She pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of the ’50s-era single-story motel that had recently been renovated and eased into the space beside his truck, which was parked right in front of his door. With her vehicle still running, she said, “I’ll be right back, Sarah-Jane.” She locked the doors via the keypad on the driver’s door before marching to Jimmy’s door a few feet away.
She knocked three times and waited long enough to feel the heat rising off the asphalt. Was he even in there? What if something had happened? What if he’d passed out again?
Noting the window boxes filled with red and purple petunias, she gave three more emphatic knocks. “Jimmy?”
Panic and grief battled for her attention. But after a few minutes, she realized she’d done all she could.
Slowly, she started for her SUV, but she stopped when she heard something behind her.
“Laurel?”
Turning, she saw Jimmy standing in the doorway, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He ran a hand through his disheveled gray hair.
“I’m sorry, Laurel. I was asleep.”
As much as she hated that she’d woke him—“Why didn’t you let me know they released you? That you were coming back here?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I was sleep deprived. Those hospital folk were in and out of my room all night long, so as soon as they told me I could go, I did.”
After sneaking a peek at Sarah-Jane, Laurel crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you get to your truck?”
“I walked.”
If someone were to take her blood pressure right now, she was pretty sure it’d be off the charts.
With the hum of her car’s engine echoing around her, she lowered her arms and stepped toward him. “You walked? After collapsing and hitting your head, you decided to walk. Seriously? Why didn’t you call me?”
“It was early, and I didn’t want to bother you. Especially after you were there so late last night.”
“Bother me? As if thinking you’d run out on me again didn’t bother me?” She knew she shouldn’t have said it, but it was out there now.
He looked distressed. “Oh, Laurel, I never expected you’d feel that way. I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“Well, you did. So, obviously we’re going to have to set some ground rules here.”
Still standing on the carpet just inside the door, he shifted from one bare foot to the next. “Ground rules? Does this mean you’re willing to have a relationship with me?”
A sense of relief washed over her. “You’re my dad. Of course I want a relationship. I also want to know all about this congestive heart failure thing. Because now that I’ve found you, I plan to do everything in my power to see to it you’re around for as long as possible.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wes found himself looking out of Irma’s front windows more frequently Monday morning, anticipating Laurel’s arrival. Aside from the fact that they’d be finishing the painting in the family room and laying the tile in the bathroom, he wanted to see Laurel. To be with her, talk to her, see her beautiful smile. All too soon, he wouldn’t have that luxury for twelve long months. And he wanted to know everything about her, the same way she wanted to know about Jimmy.
Her father had felt good enough to accompany them to church yesterday, then they’d all gone to Laurel’s along with Rae for a lunch of smoked brisket, beans, coleslaw and potato salad from a local barbecue joint. The whole lot of them had spent the entire afternoon talking and playing with Sarah-Jane, reminding Wes of when he was a kid and he, Rae and their parents would go off on adventures or simply hang out.
Strange that he hadn’t thought about that in years. With his parents gone, it was too painful. Now, he suddenly found himself longing for more days like that—days with Laurel and Sarah-Jane. But as the pastor had said, Wes would have to trust God’s plan. He just wished that plan didn’t involve him moving to the other side of the world.
Perhaps he should contact Eddie. Tell him what was going on. Maybe something else could be arranged.
No. Wes had made a commitment. Not only to his friend, but he’d signed a contract with the organization. Even if they could place him somewhere else, it wouldn’t be in Bliss.
Returning to the family room, he picked up the roller he’d attached to an extension pole, dipped it into the five-gallon bucket that held the bright white paint and started his second coat on the ceiling. Paisley and the other ladies had made a big dent in the painting Saturday, finishing Irma’s bedroom as well as the upstairs bath. Today he and Laurel would knock out the family room, allowing them to start moving stuff back into the space tomorrow.
Okay, so it was Laurel who was supposed to do the painting while he tackled the tile upstairs. But how could he talk with her if she was down here and he was up there? And if he helped her, this room would be finished faster, then, maybe, she could assist him with the tile, or at least keep him company.
It was strange how quickly his thoughts on a relationship with Laurel had changed. No longer was he fighting the feelings that always seemed to be there, no matter how much he tried to ignore them, which made him glad he’d opened up to Pastor Kleinschmidt. Even if it had been inadvertently, the man had hit the nail on the head. Wes couldn’t make sense of what happened to his parents, so he blamed himself and did whatever he could to atone for his actions.
The front door opened then, and a wave of expectation swelled within him.
“Wes?” Just the sound of Laurel’s voice made him smile.
“In here.”
“Wow.” Clad in denim shorts and a T-shirt, she stared at the ceiling. “That thing must have been really dingy, because it’s so much brighter in here already.”
He lowered the pole. “It had definitely yellowed with time.”
She watched as he loaded more paint onto the roller. “Can I do some?”
