by Lois Richer
David couldn’t sleep.
Over and over he kept hearing her.
I am that kind of people. Worthless. Useless. Society’s write-offs.
He’d argued when Susannah claimed herself unworthy to be a mother—but he’d just confirmed her judgment.
Irritated with himself and the persistent squawk of his brain telling him not to get involved, David went downstairs, brewed some tea and carried it to the family room. To his surprise, Darla was there.
“What are you doing up?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. Her deep brown eyes studied him for a long time, long enough to make him shift un comfortable.
“I don’t like you today,” she said finally. “You were mean to Susannah. She tried really hard to help me, and you were rude.”
“I wasn’t trying to be rude,” he began, but Darla wouldn’t let him get away with that.
“Yes, you were. You wanted to make yourself better than all the other people at the center. That was rude.”
When had his sister acquired such understanding?
“I was afraid for you,” he admitted simply.
“Don’t you know Susannah? Don’t you know she would never let anything happen to me? Even if it was going to, which it wasn’t. The center is a good place.”
Her voice touched a chord deep inside David and reverberated through his mind. For the first time since the accident, Darla was confronting him with her anger instead of throwing a tantrum.
“Susannah is the best friend I ever had and you’re going to make her go away.”
“I hope not.” That was the last thing he wanted.
“You made her feel like I feel when people call me a dummy,” Darla said bluntly.
“I never said—”
“And you made our friends at the center feel like that, too. They’re not dummies, Davy,” she said, her face earnest. “And it doesn’t matter if you say it or not. When you talk the way you did, they know what you mean.”
How could he argue with that? He’d been a jerk.
“Susannah knows that. She talks to Oliver and Burt and the others like she talks to me, like she talks to you.” Darla bowed her head. “When she talks to us, she makes us feel strong. She makes us feel like we can do things. Lots of things.”
Meaning he didn’t do that for her?
“You’re my brother and I love you lots, but sometimes you say things that hurt people,” Darla said, her voice grave. “Today you made Susannah feel bad and I don’t like that. You should apologize.”
“But—”
“My Sunday school teacher said God wants people to help one another.”
“Darla, it’s not that simple.”
“Everybody at the center likes Susannah because she knows that sometimes you just need help.” She narrowed her gaze. “I don’t think they like you, Davy.”
“Sweetie,” he said, “it’s not that I didn’t like them.”
“Then why do you think they’ll do bad things? When I make mistakes, do you think I’ll do bad things?”
“No, but—”
“Susannah says everybody makes mistakes.” Even you, Darla’s eyes seemed to say. “But people can change. That’s what Susannah says.”
Susannah. She had pitted his own sister against him now.
Susannah didn’t do that. I did.
“The Bible says you’re supposed to love everybody, no matter what. Doesn’t it, Davy?” she challenged. “Yes, but—”
“Then you should have love in your heart for Oliver and Burt and Susannah and everyone. You should expect them to do good things, not bad things.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her face set.
Darla had just summed up the Christian life in action.
Shamed by his words and his attitude, and the fact that God had used his little sister to show him his own arrogance, David rose and moved to sit beside Darla.
“You know what?” he said as he took her hand.
“What?” she demanded.
“I think you’re the smartest woman I know.”
“Really?” A beatific smile lit up her face.
He kissed her cheek and hugged her as he praised God for Darla. “I’ll apologize to Susannah tomorrow.”
“Good. And Davy?” She pulled back, her face worried.
“Yes, sweetie?” He tucked a strand of her glossy hair behind one ear. “What is it?”
“It’s her birthday tomorrow. Connie told me she’s having a surprise party for Susannah tomorrow night and we’re invited.” Darla beamed with the excitement of keeping a secret. “I wasn’t going to tell you if you were mean, but if you apologize, that’s okay. Can we get Susannah a gift?”
“We’ll go in the morning,” he promised. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”
“I already know what I want to give Susannah,” Darla said. “A dress for Thanksgiving. That green one we saw.”
“That will be nice.”
“Uh-huh.” She flung her arms around him and hugged him so tightly David almost lost his balance. “Good night, Davy,” she called.
He spent a long time thinking about the nurturer that was Susannah Wells, and about how he’d treated her. And about that kiss he had planted on her cheek…
She was amazing. Nothing seemed to faze the woman. She thrived on helping anyone who needed her.
How could such a nurturing woman ever give up her child?
She couldn’t. It would haunt her for the rest of her life.
David knew then that he couldn’t help her find adoptive parents for her baby. He wanted Susannah to keep the child, to make a new life for both of them, a life of second chances.
He’d talk to her about that tomorrow. Right after he apologized.
Chapter Nine
“Connie, you shouldn’t have done this!” Susannah said, looking at the gifts piled in the living room. The dining table was set with fancy dishes.
“It’s your birthday and we’re having a party. Get over it.” Connie grinned.
“But you’re having your Thanksgiving party tomorrow night.” Susannah wished she hadn’t spent the afternoon sleeping—perhaps she could have put a stop to all this fuss. “This is a lot of extra work.”
