Loving Care (5 page)

Without a family, Christie didn’t often attend. “We’re closed, but what about Philip? And don’t you usually have an employee party that day?”

“Usually, but Philip will be out of town this year. I want to go to the Chamber event, but I’d rather have company.”

Christie regarded Jemma’s pleading look and figured she would enjoy getting out with her good friend alone for a change. “Sure. Next Friday?”

“Right. You’ll go?”

“Sounds fine,” she said, feeling another hand nudge her shoulder. She turned to see her mother and father behind her. Her mother’s face glowed with delight.

“Mark this date on your calendar,” Christie said, pecking each parent’s cheek. “I’m here like you asked.

“We noticed,” Emma said.

“I promised Jemma I’d come to hear Ellie sing.”

Emma’s smile faded. “Doesn’t matter what reason.”

Christie kicked herself. “And my mom asked me to come, too.” She sent her mother a reassuring smile, wishing she’d be more thoughtful with her comments.

“We’re glad you’re here,” her father said.

“Thanks, Daddy. Me, too.”

As they headed off, Patrick gave her an amiable wave and she stood still, not wanting to deal with any more issues today. She hadn’t spoken to his father since she and Patrick had separated so long ago, but today she felt a pang for the man. His illness had taken a deep toll on his appearance. His pale, drawn face barely resembled the ruddy man from her past. Avoiding him made no sense. It was like her not attending worship: it made her feel sorrowful and guilty.

Guilty? Why would she feel guilty? The divorce had been Patrick’s desire, not hers.

As she left her thoughts, Patrick appeared beside her. Christie looked across the room and saw Sean with his grandfather.

“Hello, Patrick.”

“I wondered if I’d see you here,” he said.

His statement unsettled her. “I don’t attend as much as I used to. Haven’t for a while.” Eight years, she added to her thoughts.

“You never missed church. I remember that,” he said.

“Like everything else, that was long ago.”

“Dad’s here.” He tilted his head in his father’s direction.

“I noticed.”

Silence surrounded them, and Christie knew she had to say more.

“He doesn’t look like himself. I’m sorry.”

Patrick shrugged. “Time and age. It comes to us all.”

The comment hit her like a hammer. One day a wrinkled body and old age would be hers.

“Unless we die before our time,” he added.

His unsettling comment threw her off-kilter. His wife had died before her time. It could happen to anyone. Any time. A knot caught in her throat, and she could only nod.

He stood beside her a moment, a look of apprehension on his face as if he had something more to say and was afraid to say it.

Christie didn’t make things easier. If she acted on her heart, she would touch his face and smooth away the stress, but she acted with her head. She did nothing.

He shifted his feet and dug his hands into his pockets. “Dad’s waiting for me.” He tilted his head toward his father.

She nodded and turned away before he saw the tears that sprang to her eyes.

Patrick rose from the picnic bench. “How about a drink, Dad. A soda or some coffee?”

“Decaf if they have it,” Joe said, turning back to speak with an old Chamber of Commerce crony.

“Keep an eye on Sean.”

His father nodded, and Patrick turned away and headed for the refreshments. As he neared the area, he faltered. Christie stood across an expanse of grass beside Jemma Somerville. He hadn’t expected Christie at the Chamber of Commerce picnic, but why not? She owned a local business.

He took a step toward her, then halted. Should he or shouldn’t he? The last time he’d tried to be amiable, Christie had seemed uneasy. That’s the last way he wanted to make her feel.

Instead of approaching her, he poured the coffee, picked up his soft drink, then returned to his father.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Christie move among the members, stopping to visit, her face unstressed, her smile sincere. Patrick wished they could return to that comfortable friendship they’d had once. She had been a good wife until his own fears had waylaid their marriage. Then she’d turned cold and aloof.

He knew Christie strove for excellence. She wanted things done well or not at all. Their marriage had failed. Her perfect world had ripped and fluttered to the ground like a balloon scraped through gnarled tree limbs. Patrick had let her down.

