A Wedding In the Family
Read A Wedding In the Family Online
Authors: Kathryn Alexander
little Heather said.
“No,” Angela responded with a soft laugh. “Mommy isn’t asking for a man in her life.”
“But you’ve been alone a long time. Wouldn’t you like somebody to keep you company?” the six-year-old persisted.
“I’m fine with just you and your brothers,” Angela told her small daughter. “Good night, sweetie.”
Angela closed Heather’s bedroom door and leaned against it. What would she do if someone like Adam Dalton entered her life now, threatening her newly found independence? She winced at the thought.
“Oh, Lord,” she whispered, half in humor and half in desperation, “
please
don’t send me another man…”
writes inspirational romance because, having been a Christian for many years, incorporating the element of faith in the Lord into a romantic story line seemed like a lovely and appropriate idea. After all, in a society where love for a lifetime is difficult to find, imagine discovering it, unexpectedly, as a gift sent from God.
Married to Kelly, her own personal love of a lifetime, Kathryn and her husband have one son, John, who is the proud owner of the family’s two house pests, Herbie the cat and Copper the dog.
Kathryn and her family have been members of their church for nearly five years, where she co-teaches a Sunday school class of active two-year-olds. She is now a stay-at-home mom who writes between car pooling, baby-sitting and applying bandages, when necessary.
I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.
—
Psalm
121:1-2
To Mom, for her love and unending encouragement throughout the years, and to Grandma, for everything, always.
T
he ringing doorbell awakened Angela, more from its persistence than from its volume. She sat up on the sofa she had occupied almost from the moment she arrived home from work, and pushed her hair back from her forehead.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she called out with a cough to the unexpected visitor. The cold that had plagued her throughout much of the week had finally won the battle, forcing Angela to admit that she was sick and that, like it or not, she needed some rest.
The impatient ringing continued, even as she opened the front door.
“Yes, what is it?” she asked in a scratchy voice when she finally pulled open the heavy wooden door of her apartment.
“Mom?! Where were you?!” cried a little darkhaired girl who rushed immediately into Angela’s
arms, burying her tearstained face in her mother’s soft sweatshirt.
“Heather? What’s the matter? What happened?” Angela quickly asked, looking from her six-year-old daughter into the frowning face of the tall, lean figure standing nearby. “What’s wrong with her? What did you do—”
“What I ‘did’ was bring her home safely to you.” His interruption was harsh, and his words spoken sharply. “I found her sitting on the curb in the dark outside the recreation center—all alone and crying. Is that your usual practice? To leave a little girl wondering if she’s going to have a ride home from her swimming lesson?”
“No, of course not,” Angela replied. “I couldn’t pick her up tonight because I’m sick, so I made arrangements—”
“Your ‘arrangements’ didn’t work out. No one showed up. I had just locked the office and was leaving for the night when I saw her sitting there, crying. Didn’t you notice it was getting late? Swimming lessons have been over for more than an hour. She should have been home long before this.” Eyes of gunmetal gray glared at her in bridled anger.
Who was this man who had delivered her child to her front door and now stood accusing her of negligence? Something about him seemed familiar.
“I was asleep…I’ve been sick—” Angela suddenly felt much sicker, realizing what might have happened to her daughter if this man hadn’t played the role of the Good Samaritan. And Eric—how could
he forget to pick up his niece? She had asked him only hours earlier. “I did hear the phone ring a while ago, but I didn’t reach it in time. Maybe—”
“Don’t you own an answering machine?”
“Yes, but it’s broken. As of this morning.” When her son, David, had accidently knocked it off the microwave.
“Well, buy a new one. That call you missed was from Heather. I took her into my office to call you so she could tell you who was bringing her home. You know, it’s not a wise move to tell someone else’s kid to get into your vehicle so you can take them somewhere without the parent’s permission. I didn’t like the idea of the possible accusations you could bring against me if this whole thing ended in misunderstanding. If you’d had an answering machine on, she could have left a message—”
“Who are you, anyway?” Angela demanded between deep coughs, suddenly feeling defensive. “I
don’t
like the idea of my daughter getting into a car so willingly with a stranger.”
“Adam is not a stranger, Mom. He’s at swimming lessons every Thursday.”
