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Authors: Gail Gaymer Martin

BOOK: Dad in Training
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Brent looked dazed for a moment. “The board has copies. I e-mailed it to them for our next meeting.”

She opened her mouth to ask.

“Monday. I should know something Monday.”

Anticipating the board’s decision made her eager for Monday, but Brent was definitely avoiding her for some reason. He kept his focus on Randy, his arms folded across his chest like a barricade.

“I’m sorry I made you feel you had to invite me today, Brent.” He finally looked at her. “We’ll be done soon, and I’ll be out of here.”

His gaze lowered. “Don’t apologize. Randy needs to work with the dog. It’s not you, Molly. It’s me.”

“It’s you? What does that mean?”

“I’m not used to people in my life. I’m trying to adjust to Randy, and now…”

He seemed unnerved, and Molly struggled to make sense out of what he was trying to say.

Brent shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m not good at relationships.”

Relationships? She studied him a moment. “Don’t you have friends?”

“Not many. I suppose I’m like Randy—or I should say he’s like me. I’m a loner.”

“That’s too bad.”

His head snapped upward, and he looked disturbed.

“Friendships are important. You both need them. And it can’t just be a dog. I know the saying ‘A dog’s man’s best friend,’ but we all need human contact.”

“Maybe some people don’t.”

“You mean some people can’t open their hearts wide enough to let people in.” She captured his gaze. “Work on it, Brent. Randy needs you.”

And so do I. The thought fell into her head before she could stop it.

 

“Come, Fred.” Molly clapped her hands and watched Fred run the other way deeper into the park. “Steph, I’m not
kidding. When we get the shelter, you need to know how to work with the dogs, or you’ll undo what I’m trying to accomplish.”

Steph gave a grunt. “I know.”

“Are you practicing?”

“I’m not one of your middle-schoolers, Molly.” She punched her fists into her hips. “I thought you wanted to get together to talk about the shelter.”

Molly straightened. “That’s true, but I also wanted to keep busy. I’m nervous.”

Steph moved closer. “Nervous about what?”

Fred joined the twosome, sniffing around Molly’s feet as if she’d stepped on a hunk of steak. “Sit.” To her surprise, the dog did. Her eyebrows lifted. “Good job, Steph.”

“Thanks. I did work on that one.” Steph scratched Fred’s head. “Nervous about what?”

“Today’s the day.”

“You mean when you’ll know for sure about the proposal?”

Molly nodded, the lump in her throat constricting her ability to talk.

Steph gave her a questioning look. “Are you going to cry?” She grasped Molly’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen you cry. Never.”

“I’m fine.” She brushed the moisture from her eyes, frustrated that she’d allowed her emotions to get so out of control. “This means so much to me…to us. The perfect place for the dogs and for your day care. Perfect.” The tears pooled, and she swiped at them again. “It’s my dream.”

Steph wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I know, but if this doesn’t pan out, it’s not the end. You’ll have other opportunities.”

Molly pulled away. “Don’t even say that. I’m standing on the brink of a miracle, and you’re trying to push me over the cliff.”

“I am not.” Steph gave her an angry stare. “I’m your friend
and want this, too, but we need to accept failure and success. I’m worried about funding this anyway. The pittance I contributed won’t make a dent in what you need, especially with the building renovations.”

“We’ll manage, and you’re donating your time.” She lowered her eyes, wishing she could give Steph a small salary for helping to run the shelter during the day. “I’ll still be teaching in the fall, and we’ll have money coming in from the adoption donations and from the obedience training classes.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Molly bit her tongue rather than snap another response and folded her arms. “It’ll be a success, Steph, and once the shelter’s stable and bringing in some income, I’ll be there full-time. And once we have the building, you can take in more dogs for your day care. You can quit your part-time job.” She glanced at her watch and then walked away and returned, trying not to trip over Fred. “Steph, he’s not going to call.”

“Wearing a path in the grass isn’t going to help. Brent called before. Why not today?”

