Loving Promises

by Gail Gaymer Martin

“Why you don’t like kids.”

  “It’s nothing to do with liking. I’m not used to being around kids.”

  “You’ll have a chance tomorrow.”

  He looked surprised, and it pleased her to see him out of control.

  “Didn’t you know your dad invited all of us?”

  “No.”

  “Mom tried to convince him the kids would be too much for your mother, but he said she’d love it.” She let her gaze linger on his face, wondering if he were upset.

  “You mean you and your kids are coming?”

  His response answered her question. “Sorry, it wasn’t my decision.”

  It was his turn to look uneasy for a change. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  She wondered what way he did mean it. Obviously, the man didn’t like children. Too bad, she thought, because they were invited and they would be there.

  Bev parked in front of the neat ranch house, trying to calm herself. “I hope these people know what they’re in for.”

  Mildred looked into the back seat and gave the kids a smile. “Al said they’d be a godsend. I’m not debating Al or the Lord.”

  Bev chuckled at her mother’s comment, then turned and gave the children her final lecture followed by their resounding groan from the back seat. When she finished, she thought of her mother’s comment and the pastor’s Sunday lesson. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving present your requests to God. Bev needed some bended-knee time with the Lord.

  When she unlocked the door, the children unhooked their seat belts and tumbled from the car. Bev grabbed her dinner contribution and said a short prayer as she headed for the door. Between dealing with her kids and knowing Dale would be there, she had a case of jitters.

  “Welcome,” Al said, as he greeted them. He gave Mildred a friendly hug and shook Bev’s hand.

  “Thanks for inviting us, Mr. Levin,” Bev said as she ushered the children inside.

  “Al, please. No need for formalities.”

  Mildred and the kids moved ahead to the living room, and Bev followed Al’s direction by heading toward the kitchen with her dinner offerings.

  A delectable aroma greeted her in the dining room and as she passed, she noticed the table was already set. At the doorway, she faltered. Dale stood beside the stove, stirring something with a large spoon. He looked amazing in a slate-blue crewneck sweater that hugged his broad chest. The sensation she experienced frightened her. “Hi,” she said, forcing herself into the room.

  Dale jumped and swung around as a glob of sauce fell to the floor. A grin made its way to his mouth. “You scared me.”

  “I noticed.” She set the box on the counter and pulled off a sheet of paper towel to wipe up the mess.

  He grasped her hand. “Let me do that,” he said, taking the toweling.

  The warmth of his fingers rolled up her arm.

  He knelt and swiped at the spot, then rose.

  His grin swept over her. “What’s in the box?” he asked.

  “A seven-layer salad and a key lime pie. Low-calorie, but don’t tell anyone.”

  He looked inside the carton before his gaze drifted across her frame. “Why are you worried about calories?”

  Bev felt a flush creeping up her neck. Too rattled to respond, she only chuckled.

  Dale turned back to the box and slid the food into the refrigerator.

  Bev watched him, thinking she’d be smart to leave the kitchen, but she didn’t.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked. Drawn by the aroma coming from the kettle and the desire to be in Dale’s company, she made her way toward the stove to take a peek. “Stroganoff?”

  He nodded. “Dad loves it, and the sauce is tasty and soft enough for my mom. She has a difficult time eating.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that so she looked around the kitchen for something to do. “I noticed the table is set. Give me another job.”

  “Just sit there and look pretty.” He tilted his head toward the kitchen table.

  His comment addled her. “I meant something easier than that.” Amazed at her rising emotions, she lifted the lid on a smaller pan. Noodles. Nothing she could do with that.

  Heat raced through her body, and she stepped back from the stove, but the warmth persisted. Her discomfort grew. She knew they were flirting with each other, but she’d become too inexperienced to handle it. Two children and a few years without a man’s attention made her a novice when it came to being coy with Dale.

  She moved closer to the doorway. “If you don’t need me, I’ll go save the others from my kids.”

