat too often on that one.” Her expression troubled him.
“Why?”
Why? The bottom fell out of his stomach. He could see heat waves rising from the grill, and he’d lost his appetite. “That’s not easy to explain.”
Steph looked uneasy. “Nick, you don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Yes, you should.” His pulsed tripped. “You said it yourself. It’s nice to be open and have someone to talk with.” He licked his lips. “I think the reason is when I help one person, I often disappoint someone else like the other day with Al. He’s a good friend, and I stood him up.”
“Because you were running Martin’s errand.”
He nodded, knowing he should tell her about Cara. Even his mother.
She released a lengthy breath. “It gives you something to think about.” She motioned toward the grill. “I think you need to get those steaks on the grill or the coals will be out.”
Nick took advantage of the suggestion. He had so many things on his mind. Food was the least of them, but this was supposed to be a holiday picnic, not a counseling session, which is what he needed. He rose and managed to smile. “How do you like your steak?”
Steph stood, too, and headed for the picnic table. “Any way you make it.”
He chuckled and strode to the grill. At least he could make her a great steak.
The mood relaxed before they’d finished their meal. Steph cleared away the food, and Nick lugged away the trash.
When he returned, he gave Steph a wink and rubbed his hands on his pant legs. “Ready for our bike ride?”
“Never.” But she grinned. “I am worried I’ll fall. It’s been years and years—”
“Relax.” He slipped behind her and massaged her shoulders. “You’ll be fine.”
“I will if you keep that up.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “And what about my cookies? Aren’t we going to have any? They’re homemade.”
She was stalling. “Bring them with us—and soft drinks. We’ll stop along the road.”
She gave in, and after he removed the bikes, they loaded their belongings back into the SUV. Nick slipped the cookies and drinks into his seat pack, and as he did, two children hurried toward them with strings of helium balloons.
“Here,” the little girl said, holding up a blue balloon for him to take.
Nick’s spirit warmed with the child’s eagerness as he grasped the string. “What’s this for?”
“For you,” the boy said, and handed one to Steph.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting a yellow one.
“Have fun,” the girl called as they bounced away, heading for another table with the mass of colorful balloons floating above their heads.
“That’s a new version of a balloon man.” Nick reached for Steph’s balloon. “I’ll put them in the SUV, if you’d like.”
“They were darling,” she said, handing him hers. “I wonder why they’re giving them away?”
“To make us smile,” he said over his shoulder as he hurried away.
Steph mounted the bike, and he let go. She pushed herself forward with one foot and pumped the pedals. Off she went, wobbly at first, but when she stopped up ahead, she looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re right. As easy as falling off a log.”
He laughed at the old saying and took off on his bike. When he met her, they moved side by side and pedaled down the road.
“What’s that?” Steph pointed. “It’s charming.”
“The Community House. It’s used for banquets and wedding receptions.”
“Really. It’s a pretty setting.”
It was. He’d seen bridal parties outside the buildings occasionally.
Once past the pavilion and tennis courts the crowd lessened. The only sound was their wheels against the bike path and a warm breeze whipping past his ears. With sixteen acres of meadows, thickets, streams and woods, Nick knew they would find a quiet place to sit and enjoy the natural setting.
They followed Paint Creek wending its way through the park, and as they rounded a bend in the road, Nick spotted a grassy area that looked inviting. He motioned to Steph and then pulled ahead of her and stopped along the trail.
She pulled up beside him, and when he looked at her, his heart soared. Her hair was windblown and curls appeared on the ends. She wore it straight, and he wondered why. He liked her golden curls. The exhilaration added a glow to her cheeks, and the sun added platinum streaks to her hair.
“That was great.” Her eyes glinted. “Refreshing.”
“And you thought you couldn’t ride a bike.”
“I’m a doubter.” She turned up her nose. “I’ve always wanted to be like my friend Molly. She’s always optimistic, and she’s usually right.”
Nick wished he could be more positive, too. He opened the bike pack and drew out two soft drinks, pulled the tabs and gave one to Steph. She took a long drink while he grasped the plastic bag of cookies and motioned toward the grass. “Is it damp?”
Groom in Training Page 5
