Loving Promises (13 page)

Her smile sent his stomach reeling. Dale drew her into his arms as she tilted her face toward his. His mouth met hers, teased by the taste of raspberry chocolate lingering on her lips. But the sweet sensation was more than candy. Tonight he took his time, reveling in the exquisite feel of her lips against his, the gentle sensation that soared in his heart.

Dale gave his feelings full sway. He raised his palm and cupped her cheek, then ran his fingers through her silky hair. When he drew back, Bev gazed at him questioningly. He had no answers. His only thought was: Who needed Jenni’s kisses when Bev’s offered so much more?

L
eaves skittered across the concrete sidewalk and crunched beneath Bev’s feet. Though a cool wind blew from the north, her fingers felt warm clasped within Dale’s strong hand. Autumn seemed like an ending—a time when things were dying and winter’s bitter cold was ready to pounce upon humanity.

But today the November chill didn’t affect Bev’s greater sense of a new beginning. She and Dale had given up the battle and had joined forces. They’d both pushed aside past fears and allowed their true feelings to emerge like early-spring buds beneath the winter’s snow.

The feeling warmed her. She looked at his strong profile, admiring the smile crinkles beside his eyes that she’d witnessed far more often these past days. When she could see him face to face, his eyes still mesmerized her.

They walked in silence with only the sound of the leaves rustling beneath their feet and the echoes of her children ahead of them, racing toward the park swings.

Dale squeezed her hand, then turned to give her a smile.

“What?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Is it that rare to see me smile?”

“Not anymore.”

“I was thinking that you’re terrific.”

Her chest tightened, and when he squeezed her hand, his touch seemed to roll up her arm. “Why am I terrific?”

“How can you ask? You’ve put up with me. You’ve raised two great kids.”

Bev felt a frown settle on her face and stopped. “What?”

“I’m beginning to appreciate them now that I’ve stopped fighting it.”

He had done that. He’d run to the store for Michael’s forgotten school equipment, he’d helped Kristin make cookies for her class—even though they were slice and bake. He’d made some changes. The only thing that really concerned her now was his attitude toward her mother, and she could hardly fault him. Bev felt nearly the same.

“No reservations at all?” she asked.

His smile faded, and he stood beside her swishing the burnished leaves with the toe of his boot. The look concerned her, and she was almost sorry she asked.

“Do you want me to be truthful?” His full lips straightened to a narrow slit.

The tension tore through Bev like a gale, and she shifted away. His question gave her the answer. He had reservations. “Yes,” was all she said.

He grasped her arms and turned her to face him. “I’m learning, Bev. I care about you more than words can say, and the kids are growing on me. I realize that along with the problems they can be pure fun.”

Bev let his words wash over her. Dale and she had spent a great deal of time together in the past weeks. His affection had blossomed, and her longing for them to be a family had grown. Today she realized that her worst fear could happen again. “Thanks for your honesty.”

“No, please, don’t misunderstand. I’m following my heart. You’re everything to me.”

She knew it was coming so why not get it out in the open? “But?”

“But sometimes my head and heart aren’t agreeing.”

“And that’s supposed to comfort me?” Her self-pity slipped away, replaced by frustration.

“Bev, please, I’m being honest. Give me time, and I promise you—”

“The only promises I can trust, Dale, are the Lord’s. God won’t abandon us. That’s what’s important.”

Dale’s heart gave a kick. If he walked out on them, it would be the same as Jesse betraying Bev and the children with his death. He could never do that. “I won’t abandon you, Bev.”

She looked at him with doubt in her eyes.

Remorse flooded Dale. Bev filled his heart and mind. Why had he admitted to her that he still struggled at times with commitment? What did he fear? And why?

Longing filled him. Whether his head knew it, his heart had no doubt. He wanted to spend his life with Bev. He’d learned so many things from her, things that helped him to be a better man.

Dale gave a quick glance behind him. The children were on the swings and no one appeared in the distance. “Bev, trust me, please.”

Her sad gaze captured his, and, as if she were looking into his soul, she gave him a faint nod. “I’ll trust you, Dale, but it’s not just me. It’s Michael and Kristin.”

“I understand,” he said. And for once, he truly did.

His lips met hers, washing him in summer heat. Though cold to the touch, they warmed against hers. A part of Scripture he’d read a few nights earlier flew into his thoughts.
If two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?
Dale had been alone too long.

