Love Is Patient

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Nathan wanted to sit at the edge of the pew so he could simply scoot over to allow Van to take that place and be close to Amber. With Bill standing there, he’d have to scoot in farther and have Bill sit between them. It’s probably exactly what he wants.

  “Your boy liked Chinese last Sunday. How do the two of you do with Italian?”

  “I love it; Jeff wears it.” Nathan grinned. “You saw him with the chow mein noodles last week. He’s worse with spaghetti.”

  Bill chuckled. “How ’bout we all go out to Ruffino’s for lunch?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I pick up the tab this time.”

  “Hi, guys!” Vanessa slipped up and gave her dad a hug.

  It was a sweet sight. Vanessa was an affectionate woman, and her warmth never seemed out of place or forced. The way she acted around her family made Nathan think of how long it had been since he’d been on the receiving end of any such fondness. Sure, Jeff and he hugged and wrestled around—but the sentimentality a woman put into a hug—that was different. How would it feel to wrap his arms around Vanessa and have her put her arms back around him? To hold and be held—even for a fleeting moment? Five long years of not wanting any such contact ended abruptly, and the realization shook him. Being in church really has me off balance.

  “Did I hear you say something about Ruffino’s? I can already taste the veal scaloppini.”

  “Songs and sermon before the scaloppini.” Bill pushed her closer to Nathan and glanced at his watch. “I forgot to sign up for the men’s pancake prayer breakfast. I’m going to duck back and do that before the service starts. I’d be happy to have you as my guest, Nathan. It’s Wednesday. What do you say?”

  Nathan thought for a moment, then pulled a small palm computer from his pocket to check on a date. “I have a site inspection Wednesday morning.” He felt an unexpected twinge of regret and paused for a second before proposing, “Maybe another time?”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  ❧

  Vanessa hummed all afternoon at the pet shop. He came to church today! Two weeks in a row, he’s come and heard the Word. Lord, please do a mighty work in Nathan’s heart. There used to be a bitterness about him, but now there’s just a sadness. Leech away the grief and pour Your love out on him.

  The bell at the door chimed. Patsy Dinnit zipped into the shop with her pedigreed Border collie on a hot pink, rhinestone-studded leash. “Van! Jazzy’s going to have a litter. Do you want to take the puppies on commission again?”

  “Amber, stay.” Vanessa left her and went around to the other side of the counter. Amber normally did well around other dogs, but Jazzy tended to act high-strung when she carried a litter.

  Stooping to give Jazzy a couple of strokes, Van asked, “Did you use the same sire? The last litter was gorgeous.”

  “Sure did! Sire’s owner would get pick of the litter, but you can have all of the rest. I’ll do an even split on the proceeds with you again.”

  “Let me grab my calendar and see what I have booked. When is she due?”

  “In about four weeks.”

  Vanessa went back to the register. “Good girl.” She patted Amber and reached for her calendar. “That would make it about the twenty-eighth, give or take a few days.” She then flipped two pages. “If I take them when they’re about eight weeks, that’ll be in August. I have dachshunds and Labs coming in about the same time. That’ll be a nice variety.”

  A secretive smile lit Patsy’s face. She looked this way and that, then whispered, “Jazzy’s not the only one who’s expecting.”

  “Patsy! Really? How wonderful!”

  “You have no idea what a miracle it is. Hugo and I have been trying to have a baby for almost four years. I’m so excited, I can hardly stand it. I haven’t said a word to anyone until today. We went and had an ultrasound Friday. Wanna see the picture?”

  “I’d love to! When are you due?”

  “January second. Hugo is already talking to the baby. Last night, he tapped my belly and told the kid to come early so we’d have a tax deduction!”

  “Oh, no!” Vanessa giggled. “It’s a good thing Hugo and Val didn’t fall in love and get married. They’re both so into business and accounting, they’d breed a whole tribe of bean counters.”

  Patsy gave an exaggerated wince. “They’d name them Lima and Chili.”

  “Those beans have some class. I was thinking more along the line of Jelly—can’t you see it now?” Vanessa spread her hands in the air like she was holding up a banner. “Jelly Dinnit.”

