02_Groom of Her Own (27 page)

And yet—who was he to judge her? That was the Lord’s prerogative, not his. All he knew was that Sam would no more purposefully hurt anyone than he would. Seventeen years ago she’d been a frightened teenager, driven by deep despair and desperation, coping as best she knew how. Yes, she’d made mistakes. But the tragic event that had taken two lives had been an accident. Yet, she’d shouldered the blame without excuses, and she’d paid for those mistakes every day of her life since. Did the Lord expect her to do so for the rest of her life? Hadn’t she done her penance? Didn’t the Lord offer forgiveness and a second chance for those who repented? That’s what Brad preached. It was what he believed. But he hadn’t expected his belief to be tested quite so dramatically—and so unexpectedly.

He had still been trying to come to grips with the first revelation when she dropped her second bombshell—that should they marry, theirs might be a childless union. Brad had been stunned. He loved children. And while his dreams of a family had died with Rachel, they had been born again in the past few weeks as he fell in love with Sam. Giving that dream up the first time had been tough. He had never expected to be asked to do so a second time. It was a tremendous blow, and he knew his resolve to marry Sam had faltered momentarily.

An image of her desolate, tear-streaked face last night as she said goodbye at the door flashed suddenly across his mind. She loved him, and had hoped he loved her enough to accept the tragic secrets from her past, so that together they could create a future that gave full expression to their love. His shocked reaction had clearly convinced her that those hopes were in vain.

But as he’d discovered during his long night of soul searching, they weren’t Because, despite the impression he’d given her last night, he did love her enough to accept her past. And even enough to accept a childless union, if that was to be their fate.

Brad sighed and wearily rubbed his forehead. The ways of the Lord were often difficult to understand. For some reason He was erecting obstacles in the path of this relationship, testing their commitment to the limit. Brad didn’t know why. All he knew was that he loved Sam—with or without children, and regardless of the tragic event in her past. Because in her he’d found a love he’d never hoped to find again. She was so much a part of his life now, that he couldn’t even imagine a future without her.

The challenge was to convince Sam of these things. Considering the haunted, empty look in her eyes when she said goodbye, it wasn’t going to be easy. It had been a look of—
resignation
was the best word he could think of to describe it. As if she felt rejection was what she deserved, that she was somehow unworthy of love or happiness.

With sudden insight, Brad realized that that was
exactly
what she felt. He thought back to some of their earliest conversations. Once, he recalled, she’d admitted that she was lonely. But when he’d asked her why she’d never remarried, her reply had been trite. “Too picky,” she’d said. Even then he hadn’t quite bought that explanation. Her flippant tone had somehow seemed underlaid with sadness. And then there was the time he’d remarked that she was a good person. Her face had grown sad at his comment, and she’d told him to save his praise for someone who deserved it.

In the intervening months those conversations had receded in his memory. But now, as he reconstructed them, the pieces suddenly fell into place. With uncanny certainty, he realized that they formed the basis for a self-imposed punishment. She had sentenced herself to a solitary existence as a penance for her mistake. And his shocked, judgmental reaction last night had only confirmed the validity of that sentence.

Brad closed his eyes and made a heartfelt plea to the Lord. Please help Sam to feel Your forgiveness, to know that she’s punished herself enough and that it’s all right to allow love into her life, he prayed. And help me find a way to let her know that I don’t hold her past against her, and that her love alone, even without a family, will be more than enough for me. Because I need her, Lord. I need her today. And tomorrow. And for always.

Chapter Eleven

“L
aura? It’s Brad.”

“Did you hear from Sam?” Laura asked tersely.

“No. But I checked, and she’s been calling into the office, so I know she’s okay. Physically, at least. And she has to come back soon. Listen, I need your help with something. I need you to get Sam to Bible class Thursday night.”

Laura frowned. “That could be a tall order, Brad,” she said slowly. “I’m not sure she’ll even be back in town. And if she is, I can’t guarantee she’ll go. She sounded really down in that message she left.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back,” Brad said, with more confidence than he felt. “You know Sam. She won’t neglect her work for long. But you’re right about the class,” he admitted with a sigh, “She didn’t exactly see Christian principles in action the other night. Pve left all kinds of messages on her machines at work and home, trying to apologize. She just isn’t responding. But I have an idea that might work, if you can get her to the class.”

