02_Groom of Her Own (6 page)

“So you do still believe at least?”

She shrugged. She hadn’t thought about it in a long time. “Yes, I suppose so,” she said slowly. “I guess some of my Christian upbringing stuck. Deep inside I still believe the basics. I’m just not into the external trappings. No offense intended.”

“None taken,” he assured her easily. “After all, everyone is at a different place on the faith journey.”

“Well, I think maybe I’ve taken a few too many detours.”

He smiled. “So I assume you haven’t been to church for a while?”

“Except for Laura’s wedding, I haven’t been in a church in eighteen years. I don’t think I’m church material.”

“Why not?”

She toyed with her water glass. “Like I said, I think I’ve taken a few too many detours.”

“Sam, churches aren’t for saints. They’re for sinners. Perfect people wouldn’t need churches. If everyone in my congregation was perfect, I’d be out of a job. I like to think of a church as a kind of spiritual travel bureau that provides people with the maps they need to stay on course.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to smile. “That’s a nice analogy.”

“Only if it’s convincing.”

“You do have a point,” she acknowledged. “But we got off the subject You were telling me about your marriage.”

Brad’s face sobered. “There’s really no more to tell. Rachel’s been gone for six years now, and I still think of her every day. It’s hard to let go of someone who’s become so much a part of you.”

“But don’t you ever get lonely?” Sam asked.

“Only lately. For some reason I’ve suddenly started to notice the empty place in my life,” he said, surprising himself by his admission.

“Loneliness is the pits,” Sam agreed.

Brad looked at her in surprise. “Don’t tell me
you’re
lonely. I thought—” He stopped abruptly, embarrassed by his indiscretion, and his neck took on a ruddy color.

Sam smiled ruefully. “You thought I had plenty of male friends who were more than willing to warm my lonely bed on a cold night?” she said bluntly. Brad’s face flushed and he started to speak, but Sam held up her hand. “It’s okay. I have no one to blame but myself for creating that image. It’s what most people think, I suppose. Even Laura. But can I tell you something? Reports of my promiscuity have, to borrow a phrase from Mark Twain, been greatly exaggerated. I do go out a lot. We have a few drinks, dance a little, maybe go to dinner or a show, and then…well, I’m not saying that I haven’t been…physically close…to some of the men I dated, but I know when to pull back. And that’s long before we get to the bedroom door,” she said frankly.

Brad stared at the woman across from him, taken aback by her blunt honesty. But he was also curious. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

She frowned. “I don’t know,” she admitted slowly, as surprised as he was by the confession. “I usually try to create a ‘swinging single’ image, and now I’ve just blown it.”

“But why do you want people to think you live that kind of life-style?” he asked, puzzled.

Sam looked down, still frowning, and stirred her coffee. She’d never really analyzed it before. “I guess maybe because I don’t want anyone to know I’m lonely,” she said slowly. “I hate it when people feel sorry for me. It must be pride or something.”

“But you told me the truth,” he pointed out

“Yeah, I did,” she conceded. “And that was probably a mistake. Listen, do me a favor, will you?”

“What.”

“Don’t spread it around. I wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”

Brad chuckled. “Okay. I promise. But Sam…can I tell you something? I don’t think it was a mistake. I’m glad you told me.”

She looked at him, and the warmth and sincerity in his brown eyes filled her with a strange sense of optimism and hope. Those were feelings she hadn’t experienced for a long time, and impulsively she leaned forward and smiled.

“Can I tell
you
something?”

“Sure.”

“So am I.”

Chapter Three

S
am, there’s a Don Williams on 7335. Do you want to pick up?”

Sam looked over at Kelly, seated at the next desk, and nodded distractedly. Don Williams was a corporate customer who sent a lot of relocations her way, and she couldn’t afford to put him off, even if she was knee-deep in details on an especially tricky contract.

Sam propped the receiver on her shoulder so she could continue working on the contract while she spoke, and punched the appropriate button. “Hi, Don.”

“Hi, Sam. How’s it going?”

“Business is good. But it could always be better. Have you got a hot prospect for me?”

