“Laurel.” With a grin that made his blue eyes sparkle, Wes reached for her arm. “He’s your father. It’s fine.”
Her gaze darted to the older man, uncertainty still lingering. “Would you—?”
“Rae and I will be happy to join you.”
She couldn’t help smiling. It seemed Wes knew her too well.
She caught up to her father. “Jimmy?”
He turned.
“Would you like to—”
His face suddenly went ashen, his expression going blank.
She stretched out a hand, attempting to reach for him. “Jimmy, are you o—”
But before she could get the words out, he collapsed.
“Jimmy!” She dropped to her knees.
“What happened?” Wes was at her side, rolling the man onto his back.
“I don’t know. The color drained from his face, then he went down.” She gasped when she saw the blood oozing from a gash on his forehead. God, please don’t let my father die now. I just found him. Please.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes as Wes checked Jimmy’s pulse.
“Jimmy?” He continued to evaluate the man. “Can you hear me?” He looked at Laurel. “Do you have a rag or anything else in the diaper bag we can use for the bleeding?”
Moving the strap off her shoulder, Laurel saw Rae looking on, bouncing a blessedly oblivious Sarah-Jane.
“The hospital is right up the street, if you need it,” said Rae. “It’d probably be quicker to take him than wait on an ambulance.”
Hospital? Ambulance? Laurel hastily unzipped the main compartment of her bag and dug through it until she came up with an old cloth bib. “Here.” She thrust it toward Wes as her father began to rouse. “Thank You, God.” She fell back on her flip-flop-covered heels, grateful for Wes’s combat service. She could trust him to take care of her father just as well as any EMT.
“Jimmy?” Wes waited for the man to make eye contact. “I’m going to help you into my truck and take you to the hospital, all right?”
Thankfully, her father nodded his agreement.
Minutes later, Wes, Jimmy and Laurel were on their way to the hospital, while Rae took Sarah-Jane home in Laurel’s SUV. Laurel sat in the back seat with Jimmy, holding the bib to his forehead and praying like never before. She couldn’t lose him. Not with everything she’d learned today. He loved her, and he’d always wanted her. She squeezed her eyes shut. God, please.
When they arrived at the emergency room, the aides put Jimmy on a gurney and promptly whisked him away.
“Are you all related to this man?” A young woman wearing bright pink scrubs looked from Laurel to Wes and back again.
“He’s my father,” Laurel managed to eke out.
Fearful, she collapsed into a nearby chair, the antiseptic smells threatening to overwhelm her. Wes joined her, reaching for her hand. Strange how she was so used to taking care of herself, and yet tonight, she appreciated Wes’s take-charge attitude. And the strength of his touch was what she needed right now.
After what felt like an eternity, Laurel and Wes were accompanied to her father’s exam room, where the doctor informed them that it was likely Jimmy’s elevated blood pressure that caused him to black out.
“Coupled with the head wound, I’d like to go ahead and keep him overnight for observation,” the doctor continued.
The news came as a relief to Laurel. The thought of her father going back to a hotel room all alone made her nervous.
She and Wes remained at the hospital until her father was settled into his room. Then they bade him good-night with a promise from Laurel that she’d be by in the morning.
Once back at Laurel’s place, they relayed all of the information to Rae, then she excused herself and went on out to Wes’s truck.
Alone, Laurel reached for Wes’s hand. “Thank you for staying with me. Without you, I’m pretty sure I would have fallen apart.”
“Nah, you’re a strong woman.”
“I like to think so, but not tonight. You were my rock.”
His gaze searched hers for the longest time, and she thought—perhaps even hoped—that he was going to kiss her. Instead, he took a step back and said, “Rae’s waiting on me.”
Turning away, she cleared her throat, doing her best to ignore the disappointment sifting through her. “Yes, you should go.” Because while she’d allowed herself to get caught up in the moment, thinking Wes might actually be interested in her romantically, she now realized that wasn’t the case. She and Wes were friends and nothing more. And, somehow, Laurel would have to find a way to live with that.