“I’ll do my best,” Laura promised.

“Thanks. And sit in the front, okay? That way she won’t be able to leave without causing a stir.”

Laura nodded. “Okay. And Brad…good luck.”

He sighed. “Thanks. I have a feeling I’m going to need it. Plus a little help from Someone upstairs.”

“Hi, kiddo. Did you think I dropped off the face of the earth?”

“Sam! Thank heaven!” Laura said in fervent relief. It was Thursday afternoon, and no one had expected Sam to disappear for this length of time. Especially Brad, who grew more frantic each day. “We’ve been worried sick! Where are you?”

“I’m back. Home, sweet home. Just walked in the door, in fact. Listen, I’m really sorry about that weird message last Saturday night. I probably sounded like a fruitcake. But I was upset about something, and I just needed to get away—quickly. I didn’t even stop to think about how it would sound to you. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Of course,” Laura assured her. Obviously Sam wasn’t going to mention Brad, so Laura didn’t either. “Where were you?”

“Chicago.” She’d taken the train up, not trusting herself to drive, and spent days just walking, thinking, grieving. In the end, she made some semblance of peace with her situation, though now her heart felt cold and empty. “I just got in, but I wanted to talk to you about Bible class tonight I know it’s my turn to drive, but I’m thinking about skipping. Would you mind?”

Laura took a deep breath. She’d worked this all out ahead of time, asking the Lord for forgiveness even as she fabricated her story. But it was for a good cause, she consoled herself. “Well, no. I can figure something else out, I guess,” she said, with just the right amount of hesitation. “It’s just that I agreed to lead one of the discussion groups tonight, and my car’s in the shop. Nick has a dinner meeting, or I could use his. But I can check around for a ride. I was going to, anyway, if you hadn’t called,”

There was silence for a moment, and Laura knew Sam was waging an internal debate—her friend’s needs versus her own. Laura crossed her fingers and held her breath, hoping Sam’s sense of responsibility was strong enough to overcome her reluctance to attend class. It was.

“Well, I don’t want to leave you in the lurch,” Sam said slowly at last. “Okay, I’ll be by. The usual time?”

“Yes. Thanks, Sam. Listen, I don’t want to pry, but…is everything all right?” Laura already knew the answer to that question. Even though Sam sounded more normal, Laura detected an undertone of strain in her voice, as if her light tone was forced. But Laura wanted Sam to know that she was willing to lend a sympathetic ear, though she suspected that Sam wasn’t ready to talk yet. And her friend’s next words confirmed that suspicion.

“I’ll live, kiddo,” she replied, but her voice sounded empty and sad. “Maybe one of these days I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Well, I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that, Laura. I’ll see you tonight”

Sam hung up quickly and reached for a tissue. Two more seconds and she’d have lost it. It had taken all her self-discipline to make it through the practical part of their conversation without breaking down. She couldn’t handle a personal discussion.

She filled the kettle and set it on the stove, gazing out the window unseeingly as she waited for the water to boil, her thoughts returning to last Saturday. It was a scene she’d replayed over and over in her mind these past few days, and with each review her sympathy for Brad had grown. Of course he’d been shocked by her startling revelations, coming totally out of the blue like that. He was only human, after all, even if he was a minister. And she had thrown a lot at him all at once.

But she knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her. It simply wasn’t in his nature. That’s probably why he’d left so many messages during the week, checking to make sure she was all right. Not that she’d listened to any of them. As soon as she heard his voice, she hit the Erase button. It was easier that way. Because even if he was sorry for hurting her, his initial reaction had been the honest one—shock, recrimination and withdrawal. He blamed her, just as she blamed herself, for the deaths of those children. And the final blow had been her revelation that she might never be able to give him the family he wanted so badly. He was probably hurt, and maybe even angry, that she’d withheld that information from him. And he had a right to be.