“Because it’s bad news.” Molly pulled out her cell phone and peered at the screen. “Nothing. No text. No missed call.” She checked her volume. High. She shoved it back into her pocket. Taking her frustrations out on her friend made no sense. She opened her arms. “Sorry. I’m just edgy.
A man’s wisdom gives him patience
.”

Steph walked into her embrace and gave her a hug. “I suppose that’s from the Bible.”

Once again, Molly kept her mouth closed. She wanted to comment that if Steph would go to church or even read a Bible she would know it was from Scripture. She tightened her hug, praying the Lord would open Steph’s heart to His Word. She prayed the same prayer for Brent.

“But that’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?”

Molly’s head jerked upward. “What do you mean?” She could never fool Steph.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Mama Steph is waiting. Tell all.”

Molly walked away, hoping to drop the subject.

“I know this is as much about Brent as the building. He’s ignoring you? You have a thing for him. I’ve never seen you fall for someone before like you have him.”

“I have not ‘fallen’ for him.”

“Okay. What do you call it?”

“He’s a friend.” She wondered about that even. “An acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance? You’re crazy about him.”

“I’m just crazy, Steph.” She massaged her forehead to hold back a headache. “I’ve never gotten involved with anyone. I want a solid marriage like my parents, one that’s pleasing to God.” Molly swallowed her desire to tell Steph about her past mistakes, but telling her wouldn’t get rid of the sadness any more than knowing God had forgiven her. She needed to forgive herself. “Steph, you know how I feel about getting involved. I can’t take a chance, especially with Brent. He has problems of his own.”

“Tell that to your heart, Molly.”

Though Molly could deny it until she turned pink, her friend had dragged out the truth. “What do I do now?”

The silence was broken by the her ring tone jingling “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?”

“First, I think you should answer your cell phone.”

Molly grasped the phone from her pocket. Brent’s name popped into the window while nausea rolled through her stomach. “It’s him.”

“Then answer it,” Steph said, rolling her eyes.

Molly flipped open the phone. The moment she heard his voice she knew.

“I’m sorry, Molly, but it’s not over. They want more details. They asked for more funding information. They want to know everything. They’re worried you’ll make a mess of it and then walk away.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Her voice came out as a whisper.

“I know that, but they don’t. They want to check on the tax status information. They’re talking to our CPA and legal people. They’re suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” A frown carved her face. “Of me?”

“They don’t know you.”

“Didn’t you tell them?”

Silence.

“Brent.” Her fist clenched against her chest. “Didn’t you tell them how well you know me?”

“My personal business isn’t theirs. They’ll misconstrue it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—I…I don’t have women in my life, Molly. I told you that, and they’d think I’d fallen head over heels and lost my mind.”

Her body tensed. “I don’t want head over heels, Brent, but I’d hoped by now you would consider me a friend.”

“Molly.”

In the silence following her name, she waited as tension built.

“You came into my life in a strange way, Molly. I don’t know how to explain it. You’ve become a…sort of a—”

She swiped at her eyes again. “Never mind, Brent. I understand. Just make a list of what they want and e-mail it.”

“E-mail?”

“Yes. E-mail.” She closed her eyes. “Thanks for trying.”

“Molly, please, I—”

“I’m busy right now, Brent. Just send me a list of what you need, and I’ll see what I can do.” She closed the phone before any more was said.
Sort of.
Sort of what? What was she to him? A headache. That’s what she was. A big fat pain in the neck. A huge sliver in his finger. No one wanted a sliver. They did what they could to get rid of it.

She spun around. “Let’s work with Fred.”

Steph’s jaw drooped. “Molly, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Steph grasped her arm and drew her closer.

Molly jerked away. “They want more information.”

“What kind of information?

“It doesn’t matter. Funding guarantees. They think I’m out to rip them off.”

Steph shook her head. “You’re disappointed.”

“No, I’m furious.”

Steph opened her arms. “I told you not to—”

“I know. You told me so. Now let’s talk about something else.”