That’s where she’d seen him. Once or twice when she’d picked up Heather after her class, this man had been there at the far end of the pool, talking with the children and watching their dives.
“I’m not a stranger to your daughter, Mrs. Sanders, but she really doesn’t know me well enough to have agreed to come with me as easily as she did. I think you need to discuss that with her. And if you and
your husband can’t get your act together about transportation for her any better than you did tonight, then keep Heather home where she’s safe—not sitting alone at the center at 9:00 p.m.”
How could this woman have been so careless? Adam wondered as he stood looking at Angela. She certainly appeared to be the loving, motherly type.
“Her uncle should have picked her up. I’ll get in touch with him tonight to find out what happened.” She offered her remark quietly, humiliated and frightened to think that this had happened, that Heather had been in such a potentially dangerous predicament, that this man she didn’t really know had lashed out at her so contemptuously, so angrily…and so accurately. “Thank you, very much, for bringing her home, Mr….”
“Dalton. Adam Dalton. I’m the director at the center.”
Angela coughed again. “Well, thank you, Mr. Dalton. I’ve been ill this week, and I was asleep when you arrived, so I had no idea of the time. Hours could have passed before I realized that my brother hadn’t brought Heather home. If you hadn’t been there to help…” She stopped abruptly, gripped with the thought of some stranger taking her little girl away. Her eyes burned with tears and her congested head seemed to pound with the beginnings of a furious headache.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Sanders. And I hope I never need to help you in this manner again,” he
stated briskly, the chill in his voice not warming one bit. Then he turned to leave.
“Goodbye, Adam. Thanks for rescuing me,” Heather stated rather matter-of-factly, bringing the hint of a smile to Adam’s face as he looked and winked.
“See ya next week,” he said as he left.
“He did save you from a dangerous situation,” Angela commented, giving her child a fierce hug and ushering her inside the apartment. Angela locked the front door securely, suddenly very conscious of safety. “But we really need to thank the Lord, too. I pray for your safety every day, and I’m so grateful to Him for watching over you.” Angela walked into the kitchen and picked up the telephone receiver to dial her younger brother’s number. She wondered when she’d have time to buy a new answering machine to replace the broken one on the counter by her elbow. Maybe after school tomorrow.
“Do you pray for the boys, too?” Heather asked.
“Absolutely. You’ve prayed with me enough to know that I do.” Angela listened to the rings, waiting for Eric or Hope to pick up.
“Did you pray for Daddy?” came Heather’s next question.
Angela looked into the crystal-blue eyes of her inquisitive daughter, wondering how to give the complicated answer to such a simple question. Then the doorbell rang again. And again.
“Angela?” a voice called.
“It’s Uncle Eric,” Heather said, and rushed to open the front door.
“Heather! I’m so glad you’re home! What happened? Who picked you up?” Eric was inside the door, hugging his niece.
“What happened to
you?
” Angela asked. “How could you forget to—”
“I didn’t forget her,” Eric explained quickly. “I got stuck in traffic. A semi overturned causing a chemical spill on the highway, and they wouldn’t let anyone through. Finally, they rerouted us, and I went straight to the center—but Heather was already gone. Did you pick her up?”
“No, Adam Dalton brought her home. He works at the center, and he found her waiting alone on the curb.”
“I’m sorry, Angela, but there was nothing I could do—”
“It’s all right,” she assured between coughs. “Heather’s home. She’s fine.” Angela pulled a cough drop from the pocket of her sweatpants and popped it into her mouth. “I’m just so thankful Mr. Dalton cared enough to see that she made it home safely.”
“Adam is nice, Mom,” Heather commented.
“I’m sure he is, hon,” Angela remarked. Although he had certainly not exhibited that quality toward herself, she had glimpsed it when he’d said “goodbye” to her daughter.
“Well, again, I’m sorry, Angela. Hope and the girls are waiting in the car, and I want to get back out there to tell them Heather is okay. Hope is so upset with
me for running late, you’d think I caused that chemical spill myself.”
“Can’t Cassie and Carrie come in for a while?” Heather asked.
“Your cousins will probably catch my cold if they do,” Angela said.