“It’s not work. It’s fun.” Connie grabbed Susannah’s hands and whirled her around. She stopped abruptly. “Oops, sorry. I keep forgetting this little one makes you dizzy.” Tenderly she set her hand over Susannah’s ever-increasing baby bump. “What a miracle.”
Her baby was a miracle? But weren’t miracles for those God thought special? Susannah found herself blown away by the thought that God had singled her out, specially gifted her with this child.
Could God have trusted her with such a gift?
An instant later the wonder dissolved as reality hit. This baby might be a gift, but it was a gift she couldn’t keep.
Guilt assailed Susannah.
“Suze? You feeling okay?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Sure?” Connie’s fingertips brushed her forehead before smoothing back her hair. “You don’t feel warm.”
“I’m absolutely fine.” She pulled back. “Don’t fuss.”
“I have to take care of my best friend, don’t I?”
The doorbell rang and a moment later Darla’s excited voice, followed by David’s lower rumble echoed through the house. Her stomach clenched just as the baby kicked her in the ribs.
“Surprise!” Obviously delighted with her secret, Connie beamed. “I take it Darla didn’t squeal on me when she called this morning?”
“Not a word.” Susannah hadn’t told Connie about her argument with David because she didn’t want her friend fighting her battles. She schooled her expression into a placid mask and followed Connie from the room to welcome her guests.
David’s gaze caught hers. He smiled at her, eyes melting to butterscotch. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the least problem between them. In fact, he looked happy to see her. Susannah’s heart jumped when he continued to st
are at her. She swallowed hard and felt a little sick. Not a pregnancy sickness—more a kind of this-can’t-be-happening, heart-dropping sickness.
How could he look at her like that, as if he thought she was something special, when she knew he thought she was nothing, nobody? And why did one man get the full package—height, good looks—along with a strong sense of who he was, a sense that would never make him feel unworthy of anything?
“Happy birthday,” he said in that low growl she’d become accustomed to. He handed her a small silver box. An envelope was attached. “For you.”
His fingers brushed hers. Susannah pulled away, burning at the contact. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I hope you have a great year.”
What did that mean? Was that sweet grin a prelude to firing her?
“This is from me.” Darla edged in front of him and held out a beautifully wrapped flat box. “Can we open the gifts now?” she asked Connie, impatience showing in her dancing feet.
“Yeah, can we?” Silver echoed, just as excited.
“Why not?” Connie led the way to the family room.
“Open Davy’s first,” Darla directed.
Embarrassed at being on display, Susannah lifted the lid of the box and found a lovely glass bottle of expensive perfume tucked inside, the kind she sometimes dabbed on at the cosmetics counter but could never afford to buy.
“Thank you,” she said, avoiding his gaze.
“You’re welcome,” David said.
Susannah found nothing in those calm, smooth tones to give away his thoughts. Didn’t he feel anything after their argument?
“Now open mine.” Darla thrust the box into her hands and flopped down beside her. “I picked it out myself. And I paid for it.”
“You shouldn’t have spent your money on—oh, my.” Susannah lifted out the dress she’d refused to try on in the store the day they’d chosen Darla’s new clothes. The green-into-turquoise swirls were just as gorgeous as they had been that day, the fabric just as luxurious. “It’s beautiful, Darla. Thank you.”
Never had she been more conscious of the shabbiness of her clothes. Connie had tried to help out, but she hadn’t had time to sew more than a pair of pants and two simple cotton shirts.
“Put it on,” Darla ordered. She pushed the box off Susannah’s lap and grabbed her hand. “I want you to put it on.”
“But Connie has dinner—” Susannah looked at her friend.
“We can wait,” Connie assured her. “It’s lovely. Go try it on.”
“C’mon, Silver,” Darla said, grabbing Connie’s step-daughter’s hand.
So up the stairs the three of them went. Susannah was glad to escape. She could feel David’s stare boring into her back.
“I might not fit it, Darla,” she warned as she peeled off her clothes. “With the baby, I’m—”
“It will fit,” Darla assured her. “You’ll see.”
And in fact, Susannah thought it fit very well, skimming over her body in a swish of fabric. She twirled back and forth in front of the mirror, unable to believe her reflection.
“Put your hair up,” Darla ordered.
She clipped her mass of curls to the top of her head with a huge bronze barrette. Then she slipped her feet into a pair of low sandals. They were old, but they suited the dress.
“You look so pretty, Susannah. Let’s go show the others,” Darla implored. She and Silver raced back downstairs.
Susannah followed more slowly, oddly proud. She knew that for the first time in a very long time, she looked good.
“You’re lovely, Susannah.” David’s low, intimate voice brought a flush to her cheeks.
“It’s the dress.” Susannah couldn’t look at him.
“No.” Darla shook her head. “My mom used to say you had to be beautiful inside to be truly beautiful outside.” With a quick press, she hugged her then drew away.
Connie coaxed Susannah to sit down and open the rest of her gifts. There was a lovely bracelet from Silver, matching earrings from Connie and Wade, and two new maternity pantsuits, which Connie had sewn.
“It’s so much. Thank you, everyone. I think this is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” she said, looking at David as she spritzed a little of the perfume on her wrists.
