Dad in Training (16 page)

Voices echoed down the hallway, her mother and Steph chatting as they painted in the large back room. Her parents had been at the job all day with only a quick break for fast food. Love burst inside over their sacrifice.

Having the building loaned to her without cost was another blessing, and Brent was so much a part of it. He’d settled into her world and into her heart. She’d never cared for any man as she did for him. And the realization had come to her suddenly, like a ray of sunshine that swept through the doorway and warmed her.

Yet always her nagging concern dispelled the warmth. She longed for Brent to love God with all his heart. Molly’s heart skipped a beat. If she had the assurance, she could open herself to a meaningful relationship with him. She could tell him about her teen years, and God willing, their relationship could grow more deeply.

Their Fourth of July barbecue came to mind. She’d monitored her irritation and avoided pouncing on her mother for manipulating Brent and his father to attend worship, but her mother had been right. During worship, Molly had looked in Brent’s eyes, and instead of a deep troubled ocean, she’d witnessed a sparkling, deep blue sea. Though they hadn’t had a chance to talk, she prayed that something wonderful had happened that day.

She leaned against the office doorjamb and closed her eyes, thanking God for that amazing moment on Sunday, and then amended her prayer.
Thank you, Lord, for a mother who knows how to move a mountain.

Faith. Things happened with faith, not worry. She’d never changed a thing with worry or fear of failure.

“Sleeping?”

Molly’s eyes flew open and connected with Brent’s. Time stood still as she untangled herself from her thoughts. “What are you doing here?” She noticed his pair of old faded jeans and a well-worn T-shirt, something she’d never seen him in before. “Don’t tell me you’re here to paint.”

He glanced down the hallway and then drew her into his arms. “Okay, I won’t say a word.”

Brent’s playfulness delighted her. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I am.” His smile weakened. “But I have things we need to talk about.” He glanced toward the back of the building. “But I don’t want to be interrupted.”

His eyes searched hers, warping the lightheartedness she’d experience only a moment earlier. Now everything seemed like a nebulous mess. “I’ll think of something.”

Brent didn’t move, his gaze still clinging to hers. As if a light came on, he nodded and then lowered his arms and stepped around her to the office doorway. “I like the color.” He glanced back at her. Before she realized, he’d drawn her into the room and into his arms.

“You look worried, Molly. Don’t be.” His hand reached up to brush a few wispy hairs from her cheek. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking…and soul-searching.”

Soul-searching. No words came that weren’t packed with emotion…and hope.

His gaze deepened. Her arms moved on their own and wrapped around him. His lips met hers, gentle and cautious, sending chills down her spine. He drew her into an embrace, and she gave him an answer with her lips, languishing in the sweet, heady emotions so new to her.

“Oops.”

Brent jerked backward with the speed of a wildcat while Molly grappled beside him to get her bearings.

“Steph, you scared me to death.” Molly’s lips tingled from the glorious kiss.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” While Steph expressed her apology, her face appeared to battle against a grin.

Molly ran her fingers through her hair. “We were talking about—”

Steph’s hand flew up to stop her. “You don’t have to explain.”

Brent seemed to have gathered his wits. He backed a few steps toward the door. “I need to offer my services to the paint crew in the back.” He bolted through the doorway.

With Brent’s departure, Steph burst into laughter and opened her arms. “I’m so happy for you.” She gave Molly a bear hug, her giggles echoing in Molly’s ear.

“It wasn’t what it looked like.”

Steph’s eyes widened while a silly expression spread on her face. “Really? It definitely looked like a kiss to me, but then I haven’t been kissed in so long maybe I’m confused.”

A shot of guilt charged through Molly, thinking of Steph’s troubled past. “Yes, he kissed me, but it—”

“Come on, Molly.” Steph’s playful expression had faded to disbelief. “How long are you going to try to convince everyone, including yourself, that you don’t have feelings for the guy?”

“I have feelings—amazing feelings. I’m just confused.”

“I’d give an arm to have that problem.”