“Are you still feeling so sick? I talked to Mom and Dad, and they said they’re keeping the boys tonight so you could rest. I could take Heather home with me—”
“No, thanks. We’ll be fine here together.” Angela slipped an arm around her daughter and pulled her close. After this evening, she wasn’t certain she’d ever let Heather out of her sight again. At least, not until the girl turned thirty. “We’ll see you later.”
“Okay, good night,” he called as he left. And Angela, once again, locked the front door.
“Time for bed, sweetheart,” Angela said. “Go get into your pajamas.”
“But what about my bath?”
“It’s late, and I feel awful. Let’s skip the bath tonight.”
Within minutes, Angela and Heather were kneeling beside Heather’s bed with the colorful butterflydesign bedspread.
“We really need to thank the Lord for taking care of you tonight.”
Heather nodded. “‘When I am afraid, I will trust in you,’” she quoted. “Psalm 56:3. That’s my memory verse for Sunday School this week.”
Angela smiled, then sneezed. She grabbed a tissue
from the flower-printed box at the side of the bed. “You trusted Him, and He did take care of you.”
“Yes. I prayed for God to send someone—someone I knew, not a stranger—to take me home. And he sent Adam.”
“Yes, He did,” Angela agreed, then added, “So, let’s thank Him for that.”
After several minutes of prayer, Heather climbed between the sheets and pulled her bedspread up to her chin.
Angela kissed her daughter’s forehead and turned to leave. “See you in the morning, sweetheart.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, hon?”
“You didn’t answer my question about Dad. Did you pray for
him?
”
Angela sighed. Sometimes the truth hurt. “I did in the beginning, Heather. A lot But towards the end…after he left, no, I guess I didn’t. At least, not much. And I regret that.”
“Do you think he is in heaven?”
“If he asked the Lord to forgive him for his sins, then he’s in heaven.”
“Sylvia, too?”
Sylvia.
A woman Angela had every reason to hate, but never found it in her heart to do so. “Yes. God forgives everyone who wants His forgiveness.”
“Even if they didn’t want it until the last thing before they died?” At the sight of Heather’s doubting frown, her mother gave a smile of attempted comfort.
“Yes, even if it was the last thing they ever asked
for, God wouldn’t say ‘no.’” She walked back over to Heather’s bed, leaned down and gave the girl another kiss—cold germs and all—on the forehead. “Don’t worry about Dad. He wouldn’t want you to do that. Now, try to get some sleep.”
“Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Maybe God wasn’t just taking care of me tonight Maybe He sent Adam for you, too.”
“No,” she responded somewhere between a soft laugh and a cough. “God sent Adam Dalton for you. Mommy isn’t asking for a man in her life.”
“But you’ve been alone a long time. Wouldn’t you like to have somebody?”
“I’m fine here with you and your brothers. I do not need any more than that,” she stated emphatically. “Good night, Heather.”
Angela closed the door and leaned against it momentarily. “Oh, Lord, please don’t send me another man,” she whispered, half in humor and half in desperation. What would she do if someone like Adam Dalton entered her life now, threatening her newly found independence? She winced at the thought.
She had, only months earlier, received one of the surprises of a lifetime. Freedom. After nearly twelve years of a troubled marriage, her husband had finally chosen his alcoholic’s life-style over a future with her, and he had found someone named Sylvia to share it with him. So Angela was free. Suddenly and unexpectedly.
And she had been the one with the unpleasant task
of explaining it all to the children: Nathan, 12, David, 10 and Heather, 6. Little did she know that her discussion with them concerning the divorce would be easy compared to the news she would have to deliver several weeks later. News that their father was gone—forever. A car accident had claimed the lives of both Dan Sanders and his girlfriend, Sylvia.
Angela thought briefly of how she had openly wept at Dan’s funeral. Several people had commented in surprise that after all that had happened she still loved Dan enough to cry for him. But she didn’t. She just loved her kids, and they had lost their dad. And those three sad faces broke Angela’s heart—more completely than all those difficult years with Dan had ever done.
She walked into the small kitchen area and opened the cabinet over the sink in search of cold medicine. She wanted to be able to work tomorrow—Friday. There was so much to do in her new job as principal, and she needed to be there—sick or not. She swallowed the medication and drank a large glass of water to get rid of the taste. Then she headed for her own bedroom.
Tomorrow would be a better day, she hoped. And, whatever happened, at least she wouldn’t have to answer to an angry Adam Dalton about it.