He drew Bev closer, his body tensing with his earlier admission. How could he ever say goodbye? Why would any man walk away from this amazing woman who’d awakened his emotions and dragged them from hiding?

Bev leaned into his kiss, her mouth moving against his, her hand raking through his hair. Her kiss filled his emptiness with sweet longing and took his breath away.
He drew back, knowing his face said it all, said the words so difficult for him to speak—I love you.

Michael’s voice broke through their silence, and Dale pivoted to look across the leaf-strewn grass to the playground. The child’s smile lit the day, and he beckoned to them.

“Dale, come and push us,” the child called. The boy had forgotten Dale’s unpleasant manner of the past. Now his face glowed with innocent trust and faith.

Dale gave Bev a hug, then cut across the grass. The faith of a child, Dale thought as he neared the children. That’s how he needed to approach God. Maybe that was the same philosophy with marriage. A child didn’t go through life worrying whether a problem might occur tomorrow. A child stepped into life full-tilt with the desire to grow and learn. Bev and her children couldn’t be blamed for his constant fears and concerns.

“What’s up?” Dale asked as he approached Michael.

“I want you to push me.” He tilted his face toward Dale’s, then sent him a hesitant smile. “Please.”

Dale’s heart ached, and he tousled the boy’s hair. “That’s why I’m here.”

He gave the swing a hearty push, and Michael flew upward, his laughter greeting Dale’s ears and making him smile. He didn’t neglect Kristin. She’d always been a good girl, a sweet child who’d drawn him enough pictures to cover three refrigerators.

He gave her swing a thrust and heard her giggle as
he moved back to Michael with another gigantic shove that sent the boy higher than before. Dale glanced over his shoulder and saw Bev watching them from a park bench. Her face glowed in the autumn sun. She pulled her hand from a pocket and gave him a wave, then tucked it back inside. He beckoned her, but she shook her head and grinned.

“Ever tried the horizontal ladder?” Dale asked, as the swing slowed to a halt.

The boy eyed him suspiciously, then checked out the equipment. “No,” he said finally.

“Me neither,” Kristin said.

Dale realized why the boy had never used the horizontal ladder. He had no dad to lift him and give him direction. He beckoned to them, and they skipped beside him as if he were a balloon man.

“Okay. Who’s first?” They hesitated, and Dale decided to make the choice. “Come on, Michael, let’s see how strong you are.”

He lifted the boy and helped him get a solid grip on the bars. Michael hung like deadweight with Dale’s hands close at his sides until finally the boy swung his legs forward, then backward.

Dale stayed beside him, his hands supporting Michael’s midsection. “Let go with one hand, and grab the next bar. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He saw a questioning look in the child’s eyes, but in a moment, Michael let go and grabbed the bar. The
boy’s sense of accomplishment eased through Dale’s chest. “Good for you.”

Michael beamed and tried another. After a failed attempt, Dale clutched his waist. “Had enough?”

Michael nodded, and Dale grasped the boy and set his feet on the ground. Dale wished he had the trust Michael had. Though leery, the boy took a chance and succeeded. Why couldn’t Dale do the same?

“I did it,” Michael said, checking to see if his mother had been watching.

She waved, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Mom saw me,” Michael announced. “I did three.”

“You did good,” Dale said, resting his arm on the boy’s thin shoulder. “Once you get some more muscles you’ll do five or even six.”

“Muscles like you?” Michael asked, eyeing Dale’s jacket.

Dale lifted his arm in a he-man pose and listened to the children giggle. His focus drifted to Kristin, waiting with her arms reaching upward for her turn. “I think this might be too much for you, Kristin. Girls don’t have nearly as much muscle as boys.”

“Yes, they do,” she said.

“No. They’re just pretty.” He winked at her and gave her ponytail a gentle yank.

“Girls aren’t just pretty. Look,” she said, making a muscle.

She gave him a playful frown. He realized his mis
take and felt her slender arm. “That’s pretty good muscle, but let’s do something fun. How about the tube slide? I’ll catch you at the bottom.”

She didn’t argue about that and ran toward the slide.

Dale followed and stood at the bottom of the huge red tube to catch Kristin and Michael as they shot from the plastic pipe. His heart lifted with their simple pleasure. Swings, slides and monkey bars. If life could only be that simple.