  A light flashed in Dale’s head. He needed someone, and maybe Bev could help. He pivoted toward her. “You could do one thing.”

  “Great. Name it.”

  “Give me some ideas.”

  “About the stroganoff?”

  “I need some help with—” he lowered his voice “—my mom.”

  “Your mother?” She gave him a puzzled look and stepped closer. Was he asking her to give up her job at Loving Care? “What kind of help?”

  “You’ve lived in Loving a long time. I wondered if you know anyone who could come in weekdays and help with my mother. My dad’s killing himself, and he won’t even consider getting help.”

  “Why not?” Her expression reflected her empathy.

  “He has every excuse in the book, including he has the Lord and he needs nothing else.”

  “There’s truth to that, Dale.”

  “Don’t you start,” he said, hearing his voice snap.

  She veered back as if he’d struck her.

  “I’m sorry. That’s a sensitive issue for me.” For some reason he wanted to explain, but he clamped his mouth closed. First she wouldn’t care about his issues, and second, he didn’t talk about his feelings. Emotions didn’t count. Reality did.

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, but from the flush in her cheeks, he knew he’d upset her.

  “I know child-care workers,” she said finally, her voice calm and businesslike, “but I really don’t have contact with people who do adult care.”

  “How about at church?”

  Her frown softened as she looked at him. “I’ll think about it. Next time I’m there, I’ll look around and see if anyone comes to mind. I can’t promise you anything.”

  “I realize that. Just let me know if you think of anyone. I’d appreciate it.”

  He was touched by her concerned look, and his rude behavior poked at him. “I didn’t mean to sound so abrupt earlier. You hit a sore issue with me, and I spoke before I thought.”

  “You do that a lot,” she said, but her voice was soft rather than fiery. He sensed she meant it as a kind criticism rather than a smart remark.

  “I’ll have to work on that,” he said. Without thinking he reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

  Her eyes widened, and without a further comment, she hurried out of the room.

  Dale watched her vanish and wondered what had gotten into him. He’d called her pretty, snapped at her and now fondled her cheek. He’d become a paradox of behavior.

  Why was he toying with a woman who had children? His conduct was not only foolhardy, it could be hurtful. He had no intention of tangling his life around a ready-made family. He had enough to worry about.

  Dale adjusted the heat on the burners, then pulled a small plate from the cabinet and sneaked out a spoonful of noodles, added some stroganoff sauce, then grabbed a fork and used the hallway door to his mother’s bedroom.

  “Hungry?” he asked as he stepped inside.

  “A little. I hear voices. Is the company here?”

  Dale nodded. “Dad thought you should rest until after dinner. Then you’ll feel more like visiting.”

  She managed a faint smile. “We both agreed that was best.”

  He adjusted her pillows, then covered her with a napkin and spoon-fed her some of the mixture.

  “Tha
t’s plenty,” Dotty said after a few mouthfuls. “I’ll just rest here until everyone’s finished eating. Now go and have a nice time.”

  Her brave acceptance of her disease twisted through Dale’s senses. He kissed his mother’s cheek and returned to the kitchen.

  In a few minutes, he announced dinner, and he watched Michael cringe when their eyes met. He felt guilty and figured he should be adult enough to say something to relieve the kid’s panic. He forced a grin. “You haven’t been running any more cars off the road have you, Michael?”

  The boy looked at him with wary eyes until he realized Dale was teasing. Finally he grinned. “I’m more careful now.”

  “That’s good,” he said, figuring he’d done his duty.

  When they’d all assembled around the table, his father asked them to join hands, and, after the blessing and a special thanks for their guests, the meal began. The conversation was genial and relaxed until Kristin spilled her glass of milk.

  “Kristin,” Bev said, “you have to learn to be careful. You do this all the time.”

  Dale leaped from the table to grab a roll of paper towel as he winced at the “all the time” line. He blotted the mess while Bev did her best to help. When he returned to his seat, he avoided the soggy cloth as best he could, grasping his patience.