Forcing his thoughts aside, he smiled at Sean who was watching him from beside his grandfather. Patrick slid the paper coffee cup onto the table. “Here you go, Dad.”

His father nodded, returning to his conversation, while Patrick popped the top of the soda and took a swig. His gaze shifted back to Christie before he searched in his small cooler for Sean’s milk and plastic cup.

Handing his son the drink, Patrick felt a hand on his shoulder. Christie? His heart dipped and rose before he turned.

“Patrick, when did you get back in town?”

His eyes and ears struggled to accept reality. “Jason Briggs, how in the world are you?” Patrick stuck out his hand, pleased to see his old high-school friend.

“Couldn’t be better. I own Briggs Commercial Design over on Capital. Drop by some time, and I’ll show you around.” He released Patrick’s hand. “So what brings you back home?”

Patrick motioned to his father. “Dad’s been ill, and I’m back to run the hardware.”

Jason’s smile faded when he looked at Joe Hanuman. “Sorry. Wish you were coming home on better terms.”

“It’s life,” Patrick said, shrugging.

“Did you notice Christie’s here? I saw her across the way.” Jason gestured with his elbow.

Did he notice? That’s all he could think about.
“We’ve talked since I’ve been back.” Wondering how long it had been since he’d spoken with Jason, Patrick motioned toward Sean. “This is my son.”

Jason smiled at the boy, then eyed the others at the table with a puzzled look.

Patrick answered his unspoken question. “My wife died a couple of years ago so I’m doing my best.”

“Whoa, man. You’ve had your hands full.” Jason grasped Patrick’s shoulder and gave it a shake. “Sorry to hear that. I heard you’d married again.” He studied Sean a moment, then tilted his head toward Christie. “She’s never remarried, you know. Any hope of—”

“None at all.” The unfinished question whirred in Patrick’s head. If only… He let the words fade. If only nothing. Christie’s feeble attempts to be civil had underscored his response. Congeniality, even friendship were doubtful at this point.

His brisk response seemed to knock the wind out of Jason. He’d been an usher at their wedding, and Patrick wished he’d been more subtle. Jason had known Christie and him when they were young and happy.

Jason’s look eased, and he grasped Patrick’s forearm. “Listen. Let’s get together one of these days. My sister could use some cheering up. She’s been divorced a couple of years and not doing much. Maybe we could go out together sometime. You know, just for fun.”

Patrick nodded, but his spirit slammed closed like a vault. He didn’t want anyone trying to match him up with a woman, even a nice one like Jason’s sister.

Not wanting to snub Jason, Patrick shrugged. “It’s a possibility.” He thought the answer left the door open for a rejection later.

“We’ll talk later then,” Jason said, his expression looking hopeful. “I’ll call you.”

“Sure,” Patrick said. “Great seeing you.”

Jason gave a farewell salute and turned away, leaving Patrick with a sense of doom. He slid onto the bench and shifted so he could see Christie. For a moment, she stood alone, sipping from a paper cup. Jason’s unfinished question rang in his head.
Any hope of you and Christie getting back together?
Patrick’s pulse tripped.

Fighting the unexpected emotion, he turned to check on Sean. He was kneeling on the bench, driving his toy trucks along the picnic table beside his grandfather. Patrick’s heart swelled each time he looked at his son. The boy was all he needed. He’d tried marriage twice. It wasn’t meant to be.

When he turned back and looked across the expanse of lawn, his gaze met Christie’s and his heart stood still.

C
hristie looked across the grass, riveted to Patrick’s gaze. The picnic lunch she’d eaten churned in her stomach. She turned her eyes away from him and spotted Sean, then Joe Hanuman. What was he doing here when he was supposedly ill?

She should feel pleased the older man was well enough to attend the picnic just as he’d made it to church. Why did she dislike him so? The answer was clear. She disliked the situation—the constant reminder that he was her
ex
-father-in-law.

