Apprentice Father (15 page)

“Good idea. Then get a plate of food for yourself before it's all gone. We've got one hungry crew here.”

The woman moved away, and Cate gave the table one more swipe to erase any lingering evidence of her faux pas. Risking a peek across the lawn, she noted that Clay remained apart from the group, his back to her. He was looking up, his posture contemplative.

As if he was praying.

Was that possible? she wondered. While his attitude toward religion had softened, she didn't think he'd yet put the power of prayer to work in his life.

But whether he had or not, it was time she did, Cate resolved.

Because the decisions she faced in the coming weeks were too big for her to handle alone.

 

“Sorry Pop cornered you about giving me a lift. I could have hitched a ride with someone else in my family.” Cate retrieved her purse from the floor of Clay's truck as he pulled into a parking space in front of her condo.

“I didn't mind the detour.” He set the brake and checked out Josh and Emily over his shoulder. They were sound asleep in their car seats, and his mouth softened into a smile. “Looks like I won't be missed if I walk you to your door.”

Cate shifted around to observe the youngsters in the deepening twilight. “Josh missed his nap, and Emily was wired all day. But they had a blast playing with all the other kids. They'll sleep well tonight.”

“So will their uncle.” Clay grinned and unbuckled his seat belt. “Sit tight.”

Half a minute later, he pulled open her door and she swiveled in the seat. Rather than let her struggle out of the high cab, he reached up and circled her slender waist with his hands. As he swung her to the ground, she instinctively grasped his shoulders.

She felt good in his arms, he reflected, as he stared down into her wide, clear eyes. Soft and feminine and oh-so-appealing. He wouldn't mind standing like this for the rest of the night.

Or the rest of his life, he realized.

Only when she gently attempted to pull away did he release her.

“You can say goodbye here, Clay.” There was a hint of panic in her voice. “Take the kids home and get some rest.”

“I'll rest better if I'm sure you're safe inside.

He thought she was going to object, but in the end, with a shrug of capitulation, she acquiesced. Taking her arm, he fell into step beside her, shortening his stride to match hers.

“Sorry. I'm a bit slow tonight.” Her apology came out breathless.

“I'm in no hurry.”

In the four months he'd known Cate, he could never remember her being this nervous. He could feel the apprehension radiating from her as they approached her door. Heard her keys rattling in her hand as she withdrew them from her purse. Saw the quiver in her fingers as she tried twice to slip her key into the lock before succeeding. It was obvious the moment on the church lawn was etched in her memory, as it was in his.

“Hey. It's okay.” His words came out in a husky whisper as he stroked her arm below the sleeve of her soft knit shirt.

Slowly she lifted her head from the lock to focus on his fingers against her skin. “It doesn't feel okay.”

“You don't like this?” He continued to stroke her arm.

“What h-happened to our hands-off agreement?”

She'd avoided his question, he noted. Meaning she liked his touch. But she was scared.

Forcing himself to break contact, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I think we should revisit it.”

When she at last lifted her chin and allowed him to look into her eyes, he saw conflict, fear and yearning. It was impossible to tell which was stronger. But the pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat and her soft, parted lips called out to him.

Earlier, he'd prayed for the courage to follow his heart. So without agonizing further, he leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

He half expected her to pull away. But she didn't move. Instead, much to his surprise, she kissed him back. Thoroughly.

Clay stretched the kiss out as long as he dared, resisting the temptation to let it escalate. Finally, calling on every ounce of his willpower, he drew back long before he was ready to release her.

For several seconds, her eyes remained closed, the long sweep of her lashes resting on her fair skin. When at last they fluttered open, her pupils were a bit dilated. She swallowed. Blinked. Took a deep breath.

“That wasn't fair.” Her whispered comment was ragged.

“I followed the rules.” He leaned back a little and wiggled his fingers, still in his pockets. “Hands off.”

“In letter only.”

He conceded the point with a shrug. “Are you sorry?”

“I don't know.” She folded her arms across her chest and eased away, a frown marring her smooth brow. “Pursuing this could be a mistake. For both of us.”

“Why?”

She shook her head and fumbled for the handle of the door behind her. “It's too complicated to go into tonight.”

“We need to talk about this, Cate. I know there are issues. Our backgrounds are different. And when we met, our approach to life was different, too. But a lot of things have changed over the past few months.”

“This isn't the time for that discussion. I'm going to hold you to your promise about tabling it until after the custody issue is resolved. I need some space to think things through.”

Clay wanted to press, but his instincts told him to back off. Weeks ago, Cate had said she wasn't willing to risk testing their compatibility. It was clear she still considered him a risky proposition. And she might be right, he admitted. Before he dived into romance, he needed to be absolutely sure about his intentions. While he was close to accepting the notion of commitment, he wasn't there yet.

And it was clear the woman across from him suspected that.

“Okay.” He stepped back. “We'll do this your way. Goodnight, Cate.”