Chapter Fourteen
After all that scolding Wes had done yesterday, reminding himself why he should stay away from Laurel, he’d almost kissed her. What had gotten into him?
Laurel had. She’d gotten to him in a way no other woman ever had. Every time they were together, he found himself wanting things he couldn’t have. Things he didn’t deserve.
His frustration was still in full force when he pulled up to the church Saturday morning, and he found himself wondering why he’d even agreed to attend the men’s prayer breakfast. Yes, he was heading into the mission field, but he wasn’t your average missionary. He was a hands-on worker-bee kind of guy, which was why Servant’s Heart had hired him to manage their shelter construction program. He not only loved what he did, he was good at it. But standing in front of a bunch of strangers and talking about his faith wasn’t his style.
Yet, despite his misgivings, he still found himself in the church’s fellowship hall, gathered around a long table with several men he didn’t know. His belly full of some of the finest breakfast tacos he’d ever had, he talked about his upcoming venture. At least they hadn’t asked him to stand.
“From what I hear, the entire country of Iraq was left in ruins.” An older gentleman who looked every bit a rancher with tanned skin and a full head of white hair gripped a foam coffee cup opposite Wes.
“You may be right, sir.” Under the glow of bright white LED lights, he continued, “I can personally attest to the fact that the war in Iraq destroyed many homes, neighborhoods and villages. Our rebuilding efforts are a way of showing Christ’s love to the Iraqi people in a tangible manner.”
The same man lifted a brow. “Did you serve in Iraq?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which branch of the service were you in?” a man about Wes’s age piped up at the far end of the table.
“Navy.”
“My grandson is in the navy.” Another older gentleman smiled proudly.
“How long were you in?” the stocky fellow next to Wes asked.
“I was a Seabee for twenty years before retiring a couple of years ago.”
“You must have joined quite young, then.” The pastor watched him curiously.
“Right out of high school.”
Eyeing the round black clock on the wall, the pastor said, “Fellas, this has been a great discussion.” He faced Wes. “Wes, we’ll keep you in our prayers. And, if you have an opportunity, drop us an email and let us know how things are going and how we can specifically pray for you during your time in Iraq.”
Given the state of his attitude when he’d walked into the church earlier, Wes was humbled. “I will do that, sir. Thank you.”
After the pastor closed with a word of prayer, chairs scraped across the linoleum floor as the men stood, gathering their trash. Most paused to shake Wes’s hand and thank him for his service on their way out the door.
“I’ll have to add my thanks once again.” With everyone else gone, the pastor gathered the sugar, creamer and a stack of foam cups from beside the coffeepot that sat on a small table set off to one side. “I know that was short notice, so I appreciate you taking the time to come.”
Wes grabbed the empty box that once held the tacos and the part
ial box of doughnuts and followed the pastor into the kitchen. “I’ll admit that I was a little apprehensive at first. But I actually enjoyed it.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” The older man deposited his armload on the long center island, and Wes did the same. “So, what made you decide to become a Seabee?”
To atone for my parents’ deaths was the first thing that came to Wes’s mind.
“I knew I wanted to serve in the military. When I went to see the recruiter, he talked about the Seabees, and I got really pumped. I had no idea there was such a thing. My dad and I used to build things all the time and I really enjoyed it, so it seemed like a natural fit.” He lifted a shoulder. “Besides, I needed to give Rae her life back.”
When the pastor sent him a confused look, Wes went on. “Our parents died when I was still in high school. Rae put college on hold to finish raising me. Something I know I didn’t deserve.”
“Why do you say that?”
Contemplating the man beside him, Wes found himself in a quandary. He could easily come up with some offhanded remark about being a teenager that might appease the guy’s curiosity, or he could tell him the truth.