The
ex
was the culprit. Christie didn’t want to be the ex of anything. She had wanted a storybook love—a romance like a sleeping princess kissed by the prince. She would have settled for a frog’s kiss if it had turned into a prince. Anything but a failed marriage and divorce.

Divorce not only destroyed her perfect life, it took away all hope of having children—a longing that wove through her heart and plagued her dreams.

Christie steadied herself and searched through the milling crowd for Jemma. She saw her in deep conversation with another woman. Not wanting to interrupt, she let her gaze travel, looking for some place to go.

She eyed a group of younger children gathering across the way. Intrigued, Christie noticed Ellie among them. She turned toward Sean in time to see a woman guiding him to the other little ones. A game, she assumed and smiled as the boy marched toward the group without trepidation.

Taking a step to move closer to the activity, Christie faltered when a hand touched her arm. Without looking, she knew it was Patrick. She stopped and turned. “So, we meet again.”

“My dad’s getting a lifetime achievement award today. I’m his chauffeur.”

“Lifetime achievement? That’s really nice.” She glanced toward the shriveled man who’d once been the picture of health. “Tell him I said congratulations.”

“You could tell him yourself.”

“No, I—I’d…Patrick, please don’t push.”

He drew back and studied her. “I’m the one who left you, Christie, not my dad.”

His words startled her. She’d told herself the same
thing over and over so why did she continue to feel the way she did? “It’s me, not your dad.”

He allowed her apology to pass without comment. Instead, he breathed a sigh. “Sean’s occupied for a while.”

“I noticed. Nice they have games for the kids.”

He nodded, though his eyes seemed unfocused and distracted.

“Christie, could we talk?” he asked. “Just for a few minutes? I told Dad I was going for a walk. Will you come with me? It won’t take long?”

His expression pleaded, and her heart softened. What good was refusal? If they talked, he’d get off his chest whatever he still wanted to say and leave her be. Leave her be? Strangely, the idea left her lonely.

“Okay. For a few minutes, but I’m not sure this is the place. I’d hate for gossip—”

“It’s been a long time, Christie. Most of these people don’t even realize we know each other.”

The truth of his words made her smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

She moved into step with him, and they followed the park’s path toward the old lighthouse. A summer breeze blew off Lake Michigan, and through the trees, Christie could see the sun sprinkle the lake with fairy dust. A perfect day.

Feeling Patrick beside her, a sense of déjà vu permeated her. She and Patrick had walked this same path years earlier when they’d come back to Loving
for visits with their folks. She loved the peace and the feel of history lingering around the old Loving Light. Her hair ruffled in the wind, and she brushed it back, drawing in the scent of sun and lake.

Farther along, Patrick headed for a bench spattered with sunlight and shade. She followed, and they settled on the rough boards facing the water, neither speaking. She clung to the silence, enjoying the July heat and a strange inward warmth. Resolve. Perhaps they would settle the inner turmoil and get on with their lives.

She sidled a look at Patrick, his strong classic profile and dark hair creating a deep ache within her. Times had been so good back then. Christie bit back the desire to ask him why he was so quiet when he’d come here to talk.

“Don’t be angry if I tell you how nice it is to sit beside you again,” Patrick said, out of the blue.

The sound of his voice jolted the silence. She wanted to tell him she felt the same, but she swallowed the words. “It’s a lovely day” was all she said.

He shifted toward her, his face thoughtful. “Life hasn’t been easy for either of us. I know it hasn’t been for me.”

Christie wanted to tell him how difficult it had been. Instead, she shrugged.

“I just want to tell you how sorry I am about everything. I’m sorry I messed up your life. I didn’t know how to make a successful marriage. I’m not
sure I even knew what to expect from one.” He shifted, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes facing the ground. “My folks’ marriage was no example for me, as you know.”

To her surprise, he moved toward her and touched her arm. “I’m not making excuses, Christie. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize what a mess I was.”

Though emotion twisted through her, Christie clung to her defenses. She’d refused to allow herself to be hurt again by any man, but his confession left her wondering. “So what made the difference?”

