Apprentice Father (18 page)

From the beginning, Clay had wanted to protect the children from his father. Yet his resolution had wavered after last Sunday. The old man's thinking and attitude appeared to have undergone some sort of fundamental shift.

“Can't this be arranged through you and his attorney?” Clay asked.

“No. Your father was very specific. He said he wanted to talk with you.”

No surprise there. The old man had always liked to do things his way. “Okay, I'll give him a call and see what we can work out.”

“Great. Let me know how it goes. We're on the docket, so if necessary we can still pay a visit to the judge. But it will be a whole lot easier on the kids if the two of you can come to some sort of agreement.”

Clay didn't doubt that. He just hoped the old man would be reasonable.

And if he wasn't, Clay intended to keep that court date.

 

After reassuring himself Josh and Emily were asleep, Clay eased their bedroom door shut and headed toward the kitchen. It was time to place the call.

He'd been thinking about it all day. And dreading it. He and his father had never communicated well, even about unimportant things. They were bound to clash on a topic of this magnitude. But he was willing to try, for the sake of the children.

As he sat at the kitchen table and picked up the phone, Clay
noted without surprise that his hands were trembling. Considering all that was at stake, he wanted the discussion to go well. But it had been years since he and his father had had a civil conversation. Or tried to. This was going to be awkward. And challenging.

After weighing the phone in his hand for another minute, Clay forced himself to punch in his father's number. There was no sense delaying the inevitable.

His father answered on the second ring, as if he'd been sitting by the phone. “Hello.”

Clay dispensed with a greeting and got straight to the point. “My attorney said you wanted to speak with me.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. “I wasn't sure you'd call.”

“My attorney advised me to. I just want what's best for the children.”

“So do I.” Again there was a slight pause, and Clay heard his father take a deep breath. “And I think the best thing for them is to stay with you.”

“That's not what you thought when you filed for custody.”

“I've learned a few things since then. And discovered I've made some mistakes.”

Clay had no idea how to respond. As far back as he could remember, his father had never admitted to being wrong about anything.

As if aware of Clay's dilemma, the older man gave a mirthless chuckle. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised by your reaction. I've been pretty hard-nosed and self-righteous all my life. Too much so, I guess. I realized that after you blamed me for Anne's death. I resented your comment, but over the past few weeks I've come to accept you were right. If I hadn't been adamant with her about honoring her marriage vows, she'd still be with us.”

A brief pang of regret echoed in Clay's heart at his father's words. He'd thrown out that accusation in anger—and without full information. After talking with Pop about his wife, Clay had come to understand that in all likelihood Anne had been held to Martin by many strings she'd never revealed to him. Reluctance to face their father's disapproval had been one of them. But only one.

“I shouldn't have said that.” Clay forced out the words. He wasn't good at admitting he was wrong, either. At least to his old man. “Battered women stay in those situations for a lot of reasons. What you said to Anne didn't help, but I'm sure it wasn't the only reason she stuck with him.”

“Some of the blame is mine, though. And I started thinking that if I was wrong about that, I might be wrong about other things. Including my son. As I discovered last weekend, I was.” He cleared his throat. “I learned something else, too, as I watched you with Joshua and Emily. You're a better father than I ever was. I never had your parenting skills. But I'm going to work on them. I failed with you and Anne, but I want a second chance with Joshua and Emily. That's why I requested visiting privileges. In whatever form you're willing to grant them.”

Clay tried to assimilate everything his father had said. It was so unexpected, so against type, he was beginning to doubt the man on the other end of the line was Clayton Adams. His father never asked. He demanded. And he'd always had to be in control. Yet he was leaving the arrangements in Clay's hands with a promise to abide by whatever terms his son offered.

Despite that positive development, however, there was still a lot of baggage to deal with. The memories of his unhappy childhood left a bitter taste in Clay's mouth, and he didn't know how he could get past that. Or
if
he could. Reverend Richards often talked about the importance of forgiveness, and Clay knew this
was the biggest test he'd ever face. But he wasn't sure he was up to the task.

All at once, the encounter with his father on the church lawn last Sunday replayed in his mind. The kids had been cautious at first. But after the older man had gotten down on their level and talked to them in a kind voice, Josh had warmed to him, even inviting him for breakfast. The little boy had been willing to let go of past hurts and give the man another chance.

Perhaps that was the example Clay should follow.

It wouldn't be as fast or as easy for him as it had been for Josh. There was too much painful history between him and his father. But maybe, with the Lord's help, he could find a way to take the first steps on a new path with his father. To give their relationships one more chance.

“All I'm asking for is a chance, Clay.”

His father's words, strained and worried, so closely mirrored Clay's thoughts that he couldn't write them off as mere coincidence. Making his decision, he tightened his grip on the phone and took the plunge.

