Yesterday's Embers (Clayburn Novels Book 3)

by Deborah Raney

  He inspected the wound. “Looks painful. You should keep water on it for a while.” He reached for a clean dish towel. “Come here…”

  Still holding her injured hand, he led her down the hall into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and tested the temperature, then gently placed her hand under the slow stream of tepid water. She held her hand there while he rummaged in the medicine cabinet for something to put on the broken blister. After a minute of scanning labels and not comprehending anything he read, Mickey reached around him with her other hand.

  “Here, try this.” She shut the door to the cabinet.

  As she held out the brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide, he caught her reflection in the mirror. She was watching him with bemused curiosity. “Um…didn’t you used to be an EMT?” Her grin came into full bloom, her eyes alight with a sparkle he remembered from a long time ago.

  He took the bottle from her, and uncapped it, feeling clumsy and inept. “Apparently I am seriously out of practice. Here…give me your hand.”

  Their eyes met again in the mirror and her expression turned serious. “Thanks.”

  She looked away and he carefully patted her hand dry around the burn, then assessed the damage. “Well, I have good news and bad news.”

  “Oh?”

  “The good news is, I think you’ll live.”

  “Whew, that’s a relief. And, um…the bad news?”

  He held her hand over the sink and tipped the bottle. “This is gonna sting like crazy.”

  She winced in anticipation. “Oh…ouchie, owie…owie!” But the tremulous, unmistakable smile in her eyes let him hope that she was feeling something beyond the pain. That she was feeling the same stirrings as he was inside.

  He blew across her hand in short little breaths, and for a reason he didn’t quite comprehend, with every breath his spirits lifted. Higher and higher…until he thought he might float right up to the ceiling.

  Chapter 47

  Mickey wiped off perfectly clean kitchen counters, feeling a little guilty for eavesdropping on Doug’s conversation—even though he made no effort to keep his voice down.

  “Okay, sure. See you then. Thanks, Harriet.” He hung up the phone and looked at her. “Harriet wants the kids for the whole weekend. You okay with that?”

  “Sure.” Kaye’s mother came from Florida every few months, staying at her sister’s house in Salina. Doug always arranged for her to see the kids as much as possible whenever she was in Kansas. But it was unusual for him to ask Mickey’s permission about plans.

  “You’ll be with your brothers Sunday, right?”

  She nodded. Something was up.

  “I wondered…” He dipped his head before looking her in the eye. “Would you have any interest in having me…come with you this time?”

  Despite how well she and Doug had been getting along over the past few months, she’d long ago given up on the DeVore family ever blending with her extended family. She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “I—I’d love it if you came.”

  He bit the corner of his lip. “Yes, but would your brothers love it?”

  She grinned. “Probably not as much as I would. But I don’t think they’ll kick you out or anything.” She hesitated for a minute. “Do I dare ask…why this sudden change of heart?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve…been thinking.”

  “About?”

  A faraway look came to his eyes. “A lot of things.”

  “Okay…” Thanksgiving, the anniversary of Kaye and Rachel’s deaths, had been a turning point for her and Doug. Even before that, really. But after that anniversary passed, they somehow found their way back to the friendship they’d begun at the start, and each day she felt a tiny bit closer to him than she had the day before.

  But for several days now, he’d seemed a little down—or something. Sometimes Harriet’s visits sent him into a slump. But she didn’t think that was what was bothering him this time. This was something different, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. And it worried her. “Is…is everything okay?”

  He took a deep breath. “Mickey, I’d like to talk to you…about…some things.”

  She nodded and tried to smile, but a strange fear took hold of her, and a hundred possibilities—none of them pleasant—roamed through her mind, trying to take root.

  “I told Harriet I’d bring the kids into town in time to have supper with her and Aunt Bess. How about I bring us home something to eat after I drop them off?”

  “Sure.” She forced a laugh. “You know me––I never turn down a chance to get out of the kitchen.”

  His shoulders lifted and he brightened. “Okay. I’ve got dinner covered.” He glanced out the kitchen window. “Maybe we can eat outside?”

  She followed his gaze to a perfect blue sky. “If it doesn’t cool off too quick, that’d be lovely.”

  At six o’clock, Mickey heard the garage door. Feeling strangely nervous, she ran to check her hair in the laundry room mirror. She so rarely spent time alone with Doug.

  Oh, Father, please help this weekend to go well. Please help us just to enjoy each other, and to grow closer—to each other, and to You.

  These little prayers throughout the day had become as natural to her as breathing. As Doug had continued to meet with Pastor Grady, he’d begun to pray with her and the kids. Not only at mealtimes, but before the kids went to bed each night. His were simple prayers, but they touched her deeply and compelled her to cultivate her own closer relationship with God.

  Doug held up an Arby’s bag. “I got your favorite. And the weather’s perfect. It hit 65 this afternoon. I vote for that picnic.”

  “Okay.” She grabbed bottles of water from the fridge and went for a jacket and the picnic blanket.