  Patsy gave her a mock look of hurt and rubbed her still-flat tummy. “How could you say such a thing? I planned for something more affectionate. . .Sugar. Sugar Dinnit.”

  “I just finished lunch, but this is making me hungry!”

  “I saw you go into Ruffino’s with that gorgeous hunk. Who is he? He was at church last week too. You work fast, Girl!”

  “He’s just a friend. We met my family there. I sold him a dog, and he’s taking obedience training.”

  “He is, or the dog?” Patsy gave her an impish wink.

  Vanessa waggled her forefinger at Patsy. “Your husband is going to have his hands full if this baby is half as spunky as you are.”

  “You’re calling me spunky? Ha! Now you—your kids are going to be balls of fire.”

  “Predictions like that are enough to make me stay a spinster.”

  “Not a chance. That guy—you and he are going to be an item. I can feel it in my bones. Mark my words: In a few months, you’re going to be gliding down the aisle.”

  “Me? Glide? Only if I were on a skateboard. You’re mixing me up with Val. She’ll glide, for sure. If you see me going down the aisle, it’ll be in a bridesmaid’s gown.”

  “Nope. You’re not going to dissuade me. It’s my vision, and the groom was that fine-looking man you sat next to in church.”

  “You know. . .” Vanessa tapped her cheek and looked at the ceiling, as if lost in important thoughts. “I seem to recall prophets who are wrong are put to death. You’re so wrong about any entanglement there, it’s downright dangerous.”

  Patsy giggled and dug through her purse for the picture of the ultrasound. “Look at this. This is a miracle.”

  Vanessa turned it around and looked at the wedge-shaped picture. “Amazing. Just amazing. Look! I can make out his profile! Is it a him or a her?”

  “We told them not to tell us. It’s so delicious, just knowing we’re having a baby. I like leaving that secret in God’s hands until He puts this baby in ours.”

  “Oh, yes. Like Psalm 139 talks about Him creating us in our mother’s womb. I’m so thrilled for you. What a blessing.”

  Patsy agreed and carefully tucked away the ultrasound picture. She smiled. “That is my blessing and good news. I’m standing by what I said earlier, though. Go ahead and call it dangerous thinking, but I’m sure you and that guy are going to be an item.”

  Patsy left, and Vanessa looked down at Amber. “Dangerous. Even thinking Nathan could ever change and find me attractive is so far from possible, I’d be a fool to waste my time considering it.” She turned and saw her reflection in the shopwindow. Am I looking at a fool?

  ❧

  The alarm clock went off, and Nathan groaned. He’d been lying awake for the last twenty minutes, hoping the rain would stop. Instead, it kept falling. If anything at all, it seemed to be intensifying. There was no way they could go to the tide pools in this kind of weather. Reluctantly, he picked up the phone and dialed.

  “ ’Lo?”

  “Hey, Sleepyhead, it’s raining.”

  “You woke me up to give a weather report?”

  “We won’t be able to go to the tide pools.” He sat up and stacked several coins on his bedside table. Jeff would come in and swipe them. He loved to plink the dimes, nickels, and pennies into the enormous, multicolored plastic dinosaur-egg bank in the corner of his bedroom.

  “Nathan Adams,” Vanessa moaned over the phone, “
you are rotten to the core. Cruel. Mean. There probably isn’t a person on the face of the earth more vile than you.” Her bed squeaked, and her blankets made a loud ruffling noise, tattling that she’d rolled over.

  He smiled at how zany, impulsive Van could be so predictable about this one particular aspect of life. She’d been more than honest when she confessed she wasn’t a morning person. “Need another minute to wake up?”

  “Wake up? Why?” She yawned. “I’m going right back to sleep as soon as I tell you how barbaric you are to dare calling me at this ridiculous hour.”

  “Come on, Van. You can’t be mad.”

  She yawned again—a long, luxurious, stretched sound that let him know she could easily shut her eyes and coast right back off.

  “You were going to wake up now, anyway,” he wheedled shamelessly.

  “Not really. I had it all planned out. I’d get dressed, sleep in your car, and sleepwalk on the beach. Amber would rescue me if I accidentally walked into the surf.”