Molly rested her hand on Steph’s shoulder. “No, you wouldn’t.” She managed a grin without fooling Steph.

“You make problems when they’re not there. You should have lived my life.”

Steph’s comment knocked the wind out of her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Steph’s difficult marriage and her husband’s suicide swept through her mind.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Steph opened her arms and gave her a hug. “You need to accept what’s happening. Enjoy it. And you need to communicate with Brent. It’s vital. That’s when I knew Doug and I were in deep trouble. We stopped talking.”

“Brent wants us to get away and talk. He just asked me.”

“Do it.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“He went to church with us Sunday with Mom’s coercion. Now he wants to talk, and I’m so afraid. What if he says what I can’t bear to hear?”

“You always talk about the importance of faith, Molly. Where’s yours?”

“Floundering.”

“If you want to move a mountain, you have to believe you can do it. That’s faith, isn’t it?”

Her eyes met Steph’s. “I need to pray and let it go.”

“See? You’ve solved the problem already.” She took a step backward. “Find a way to talk, and now I need to take off. It dawned on me that I forgot to feed Fred.”

“Really?” She dangled a carrot. “I thought maybe we could go shopping.”

“Shopping?” Steph’s eyes brightened.

“Thrift shops. I need furniture for the waiting room and a desk for my office, and you know my ideas for the dogs’ rooms.”

Her face pinched. “I hope your brilliant idea will pass inspection.”

Molly ignored her sarcasm and jammed her clenched fists onto her hips. “I know you hate the idea, but I’m doing it anyway and taking my chances.”

Steph peered at her as she shook her head. “Stubborn.”

“But look where it got me.” She motioned down the hall. “I want to show the inspector that it works, and how it makes the dogs happy.”

Rolling her eyes, Steph gave her a “what can I say?” shrug. “Thanks for the invite. You know me and shopping, but I really need to get home.”

So much for dangling the carrot, but her refusal gave Molly a great idea. “All right. I don’t want you to starve poor old Fred.” She grinned. “I’ll walk you to the back.” Molly darted into the office and grabbed her shoulder bag from a shelf and headed down the hallway with Steph.

The odor of paint grew stronger as she passed the dog pens, small rooms with Dutch doors—so different from cages—but it was important to her.

Her heart swelled with gratefulness, witnessing her father rolling the paint while her mother brushed on the trim. She adored them.

Her mother looked over her shoulder. “We’ll be done soon. Just a little trim work left.”

“Good news.”

Her parents halted to say goodbye to Steph while Molly tried to get Brent’s attention.

Finally, he gave her a questioning look.

She waited until she heard the crunch of Steph’s tires on the driveway. “I asked Steph to go with me to the Salvation Army Thrift Shop, but she can’t. So maybe Brent could go since you’re about finished here.” She turned to Brent. “How about it?”

He grinned and gave her a wink. “Shopping? If it’ll help.”

His playing-it-cool response tickled her. Her gaze shifted from her mother to her dad. “You won’t mind if Brent and I check out furniture, would you?”

Her dad pounded the lid onto the paint can and straightened. “Hang on a minute. I’ll wash up and go with you. If you buy something big, I can help carry—”

Molly’s hand shot in the air. “No, Dad. Thanks, but you and Mom have done enough. I’ll just have them hold it until tomorrow. I’ll rent a trailer.” She walked over and gave her dad a one-armed hug, avoiding his paint splotches. “Why don’t you and Mom go out to dinner? On me. You’ve earned it. Brent and I can catch dinner later.”

Her mother turned toward her, the paintbrush suspended. “Why shop now? It’s late.”

Would they never catch on? “The store’s open until nine. They have lots of inexpensive furniture. I’m anxious to see what they have.”

Her father gave an approving grin while her mother shrugged. “Okay, but did you look at yourself in the mirror? You have paint splattered on your top.”