“All right. Let's give it a try.”

 

Cate had been sitting by her phone trying to balance her checkbook for the past half hour, but the numbers wouldn't add up. Thanks to her distraction, not her math skills. She might as well give it up until Clay called with a report on his conversation with his father, as he'd promised he would, she conceded.

When the phone trilled at last, she lunged for it, fumbled, and watched in dismay as it fell to the floor. Spinning across the tile, it went silent.

Great. She'd probably broken it, Cate berated herself in disgust as she scrambled off the stool at the counter and went to retrieve it.

Before she managed to pick it up, however, it began to ring again.

This time, she clamped her good hand around it and pressed it firmly against her ear. “Hello?”

A chuckle came over the line. “I've had women hang up on me in the past, but not before I say hello.”

Clay's relaxed, upbeat tone told her all she needed to know. Her shoulders sagged in relief as she sank back onto the stool. “It went well?”

“Very.” He gave her a recap, ending with his father's willingness to let him set the visitation schedule. “The outcome is about as good as I could have hoped. And now we need to celebrate. How about dinner Thursday night?”

“Sure. The kid's will love a party.”

“
Their
party is tomorrow night. I'm bringing pizza home. You're welcome to join us then, too, but Thursday is for you and me. We deserve a night out after all the stress of the past few months.”

He was asking her out on a date.

As the implication sank in, Cate's pulse tripped into double time. Clay had promised not to bring up personal issues until the custody issue was resolved, and he'd been good about that—even if both of them had slipped on the hands-off rule. But she hadn't expected him to jump on this so soon.

Then again, Clay wasn't the kind of person who put things off. If a need arose, he addressed it. That's how he'd been with the children—always on top of issues, doing his best to resolve them. She should have expected him to confront the problems in their relationship the instant he was able.

She just wasn't sure he could solve them.

Not that there was any doubt in her mind about her feelings—or Clay's. She loved him, and she was pretty sure he loved her. He
might not yet be ready to make a commitment, but it was obvious he was headed in that direction. The short-term looked rosy.

The long-term was what worried her. When the moment of truth came, would he follow through—or back out, as Dan had? And suppose he did take the plunge into matrimony—only to decide down the road that living with a disabled woman wasn't worth the effort?

Those were the concerns that had disrupted her sleep for the past few weeks. She could lay them out to Clay, but no matter what assurances he gave her, there were no guarantees. And it wasn't only her emotional wellbeing that was at stake. Two little children, who had already endured too much trauma in their short lives, would also be devastated if she and Clay connected, only to have things fall apart later.

“Hey, Cate. Loosen up. It's just a dinner.” His teasing tone interrupted her internal debate. “If you don't want to talk about us, we'll defer that discussion to another night. But come with me. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I'd like to celebrate with you.”

How could she refuse a request like that? Besides, they had to talk sooner or later. It might as well be sooner. “Okay, Clay. It's a date.”

“Great!” The word was filled with relief—and elation. “And get all gussied up. We're doing this in style.”

“M
mm! That was a great meal!” Cate smiled and leaned back in her chair at Washington's upscale riverside restaurant. The oppressive July heat had abated enough to allow for patio dining, and the flickering candles on the tables bathed the scene in soft illumination.

“I'm glad you liked it.” Clay gave her a lazy smile as he took a sip of his after-dinner coffee, admiring the shimmer of her blond hair and the golden glow of her complexion in the candlelight. She looked beautiful in a sleeveless silk dress, the beaded round neckline dipping to reveal a hint of creamy skin below her collarbone. A flat gold necklace glinted with every breath she took, directing his attention to the delicate hollow of her throat.

He was grateful she'd relaxed as the evening progressed. When he'd picked her up, she'd been taut as a plumb line. But true to his word, he'd steered the conversation away from personal topics. And the great meal, tranquil ambience and easy conversation had mellowed her out. She looked comfortable, content—and very, very appealing.

“I should never have eaten that whole piece of Mississippi
mud pie.” Cate groaned. “I'll be paying for those calories for a week. Chocolate goes right to my hips.”

“Not that I've noticed.” He gave her an unrepentant grin.

She blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “It's true, though. One of my favorite treats growing up was a fudgesicle. But when I was dancing, I only allowed myself one a week—and in lieu of dinner, at that. The weight requirements for ballerinas are very stringent.” She swiped up one last crumb of cake with her fork and popped it in her mouth. “That's one of the pluses of my current life. I can indulge in Mississippi mud pie or fudgesicles a little more often without quite as much guilt.”

Since she'd brought up her past, Clay decided the subject was fair game. And perhaps it would lead to other personal topics.