  “Don’t forget that plan. We’ll put it into play some other day.” Nathan swept the quarters into the jar beside his bed for the once-a-month pilgrimage he and Jeff took to an arcade. The arcade! His heart galloped in anticipation. He’d come up with a great substitute for them. “I have an alternative plan for the day.”

  “It better start with, ‘Van, sleep in ’til noon.’ ”

  “Eight.”

  “Eleven.” Her voice still sounded husky with sleep.

  “Nine, and you still get hot chocolate.”

  Vanessa muttered something unintelligible and hung up the phone.

  “Dad?” Jeff stood in the doorway, curling his toes on the cold, hardwood floor. “You promised we’d go to the tide pools again to see the sea creatures today.”

  Nathan opened his arms, and Jeff scampered across the room and launched into a hug. Nathan held his son, rubbed his bristly cheek in Jeff’s sleep-mussed hair, and growled like a bear.

  Jeff giggled and wrapped his arms as far around Nathan’s chest as they’d reach. He paused a second, then asked in a sad tone, “Papa Bear, what’re we gonna do? Vanessa and Amber wanted to go to the beach with us.”

  “I know you’re disappointed, but I have a plan. . . .”

  Seventeen

  “It’s rain-ing, it’s pour-ing, the old man is snor-ing.”

  Vanessa stared at Nathan and Jeff as they stood on her doorstep. She yanked them through her door. “Are the two of you crazy? Standing in the rain, singing. . .”

  She paused, then huffed, “Without me? Seriously. I’m hurt.”

  Nathan closed his huge black-and-gray-striped golf umbrella with a loud snap. Jeff continued to sing as water dripped off his bright yellow slicker. He fiddled with one of the fasteners. “ ’Nessa, d’you know that song?”

  “Yep. Val and I used to sing it when we were little. I forgot all about it.” She looked at Nathan and frowned. A water-splattered plastic grocery bag hung from the crook of his elbow. “What is that?”

  “Your hot chocolate, Madame.” He opened the bag and pulled out a carton of chocolate milk with a flourish.

  “Nathan, I hate to break it to you, but that isn’t hot.”

  He gave her a supercilious look. “Not yet, it isn’t. My faithful sidekick, Master Jeffrey, will assist me in the delicate operation of preparing it for you.” He helped Jeff peel out of his slicker and cleared his throat. “Come along, young man. We have serious work to do.”

  “Oh, boy. This I’ve gotta see.” Vanessa tagged along behind them as they headed into her kitchen.

  “Pop fly!” Nathan picked up his son and sat him on the kitchen counter.

  “Pop fly?” Vanessa echoed. “How’d you come up with that saying?”

  “It’s from baseball, Silly,” Jeff said.

  “And I’m his pop, and I made him fly.” Nathan opened a cupboard, shook his head, and shut it.

  Vanessa didn’t say a word. She backed against the counter on the far side of the kitchen so she’d be out of the way and still have a bird’s-eye view of the goings-on. Nathan opened the next cupboard and shot her a quick look over his shoulder. “Wow, this is impressive. Even if we hadn’t tasted some of your goodies already, all of this junk in here tells me you make more than just cupcakes on a pretty regular basis.”

  She shrugged. “I like to bake.”

  “I like to eat!” Jeff gave her a greedy smile.

  Nathan’s smile matched it perfectly. “Me, too! Especially your stuff. We’re willing to sacrifice our taste buds and stomachs to the cause anytime.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The third cupboard held the coffee mugs Nathan wanted. He pulled out the first one with a wave worthy of a game-show host. “Ta da!”

  “You didn’t have to search. I could have just told you where they were.”

  “Oh, but this is an adventure, and Master Jeffrey and I are sleuths.”

  “I hate to break the news, but sleuths are for mysteries, not adventures.”

  Vanessa watched Nathan get out more mugs and unbutton the sleeves of his tan-and-green plaid flannel shirt. He methodi-cally rolled up those sleeves, revealing muscular forearms. He then did the same thing to the sleeves on Jeff’s little blue denim shirt. He made quite a production of it, as if they were about to make a seven-course gourmet meal instead of heat up chocolate milk. Vanessa couldn’t decide whether the show was for her or for Jeff. Either way, she enjoyed every last second.