Molly eyed her paint-splotched jeans and baggy T-shirt. She did look a mess. She cringed. Brent had kissed her looking like that. The memory swished over her, her lips tingling with the recollection. She lifted her chin. “They don’t care at the thrift shop. It’s not as if I’m going to Nordstrom.” She added a grin.

Brent chuckled as he studied her face. “You do have a couple of medium-green freckles on your cheek.” He used his finger to scratch away the paint.

Molly wanted to kiss him, but she managed to turn away
and wave goodbye to her parents as Brent headed out the door. She made her escape and slipped into his car. “Alone at last.”

He leaned toward her and kissed the tip of her nose. “Perfect.”

She nodded. Perfect is just the way she liked it.

I
nside the thrift store, Brent followed Molly through the furniture section and though she pointed at chairs and tables as possible choices, he could see her mind wasn’t on shopping. His suggestion to shop first and eat later had been a dumb idea.

Though he’d tried to catch Molly’s eye, she hadn’t looked at him for the past few minutes. Her mind obviously wasn’t on him or the furniture.

She tugged at his heart. Dressed in her paint-splattered clothes, she still looked beautiful to him. Her oval face with creamy skin glowed with the summer’s touch. Her eyes flashed the same gold tones in her hair. Beneath all the outer layers lay a spirit and heart filled with love and generosity. She was stubborn, yes. Prideful in ways. Determined, which wasn’t all bad. And amazing.

Brent caught up with her and wove his fingers through hers. “Stupid idea, wasn’t it?”

A blank look shaded her face, then light broke. “You mean waiting to talk.”

“I thought we could shop first so we didn’t have to worry about the store closing, but I can’t focus on anything.” He glanced around the quiet store. Only one clerk at the late
hour and a handful of customers, mainly in the clothing areas. “What do you say we try out some of these chairs?” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s talk.”

Relief spread across her face. “Please. I’m miserable.”

His breath hitched. “I told you not to worry.” He steered her to the leatherlike love seat she’d admired, and he sat beside her. When he looked at her, he turned to ice. “I’m not sure where to start, Molly. When I try to organize my thoughts, they get muddled. So many things connect.” He rested his arms on his knees lowered his face in his hands to think.

Molly shifted. “Are you okay?”

He could hear the old fear gaining momentum in her voice. He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “Do I start with the chicken or the egg?”

Molly’s eyes shifted upward, as if in thought. She looked at him. “Start with the chicken.”

“Chicken.” He rubbed his cheek. Which chicken? He’d struggled with so many. He managed a grin.

Her color heightened. “Start with the worship service on Sunday. Something happened.”

He knew she’d noticed his squirming during the service. Brent shifted to face her. “Things you’ve said to me struck me that day.” His mind flew back to the service—the music, the scripture, the message. “The pastor’s sermon validated so much you’ve tried to tell me, and I felt as if a door opened.”

She leaned forward, her look intense. “A good door?”

Her concern swept over him. “Awareness. Understanding. Yes, a good door.”

Her distress melted into a tender expression. “Understanding about what?”

The anxious tone in her voice darted through Brent’s chest. “About what you’ve said, and I’ve come to one important conclusion—I don’t understand God.”

Her eyes flashed. “No one does. If we could totally under
stand the Lord, we’d be God, and we’re not. But we are His children and we trust Him.”

“And that’s the crux of my problem. I don’t trust well.”

A customer passed, giving them a curious look before moving on. They sat in silence a moment until the man was out of earshot.

Molly leaned closer. “But…but you trusted me. You gave me the benefit of the doubt on using your building for the shelter, and you convinced the board to agree. That’s trust.”

He had trusted her. “But do I trust God?”

“Only you know that, Brent, and if you’re asking the question, then you must believe God is real. It wouldn’t be a question otherwise.”

He shrank into the cushion, startled by the realization. He’d prayed to God. Would he pray to someone or something unreal? That would be absurd.

Molly leaned even closer. “When the Lord gets into your heart, He stays there, Brent. You can slam the lid on his presence, but He’s still there.”

