Nick drew back his shoulders, hoping to ease the stress he felt. “I never saw that.” His mind soared back to years earlier, trying to envision their childhood. “I think you demanded it of yourself.”
“That was you, Nick. Mom and Dad allowed you to make mistakes. I never could.”
Nick rubbed his forehead, wishing he hadn’t started this today. “I made lots of mistakes. I made them with Cara although I never totally understood. She said I neglected her.”
“Maybe she needed too much, Nick. Her walking away might have done you a favor.”
A favor? The idea startled him. Had she needed too much? Steph asked for so little. He tried to grasp Martin’s words. “I saw her breaking our engagement as failure. Mom and Dad loved Cara. I disappointed them.” And he’d disappointed himself.
“If you think you let them down, think how often I did. They didn’t understand my divorce from Denise. And I wanted things that they didn’t want for me. It hurt seeing the disappointment in Mom’s eyes and the frustration in Dad’s.”
Nick dug into his memory. He had no recollection of anything he’d just heard. Martin had always been in his parents’ favor. “Like what?”
“It’s over. Not up for discussion.”
His brother’s typical response. Nick disliked when Martin snapped the door closed. “No discussion, but one final thought.” He pinpointed Martin’s gaze. “Are you spending your life still trying to prove yourself? You can’t make yourself better, Martin, by putting other people down.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
They sat in silence while Nick tried to sort out what had been said. Had he learned anything new about himself? Maybe. Martin’s comment about Cara hung in his mind. Maybe she needed too much, Nick. She might have done you a favor. He’d always blamed himself.
Nick rose and gave his brother’s shoulder an amiable shake before walking out the door. He had things to think about, and he prayed Martin did, too.
When Steph walked through the door, Julia was sitting in a chair, her pale cheeks showing a pinky hue, her hazel eyes looking almost olive. “You look wonderful.” Steph crossed the tile floor and kissed her on the cheek. Her action surprised her more than Julia.
“Thank you.” Julia smiled at Steph, her speech much less labored.
“I have to get my hair curled and you were so close, I decided to make a quick stop.”
“I’m glad.” Julia reached forward with her left hand, and Steph clasped it in hers, then studied her. “Your hair.”
Steph recognized it as a question, and she touched her straight style and grinned. “I’m getting it curled. I’m a bridesmaid in my coworker’s wedding.”
“Wedding. That’s nice.” She gave Steph’s fingers a faint squeeze then let her hand drop to the blanket. “A friend?”
“My friend Molly’s wedding. She has a dog shelter, and I help her with that and then run a doggie day care in the same building.”
“I love dogs.” Her eyes sparkled. “Martin has one.”
Martin. Her Rs were still weak, but she seemed so much better. “I know. Suzette.”
Julia nodded, then studied Steph a moment again before she tilted her head and drew her hand to her chest. “You and Nick?”
“Friends.”
Something flashed in her eyes—curiosity or disappointment. “Only?”
Steph’s pulse skipped. “Only friends…for now.” She watched Julia trying to form words and she longed to help her. “Very good friends, though.” Her comment riffled along her arms.
“Someday?” Hope brightened Julia’s face.
Though she’d known Nick’s mother for only a few weeks, the sense of family she had missed for such a long time embraced her as did Julia’s tender look. An urge rose to be open with her. “I’m a widow.”
“Oh.”
Even with the distortion from the stroke, Steph read sadness in her expression, and she shook her head to help Julia understand. “It was a troubled marriage.” Troubled. The weight of the past drained her spirit. She’d kept it a secret so long as if she’d used her own hands to kill Doug. She’d spent years convincing herself she’d been innocent.
Julia studied her, and Steph released her anxiety with a lengthy breath and spilled the story of Doug’s dismaying suicide and the problems before his death as if it were stagnant water that ended life. When she’d finished, relief covered her and she was surprised that she’d opened up so quickly.
Julia’s face filled with compassion, her altered voice speaking an occasional sound of sympathy.