“So what drew you to dancing?”

Her face grew luminous. “The oneness with the music. It was the most amazing experience.”

Clay wished he could give her back the dream that had meant so much to her. But that was beyond his power. All he could hope to do was offer her a new dream.

“From what I've read, dancers don't have much of a life.”

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “That's true. Dance is a hard taskmaster. You lead a pretty solitary existence focused on practice and performing.”

“Considering your close family, I'm surprised that appealed to you. I would have thought you'd want a family of your own.”

A flicker of distress echoed in the depths of her eyes, and she took a sip of water before responding. “I did. I'd planned to perform for ten or fifteen years, then open a dance studio. I'd expected to be married and settled down with a family by the time I was in my late thirties. Still dancing, but on my terms.”

“It's not too late for the family part.”

She regarded him across the flickering flame, and her profound sadness reached deep into his soul. “I gave up that dream, too.”

“Because of Dan?”

She blinked. “How do you know about Dan?”

“I asked Pop who he was at the pavilion raising.”

“Why?”

“I felt strange vibes the day you and he talked after church weeks ago. And I sensed Pop didn't like him either.”

She cast her eyes down and toyed with her water glass. “What did Pop say?”

“That you and Dan had been serious, and the whole family expected an engagement announcement. Then one day it was over. No one knew why.”

Cate traced the condensation on her glass with a fingertip. “It just didn't work out.”

Clay wanted to know why. But he asked the more important question first. “Are you still in love with him?”

She hesitated, as if debating whether she should respond to his quiet query. To his relief, she did. “No. To be honest, I've begun to wonder if I ever really was. I think maybe I just loved what he represented. He's a good Christian man who I thought was going to offer me the kind of life I've always dreamed of—a loving husband, children at my table, a stable, God-centered home.”

“What happened?”

She took a deep breath and leveled a direct look at him. “My disabilities aren't always easy to cope with, Clay. There are days I need extra help. When I have to use my cane. When I can't keep up. Dan's very athletic. He loves to ski and hike and bicycle. I couldn't share those kinds of activities with him. And he felt guilty about leaving me behind to do them. After a while, that wears on a relationship.”

“There's more to marriage than skiing and hiking together.”

“That wasn't the only stumbling block. A lot of people are uncomfortable with disabilities. They don't like the attention they draw, or the inconvenience they cause. I've encountered plenty of people over the past fourteen years who had difficulty dealing with disabled individuals.”

She scanned the patio, filled with tables of diners enjoying their meals. “Didn't you notice the attention we drew tonight as we walked in? Most people tried to be discreet, but I could feel their scrutiny. And I saw the quick, embarrassed way they averted their eyes if I caught them watching me. That happens wherever I go.”

If their entrance had drawn attention, Clay hadn't been aware of it. He'd been too focused on the lovely woman across from him. “If Dan had a problem with that, how did you two ever get serious?”

She shrugged. “I guess I ignored the signs. Dan used to tell me he prayed every day for my healing. Even after I explained that the doctors had said I'd recovered as much as I was going to, he insisted that with trust in God, anything is possible. Including miracles. I believe in miracles, but I'd come to the conclusion that for whatever reason, God has given me this cross to bear for the rest of my life. Dan didn't accept that, though. He kept praying.”

Cate looked out over the wide, deep river flowing by, steady and placid, on the other side of the road. “To make a long story short, in the end he was forced to accept that I wasn't going to improve. I knew he'd been praying for me to recover. But I'd never realized his love was contingent on my recovery. Until the night he told me that while he cared for me, and knew my physical disabilities shouldn't affect the way he felt, they did.”

A shaft of pain darted through her eyes and her voice grew softer. “In hindsight, I have a feeling he latched on to me out of some misplaced sense of Christian duty. That I became sort of a
cause for him. Maybe he felt it was a magnanimous gesture to date a disabled woman. A demonstration of his Christian charity. And I think he believed his prayers would produce results.” She lifted one shoulder. “I can't say for sure what his motivations were, but I do know he never meant to hurt me. He felt so guilty the night he broke things off that I ended up consoling
him
.”

A humorless smile, whispered at the corners of her mouth. “Anyway, that experience was a wake-up call. While God loves us all, and values us the same despite our faults or disabilities, it's harder for humans to overlook the kind of problems I have. They're often inconvenient, sometimes embarrassing and, to varying degrees, limiting. Much as I hate to admit it, there are days I'm not up to taking a walk, let alone engaging in sports. A lot of people don't want to deal with that for the rest of their lives. Dan was one of them.”

Clay regarded the sweet, gentle, caring woman across from him—and had some very unchristian thoughts about the man who had hurt her. “Do you know what I think, Cate?”