Not so different from the dilemma Laurel had faced last Sunday when she introduced Wes as Rae’s brother. Her half-truth had not only hurt Wes, it had left her riddled with guilt. And guilt was something Wes was all too acquainted with.
Resting a hand atop the counter, he said, “I’m the reason my parents are dead.” His words were blunt, he knew that, yet Pastor Kleinschmidt didn’t even flinch.
Eyed narrowed, the pastor studied him. “You really believe that?”
“I do.”
Lines formed on the man’s brow as he continued to watch Wes. “How did they die?”
“Car crash.”
“Were you driving?”
“No.”
“Then how could it be your fault?”
“Because they were coming to pick me up from camp.” Crossing his arms, he drew in a long breath and leaned his backside against the counter. “I was sixteen. Me and this other kid had gotten into a fight, so they called our parents to come and get us.” He found himself staring at the dropped ceiling, unable to look the pastor in the eye. “It was raining really hard that night. They shouldn’t have been out on the roads. But they were. Because of me.” Mustering his courage, he met the pastor’s concerned gaze. “Just another in a long line of bad choices I’ve made in my life. Except the impact of that one was far-reaching.”
The pastor remained silent for a moment, as though searching for the right words. “Wes, the Bible says, ‘When I was a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.’ As a sixteen-year-old boy, you convinced yourself that you alone were responsible for your parents’ deaths, when nothing could be further from the truth.”
Wes struggled to grasp what the pastor was trying to say. If he hadn’t gotten into that fight, his parents wouldn’t have been out in that storm. Dad wouldn’t have lost control of the car.
“Did you cause the storm that night, Wes?”
“Of course, not. Only God can do that.”
“That’s right.” The pastor’s lips tilted into a half smile as he leaned against the opposite counter. “Wes, sometimes God allows things to happen that our feeble minds simply cannot understand. But God is still in control. And He has a plan and purpose for each of us.”
Wes let the pastor’s words rumble around his brain for a minute. “I understand what you’re saying up here.” He tapped the side of his head. “It’s in here—” he pointed to his heart “—where I struggle.”
“You can’t make sense of your parents’ deaths, so it’s easier to blame yourself.”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Then how about, instead of blaming yourself, you choose to trust that God was in control that night your parents died? That He still has a plan for you. And that Sarah-Jane, perhaps even Laurel, are part of that plan.”
Why would he mention Laurel? Did the pastor know, could he see, how Wes felt about her? “It sounds too simple.”
“Trusting means letting go, Wes. And I don’t know about you, but for me, letting go is never easy.”
When I became a man, I put away childish things. Could he really do it? Could he let go of the belief that he’d caused his parents’ deaths? After all these years.
God, I want to believe You’re in control. Help me. Please.
He eyed the man across from him. “Pastor, will you pray with me?”
“I’d be happy to, Wes.”
There was nothing special in the pastor’s prayer. No big words, nothing fancy. Yet when Wes walked out of the church twenty minutes later, he felt lighter. It was as though the burden of his past, the one that had weighed him down for so many years, had been lifted from his shoulders. And as thoughts of Sarah-Jane and Laurel sifted into his mind, he began to wonder if, maybe, he might be worthy of a family, after all.
* * *
“I’ve put the paint for each room in that particular room.” With Sarah-Jane in one arm and Paisley at her side, Laurel moved from Irma’s entry hall into the bedroom Saturday morning, pointing toward the cans near the window. “Rollers, trays and drop cloths are in the family room, along with that blue painter’s tape, if you need it.”
“Darlin’, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Even in paint clothes, which consisted of torn jeans, a tailored T-shirt and canvas sneakers, Paisley looked like a fashionista. “I’ve painted more rooms in my lifetime than many professionals.”
“Paisley, I really appreciate you helping me out like this.” Laurel was supposed to meet her friend and a couple of other women from the church to do the painting at Irma’s today. But with Laurel’s father in the hospital, she’d asked Paisley if she could take charge of the task in her stead.