  Things settled down again, and Dale’s attention shifted between Bev and his father’s friendship with Millie. He’d never seen his father with a female friend, and it troubled him.

  “It’s great to have you all here,” Al said, “and Millie, you look really good. Just like old times.”

  “Forty years plus.”

  “Has it been that long? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told Dotty about some of our shenanigans. She loves to hear me talk about them.”

  Bev’s mother grinned. “I bet I remember a few escapades you’ve forgotten.”

  He reached across the table to pat her hand. “I bet you do.”

  Shenanigans? Escapades? Dale wanted to ask what they meant. He couldn’t imagine his father with another woman except his mother. The familiarity didn’t set well with Dale. While his mother was in the bedroom alone, his father was sharing memories with another woman.

  Dale fought the tension that knotted inside him. When the meal ended, he brought out dessert, grateful that the children had settled for store-bought cookies and had gone into the living room to play. Dale had dragged out a huge box of his boyhood Tinkertoys from his parents’ storage closet. Today he saw their wisdom in insisting they hang on to them. What damage could a child do with those?

  Moments later his question was answered by the sound of glass shattering.

  Chapter Three

  Bev jumped up before he did, and they darted into the living room together, their arms brushing as they passed through the doorway. The softness of the simple touch rippled down his arm, but when he entered the living room, the memory faded. Michael stood above a broken candy dish, part of it on the table and shards on the floor.

  “What did you do?” Bev asked.

  “Nothing,” Michael said.

  Dale struggled against voicing his irritation. Dishes didn’t just jump into the air and break.

  “You obviously did something,” Bev said.

  Dale noticed the wooden toy configuration in the boy’s hand. An airplane, he figured. “Were you flying your plane?” He gave Michael one of his steady stares.

  The boy nodded his head. “It’s a space missile,” he muttered.

  Dale took the creation from the boy’s hands and pulled apart the pieces. “Now, it’s nothing.” How could anyone deal with the constant distraction of having a houseful of kids?

  As he dropped the pieces on the floor and turned to get something to gather the glass, he noticed Bev’s look, then the boy’s, but he plowed ahead. “I only hope this isn’t something precious to my mother.”

  As the words left his mouth, his father came into the room with a mini-vacuum. He eyed the situation and smiled. “Glass candy dish. Nothing that can’t be replaced.” He approached the children. “I hope neither of you cut yourself.”

  The children looked at their fingers, then shook their heads.

  “Good.” He lifted his gaze to Dale. “I’ll clean this up. Why don’t you two go back in and enjoy your dessert. When I’m through here, I’ll bring in your mother. She’s anxious to meet everyone.”

  Dale turned, catching a deeper scowl on Bev’s face. He’d done it again. He seemed to be the bad guy, while his father had handled the situation with the kids perfectly.

  When he and Bev returned to the dining room, the conversation seemed to lull. Dale figured Bev was annoyed with him, and Mildred was wondering what had happened.

  Bev sat in her chair, her back stiff while Dale admitted to himself he didn’t have a knack with kids. It was good he had no plans for fatherhood.

  They sat in silence, waiting, and when his father returned, all eyes turned toward Dotty. Though frail, she was a pretty woman. She sat in a wheelchair, her gray hair combed in a simple style, her thin frame covered by a rose-colored outfit. Dale couldn’t bear to see the change in her. When he shifted his focus, he saw the sadness he felt reflected in Bev’s eyes.

  “Hello,” Dotty said, looking at Mildred. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Al has told me so many stories about you two.” She shifted her focus. “And you must be Beverly.”

  “Bev, please, and I’m the mother of the two making noise in your living room. I’m sorry they broke one of your candy dishes.”

  “They’re a dime a dozen. Did they find something to play with?”

  “My old Tinkertoys,” Dale said. “I always thought it was stupid to keep those things.”