Her expression became guarded. “What?”

“I think Dan was an idiot. And that's the nicest thing I can say about him.”

Clay saw hope flicker to life in Cate's deep green eyes. But it was tempered by caution that had been forged from disappointment and pain and experience. Before this night was over, however, he intended to put her fears to rest.

Removing his napkin from his lap, he set it on the table. “Are you finished with your coffee?”

“Yes.”

He scanned the check the waiter had left a few minutes ago, removed some bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table. “Let's continue this discussion over there, in privacy.” He
gestured toward the benches spaced along the riverbank, none of which were occupied on this warm evening.

Five minutes later, seated side by side, he smiled at her. “Much better. Now where were we?”

She tipped her head. “I thought we weren't going to get into a personal discussion tonight.”

“It just came up naturally.” He rested one elbow on the back of the bench, his fingers brushing her arm. “We can defer it until tomorrow, though, if you prefer.”

With a sigh, she shook her head. “I guess we might as well continue. There's no sense putting off the inevitable.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He extended his hand toward her. “I have a few things to say, and I'd like to hold your hand while I do that.”

She considered his long, lean, sun-browned fingers. When at last she lifted her right hand, he shook his head and retracted his.

“The other one, Cate.” His tone was gentle, coaxing. “Trust me on this, okay?”

He saw the conflict in her eyes. The uncertainty. The yearning. He prayed the latter would win out.

It did. A few moments later, she lifted her left hand and placed it in his.

Gratified by her trust, Clay traced each finger with a gentle, unhurried touch. “You have beautiful hands, Cate. Both of them.”

“This one doesn't work very well, though.” Her voice caught on the last word.

“True. But something much more important works perfectly. Your heart.” He leaned forward, willing her to hear the truth in his words as he cradled her hands in his. “I'll admit that the first thing I noticed the day we met was your limp. And your hand. I remember wondering what had happened to someone so young
and beautiful to cause such disabilities. I guess I fell into the curious camp that day.

“But the funny thing is, the longer I knew you, the less I noticed your disabilities. There were too many other, more important, things to notice. Your kindness. Your tender heart. Your gentle way with the children. Your deep faith. Your devotion to your family. Your consideration and empathy and generous spirit. I discovered you were smart and strong and wise beyond your years.

“I know this might sound strange, Cate, but I don't think your disabilities are a burden at all. I think they're a gift that has led you to travel a better path than the one you planned.”

Jolted, Cate stared at Clay. Through the years, she'd viewed her disabilities in many ways. As a problem. An affliction. A cross. But never as a gift. How could the burden that had robbed her of her dreams and almost destroyed her life be a gift? Even after she'd accepted her limitations, she'd never thought of them in such positive terms.

Yet Clay might be right, she acknowledged. She had learned and grown and matured as a result of her illness. And while she'd given up the dream that had guided her youth, she'd found a different, very satisfying life. One that had led her to this place, this time, this man. If her dreams of being a ballerina had come true, she'd never have met Clay. Perhaps never had the opportunity to consider marriage or a family as she juggled the demands and rigors demanded by the life of a dancer.

And as she got lost in Clay's warm, adoring eyes, the last of her doubts dissolved. If Dan had convinced her that taking a chance on commitment was risky due to her disabilities, Clay had convinced her by his words, his touch, his actions that if love was real, her disabilities posed no risk at all. That, in fact, he considered them a blessing, because they had brought them together.

Before she could absorb all Clay had said, he slid off the bench to one knee and cocooned her hands in his. “Okay, here comes the scary part. For me, anyway.” He flashed her a nervous grin, then grew serious again. “Over the past few months, thanks to you and your family, I've come to realize that a good marriage and a loving family don't tie you down. They lift you up. That they're not a burden, but a gift to be cherished. The secret, I think, is finding the right woman. And I found her in you.”

His compelling gaze held hers, and he swallowed hard. “Cate Shepard, I love you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

A single tear tracked down Cate's cheek, and when Clay reached up to brush it away she covered his unsteady hand with hers, pressing it against her cheek.

“I love you, too, Clay Adams. I never thought I'd risk saying that again. But I'm not afraid with you. I trust you with my life—and with my heart. And I want to be with you for always. So yes. I would be honored to become your wife.”

At the elation, the radiant joy, that swept over his face, Cate's throat constricted with tenderness. And when he drew her to her feet, pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers, she surrendered to the warm kiss that was filled with promise.

When at last he released her lips, she clung to the lapels of his charcoal gray suit, resting in the shelter of his strong arms. Trying to convince herself this was real. But the thudding of his heart against her ear, the spicy scent of his aftershave, proved that this moment wasn't just some romantic fantasy she'd conjured up in her imagination. It really was happening.