“Then why doesn’t He hear my prayers, Molly? That’s what I need to understand.”

Her back straightened. “He hears them. He’s your heavenly Father. He doesn’t always say yes to us, just like our own fathers. Sometimes He says no.”

As if a rock struck him, Brent jolted with memories of his own father. It was all too familiar.

Molly’s hand slipped from his, and she brushed back a few strands of loosened hair. “We can’t see the future. We don’t know the ramifications of our wants. Let’s say you begged your father for a car. He bought you one and you got in an accident and were badly injured or you hurt someone else in an accident. If your dad could see into the future, he would have said no.”

It made sense, but he still didn’t like it. He thought of Randy, who’d been bugging him for a bike. Though he hadn’t
given Randy an answer, he’d planned on answering by surprising him with a bicycle for his birthday. That’s the kind of father Brent had always wanted.

He looked at Molly’s expectant expression. “I get your point.”

She glanced toward the clerk at the checkout station and then swung back. “But you can still trust God to hear your prayers and answer yes or no in His time.”

“I’ve heard you say this before, Molly. I’ve been waiting a lifetime.”

“I don’t like to wait, either, but we all have to sometimes. God sees the big picture.”

“Then are you saying if I have trust I also have faith?”

She lowered her head, and her silence made him nervous. His jaw tightened, confused by her reaction.

When Molly lifted her head, she faced him with a serious expression. “They’re different.”

“Different? Trust and faith. I think they’re the same.”

She shook her head. “Trust is confidence. If I say I’ll do something, you can trust me to do it.” Her expression grew weightier. “Faith is confidence plus truth.”

“Truth?”

“It’s believing that something is true even though it might not be logical to many people. It’s believing in something you can’t prove but you know it. It goes deeper than seeing it with your eyes or holding it in your hand.”

Brent sorted through her statement. “In other words, God. Believing that God is real and that He will do all the things He promises.”

A beautiful smile brightened her face.

“I can’t hold God in my hand, but I can hold Him in my heart.”

Tears brimmed her eyes, and the air escaped Brent’s lungs. He wanted to draw Molly into his arms and kiss her tears away—kiss away all her fears until his own messed-up
thinking had been piled on the street for trash pickup. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

She brushed the mist from her eyes. “I’m not sad. I’m thrilled. You get it.”

“And I believe it, Molly, but I’m a baby taking his first steps.”

She clasped her hand in his, her warmth firing his longing to let her know how much he cared. “You can lean on God and on me.”

Her sweetness touched him. His other problem sank into the mire. He didn’t want to lose the moment. He pushed away the past. The more he delved into his long-time bitterness, the more ridiculous it became. He’d always envisioned God as vindictive, as a God who got even and punished, an Old Testament God who fired brimstone on cities and turned sinners into pillars of salt. He’d forgotten the loving mercy, the promised forgiveness and Jesus’ outstretched arms that offered to carry his burdens.

Tonight Brent clung to those promises. He could be a role model for Randy and forgive his father. And he could love. Molly had taught him that.

Brent rose. He had much more to say, but this wasn’t the place. “Let’s make some decision. I’m starving.”

She laughed, and the sound lifted the weight from his shoulders. What would he do without her now that she’d charged into his life?

“It’s wonderful.” Molly brushed tears from her eyes as she wandered through the shelter, admiring the new look with all the furniture she and Brent had selected. Her office held other purchases she’d previously ordered from an office supply store—a desk, desk chair, file cabinet and computer equipment.

The leatherlike chairs and love seat from the thrift shop fit her needs in the waiting room. She’d added a couple of tables
and a lamp. One table held brochures and information about adoption and caring for animals. Her heart soared, experiencing her long-awaited dream coming true.

“You’ve done wonders.” Brent slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I wouldn’t recognize the old factory with all this paint and even pictures on the walls.”

She bought frames and used calendar photos of dogs to create an eclectic wall arrangement.