  Al gestured toward Dale. “We’ve been keeping them for our grandchildren, but that seems unlikely.”

  Dale’s pulse jolted from his father’s unexpected admission. He clamped his jaw when he saw Bev’s smirk.

  “Tell me the best story about Al that comes to mind,” Dotty said.

  Mildred thought a minute before telling one of her favorites. Their laughter drew the children into the room, and Dale couldn’t help but grin at them, quiet for a change and engrossed in the story of their grandmother’s escapades.

  The stories continued until Al suggested they move to the living room. “It’s much more comfortable in there,” Al said.

  Dale checked his watch, amazed to see the amount of time they’d spent around the table.

  “We should be going,” Mildred said. “I’m sure Dotty’s tired, and we all have church tomorrow.”

  When Dale saw Bev rise, carrying dishes into the kitchen, he followed. He stood beside her, and when she turned, they were so close a flowery scent enveloped him and he couldn’t move. “You smell amazing,” he said, noticing an uneasy look spread across Bev’s face.

  He wanted to step away, but his legs felt immobile so close to hers. Finally he found his voice, and his words broke the spell. “I’m sorry about the incident with the kids. I guess you’re right.”

  “I am,” she said. “Kids are part of the world. They make mistakes like we all do. Forgiveness is a gift God gives us. We can learn from that.”

  He nodded, not knowing what else to say, then took a step back. “Thanks for coming. This evening was wonderful for my mom. I haven’t seen her have so much fun in a long time.”

  “It was a nice evening for all of us.” She gave him a nervous smile. “I got to know a side of my mother I’ve never seen before.”

  The tension subsided, replaced by an alien sensation that fluttered through him. Bev was a blend of good things, and he liked what he saw. Even defending her kids seemed right. He was tempting himself to possibilities he couldn’t…wouldn’t keep.

  They stood a moment as if perplexed about what to do next. He searched her eyes, wondering if she sensed the same feelings. When she lowered her gaze, Dale touched her arm and steered her toward the dining room, stirred by a longing that addled him.

  Whe
n he came through the doorway, Mildred stood and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Thank you so much for having us.”

  “I hope we do this again,” Dotty said.

  Dale knew his mother was sincere, but his heart twisted as he noted the exhaustion in her face.

  “Al tells me you just retired,” Dotty said.

  “Yes, from nursing,” Mildred said.

  A look flashed between Dale and his father. Had his father realized what that could mean? If Dale believed that God cared about them, he would think the Lord had really worked a miracle. Bev, also, sidled a questioning look at Dale. She lifted her eyebrows as if she were contemplating the same thoughts.

  Dale leaned closer to her. “Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Hard to tell,” she said, “but maybe.”

  The same warm feeling spread over him until the cold wind of reality struck him. Bev was wheedling her way into his thoughts and feelings. Attraction led to commitment, and commitment led to marriage, then family. He wanted none of either.

  Bev shifted on the park bench, wishing it were padded, then grinned at her silly thought. The Saturday afternoon gifted her with a warm sun, and only an occasional chilly breeze ruffled her hair and sprinkled gooseflesh on her arms. Spring had truly arrived.

  “Be careful, Michael,” she called, as he released a swing that narrowly missed hitting Kristin’s back.

  Michael glanced Bev’s way and went on about his play without batting an eye. Sometimes she thought he needed his hearing checked, but that was an excuse. He heard her. He just ignored her requests.

  Bev shifted her gaze across new grass toward the fountain, and her pulse skipped. A man pushing someone in a wheelchair came into view, and she had no doubt who they were. Dale and Dotty. She angled away from them, not to avoid them exactly, but to give her time for thought.

  For some reason, she sensed she and Dale were being thrust together. Coincidence seemed too simple. Michael ran into Dale’s car, Dale’s father and her mother were best friends, no matter where she went—church, grocery shopping or the park, Dale suddenly appeared. She lifted her eyes to heaven. Lord, is this Your doing? And if so, what’s the purpose?