Returning to his truck, he climbed into the driver's seat and checked on the kids. Still snoozing, he noted, one corner of his mouth twitching. No surprise there. As Cate had pointed out, after their exhausting day they'd no doubt sleep like logs all night.

He was tired, too. But he had a strong suspicion his two little charges would greet the morning a whole lot more rested than he would.

“W
e have a court date, Clay. August fourth in Omaha.”

At Mark's news, Clay flipped to the next page in his calendar, juggling the phone as he jotted a note on the day the court would decide whether he could keep Josh and Emily. A month away. His gut clenched and he leaned forward in his desk chair, every muscle tense. “Is there anything else we can do while we wait?”

“I've checked all the references you provided. Your military record is outstanding, and your boss speaks well of you. I also talked with Reverend Richards, as you suggested. His endorsement will have a lot of impact. The only loose end is the job situation. Have you had any luck finding a position that requires less travel? The judge will ask about that.”

“Yeah. I talked to my boss. Our work in the St. Louis area is increasing, and they're thinking of opening a branch in the city. He said the area supervisor position is mine if the expansion goes through, but that won't be decided for several months. If it doesn't happen, I'll find a more stable job.”

“Let's hope that satisfies the judge. Also, I just got a copy of the report from the social worker. You passed with flying colors.”

Clay let out a long breath. “That's the best news I've had in weeks.”

“I think we have a good case, Clay. Try not to lose sleep over this.”

As he hung up, Clay wished he could follow Mark's advice. But until he had official papers in his hand saying Josh and Emily belonged with him, he knew he wouldn't rest easy.

 

“Hey, Clay, thanks again for helping with the pavilion. We couldn't have done it without you.”

Clay looked up from his seat on a blanket on the church grounds, searching his memory for the name of the man who'd worked on the building crew the prior weekend. “I was glad to help, Ralph. But you people did all the real work.”

The man chuckled. “My father wasn't much of a handyman, but he swung a mean hammer. At least I learned how to pound a nail in straight.” He inspected the pavilion, where Reverend Richards had conducted a special Fourth of July service in conjunction with the dedication of the structure. “Turned out real fine. Well, enjoy your picnic.”

As the man headed back to his family, Clay scanned the church grounds. Members of the congregation had brought picnic dinners to enjoy after the service and dedication, and several had stopped to thank Clay for his help with the project. That sense of belonging was a new experience for him, one he'd always taken great pains to avoid. But it didn't feel at all confining or uncomfortable, as he'd expected. On the contrary. It felt good.

“I like this.” Emily held up her fork to examine the spiral noodle she'd speared. “What is it?”

“Pasta salad,” Cate told her, directing a smile toward Clay. “And I second that. The food is great.”

“I can't claim any credit for it. I threw myself on the mercy of a nice older woman at the deli on Main Street. She put the menu together.” He hadn't been sure Cate would accept his invitation to join them for the picnic. Not with things unsettled between them. But he hadn't exactly played fair by inviting her in front of the children. As he'd expected, they'd pleaded with her to say yes. And she found their entreaties as hard to refuse as he did.

“That would be Linda,” Cate supplied. “This has her touch.”

“Better hers than mine. You wouldn't want to eat anything I'd concoct.” Clay gave her a rueful grin.

“You cook good,” Josh said loyally. “I like your spaghetti.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Chuckling, he tousled the youngster's hair. “But it's hard to go wrong with sauce from a jar.”

“It's still good,” Josh insisted.

Cate checked her watch. “Why don't we pack up and head down to the river? We can stake out a good spot for the fireworks and have our dessert while the band plays.”

“Sounds good to me,” Clay agreed.

Once everything was stowed in the cooler, Clay stood and held out a hand to Cate. After a momentary hesitation, she took it and he pulled her to her feet in one smooth, effortless motion.

“I'm sorry, Cate. I should have brought lawn chairs.” He kept a firm grip on her slender fingers while she got her balance. “Sitting on the ground wasn't the best idea.”

“I like picnics on the grass.” She tugged her hand free and turned to brush some dried grass off Josh's bottom, avoiding eye contact with Clay.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I hope you like fireworks on the grass, too. We're in the same boat there.”

“I'll be fine.”

But half an hour later, as they chose a spot in the park by the
river and he spread the blanket on the ground again, he once more regretted his oversight. Cate managed without complaint, but he knew getting up and down wasn't easy for her.

She remained on the blanket while the kids dragged him to the concession stand for ice cream cones, and when they returned she was chatting with some members of the congregation who had also gone on to the park. The steady parade of visitors continued until the sky darkened and the fireworks display began.

As he watched the bursts of color overhead, it occurred to Clay that if someone had told him six months ago what he'd be doing on this Fourth of July, he'd have laughed. He'd have been sure he'd be spending this holiday like he spent every other—alone, and probably working.