Footsteps from the hallway drew nearer, and Molly turned as her mother stepped into the waiting room, clapping her hands together as if beating off dust. “Everything looks great.” She motioned down the hall. “Brent, did you see the dog pens?”

“Not since you fancied them up.” He linked his arm to her mother’s and followed her down the hall.

Molly took a final look at the waiting room, glanced into her office and the medical room where the volunteer veterinarians would give shots and spay and neuter dogs and then followed them to the cubicles, anxious to approve the final preparations for the inspector.

Her nerves knotted. Today was the day. Approval or no approval. Then she’d have to change or fix whatever they didn’t like. She glanced at her watch, fearing they’d arrive before Steph. She’d promised to come and bring Fred to let him wander around and approve the setup. She chuckled at the idea of a dog sanctioning the facility. But she trusted good old Fred.

She reached Brent and her mom, peering into one of the small rooms. Brent had agreed with Steph. He thought she was taking a chance on the setup, too.

She bustled between them. “What do you think? Everything can be sanitized. I don’t see how they can complain that I’m not using cages.”

Brent arched a brow. “Cages are common. This is unorthodox, but then so is the person who thought of it.”

Molly scanned his face, hoping he’d been joking. He gave her a playful wink, and she nestled closer, wishing for a moment they were alone. She longed to kiss him. Brent slid his arm around her back as they moved down the aisle, looking at each cubicle and making general comments about her homey additions—pictures on the wall and a box holding doggie toys. She’d tried to think of everything to make the dogs feel loved.

Loved. Since their talk a few days earlier, she’d allowed herself to dream about love. She’d allowed her hopes to take wing, soaring into the blue sky and leaving her worries behind. Brent had made a faith commitment. He’d taken steps, small ones but steps nonetheless. Now she had to move forward with her own confession.

Her father called from the back, and her mother hurried away. When she gazed up at Brent, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Congratulations, Molly. This might be unorthodox, but it reflects your love for the animals. You’ve made it their home.”

The need to kiss him overpowered her inspection worries, and she tiptoed to reach his mouth.

“I’m here.” Steph’s voice bounced in her ear along with Fred’s nails clicking on the tile.

Molly halted her momentum and pulled her heels to the floor. “You made it.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” She arched one eyebrow. “And for some reason, I always appear at the most interesting times.” A smile stole to her face.

Molly sent her a coy look. “I refuse to make excuses this time.”

Brent turned his neck from Molly to Steph and back again, as if befuddled by their conversation. Molly decided to leave him in the dark for now. Only Steph had seen her on tiptoes.

Molly motioned toward the pen and opened the door. “Let Fred go inside. I want to see what he does.”

Steph detached his leash, and Fred, nose to the ground, smelled his way into the new retreat. He sniffed the scatter rug and the forest-toned beanbag cushion in the corner, salvaged probably from someone’s basement to end up at the thrift shop.

Steph grinned over the top of the Dutch door. “Do you like it, Fred?”

He pawed at the beanbag and proceeded to climb on top and curl up.

The heat of excitement burst on Molly’s face. “That’s what I wanted to see.”

“Molly.”

Her dad’s voice captured her attention. She turned and saw a stranger with him. The man extended his hand. “I’m Ernie Schultz from the Department of Agriculture…for the inspection.”

Molly ran her moist palm over her jeans and shook his hand. “Thanks for coming.” Before she could say any more, he’d already begun to eye the dog cubicles, a sour look on his face. Her pulse skittered to a throbbing in her chest.

Ernie wandered from one to the other, a permanent scowl on his face. She gave the others a frantic look while her father made a quick getaway. Brent sent her a painfully hopeful look and then stepped away, too, heading to the back, where her mother had also disappeared. So much for her support group. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Who do we have here?” Ernie eyed the room where Fred had made himself comfortable. Steph stood against the wall, apparently trying to stay out of the way.

“That’s Fred. He’s my friend’s dog. He likes the setup.”

Shaking his head, Ernie paced the hallway, peering into one pen, then another. “But this type of cage is—”