  He spread it on the ground and they ate in silence, enjoying the songbirds and the warmth of the fading sun on their backs.

  “You have this place looking really nice, Mick,” he said over a mouthful of roast beef.

  Mickey followed his gaze around the corner of the backyard she’d claimed as her garden. A few things, the phlox and gaura, were just beginning to come up—enough that she could be sure at least some of her transplants had taken. But she knew it wasn’t the plants themselves Doug was referring to.

  Right now, the framework of the garden was all that was visible: the hill of rocks she’d arranged for the sedum to climb, the arbor she hoped would someday burgeon with roses, the brick pathway Doug and the kids had helped her lay. Those were the only things the garden had to boast right now. And yet, viewed through the hope of spring, they had their own beauty.

  “It’ll be real pretty this summer,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.

  As the sun slunk below the horizon, a gentle breeze came through. Mickey shivered and pulled one corner of the picnic blanket over her legs.

  “You cold?”

  “A little. I’m fine.”

  “You want to go in?”

  She shook her head. “I’m enjoying this.”

  “Hang on.” He jumped up. “I’ll be right back.”

  A minute later, he came back with one of the old quilts they kept in the Suburban in case of a winter emergency—or a summer picnic. “Here.” He stood behind her and she felt the quilt settle down around her shoulders.

  “Mmm…that feels good. Thanks.”

  The sun disappeared, leaving a haze of pale blue in the west. In the distance, crickets started a slow chirrup chirrup chirrup.

  Doug cocked his head and listened for a minute. “It’s still almost 50 degrees.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “How do you know that?”

  “Crickets.”

  “Huh?”

  “If you count the chirps, you’ll know the temperature.”

  “No way.”

  “You didn’t know that?”

  “You’re putting me on.” All of a sudden she remembered the date on the calendar. “This is an April Fool’s joke, right?”

  He laughed. “N
o, I’m serious. You apparently don’t read the Farmer’s Almanac.”

  “No, but I read National Geographic, and I sure don’t remember ever hearing anything about crickets telling the temperature.” She tilted her head like he had and listened. All she heard was one undulating drone. She narrowed her eyes. “Okay, I give. How do you count cricket chirps?”

  “Listen again.” He held up a finger and mouthed a count. One, two, three, four, five…

  She nodded. Watching him count, she could sort of separate them out.

  “Okay, now,” he said. “You count to fourteen—silently, to yourself—and I’ll count the chirps.”

  They locked eyes while she counted under her breath and he held up fingers for each chirp. “…six, seven, eight—”

  She held up a hand when she hit fourteen. “Time’s up.”

  “It’s 48 degrees.” He bobbed his head as if that settled it.

  She shot him a skeptical look. “How did you get 48 degrees out of that?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “You have to know the secret formula.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Count the chirps in fourteen seconds and add forty.”

  She shed the quilt, jumped up, and ran over to the other side of the rose arbor where she’d nailed up a thermometer. “Forty-eight, on the money. That is so cool!”

  He laughed and puffed out his chest.

  She came back and sat cross-legged on the blanket.

  “You want this?” He gestured to the quilt.

  “Please.” He shook it out and wrapped it back around her shoulders, making her think of the way he snugged Harley into her little hoodies.

  She hated to spoil the moment, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something.”

  He looked thoughtful, and for a minute, she was afraid he was going to say “never mind.”

  Instead, he got up and knelt in front of her on the blanket. Closing his eyes, as if he were about to dive into icy water, he reached for her hands.

  She melted at the warmth of his touch.

  For a full minute, he sat that way, stroking her hands with his thumbs. She looked at him, wondering where this was going, and realized that he was struggling to control his emotions.

  “Doug? What’s wrong?”

  He inhaled and breathed out her name. “This is going to sound a little funny…Mrs. DeVore.” He grinned, suddenly seeming himself again. “But I wanted—I’ve wanted for a long time—to ask you to marry me.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but words wouldn’t come. Tears did, though, like a geyser. She fanned a hand in front of her face, trying to quell the sobs. She didn’t know if she was crying from relief, or love, or sheer joy.

  Doug moved to wrap her in his arms.

  Except in her dreams, it had been nearly a year since he’d held her this way. But oh, it felt exactly how she remembered.

  He pulled back slightly and put a hand under her chin. “Hey, hey…that wasn’t supposed to make you cry. What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Doug.” Now she laughed through her tears.

  He held her and patted her back through the quilt. “You okay?” Genuine concern softened his voice.

  She nodded. “I’m crying because I’m happy.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded again. “I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.”

  He eased down on the blanket and pulled her beside him, squeezing her close. “I want to do it right this time, Mickey. I want you to have that big church wedding and that big white dress you always wanted.”

  His words touched her in a place so deep it was painful. But she shook her head. She knew what she wanted. And it wasn’t the things he thought.

  “Doug…oh, you’re so sweet to offer that. A year ago, I would have jumped all over that. But not anymore. I think the time has passed for that.”

  His arm dropped from her shoulder, and she realized he’d misunderstood.