Steph closed her eyes. “Fred needs to learn the meaning of ‘stay.’ Let’s do that.”

Molly gnawed her lip. She’d not only attacked Brent, but now she’d yelled at her best friend. She needed to slow down, to practice patience, and she needed to be thankful. She’d spent her life being independent and evaded the whole romance thing. Relationships were restricting and too much work. Brent was doing her a favor.

Her head swam as hope sank to the pit of her stomach.

Chapter Eight

B
rent sat in an easy chair in his great room, watching Randy and Rocket through the window. Molly had been right. Randy had finally come out of his bedroom. And out of his shell. They talked now, and Randy laughed more than he’d ever heard in the past. The look on his face touched Brent with a quiet kind of happiness, maybe comfort, that he’d never felt.

His deepest sadness now was Molly. He hadn’t been honest with her. She wasn’t sort of a friend. She was so much more. He’d heard her deflate like a punctured balloon. She’d opened his eyes to so many things, so what did he fear? She could open doors, doors he’d nailed closed…or tried to.

He lowered his head, knowing he’d failed. Now what? He’d walked to the phone three times since he got home from work to apologize, but he’d pulled his hand away, wanting to make a clean cut with Molly. Leading her on wasn’t fair. Clean cut? What he’d done had been a jagged slash that had hurt them both.

For the first time in his life, he sensed someone really cared about him. With all her bravado and spirit, he’d seen her heart filled with love and concern for others, a tenderness he’d never known, not even from his mother.

Though his mother had been a good woman, she’d
marched under his father’s baton. Their church had been her priority, and the social clubs, important to his father, had also taken her time. Even then she struggled to make a good home but one that didn’t include sitting on the floor to play games with him or to read him a story at night.

Get over it. He slapped his hand against the chair arm. How long did he plan to drag around the old baggage? He knew the Bible said to lay his burdens at Jesus’ feet, but he’d felt rejected by the Lord, too. More than rejected. Punished.

Forgiveness
. The word slammed into his defenses. What had Molly said about dogs? They gave unconditional love. They forgave before a person did anything. Isn’t that what God had done? He’d sent his son to wipe away sins before they even happened. He’d watched his faith flail like a drowning man in a stormy sea, and he ignored the life raft God had sent to save him.

Molly had said dogs always obeyed unless it went against nature. That was his problem. Too many things went against his nature. And Molly seemed to know. Her voice filled Brent’s mind.
Dogs don’t look at you on the outside. They look in your heart.
Is that what she’d done? Looked into his heart and thought he was worth saving?

He wrenched himself from his thoughts and strode to the window to watch Randy. The boy needed a real dad, not an uncle learning to be one. And if he were a good uncle, he’d go outside and play with them, but—

Before he could give an excuse, Randy and Rocket bolted past the window as if a circus parade had come down the street.

Curious, Brent headed for the foyer. He flung open the front door, half hoping Molly had come to surprise him. Instead he saw his father bending over to pet Toby…Rocket. His heart felt full. He pulled open the front door and stepped onto the brick porch. “Dad. What are you doing here?”

His father glanced his way, gave Rocket a final pat, then
strode toward him. “I was in the area and thought I’d see how things are going.”

Brent didn’t believe him. He ambled down the steps to the sidewalk. “You’ve met Rocket, I see.”

His father’s eyes searched his face before he nodded. “He’s a good-looking dog.” He tucked his hands into his pants pockets. “I can’t help but think of Toby.”

Memories charged through Brent. “He was Randy’s choice, not mine.”

His father didn’t respond.

“Grandpa,” Randy called and bounded to his side with Rocket whipping past them to chase a squirrel. “Will you play with us? I can show you what Rocky can do. He can sit and stay and come when I tell him.”

Brent’s dad rested his hand on Randy’s head and pivoted it toward Brent. “That’s probably better behavior than you have.” He gave his grandson a smile.

“I’m really good, Grandpa. You can ask Uncle Brent.”