  Nathan scrounged up a saucepan, set it on the range, then ordered, “Son, find a spoon. I’ll need to stir this.”

  Jeff turned onto his belly on the counter, reached over the edge, and jerked open the drawer. The silverware in it jangled. “Dad, do you want a big spoon or a little spoon?”

  “A little one,” Nathan said as he wrestled with the milk carton. It didn’t open neatly. Instead, the waxed cardboard wouldn’t separate, so he scowled at the carton as if his dark look would make it cooperate.

  Vanessa watched the whole process with nothing short of delight. I would have gotten up at six for this show. This is a riot.

  Nathan gave up on the first side of the milk carton and attacked the other side. It yielded.

  Probably out of fear.

  He poured the chocolate milk into the saucepan and dumped the mangled carton into the trash with more emphasis than the poor thing deserved. When Nathan turned back around, he gave Jeff a blank stare. “What is that?”

  “A little spoon.”

  Vanessa bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as Jeff held out the quarter teaspoon from a set of measuring spoons that had gotten separated.

  “When we look in my toolbox, you know how I have the great big mallet, and I have the regular hammers, then I have that skinny, little finishing hammer?”

  “Dad, you’re not going to stir the hot chocolate with a hammer, are you?”

  Vanessa started laughing.

  Nathan shot her a disgruntled look, then suddenly perked up. “Yes, Sport, I am. See?” He took two strides, came close enough to Vanessa for her to inhale his expensive, spicy aftershave, and reached around her. He snagged her meat-tenderizing mallet and nodded. Holding it high, he declared, “Always be sure to use the right tool for the job, Jeff.”

  Humor mingled with disbelief as Vanessa watched Nathan hold on to the business end of the mallet, dunk the handle into the saucepan, and proceed to stir. She had to give him credit. He’d managed to recover pretty smoothly.

  “Dad, what am I s’posed to do with this little spoon?”

  “Yeah, Nathan,” she chimed in. “What’s that bitsy spoon for?”

  “That is. . .” He paused for a split second. “The tasting spoon. Yes, the tasting spoon. Whoever holds the tasting spoon has the important job of deciding when the hot chocolate is ready.”

  Vanessa dug out three mismatched party napkins from the pantry and put them on the table. Soon Nathan set the cups of steaming cocoa on the table. He dumped a telephone book onto
a chair to act as a booster seat for Jeff, and they were ready. The rich scent of hot chocolate filled the air, and Vanessa curled her fingers around the mug. She stopped short when Jeff drummed his fingers on the table.

  “Aren’t we gonna say a prayer?”

  ❧

  Nathan froze. He hadn’t seen that coming, but he should have. Vanessa always took a moment to pray. For the past two Sundays, her father had prayed over the lunches. A man should be the spiritual head of the home. . .the adage went through his mind. It’s not my home, he tried to reason, but that excuse sounded pathetic. There had once been a time when speaking to the Lord came so naturally, so freely. Now here he sat, mute.

  “When I was a little girl,” Vanessa said to Jeff, “I learned some prayers. Maybe you’d like to learn one of them. You can say the words after me.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Nathan breathed a silent sigh of relief. Listening to Jeff’s pure voice repeat each phrase after Vanessa did something odd to Nathan. Evie would have wanted this. She wanted our son to grow up in the Lord. She wanted me to fall in love again and live a full life. How many times did she tell me that? I didn’t believe her. I refused to listen because I couldn’t bear to think of going on without her—but I have. I’ve had to, mostly for Jeff. But now I want to for me. Thank you, Evie, for being so sweet to give me your blessing to move on. Had you known Vanessa, you would have been good friends.

  In those moments, Nathan sensed a momentous shift. He had a past, but he wanted a future. For five long years, he’d not looked ahead. Now he saw a bridge in the guise of a simple child’s prayer.

  Am I using God and religion as a way of making it acceptable to court and love Vanessa? I’ve done nothing but shake my fist in God’s face for five years. Now, suddenly, I’m going to do this turnabout? How convenient is that? Is this a matter of my heart or of my soul?