David’s dark-honey gaze locked with hers. Susannah gulped, but she couldn’t look away. She felt as if he could see right to the pain she’d tucked deep inside her soul, pain that still stung because her mother couldn’t forgive enough to send her only living daughter a birthday greeting. Susannah had tried so hard to gain her forgiveness, to be a good daughter. But it always went back to the fire. Her fault.
And just like that, the guilt returned, clawing its way up her spine and around her throat, like ivy on steroids, choking the breath out of her.
You don’t deserve a birthday party. Or anything else.
“Okay, now it’s time for dinner.” Connie swatted at Wade’s shoulder. “Don’t you make that face at me. I didn’t cook it.”
“Well, now I know what to give thanks for tomorrow.” He smirked and ushered them into the dining room.
The meal was a delight. Connie wouldn’t allow Susannah to move. Wade and Silver helped her carry in the many dishes of Chinese food and insisted everyone sample some of each.
“How did you know I was craving chicken balls?” Susannah asked, savoring the tangy sweet-and-sour sauce. “You’ll have to roll me out of here.”
“Not just yet.” Connie beckoned to Darla and Silver who scurried into the kitchen with Wade behind.
“I wonder if I could talk to you later, Susannah,” David murmured.
He was going to fire her. She knew it. He was so disgusted with her choice of the center for Darla, he was probably going to find someone else to do her job. Fierce, deep pain ripped through her.
Fool, he’s not your friend. He’s just a man who tolerated you because Darla liked you. You should have expected this. It’s what you deserve.
“Fine. Later,” she answered. There was no time to say anything else because an enormous cake appeared in the doorway, candles glowing merrily. Four voices broke out in song. “Thank you,” she said when they were finished. “Thank you very much.” And she meant it.
“Cut it, Susannah. I want to taste it.” Darla wiggled on her chair. “I love cake!”
“Me, too,” she said.
Who threw Darla’s birthday party? David? The errant thought made Susannah pause before she slid the knife into the cake as she tried to picture what kind of party he would give her, what sort of cake they’d get her…
And then she remembered it was none of her business anymore.
David sat in the corner, sipped his coffee and paid little attention to the game he was supposed to be playing. All he could think about was how beautiful Susannah was, how she glowed in the soft lamplight of the family room.
She kept twiddling with her hair, trying to decide her next move. As a result, more and more tendrils had tumbled free and now curled around her long, slim neck. Her skin gleamed with the same porcelain translucence as the old master’s paintings he’d seen in museums. Every so often she laid a delicate palm over her stomach and a funny, tender smile caressed her lips.
Once she’d caught him staring and turned an intense peach shade, the color of an Easter sunrise. David quickly looked away, pretending to concentrate on the task at hand.
Pointless. The mental image would not leave him.
“You won, Susannah!”
“I did?” She stared at Connie as if she couldn’t imagine winning anything.
And once more David was reminded of her words, of her inability to grasp her own worth.
“Let’s play charades now,” Darla crowed.
David rose and left her to explain her favorite game. He wandered out to the back patio, studied the gleam of the water in the moon’s bright light and tried to think about something other than Susannah Wells.
“You wanted to talk to me?” She stood behi
nd him, her small body tense, her face a mask of no emotion.
“Will you sit down?”
“I’d rather walk a bit, if you don’t mind?” She tried to smile and failed.
“Sure.” David waited while she lifted the latch on the back gate. He held it open for her, breathing in her scent as she walked past.
“I eat so much and I don’t get enough exercise. I’m going to have to go on a serious diet after the ba—” She cut herself off and said no more.
“I think you look beautiful.”
“You do?” She’d been walking fast, trying to put some distance between them. But suddenly she stopped, turned and stared at him. “Me?”
“Pregnancy only enhances your beauty.” He was surprised by how much he wanted her to believe him.
“Oh. Well, thank you.” She stood there, a tiny furrow marring the perfection of her forehead. Then she shivered.
He slid off his jacket and laid it over her shoulders, watching her snuggle into the warmth as they walked down the street. “We won’t stay out long. I’ll just say my piece and go.”
Susannah didn’t say anything. But her wide green eyes darkened to the murky tones of the deep forest at dusk.
“I would like to apologize, Susannah.”
“What?” She stared at him, shock swelling her pupils.
“I should never have said what I did at the center. I was way out of line.” Shame filled David all over again. “Here I am, telling some woman in church to have a little Christian charity for Connie’s work and I don’t walk my talk. I’ve been worse than anyone for judging people and I’m sorry you had to hear that.” He handed her an envelope. “This contains Darla’s fee, and yours, for the pottery class.”
“But—” Susannah’s fine golden eyebrows rose. “I don’t know how to do pottery.”
He shrugged. “Use the money for whatever you feel is right. But please accept my apology for what I said.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She turned and began walking toward Connie’s home.
“Yes, Susannah, it does. It matters a lot that I hurt you.” He caught her arm and coaxed her to stop so he could look into her eyes. “I know you’re doing your best for Darla, and I appreciate it. There is no one else I’d feel as comfortable having with her as you, and I will never, ever question your judgment again. I promise.”