“I don’t tell people about this. Not even Nick.”
“No?” Her expression asked why.
“I don’t want pity, and it’s difficult to trust that pity won’t be an influence on relationships. Nick is compassionate.” She paused to rephrase the comment. “But he doesn’t like to deal with emotion.”
“You know him well.”
Steph grinned at that. She had begun to know Nick, even some nuances of his character. “I’m afraid he’ll stick with me, because I need him and not because he cares about me.”
Julia shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Her gaze drifted before she refocused on Steph. “But I understand.”
Steph’s mind snapped to another truth, and her pulse raced. “I want you to know another thing that has kept me from moving beyond friendship with Nick. I’ve never been a believer. He knows, but he’s had patience with me. Maybe he has hope.”
“Hope. Yes. Always.” Julia’s eyes searched hers. “But the Bible?”
“Yes, I read it to you. Why? Because I was curious.”
“Good.”
“Scared but curious.” Her pulsed accelerated as she leaned closer. “Here’s another secret. I bought a Bible for myself, and I’ve been reading it. I want to have the peace and hope that Nick and Molly have.” She touched Julia’s unmoving hand. “And you.”
“I’m glad.”
“I started reading where I left off with you, and it touched me.” The memory washed over her sending a knot to her throat. “I read a verse that explained so many things, and it—”
Steph’s cell phone played its jingle and she paused to dig it from her purse. She flipped open the phone and eyed the caller before she pressed the phone to her ear. “Hi, Nick.”
“I thought I’d stop over to talk about tonight.”
“Molly’s sister is picking me up, and we’re getting dressed at the church. You know, they do photographs and things.”
“So I can’t drive you?”
She heard the disappointment in his voice. “You could, but it’s not necessary.”
“How about if I drop by in a couple hours. We can talk then.”
Steph clamped her teeth together, sensing his determination. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”
She disconnected and grinned at Julia, who’d slipped back into bed while she was on the phone. “Nick.”
Julia only nodded while her gaze swept to the bedside table. “Read the verse.”
“The verse?” Then she remembered. Steph grasped the Bible and opened it to 2 Corinthians 12:9-10. Her eyes swept over the passages, then she read. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
Steph lifted her eyes and gazed at Julia. “I never understood why a God wouldn’t stop bad things from happening. Why did He allow people to have problems? Why didn’t He make all people strong and protect them from hurt?” She closed her eyes a moment, possibilities wavering in her mind. She drew her shoulders upward. “Then we wouldn’t need Him, would we?”
Julia didn’t speak.
“When we’re weak, then we turn to God for strength. We acknowledge Him and He use
s His power for us.”
“And we praise Him.” Julia’s eyes closed and opened. “God wants our thanks and praise.”
Though her words were labored and her Rs nonexistent, she spoke with assurance that filled Steph’s heart. Tears blurred her eyes. “When I’m confused is when I miss my mother so much. I don’t know if she was a believer or not, but she was a good mother. I can never replace her, but you have a mother’s heart and—”
Julia patted her chest and beckoned her closer.
Steph sat on the edge of her bed, and Julia drew her head onto her breast and patted her hair as her mother had done.
Steph wept.
Steph tossed her purse on the chair near the door. “Can you sit up?”
“Why?” Hal didn’t bother to look at her.
She shook her head and strode to the kitchen to get a soft drink. Her mouth was parched while sitting under the dryer at the beauty salon. After she took a long drink, she wandered into the half bath and caught her reflection in the mirror. Curly hair. She eyed the spiraled waves that looked so different from her straight hair, but she thought curls would be special for Molly’s wedding.
She ambled to the hallway and leaned toward the living room. “Did you eat?”
“No.” He squirmed against the cushions and arched his back. “Fix me something, will you?”