He laughed. “Never let it be said that Sam Reynolds beats around the bush. Sorry. Not this time.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask, you know,” she said with a smile. “So what can I do for you today?”

“Well, I have two corporate tickets to the symphony for tomorrow night that my wife and I aren’t going to be able to use, and I wondered if you’d be interested in them.”

“The symphony?” she repeated, her mind clicking into gear. Might be fun. She hadn’t been in a long time, and Powell Hall was such a beautiful place. But who in the world could she ask? Laura would enjoy it, but she was still on her honeymoon. Besides, she had Nick now, and Sam suspected her free time would be otherwise occupied for the immediate future. Sam mentally ran through her “black book,” which she had pared down considerably since Laura’s engagement, but came up blank. The few men she currently dated were more into sports than Schubert.

She opened her mouth to refuse, and then suddenly it hit her. Brad liked the symphony. She could ask him. It had been over a week since their house-hunting expedition and lunch, and this would give her a good excuse to call him. He’d been on her mind a lot these past few days. She liked being with him, and after all, he was the one who had suggested that they be friends. So a call wouldn’t be out of line. Would it?

“Sam? Are you still there?”

“Yes. Sorry. I was trying to think who I could ask. Actually, I have a friend who might really enjoy that. So yes, thanks, I’d love them.”

“Great! I’ll have them sent over by courier later today. Have fun.”

Sam hung up the phone thoughtfully. Brad might not even be available on such short notice. But she wouldn’t know until she asked, she thought resolutely. Sam flipped through her client address book, took a deep breath and dialed his number.

Brad reached for the phone to call Sam, then dropped his hand. It was the third time he’d gone through this routine while his neglected paperwork stared at him accusingly. This is ridiculous, he told himself in frustration. It was only a phone call. What was so hard about that? After all,
he
was the one who had suggested to Sam that they be friends.

He rose restlessly and walked over to the bookcase, pausing in front of Rachel’s picture. And there he found his answer. He felt guilty. For the first time since his wife’s death he was actually thinking about another woman. Okay, so it was just a friendship thing. In fact, he was the one who had set those parameters. Because, despite Sam’s revelation that she wasn’t quite as loose and free as he’d assumed, they were still very different. Too different for anything serious to develop. But this was nevertheless a first, safe step back into the social world.

Brad reached over and picked up Rachel’s picture. He knew she wouldn’t want him to be alone. And yet he felt somehow disloyal even thinking about another woman. As if in doing so he was negating the beauty of the relationship they’d shared. Which was foolish. He knew that intellectually. But how could he convince his heart that it was okay to move on?

And how could he let go? He had so many wonderful memories of his time with Rachel. Those memories had helped keep his loneliness at bay during the six difficult years since her death. The thought of letting go of them was frightening. Because maybe there wouldn’t be anything to take their place. And he had a depressing feeling that as difficult as it was to face loss, emotional emptiness would be even worse. But if he clung to those memories, to the past, he knew he was denying himself a future with someone new. As long as his heart was focused on memories, there would be no room for anything—or any-one—else.

Brad sighed and replaced the picture, leaving one hand resting on it lightly. There were no easy answers. Certainly none that he could come up with on his own. So he did what he often did in such situations—he closed his eyes and turned to the One he relied on for guidance.

Lord, he prayed silently, I need to find the courage to move on with my life. Help me to overcome the fear of risking a new relationship, to understand with my heart as well as my mind that without risk there is no growth. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that I’d like an earthly partner to share it with, if that’s Your will. I’m trying to take a first step by opening the door to friendship with Sam. She seems so in need of a friend, and I need to relearn how to relate to a woman socially. I think a friendship would benefit us both. But I can’t seem to let go of the past and move on. Please help me.

Brad opened his eyes and once more looked into Rachel’s face. I love you, he said in the silence of his heart. I always will. But I can’t live on memories anymore. What you and I had was special and unique and will always be ours. A new love won’t diminish what we shared. It, too, will be unique, just as ours was. No one can ever take your place, but I think there’s room in my life for someone else. And I need to find out.