Instead, he'd gone to a religious service. Had a picnic on the lawn of a church. Conversed with countless people he hadn't known six months ago and who now considered him one of their own. He was also responsible for the two little children cuddled up beside him, their eyes wide with wonder at the dazzling display.

And then there was Cate, who'd filled his life with light as surely as the fireworks were illuminating the night sky.

Her head was tipped back as she sat beside him, her expression as enraptured as Emily's and Josh's. Her ability to find joy in simple, everyday pleasures—despite disappointments that would have turned many people cynical and bitter—was one of the things he loved about her.

Love.

The word jolted him, and for a second he stopped breathing. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to attach the L word to Cate. But he suspected the connection had been there for quite a while.

He was in love with Cate.

There was no way the Clay Adams who had arrived in Washington back in March would ever have allowed for that possibility, he acknowledged. But he'd changed over the past few months. Partly because of the children. Partly because of Cate. And partly because he'd begun to listen to the voice calling to him, inviting him to come home.

The voice of the Lord.

A passage Reverend Richards had read last week replayed in his mind. “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

In order to accept the Lord's invitation, Clay knew he needed to put his life in God's hands. Needed to follow where He led. Like Reverend Richards, Clay now felt certain the course the Lord wanted him to follow wasn't the one he'd laid out for himself. That he was being called to start down a path with an end he couldn't see, trusting that the Lord who had brought him this far would continue to guide him.

And he at last felt ready to heed that call. Beginning right now. Because this was where he belonged. Here, in this small town, with the two children who had stolen his heart and the woman whose quiet faith, remarkable strength and simple goodness had made it beat with new life and warmth.

Repositioning himself behind Cate, he leaned close to her ear, praying she'd be receptive to this overture. He intended to honor his promise about tabling a discussion of personal matters until after the custody issue was resolved, but he wanted to begin laying the groundwork now.

“Why don't you lean on me?” He'd said the same thing to her the day she'd fallen after the kite-flying accident, he recalled. It had been an odd choice of words for a man who'd never wanted
anyone to lean on him. To count on him. But he'd come through for the children. And now he felt confident he could be the kind of man Cate could lean on, and count on, too.

He gently took her shoulders, urged her back against his chest and held his breath.

 

Every nerve ending in Cate's body began to thrum as Clay settled behind her. When she'd accepted his invitation, she'd assumed she'd be safe, knowing the children would be effective chaperones. Yet she'd felt anything but safe all day. For one simple reason.

She'd fallen in love with the man sitting a touch away.

And she suspected his feelings were escalating as well.

So she wasn't surprised when his hands came to rest on her shoulders, nor when he whispered the invitation in her ear to lean on him.

With every ounce of her being, she wanted to do just that. It would be so easy to put her trust in him. To throw caution to the wind and give full expression to the feelings she was struggling to contain.

To get hurt.

But despite the risk, resisting him was becoming as difficult as resisting the children's innocent pleas. Except children's love was generally transparent, she reminded herself. What you saw was what you got. If they said they loved you, they did. If they offered affection, it was genuine. And unless you hurt them, their love remained strong.

Adult love, on the other hand, came with far more baggage and was far less innocent. Even if there was no intent to inflict pain, people could get hurt. She'd been there. And the experience had taught her that her disability was a double stumbling block. If Dan,
a kind man of deep faith, hadn't been able to accept her limitations in the end, could she expect anyone to? Beyond that, was it fair to saddle any man for life with a woman who had her problems?

All along, she'd thought the answer to both questions was no.

But Clay was making her doubt that conclusion. He didn't appear to be put off by her disabilities. Most days he hardly seemed to notice them, accommodating her limitations with an ease that helped her forget them, too.

Yet maybe, in the long run, that effort would wear on him.

“Come on, Cate. Relax.” Clay's voice spoke in her ear again as he gently massaged her stiff shoulders. “We'll reinstitute the hands-off rule tomorrow. I promise.”

The temptation was too strong to resist. With a sigh of surrender, Cate leaned back.

While she felt a subtle easing of tension in his body, her reaction was the exact opposite. As she settled in against his broad chest, as she inhaled the heady scent of his masculine aftershave, as his warm breath whispered against her temple, awareness of him raced through her.

He entwined his fingers with hers, and she watched, mesmerized, as he began to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. It was a comforting gesture in some ways, meant to reassure. But it was a prelude, too. A testing of the waters. A cautious foray into new territory.

A few minutes ago, Clay had told her to lean on him. For years Cate had struggled to prove she could make it on her own, that she didn't need to lean on anyone. But the hard truth was there were days she did need help. And would, for the rest of her life. She'd learned to accept that. Dan hadn't been able to. Would Clay ultimately come to the same conclusion?

As if sensing her doubts, Clay gave her fingers a gentle, en
couraging squeeze that communicated a clear message: Trust me. All will be well.

She prayed that was true.