Brent nodded his head, and Randy flashed a grin and then darted after Rocket. Brent followed him with his gaze, knowing his father never dropped in for a visit without a motive. “Come in, Dad. I’ll make us some coffee.” He turned to Randy, running in circles with the dog. “When you’re through playing, don’t forget to clean the yard. That’s why you came out.”

“I know,” he said, his eagerness taking a nosedive.

Brent climbed the four steps and held the door open for his father. He took a shortcut through the dining room to the kitchen, his dad following.

“You can sit in the great room if you’d like. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“This is fine.” His father walked past the island and pulled out a chair from beneath the breakfast-room table. When he sat, he leaned back and folded his hands.

Brent’s gaze darted from the coffeemaker to his father, an
ticipating what might come next. He hit the on button and joined his dad at the table. The water gurgled into the pot, already sending out the brisk scent of the strong Columbian blend.

“What’s on your mind, Dad?”

His father’s knitted fingers flexed. “Do I have to have something on my mind?”

“You don’t drop by for a visit very often for no reason.”

“I appreciate your taking Randy, Brent, and I want you to know that.” He glanced out the window and watched Rocket wander along with Randy as he cleaned the yard.

“He looks happier than I’ve seen him in a long time,” his dad said.

“I’ve noticed. It’s the dog, not me.”

His father gave him a thoughtful look. “I’m sure it’s both. Seeing the dog takes me back. I did you a disservice when you were a boy.” His index fingers bounced against each other. “I’m sorry about that.” His head lowered again. “I know it’s too late now, but—”

Brent’s breath hitched. “No, it’s not, Dad.”

His dad’s eyes flashed upward. “But I made a mess of things. Your brother always dominated our lives, and you just shrank away after that.”

“You told me a lie, and it hurt.”

A deep frown wrinkled his father’s forehead. “Lie? What do you mean?” He sank into the nearest chair.

“You told me Toby had run away during the hunting trip. I suppose I knew better than that, but I accepted it. You’re my dad, and I believed you.”

His father’s head drooped. “I didn’t have the courage to tell you the truth. I was upset with you and…I shouldn’t have lied. That was very wrong. I needed to be man enough to tell you I gave the dog away. I suppose your brother told you the truth.”

The memory seared through Brent. “In great detail with a smile.”

“He was like that for some reason. I didn’t know.” He unknotted his fingers and reached across the table, his veined hands pressing against Brent’s.

“Dad, you have no idea what thoughts went through my mind. I couldn’t imagine Toby running away, and so I thought…” He struggled to get the words out. “I thought Randall shot him.”

His father’s eyes flew upon. “Shot Toby?”

Brent’s heart thundered against his chest. “On purpose.” He drew in a lengthy breath. “That’s what I thought.”

“Brent. No.” He dropped his face into his hands. “I had no idea you would think something like that. I’m so sorry.” He lowered his hands, his face mottled.

Brent wished he’d never spoken the words. “I was a lonely boy. Naturally when I got older I realized the idea was foolish.”

His father shook his head. “You had every right to think the worst. I know how Randall taunted you. I hoped you would learn to be stronger.” He lowered his head. “The first mistake was to give Toby away. He was a good dog, and you were a boy. The second was not telling you the truth.”

Brent closed his eyes, clinging to his father’s apology like a gift.

His dad rose again and ambled toward the window. “That’s why I was afraid to raise Randy. I’d made so many mistakes with you and your brother, and I didn’t want to do that again. I’m not a good father. I don’t know how to fix that.”

“You’ve just started.”

He gave Brent a thoughtful look. “I suppose I have.”

The gurgling had halted, and Brent rose and prepared two mugs of coffee, both black—the way he and his father liked it. He set a mug in front of his dad and sat and took a sip of his drink. The brisk taste calmed him.

His dad eyed the steam and then took a careful sip. “That’s good stuff.” He set the mug back on the table. “You know,
Brent, I’m proud of you. I don’t suppose I’ve ever told you that.”

Brent’s chest tightened. “No, you haven’t.”