He looked at her as if he didn’t understand.

“I mean why did you try again? What made you think marriage would work a second time?”

Emotion charged across his face—a blend of expressions that left Christie uncertain how he felt.

He drew in a lengthy breath. “I found the Lord. That’s what made the difference.”

His answer stunned her. He’d found the Lord and she’d lost a piece of her faith.
God works in mysterious ways.
“I spoke with you at church, but I figured you were there for your father.”

“For both of us. I know it’s difficult to imagine. While I was gone, Dad recognized the emptiness in his life and realized it wasn’t from without but from within. I learned the same lesson.”

Emptiness within.
Resentment poked at her. Why did he have to say that? She’d felt empty too, since he’d been gone—the kind of emptiness that didn’t go away.

Patrick’s face brightened and his voice sparked with enthusiasm. “I had always seen peace and joy in your life, Christie, and never understood it. I resented it because I felt cheated. I’d never known that comfort. Not only did you have God, but you had a mother and father. A completed family. I had none of that.”

“You knew that when you married me.”

“I know, but I didn’t understand it…me. I didn’t understand me and how all that affected my life until it was too late.”

Too late.
The words had a double ring to them now. It was too late then, and it was too late now. She blanketed the longing that pushed against her heart. “I’m sorry it happened, too, Patrick. At least we’ve each gotten on with our lives.” An unexpected empathy rattled her. “I know it’s hard for you now, alone with Sean, but you’re a good father and you’re still a family. You have each other.”

“Yes. I have Sean,” he said. “That’s what’s kept me going. I’m glad you have the child-care center. I know it’s different, but you love kids so…” His voice faded as if he didn’t know where to go with his comment.

“It’s not family, but I enjoy it,” she said, not wanting him to pity her.

He glanced at his watch and rose. “I suppose we’d better get back. They’ll be doing the award soon, and I can’t leave my dad with Sean too long.”

She stood and followed him back down the path.

“I’d still like to see your place sometime if you’d let me. Loving Care, I mean. I’m really proud of you.”

How many times had he asked? How many times had she pushed him away? For what? “Sure, Patrick. Drop by whenever. I’m always there.”

“Thanks,” he said.

His sincere words and smile rolled before her like rose petals along the path, making her feel admired and special.

But reality struck her, and the rose-petal path faded as her defensive wall rose.

She didn’t want to feel drawn to Patrick.

Patrick slipped his knit shirt over his head and gazed at himself in the mirror. He’d aged, noticeably, in the years since Sherry had died. Leaning closer, he noticed a couple of white hairs glinting among the black near his temple. He felt tempted to use tweezers to pluck out the telltale signs of aging, but he was pushing forty—two and a half years from it—and a few strands of gray would add a little sophistication to his character.

He blew a stream of air from his lungs and dropped the comb into the dresser drawer. Why he’d agreed to the invitation for dinner with Jason and his wife was beyond him. No doubt they’d want to know about his second marriage, and he felt certain Christie would come into the conversation. But they’d been longtime friends. How could he refuse?

The bonus was they’d invited him to bring Sean since they had a boy about the same age. The kids would add a measure of distraction to the evening and give him a good excuse to go home early.

Patrick slipped on his sport jacket, took one more look in the mirror, then headed downstairs. Sean waited for him at the bottom, looking spiffed up with the help of Grandpa. “Lookin’ good, Sean,” he said, descending the last three steps. “Grandpa did a good job.”

His father stood in the living-room doorway, his shoulder resting against the jamb. “You two make a handsome couple.”

“Thanks, Dad, and thanks for the finishing touches on Sean.”

“My pleasure. Now go and have a nice time. Tell Jason and his wife I said hello.”

“I’ll do that,” he said, opening the door. His father had always liked Jason. He had been Patrick’s boyhood friend. They’d watched each other mature, succeed and fail in school, fall in love and get married. But Jason’s marriage had lasted. His hadn’t.