“Look, it’s not every day a girl finds her long-lost father.” Her friend draped an arm around Laurel’s shoulder and gave her a sideways hug. “He needs you, so I’m happy to help.”
Laurel wasn’t sure what she’d done to deserve such wonderful friends, but she was blessed to have them.
After going over everything, she loaded Sarah-Jane into her car seat and drove across town toward the hospital.
Glimpsing her daughter in the rearview mirror, she said, “How do you like that, Sarah-Jane? Only a few weeks ago, it was just us. Now you have a daddy and a grandpa.” Not to mention Rae. Tears attempted to blur her vision, though she managed to thwart them. “You have a family, baby.” And so did Laurel. After all these years of thinking he’d rejected her, she had a father.
Lord, please don’t take him too soon. She wanted the opportunity to get to know Jimmy and make memories.
Under a cloudless sky, she continued on to the hospital. Since all indications were that Jimmy would be discharged today, she wanted to be there to take him back to his hotel to rest, and maybe spend a little time with him until she knew he was settled. Even if he wasn’t discharged, she wanted to be there for him. Being in the hospital alone was just plain sad. Fortunately, when she’d had Sarah-Jane, she’d almost never been alone. It seemed either Rae, Christa or Paisley was always there with her, keeping her company, bringing her coffee, pastries and a big ol’ basket full of snacks for her and booties, onesies, wipes and pacifiers for Sarah-Jane.
After parking, Laurel retrieved her daughter from the back seat. “Let’s go see your grandpa.” She supposed she’d have to ask him what he preferred to be called. Grandpa, Pawpaw, Granddaddy...
Holding Sarah-Jane, she made her way across the parking lot and through the automatic double doors at the front of the hospital, then continued down a series of hallways until she came to his room.
“Good morn—” She stopped just inside the doorway. The room was empty. Not only that, the light was off, and the adjustable bed was stripped, as th
ough her father had never been there.
A nurse breezed past the door just then.
“Excuse me.” Laurel stepped back into the hall.
The woman sporting short, slightly graying hair did a quick about-face. “Oh, hey, Laurel.”
“Ginny, hey. It’s good to see you.”
“Look at this baby.” Ginny, someone Laurel was acquainted with from church, cooed at Sarah-Jane. “She gets cuter every time I see her.” Her attention returned to Laurel. “Is she walking yet?”
“Barely, but yes.” She shifted Sarah-Jane to her other arm as an aide swept by, pushing a blood pressure cart. “Um, they moved my father, Jimmy Donovan, into this room last night. Can you tell me where he is now?”
“I didn’t know he was your father.” Ginny palmed her forehead. “Silly me, I didn’t even make the connection. He was discharged a couple of hours ago.”
“Discharged?” Laurel’s heart squeezed. “Did someone pick him up?”
“I don’t recall seeing anyone, unless they picked him up out front. Would you like me to see who escorted him out? Perhaps they could tell you more.”
Who just walks out of a hospital? And why wouldn’t he have called her? Or even waited, since she’d told him she’d see him in the morning. Unless he didn’t want to see her.
“No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you, Ginny.”
The early May sun had turned hot by the time Laurel made it back to her vehicle. Sweat beaded her forehead. Maybe Jimmy had had someone drive him to get his truck. Then again, it wasn’t like Bliss had any taxis. Still, he could have asked someone for a ride. Someone who wasn’t his daughter.
She again loaded Sarah-Jane into her car seat. “I’m sorry, baby, but we need to find your grandfather.”
A few minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of La Familia. Jimmy’s truck was no longer there.
The familiar ache of rejection threatened to overwhelm her. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and her throat tightened. He was gone. Without even saying goodbye.
Sucking in a deep breath, she continued over to the Bliss Inn, where she finally spotted his big white pickup truck, though her relief was merely replaced by angst.
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