Brad let his hand gently fall away from the picture, taking a deep breath as he did so. He felt better. And he also knew what he was going to do. He was going to call Sam.

With a determined look on his face, Brad strode toward the desk and reached for the phone—just as it started to ring. With a startled exclamation, he jerked his hand back, his heart jumping to his throat. Talk about strange timing, he thought, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. But it was even more strange when he recognized the voice on the other end.

“Sam?” he asked cautiously after the woman said his name questioningly.

“Yeah. Are you okay? You sound kind of…funny.” Sam was a little thrown by the odd tone in his voice. She wouldn’t exactly call it welcoming. Or pleased.

“You’re never going to believe this,” he said incredulously. “I was just reaching for the phone to call you!”

“You’re kidding!”

Brad sat down in his desk chair and shook his head. “No. It’s the truth. Talk about weird timing!”

That explained his strange tone, Sam thought with relief. At least it wasn’t because he was sorry she’d called. “That’s happened to me a few times,” she said. “It is pretty weird. But I don’t have any news on the house, if that’s what you were calling about. I think I have a really good idea of what you want, and until I find the right one I don’t want to waste your time.”

“I appreciate that.” No sense trying to explain the real reason for his call—especially since he wasn’t sure of it himself. All he knew was that he wanted to hear her voice. But he couldn’t very well say that. Better to let her think it was business. “So why were you calling, then?” he asked.

“Oh.” Suddenly she felt uncertain, and she stared unseeingly at the contract on her desk, her fingers playing nervously with the phone cord. She took a deep breath, trying to steady the staccato rhythm of her heart. “Well, a client of mine has tickets for the symphony tomorrow night, and he’s not going to be able to use them. He offered them to me, and I was wondering if…well, I know it’s short notice and all…but if you’re not busy, I thought…I thought maybe you might like to go.” She finished in a rush, then drew a shaky breath, unconsciously holding it while she waited for his response.

Brad’s eyes widened in surprise. Sam was asking him out! Okay, so it was only because she had free tickets and she knew he liked the symphony. Still, she could have asked someone else. But the symphony… He frowned. He hadn’t been there since the last time he’d gone to a concert with Rachel. It wouldn’t be easy to go back.

Brad hesitated uncertainly, knowing that if he accepted the invitation he would be bittersweetly reminded of the happy hours he’d spent there with Rachel. But what about his resolve to let go of the past and move on? he asked himself. This was his chance to implement that resolution. Only it was a lot harder to do than he expected.

As the silence lengthened, Sam felt her face flush. She’d obviously put him on the spot. When he’d suggested friendship, he clearly hadn’t intended it to include something like this, she realized with disappointment. It had been a long shot anyway, she supposed. A minister wasn’t likely to want to hang around with someone like her, not considering the “swinging” image she’d created all these years. He was too discreet and too kind to say that, of course, so she needed to get him off the hook.

“Look, I guess maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she said, striving for a light tone. “I know you’re busy, and I guess I just took that friendship idea too literally. So just forget—”

“Whoa!” Brad interrupted, realizing she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about his hesitation. “Did I say I wasn’t interested?” His gaze fell on the calendar on his desk. “I’m just looking at my schedule for tomorrow. And if the offer is still open, I’d love to go.”

“You would?” Sam said in surprise.

“Sure. I only hesitated because I haven’t been there since the last concert I attended with Rachel. But it’s time I went back.”

“Well, that’s great!” Sam suddenly felt more lighthearted. “The concert starts at seven, so I guess we could meet about—”

“Why don’t you let me pick you up?” he asked.

“You don’t need to do that,” she assured him quickly, although she was touched by the offer.

“Maybe not. But you supplied the tickets. It seems only fair that I supply the ride.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“Absolutely. I’ve got a four-thirty appointment, so would six be okay?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I’ll look forward to it. And Sam…thanks for asking.”

The husky tone in his voice sent a shaft of warmth through her, and she found herself smiling. “It’s my pleasure,” she replied. “I’m glad you can go.”