“I’ve been trying to get this done so you can tackle the walls.”
“I know.” Her grin turned silly. “But this looks like fun.”
“Fun?” He passed the pole to her. “In that case, be my guest.”
Her gray-green eyes sparkled with mirth, like a child trying something new.
“Be sure to take off the excess paint.”
She did as he instructed, then lifted the pole over her head and began moving the roller forward then back.
“Careful not to apply too much—”
A blot of paint dripped from the roller just then, hitting her on the cheek.
“Oh!” She promptly lowered the pole, which he intercepted, directing it back into the bucket.
“Pressure.” He bit back a chuckle.
“Now you tell me.” Laughing, she wiped a finger over the paint, but only succeeded in spreading it across her face.
“Let me help you.” He pulled a rag from his back pocket. “At least it didn’t get in your hair or your eyes.” Taking a step closer, he cupped her chin in one hand and began wiping her cheek with the other.
“They don’t call me Grace for nothing.” She puffed out a chortle but went still when her eyes met his.
He liked that she could laugh at herself. However, the sweet fragrance of her shampoo had his heart thundering against his ribs. Or, perhaps, it was their proximity. All he had to do was lower his head and their lips would meet. The taste of her kiss had lived in his memory for the past two years. What would she do if he kissed her now? Would she kiss him back or turn away?
“Laurel, I—”
A knock at the door had her stepping away. And the sudden pink in her cheeks left him wondering what was going through her head. Was she embarrassed or relieved?
“I’ll get that.” His voice sounded unusually raspy. Clearing his throat, he handed her the rag before making his way through the entry hall. Opening the door, he saw Laurel’s father standing on the porch.
“Jimmy, come on in.”
“I know you’re busy, Wes, and I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I need to talk to Laurel.”
She was already approaching. “What is it? Are you okay?” Panic laced her tone, and after what happened Friday, Wes couldn’t blame her.
“Everything is fine, Laurel. But something’s come up and I need to get back to Midland right away. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, though.”
Her expression went flat. “But I thought you were going to stay for a few more days?”
“I did, too, but there’s a problem with one of my rigs, and I need to be there to address it. I promise, I’ll come back to Bliss just as soon as I can. Maybe this weekend.”
“What about your heart, though? All that traveling can’t be good for you.”
“I’ll be fine.” Closing the short span between them, Jimmy rested his hands on her shoulders. “I promise I’ll pull over if anything seems amiss.”
Laurel searched the man’s green eyes for a moment, then took a step back, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Drive safe.”
“I will. You’ve got my number. Don’t hesitate to call. If you need me, if you just want to talk.” He paused a moment before adding, “I love you, Laurel.”
Her quick nod said everything Wes needed to know. She hadn’t just pulled away from her father physically, she’d pulled away emotionally, afraid of being let down again.
Jimmy turned his attention to Wes then and held out a hand. “It’s been nice to meet you, Wes. If I don’t see you before you leave, you take care of yourself.”
“You, too, Jimmy.”
Still hugging herself, Laurel made her way back into the family room the moment Jimmy closed the door.
Wes wished he could make her see that goodbye didn’t mean forever. That what happened all those years ago with her parents was not the norm.
Except it was her norm. And now learning that her grandmother had manipulated the whole thing—tearing Laurel’s family apart—had, in some ways, made things even worse.
Longing to comfort her, he followed her into the other room and found her staring out the window.
She must have heard him, because she said, “What if he doesn’t come back?”
“He said he would.” Moving across the canvas tarp, he stopped behind her. “And, if you’ll recall, even the circumstances of him leaving the first time weren’t as you believed.”
“I know.” In her head she might know, but had her heart had time to embrace the truth? “What if something happens to him?” She faced him now, and Wes saw the worry marring her brow. “You were there when he collapsed. What if that happens again?”
He let go a sigh. “We’ll just have to pray and trust that God will bring him safely back to you.”
“I don’t know if he should be traveling so much. I mean, in his condition.”
“He wants to be with you, Laurel.” And Wes certainly couldn’t fault him for that. “He wants to make up for all the time he missed.”
She peered up at him, unshed tears shimmering in her pretty eyes. “I’m scared, Wes.” Her bottom lip quivered.
Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin and holding her close as she cried.
Lord, please, bring Laurel’s father back soon. Help her see that she is loved. Wanted. And not only by her father. Wes loved Laurel, too. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to build a life and a family with her. He wanted to protect her and shower her with all the love she deserved.
But all too soon, he would be leaving, too, which made convincing her his biggest challenge ever.
* * *
By Tuesday evening, Irma’s place was finally starting to look like a home again. Paisley, the pastor’s wife, Drenda, and a couple more ladies from the church had come by earlier to help Laurel with general cleanup and to put Irma’s new bedroom together.