He stood back a moment breathing in the brisk air, filling his lungs with oxygen and his heart with hope. He’d made one step forward. Tomorrow he’d make another. He gave the kids a pat, then turned his eyes toward Bev. As he walked toward her, he sent up a prayer—a renewed gift he’d learned from Bev. Prayer might not be answered right away, but he knew God heard, and he trusted the Lord would answer him eventually.

“Where do you want this, Mom?”

Bev held a carton of knickknacks against her hip. She gazed around the apartment living room and could not conceive of what her mother planned to do with all her memorabilia. Mildred had done a good job of disposing of furniture, but she’d clung to her memories.

“Just put them in a corner,” she said. “I’ll figure out something.”

Bev shifted the box to the other side and trudged across the floor. Though the carpet had seen better days it appeared to be clean, and a few strategically placed scatter rugs would cover up the worst of it.

She kept thinking of her talk with Dale at the park. His honesty had stung her at first, and then she forced herself to step back and accept what he said. Dale had made great strides. She had known from the beginning how he felt, just as she had reservations. The difference was, her fears had faded more quickly than his.

She didn’t totally understand what bothered him, but as she thought about it, she found some sense in his fears. She’d been married once. She’d been twenty-two when she and Jesse had married. Young, naive, ready for adventure. Dale was thirty-six and had never married. He’d been an only child, never having to share his toys or his parents. They’d doted on him. He’d watched his parents’ perfect love, which turned into the belief that he could never find a soul mate the way his parents had. Now he had to face a new truth, and it hurt.

The doorbell rang, jarring Bev’s thoughts. She heard her mother’s exclamation, too, and at the sound, Dale came from the bedroom, perspiration beading his forehead. “Setting up that bed ain’t easy.”

Mildred pulled open the door and backed away, a grin spreading over her face. “What are you doing here?”

Al strutted in with a wry smile. “The best medicine
is keeping mind and body busy. I had someone fill in for me at the pharmacy.”

“Really?” Dale drew back in surprise. “Mom had to beg you to get out of there on a Saturday.”

“I’m older and wiser,” Al said, giving his son a tilt of the head. He panned the room, then looked down the hallway. “Where are the kids?”

“They’re at Annie’s,” Bev said, grateful that Annie was willing to keep an eye on them. Annie’s pregnancy had drawn her and Bev closer together, a friendship they both needed.

“I suppose having them underfoot today wouldn’t be a good idea.” Al looked around the room at the piles of boxes, then tucked a hand into his pants pocket and jingled his change. “So what can I do to help?”

Dale gave a sweeping gesture toward the bedroom. “Be my guest. I can’t set up that bed by myself. It weighs a ton.”

“That’s how good furniture was made,” Mildred said. “Good, solid hardwood. None of that veneer-covered plywood they have nowadays.”

The men vanished into the bedroom, and Mildred chuckled. “I knew he’d come.”

Bev didn’t like the girlish giggle. “You mean Al?”

She nodded. “He really needs to keep busy. He thinks too much at the pharmacy.”

Bev opened her mouth, then disengaged her comment and opened another box. Inside, she spotted her
mother’s towels. Glad for an opportunity to get away from the conversation, Bev headed for the linen closet, but her mother followed.

“Al spent the last few years totally immersed in Dotty’s illness,” Mildred said, padding along behind her. “He used to read and golf. He watched sports. I don’t think he does any of that now. He just thinks.” She pulled towels from the carton and slid them onto a shelf.

“You were like that when Dad died,” Bev said, folding a mussed tablecloth.

“No, not totally. Dad’s illness was brief. It was awful, no question, but my life didn’t revolve around his care for years before he died. Al needs to rebuild his life.”

And you’re planning to help him, Bev thought. She worked quietly beside her mother, letting her ramble about Al and Dotty. Her mother’s life had gotten twisted with theirs, and Bev felt her mom had lost her independence. The relaxed retirement Mildred had planned had ended the day she began caring for Dotty.

The next hour slipped by with little talk from the men except their grunts and groans as they moved pieces of furniture. Bev’s mother could never settle on an arrangement, and finally Al caved into a chair and protested.

“We need to plot this out, Millie, my girl. You’re working with one young bull and one old rhino. I’m not able to hoist this stuff around.”

“Sorry,” Mildred said. “You know me. I don’t always think ahead.”

Al gave a chuckle as he lifted a sofa pillow and pitched it at her.