She bit her lip. If she made a sandwich for herself, how much more work was it to make two? As she built the sandwiches, her mind reviewed what had happened with Julia. She’d stopped with no plans, but the fragile woman’s image had drawn her there. Instead of being a support for Julia, she’d leaned on her with her own problems and told her the deepest wounds she’d felt—the loss of her mother and Doug’s betrayal. That’s what it felt like. He’d hidden a secret life of gambling and carousing, threw away their finances and then when it got too deep, he dug his own grave. Suicide. What could be more desperate? Cowardly.
She’d never thought of it like that. She’d had her down moments, but she found courage to build herself up, to make things better. Yes, she’d failed at times, but she’d grasped hold of what she could—even her bootstraps—and found a way to make life better.
Dying at his own hand showed weakness, but without seeking God’s help, weakness meant giving up, facing he couldn’t do it alone. As Steph read the Bible, she understood why Molly and Nick could fight battles with perseverance and how they could have hope even when a situation seemed hopeless.
Right now, when she thought of Hal, his attitude seemed hopeless, but it didn’t have to be. If she prayed—hearing her refer to prayer sounded alien—the Bible said God would hear her. Though uncomfortable, Steph closed her eyes and prayed.
When she finished, she carried Hal’s sandwich to the living room. He hadn’t moved. “Nick’s dropping by. Do you want him to think you haven’t left the spot since the last time he saw you?”
“I don’t care what he thinks.” He raised his head from the sofa arm.
She jerked back from his attitude. “What’s wrong with Nick?”
Hal squirmed and adjusted the pillow he’d pushed beneath his neck. “One of those dudes who’s out for something.”
“Out for what? He’s never asked for a thing.” She shook her head.
“I can tell. I’m good at reading people.”
She monitored an indignant snort. So was she, and what she read about Hal wasn’t good, but she didn’t want to even go there. His attitude disappointed her. “In this house, you’ll respect my guests.”
He raised his head, his blond hair tousled from the pillow, and grabbed the remote, then snapped off the TV and sat up. “I’m up. Now what?”
“Say thanks for the sandwich.” Steph had all she could do but scream.
He rolled his eyes. “Thanks. Should I kiss your feet?”
You should get a job. The words blasted through her mind. “Have you looked for work?”
“I bought a newspaper.” His arm swung toward a folded paper under the lamp table. “Nothing I’m qualified for.”
What did he qualify for? Her body shook with frustration. She couldn’t listen anymore. “I’m out tonight. Did you remember?”
He frowned.
“I’m in a wedding.” She didn’t ask what caused his upset. He probably expected her to cook dinner. “Let me know when Nick comes.”
Inside her bedroom, Steph looked at her watch. If Nick didn’t arrive soon, she’d be gone. She pulled her dress from the closet, wrapped in the clear plastic cover. The color brightened her thoughts as she slipped on her undergarments, happy that she’d taken her shower in the morning. No time to dawdle now.
Wrapped in a bathrobe, she slipped into her bathroom and opened the drawer where she stored her cosmetics. She checked through her blush and lipstick colors for corals or pastel melon shades to match her dress.
The telephone rang, and before she could reach it, the ringing stopped. She stood beside her bedside table, waiting. Hal’s voice blasted down the hall, and she picked up the receiver.
“Sorry, Steph. I had to run an errand, and now I’m hung up in traffic. When are you leaving?”
“In a few minutes. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t cancel my ride with Molly’s sister.”
“Oh.”
Disappointment sounded in his voice, but she’d come to know that she couldn’t count on Nick, at least not for being on time. “It’s better this way. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
Though she accepted his excuse, his apology haunted her. In the short time they’d known each other, the word sorry seemed as common as hello. She slipped the phone into the stand and returned to the mirror. A little eye shadow, mascara and lipstick finished the job. She tossed a skirt and top over her head, then sat on the bed, thinking about Nick.
She saw so much good in him, and he could be counted on for so many things. He’d resolved the fence problem, he’d rescued her from Martin, he’d appeared so many times with fun ideas—picnics, walking the dogs in the park, playing with Fred. He’d even asked her to the wedding. Thinking of going alone had been a bummer. And most of all, he’d kissed her.