Since the wooden floor was still in good shape, they’d opted to add a large gray-and-white rug that encompassed the area under and around the antique bed—taking care to secure all of the edges—so Irma would have something soft to put her feet on when she got out of bed each morning. Then the sheer white curtains that covered the floor-to-ceiling windows were washed and rehung, while a couple of decorative shelves were added to one wall to display newly framed family photos, along with some trinkets Laurel had found shoved into one corner of the vintage oak dresser. Finally, they topped the room off with luxurious new bedding in a soothing pale cyan.
But what sent the room over the top and made it feel extra special was Irma’s wedding dress. A dress form in the corner to the left of the windows proudly displayed the simple white satin gown with a chapel-length train, so it was one of the first things you saw when you entered the room. Laurel could hardly wait to see Irma’s reaction.
Unfortunately, there was still much to do.
“Are you ready to see your daddy?” While the late-afternoon sun played peekaboo with the clouds, Laurel unhooked Sarah-Jane from her car seat in front of Irma’s. Knowing Wes would be working late, Laurel had picked her daughter up from the sitter’s then grabbed burgers, chicken nuggets and fries from Bubba’s so they could spend a little time together before Sarah-Jane went to bed. With all he’d done for Laurel, it was the least she could do.
She’d never forget the feel of his arms around her yesterday. The way he’d held her close, trying his best to console her as she broke down. Yet, despite all of the reassuring Wes had offered her just prior, those old feelings of rejection refused to be ignored. So it came as a pleasant surprise when Jimmy called her last night to let her know that he’d made it home safely.
Lifting her daughter from the back seat, Laurel saw Wes coming toward her.
“Need a little help?” He rounded her vehicle.
“You want to take your daughter or your dinner?” She closed the back door.
“Let me see that munchkin.” His tone was light and teasing as a smiling Sarah-Jane practically threw herself into his waiting arms. She was going to miss him when he left.
Laurel would, too.
Moving around to the passenger side, she grabbed the bag of food and the drink carrier and followed Wes inside.
“By the way, I finally took a look at the bedroom,” he said as they moved into the parlor. “You ladies really transformed that space.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Paisley and Drenda, but it did come together nicely. I just hope Irma likes it.”
They snaked their way through the parlor, past furniture and around boxes, until they reached the dining room table, where one end had been cleared.
“I’m sure she’ll love it.” Wes sat down in the high-backed chair at the head of the table with Sarah-Jane in his lap. “Are you ready for a French fry, Sarah-Jane?”
She happily clapped her hands as Laurel broke a couple into pieces and set them on a napkin in front of her daughter.
“Looks like we’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.” Laurel pulled out another bag of fries and passed them to Wes, along with his burger.
“Yeah, I sure hope all those guys who said they’d be here at eight show up. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’m going to get that tub back upstairs.”
She laughed. “It’s going to be strange not seeing it on the porch.”
“I’m sure the neighbors will be pleased to see it gone, though.”
Taking a seat beside Wes and her daughter, she cut Sarah-Jane’s chicken nuggets with a plastic knife. “I still can’t believe how quickly you got it done.”
“Well, I wasn’t juggling any other jobs.” The man was too modest.
“No, just your sister and a daughter whom you’d never met before. Not to mention having to deal with her sometimes difficult mother.”
He was about to take a bite of his burger but paus
ed. “You’re not difficult.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “Challenging sometimes, but not difficult.”
“Good.” She slid the chicken in front of Sarah-Jane. “You needed a challenge.”
When he’d finished chewing, he said, “From you, I welcome it.” The playfulness glimmering in his blue eyes had her heart racing the same way it had yesterday when he was wiping the paint off her cheek.
Time to change the subject.
“When do you think Irma will be able to move back in?” She took a sip of her vanilla milkshake.
“Depends how long it’s going to take you to get the rooms situated.”
“I’ve got several people helping me tomorrow, including the guys who are supposed to move the tub. I’m counting on them to get those bookshelves back into the family room. Along with the sofa.”
“If they’re here at eight, they should be able to have everything moved by noon.”
“That would be great. Then it’s just merchandising the place and finding a more practical spot for all of those boxes.” Picking up her burger, she motioned toward the parlor. “I definitely don’t want them lining the walls in the bedroom again.” She took a bite.
“What if I added some shelves in the closet?”
Once she’d finished chewing, she said, “You mean where there used to be more boxes?”
“Shelves would make better use of the space.”
“True. Do you have time?”
“Sure. It won’t take long. Worst case, I’ll do it Thursday.”
“Sounds like I’d better tell Irma she can move in Friday then.”
“What were you thinking before?”
She picked up a fry. “I was hoping for Thursday, but I think I’m going to need the extra time to get everything situated the way I envision it.”
“Friday it is, then.” He popped a fry into his mouth. “And then you and I could go on a date Friday night to celebrate.”
She felt her eyes widen. “A date?”
A Father's Promise Page 15