“And you’re perceptive.”

“Perceptive?”

“I did have another reason for coming here.”

Brent grinned. “It was just a guess.”

“No, it’s the way you look at people. You can see inside them.” He pursed his lips. “I’ve been thinking about the young woman with the dog-shelter proposal.” He pinpointed Brent with his eyes. “Molly.”

Brent’s knee jerked. He’d been thinking about her, too, continuously. “What about her?”

“I like her. She’s discerning and determined with brains behind it, and she has a good heart.”

Brent averted his eyes. If he didn’t, his father would read too much. “She is determined, I’ll agree with that.”

“I like a woman with drive and spunk. Your mom didn’t have that, but she was a good and faithful wife. She did everything for me.” His expression pinched. “That was a mistake I should have stopped, too. She should have given you boys more.”

Brent couldn’t handle the family diagnostics. “So what about Molly?”

“You didn’t let me know about the board’s decision. They agreed with her proposal, I’m sure.”

Brent drew in a lengthy breath. “Not exactly.”

His father straightened. “What’s the problem?”

“Funding. They want to know where she’ll get the money to renovate the building for their needs and then pay the bills. She’s using her savings, and a friend’s pitching in a small amount. She’ll share the space with a doggie day care.”

“That’s all they have?”

“Until they start bringing in money from the adoptions and her dog obedience training.”

“But that takes time.” A scowl grew on his father’s face.

“I know, but she said she’d see what she could do. Once she gives me the answers to their questions, it’ll go for a vote.”

“When’s that?”

“They want to finish with the proposal next Monday. That doesn’t give her much time.”

His father rose. “No, it doesn’t.” He took a final drink of his coffee and slid the chair against the table. “I need to go, Brent. Thanks for the coffee, and for the talk. I should have said these things years ago.”

Brent rose and extended his hand. “It’s still good to hear, Dad. Thanks.”

Instead of grasping Brent’s hands, his father moved toward him and opened his arms. Brent froze for a moment, never having received an embrace from him. He shrugged off his discomfort and accepted it. His father’s musky aftershave was oddly comforting. He’d worn that fragrance since Brent could remember.

His father said goodbye to Randy and Rocket, and Brent walked him to the car. As he pulled away, Brent’s emotions plowed over him. He shook his head as he strode into the house, overwhelmed by what had occurred. His father was proud of him. He sank into the kitchen chair, staring at his coffee mug.

Forgiveness. In God’s time. He remembered his mother’s pet phrase when he and Randall wanted something right then. “All good things happen in God’s time, boys. Be patient.” Today those words had a new meaning.

He bolted from the chair and grasped the wall phone, punched in Molly’s telephone number and waited. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he needed to hear her voice.

“Molly,” he said, when she answered, “how are the revisions going?”

She hemmed a moment as if he’d surprised her. “Slow.”

Slow
. Her discouragement resounded in that single word. “Can I do anything?”

“Not really.”

“Molly, I’m sorry if I sounded distracted the last time you were over. I’ve had a lot on my mind.” For one, she’d been there. Always. He wiped the perspiration from his palm. “But that’s no excuse. I am your friend, and I want this proposal to succeed, so let me help in any way I can.”

The line went silent a moment.

“Molly?”

“I’m thinking, Brent. I’m okay, and thanks for your offer and the apology, but I need to do this by myself. I’ve had a few additions. A year’s supply of dog food, donated by a pet store. A veterinarian I know is willing to volunteer two hours one Saturday a month to give the dogs their shots and physical checkups, but I’ll need more from a vet than that. At least at first.”

“I could make calls.”

“They don’t know you.”

“Could I come over? I’d have to bring Randy, but—”

“No. Thanks. Really, I need to do this myself. I’ll give you what I can in a couple of days.”

“If you’re sure.”

She didn’t answer, and he finally said goodbye, wishing he’d been more open from the beginning. His dad had been right. Molly’s determination and intelligence couldn’t be questioned. And her loving heart. He’d damaged it, he was certain.

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