Her hand rose on its own and pressed her lips. Doug had stopped kissing her long before he’d died. Nick’s kiss had awakened her to the truth. She wanted to work through her lack of confidence and guilt she’d been left with and be healed. She wanted a life. She wanted to be married one day, and she dreamed it could be to Nick.
But the idea filled her with fear—fear of disappointment, fear of being hurt, fear of never gaining the love she wanted so badly. Nick had helped her realize what life could be. She’d begun to feel whole again.
When she returned to the living room, she spotted her handbag and realized she’d forgotten to transfer items to her evening bag. As she picked it up, Hal looked at her from his usual spot on the couch. “Mr. Rich Guy isn’t coming so I figured I had permission to recline.”
“Hal, don’t be so critical. Please.” She clutched her handbag to her chest to stop herself from throwing it at him. “What do you have against Nick?”
“I don’t trust him.”
She reeled backward. “You don’t trust him. Why?”
“He wants something, and it’s not you. He doesn’t respect you.”
The comment prickled on her neck.
“If he cared, he’d be here. Since I’ve come, he’s been late or hasn’t shown up more than he’s arrived on time.”
She didn’t have to answer to Hal, and for someone who hadn’t lifted his finger to help her, he had no room to talk respect. “What do you think he wants?”
“I don’t know. Your money.”
Money? She sank to the edge of an easy chair. “Hal, you didn’t listen to me when I talked to you the other day.”
“I listened, but I don’t believe it.”
She shrugged and rose. “Believe what you want.” She shook her head, amazed at his belligerence, and headed back to her room to find her evening bag. Steph located her clutch in the bott
om drawer of the dresser. She transferred what she would need, then tossed in the lipstick shade she’d chosen. Before she dropped in her cell phone, she turned it to vibrate. No way did she want that to interrupt the wedding.
Money. Steph grabbed the coin purse from the bag, then pulled her driver’s license from her wallet and opened the bill slot to grab a few bills. As she did, an uneasy feeling swept over her. She’d been certain she had a few twenties along with smaller bills when she was at the salon, but now she had only one. Her mind flew back to the salon. She’d charged her hairstyling and tipped with cash. Where had she left her handbag? On her hairstylists’ stand, then by her feet when she sat beneath the dryer. She was certain.
A car’s honk stopped her thoughts. Molly’s sister. She tossed a few dollars into the change purse and shoved her handbag in the closet. She’d think about it later. With her dress over her arm, she hurried to the front door, waved goodbye to Hal and strode to the car.
A soft breeze ruffled her skirt. She looked up at the clear sky. Perfect. Tonight Molly’s dream would come true.
Dreams. What might happen to hers?
Chapter Eight
Nick eyed himself in the mirror. Suit, white shirt and tie. He’d even taken time to shine his shoes. Nick glanced at his watch. He had plenty of time. Steph would be pleased. Although sitting alone was the pits, he knew later Steph would join him at the reception. Even though she had her bridesmaid duties to perform, which she reminded him numerous times, he would enjoy her company when she’d finished.
Tonight he hoped they might have time to talk—really talk. Their kiss lingered in his mind. He wanted to tell her how he felt about her. Even about Fred. Though he tried to control his feelings, even tried to convince himself a relationship with a woman wouldn’t work for him, his emotions tangled around her in some kind of illusive excuse that she needed his help. Too quickly he’d learned that Steph handled her life with solid footing. She didn’t need him. Not really. Now imagination had taken over his good sense. And he was tired of make-believe.
He glanced one more time at his image in the mirror, then headed for the door. As he turned the knob, he hesitated. Veering back to his desk, he picked up the wedding card with his blessings at the bottom along with a check. Brent Runyan didn’t need money, but what did a single guy buy a couple who’d already established their homes? They didn’t need another waffle iron. He slipped the card into an inside pocket and strode to his car.
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