  She laughed softly and moved his arm back around her shoulder. “Hear me out. I want—I want the groom. Oh, do I ever want the groom.”

  She reached up and cradled his stubbled cheek in her palm. Her husband. The tears came again. “But I don’t need all that other stuff anymore—the dress, the fancy wedding—I have what really matters. Everything that’s truly important.”

  He turned his head until his lips touched her fingertips. “Is that a yes?”

  She nodded, smiling until her face hurt.

  “I love you, Michaela DeVore. I’ve been loving you for a while now. I don’t know if you noticed.”

  “I was starting to suspect.” She pulled away and drank in the boyish grin he gave her.

  “The only thing I could ever want for now is—” She hesitated, feeling suddenly shy.

  “What?” The longing in his eyes—still laced with a fair bit of mischief—told her that he was hoping she’d say exactly what she was about to say.

  “As long as we’re already married…?”

  He hung on her words. “Yes?”

  “I’m lonely. At night. I miss…having you in my bed. Do you think we could…eventually…work our way back to that part of marriage?”

  He drew back and narrowed his eyes. But he couldn’t hide the gleam in them. “This isn’t an April Fool’s joke, is it?”

  She mirrored his expression. “Would I joke about something like that?”

  In answer, a thousand crickets began a cheerful chirrup chirrup chirrup.

  Dear Reader,

  My husband jokes that we have been happily married for forty years—and not so happily for the other two. There's a tiny bit of truth to his jesting. Marriage is an amazing institution and one of the greatest blessings in my own life, yet at times it has been the source of some of the greatest challenges I’ve ever faced. If you are married, have ever been married, or ever hope to be, somewhere along the journey, you probably have faced (or soon will) struggles similar to the ones Doug and Mickey confronted in Yesterday’s Embers.

  What did our Creator intend marriage to be? God has called many of us to marriage, and it is His plan that marriage should be a loving, fulfilling and profitable relationship. God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him” (Genesis 2:18). At least four times, the Bible reminds us that “a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”

  But we live in a fallen world, and unfortunately, many marriages are reaping the consequences of sin and evil.

  Perhaps, like Mickey and Doug, your marriage isn't all you hoped it would be. Maybe you even fear you made a mistake when you married your spouse. If so, your heart is probably aching. But here’s the good news: Jesus Christ is in the business of healing wounded couples, joining men and women who have longed for a lifelong companion, and building lasting, happy marriages. Why not give God your wounded heart and the broken pieces of your relationship, and see if He won't do a miracle before your eyes?

  It will take time. You might feel as though you are giving 110 percent while your spouse gives nothing. But many times in my life I've seen miracles occur when one partner in a marriage determines to trust God and love his or her spouse as they promised on their wedding day: for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death alone separates them.

  Whether you long to be married and haven't met the right person yet, whether you're just starting out in marriage or have been married seventy-six years like my husband's grandparents, whether your marriage is fabulous or failing, let today be the first day of a better marriage—and a better life—than you ever thought possible.

  Discussion Questions

  1. Describe the relationship between Doug and Kaye DeVore that you see in the prologue. Is this the type of relationship you would long to have with a spouse? Why or why not?

  2. Doug arrives home from the funeral of his wife and daughter to the responsibility of being both father a
nd mother, and to a “new normal”—one he does not want. If you’ve lost someone you love, what were your thoughts about going on without them? How would you advise Doug about coming to terms with his deep loss?

  3. How does Doug perceive that people are treating him after the loss of his wife and daughter? How do you approach people who are grieving? What do you do and say? When have your well-thought-out words worked—and not worked? Explain the situation. Knowing how Doug feels, would you now do anything differently? If so, what?

  4. In what ways was Doug like—and not like—Mickey’s list for the man of her dreams in chapter 14? If you were Mickey, would you regret your decision to say yes to a “date” with this man? Why or why not? Do you think Kaye’s mother has a valid point to her concerns? Why or why not?

  5. Though they are both Christians, Doug and Mickey have grown up in very different denominations. What are some of the challenges they will face in marriage because of their different faith backgrounds? Have you ever dated or married someone of a different denomination? How did it affect your relationship, and how did you handle those differences?

  6. What role did Mickey’s brothers and their wives play in her life? How did her relationship with Doug change her ties to her family? If you are married, how has your relationship with your spouse changed the dynamics of your extended family? Talk about any challenges you’ve faced, and solutions you’ve discovered.

  7. Why do you think Doug was drawn so quickly to Mickey even though his wife had only been gone a few short months? What were Doug’s reasons for marrying again so soon after being widowed? Do you believe they were valid? Why or why not?

  8. Why was Mickey attracted to Doug? How did she justify a relationship with a man who’d so recently lost his spouse? Read the following verses from the Bible and talk about how they might have applied (or not) to Doug and Mickey’s situation: 1 Corinthians 7:1-9; Ecclesiastes 3:1-8; Ephesians 5:22-32. Did Doug and Mickey seek God’s direction for whether and when they should marry? Why or why not?