The kettle whistled, and Sam poured the steaming water into a mug, absently dunking an herbal tea bag. The motion reminded her of the day she’d received Laura’s postcard from Hawaii, five months before. That was also the fateful day Brad had called about needing a house. It seemed like years ago, she thought wearily. So much had happened in the intervening months. And yet so little had changed. She’d been alone then. She was alone now. Her brief fling with romance, and the soaring hope that now lay shattered, simply affirmed what she’d always believed. There would be no happy ending for her.

“Laura! Laura!” Sam hissed urgently, reaching ahead to physically restrain her friend, who was blithely heading toward the front of the meeting room.

Laura turned in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“Let’s sit in the back,” Sam said in a low voice.

“But Marion’s up front. She’s led a study group before, and she promised to save us seats so she could fill me in on the protocol before the lecture starts.”

Sam sighed tiredly. It was too much of an effort to argue. “Okay. Fine.”

Sam said hello to Marion, then sank into her seat. She hadn’t prepared for tonight’s class, since she hadn’t intended to be here. Maybe she’d duck out after the lecture, go have a cup of coffee or something, and come back for Laura later.

The moderator stepped up to the podium, and the room grew silent. “Good evening, everyone. Welcome. It’s my pleasure tonight to introduce our guest lecturer. Reverend Williams can’t be with us, but we are fortunate to have as a replacement Reverend Brad Matthews. He’s a wonderful speaker, as you’ll soon discover, and I’m sure his talk will provide us with plenty of ideas for our discussion groups. Reverend Matthews’ topic tonight is forgiveness.”

Sam felt the color drain from her face as Brad entered the room from a side door and moved to the podium. For a moment she actually felt dizzy, and she forced herself to take several deep breaths.

“Sam? Are you all right?” Laura leaned over and eyed her friend worriedly.

“Did…did you know about this?” Sam asked, still fighting a wave of blackness. She turned to her friend, and one look at Laura’s guilty, flushed face gave her the answer. Sam’s gaze swung to Brad, who was now opening a folder from behind the podium. This was a conspiracy, she realized. Laura had lured her here falsely, made her sit in the front of the room so she couldn’t leave without causing a stir and calling attention to herself. And Brad had put Laura up to it. Sam stared at her friend, the shock in her eyes giving way to uncertainty and then hurt. How much did she know?

Laura could easily track Sam’s changing emotions in her unguarded eyes, could imagine her train of thought, and she reached over to touch her friend’s arm. “Brad just asked me to get you here,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but I do know that he’s been a basket case all week. And you didn’t sound much better on that message you left. I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing, but I hoped maybe this might help.”

Sam was saved from having to respond by Brad’s opening comments. She glanced longingly at the distant door, but there was no escape. She was stuck, plain and simple. She felt Laura squirm uncomfortably beside her, and a twinge of guilt tugged at her conscience. Laura had only done what Brad asked, and her heart had been in the right place. Sam couldn’t hold that against her. Laura had no way of knowing that there was no simple fix for the problems she and Brad faced. Sam touched her arm, and when Laura looked over, Sam forced her lips up into the semblance of a smile. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” she whispered. “I know you meant well.”

Laura squeezed her arm. “Thanks,” she said gratefully, relief flooding her eyes.

Sam glanced back at Brad. Tonight he was in clerical garb, the first time she’d seen him dressed in his “work” clothes since the wedding. He made a nice appearance, she thought, studying him surreptitiously. He had a certain presence that radiated strength and solidness, inspiring confidence and trust But his face seemed different than it had a few days before, she reflected. Older, somehow, and weary. There were lines at the corners of his eyes, and the shadows underneath spoke of sleepless nights and worry. Even the glint of silver that brushed his hair on each side seemed more prominent than before. Last Saturday’s scene had obviously taken a heavy toll on him, she thought guiltily. And she could have prevented it if she’d had the courage to reveal the truth earlier in their relationship, before love complicated their fives. She could only hope that he quickly realized the truth—that he was better off without her. Maybe he already had.