Sean meandered outside, and Patrick followed. With a solid hook on the car seat belt, they were on their way. In minutes, he pulled in front of a white bungalow with black shutters, brightened by colorful beds of flowers. The word
cozy
came to mind.

Patrick unlatched Sean from the seat, and they headed up the walk. Jason met them at the door,
sending nostalgic feelings creeping into Patrick’s thoughts.

“Glad you could come,” Jason said, holding the door open.

“Thanks for inviting us.” Patrick knew it was a half truth, but he decided his comment was one of those acceptable social phrases that didn’t mean much anyway.

Sean was met at the living-room doorway by Jason’s toddler, Brent. The boys shied away for a heartbeat, then gave in to curiosity.

When Patrick swung through the arch, expecting to see Jason’s wife, Diane, he stopped in his tracks. “Roseann. How are you?” He cringed inwardly, realizing that Jason had decided to play matchmaker without giving Patrick an option.

“Good, and you?”

“Well, getting adjusted to Loving. I didn’t have much time after the move before I had to take over the hardware.”

She stood beside her chair, looking uneasy. “I’m sure it’s been hard, especially with…” She tilted her head toward Sean.

“Sean,” Patrick said, wondering where Jason and Diane had vanished to.

“Yes. Sean.”

He stood there, unable to sit while she was standing.

“Have a seat, Patrick,” she finally said, giving a
broad gesture toward the chairs and ending at the space beside her on the sofa.

Asking himself again why he’d accepted Jason’s invitation, Patrick selected a chair and settled into it, his hands folded in his lap. He should have known his friend wanted to hook him up with Roseann. Jason had mentioned it at the picnic. The problem wasn’t Roseann. Patrick lifted his gaze to her pretty face. She was a nice woman. He just wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone right now, especially since Christie…

Sounds at the doorway gave him reprieve, and he focused there, waiting for someone to enter. Diane came through the archway, looking pleased to see him.

“I’m so glad Jason spotted you at the picnic. I’m happy you could come. It’s been a long time.”

“It has. Thanks for having me,” he said, feeling the evening going nowhere.

“It’ll be fun,” she said, glancing toward Roseann and then excusing herself again.

Jason passed her in the doorway and wandered in, chewing on something from the kitchen, then plopped into a chair. “So, how’s it going?”

“Okay. I have lots to get settled yet, but I’m getting into the groove.”

“You’re taking over your dad’s business, you said.”

Patrick nodded. “Right.”

Jason tilted his head toward the kids playing on the floor. “What are you doing about Sean?”

The question unsettled Patrick’s thoughts. He’d treated the dilemma with bandages, trying to patch solutions that only masked the issue. “That’s still a bit of a problem. Dad’s been feeling pretty good so he keeps an eye on him for a while during the day. I come home for lunch, but I really need to find a sitter. Know anyone?”

“Diane might have a name or two. We have a couple of girls who sit with Brent and Jill.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Jill’s spending the night with a girlfriend. She’s ten.”

Patrick nodded, knowing he should be saying something interesting, but his brain cells had shriveled since he’d walked into the house and seen Roseann.

“How about Christie’s place? She has a day care.”

“Right, but I’m a little hesitant about asking her.”

“Hey, it’s business. She wants your money. You want a sitter. Makes sense.”

Diane’s call from the doorway sent Jason back to the kitchen. She gave him a grin. “We’ll be ready to eat in a minute. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Sure am, and I’m tired of eating my own cooking,” Patrick said.

Diane vanished into the kitchen, and seeing the
glow on Roseann’s face made him want to eat his words.

“I know,” Roseann said. “It’s so difficult to cook for one person, except you have Sean.”

“And my father,” Patrick said.

“That’s right.” A faint flush rose from under her collar.

She shifted in the chair, looking about as comfortable as a cat in a dog house, and he did nothing to ease her tension. Hoping Diane or Jason would return to add something to the conversation, Patrick glanced toward the door but no one appeared.