In His Dreams (3 page)

Jeff slowed, then stopped. “And now?”

She paused beside him and dug her feet into the sand, then watched it spread across her arch and between her toes. It took her a moment to remember his question. “We’re working on it.”

He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Problems?”

“It’s an adjustment.”

His hand dropped and he began walking again. “You’re not going to change Barb.”

“Why do you say that?” She heard an edge in her voice.

“I sense you’re unhappy with her. It’s not what you say, but your tone of voice. A look on your face.”

“I’m not trying to change her. I only wish she’d be more—”

“I realize I haven’t seen you in a couple of years, but I know your traits…your character. I can sense you want to take care of Barb, and I don’t think she wants to be taken care of.”

Marsha flinched with his comment. “I—”

He captured her arm and stopped her. “I watched you with Don all those years. I know you’re a tremendous caregiver.”

“Thanks. I got a lot of practice.”

“I meant that as a compliment.” His hand slipped from her arm, and he looked across the water.

“I know you did,” she said, sorry that she’d been sarcastic.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the sand. “It was a long time to practice. I know it was awful, Marsha.”

“I don’t regret it. Not one minute. Don was a wonderful husband. You and Marilou helped so much. I only wish I could have done more for him.”

Jeff slid his arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle hug. “You did all you could. I can never thank you enough for sticking by him during those years.”

“For better or worse, Jeff. I made that vow to Don and to God. You got the short end of the stick, too, with Marilou. You’re raising a daughter alone. That’s not easy.”

He leaned over and picked up a stone, slid his finger back and forth over the flat surface, then gave it a fling into the lake. The pebble skipped four times, leaving a row of concentric circles—neat and precise—as life should be, but wasn’t.

“I manage,” he said finally, then found another flat stone and skipped it across the water. He nodded toward the precise circular pattern on the ripples. “Wouldn’t life be great if it was that perfect?”

Her heart skipped hearing him say the words that had just filled her mind.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said, tucking his hands back into his pockets and striding on again. “How did you keep your faith so strong during all that time?”

His question surprised her and she found herself fumbling through her thoughts for an answer. Finally, she shook her head. “I guess I trusted God. I know each of us has a purpose, and God can see the big picture, so I had to accept that the Lord knew what He was doing.”

“That takes powerful faith, Marsha. I give you credit.”

“Don’t give me credit. I probably can’t remember the precise verse, but the Bible says something like hope doesn’t disappoint us, because God has filled our hearts with His love through the Holy Spirit.”

“And you believe God is with you in all of this?”

Marsha’s chest tightened, hearing his disbelieving voice. “Absolutely. Do you ever dream about things being better?”

“Sure. Everyone does.”

“Dreams. Hopes. They’re the same, but when our dreams—our hopes—are backed by God’s promise, we can feel confident.
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
That’s a verse from Romans 12. I’ve memorized it. I needed to say it every day.” She gave him a wry grin.

He didn’t smile, but seemed to ponder the verse. “Joyful in hope and patience.” He shook his head. “That’s a tall order.”

His comment upset her. She drew back and her ankle turned in the uneven sand. As she stumbled sideways, Jeff grasped her by the waist and pulled her against him.

Their eyes met, and an overwhelming sensation washed over her, the desire to be close to him. Troubled by the longing, she bolted away. “Thanks. I need to be more careful.”

“I’m sorry, Marsha.” He held up his hands. “I upset you.”

“Upset me? No. I feel stupid that I almost fell.” She tried to laugh, but it sounded false in her ears. She could see he didn’t believe her.

He motioned to the quack grass ridged along the sand. “Let’s sit a minute.” He headed toward the raised area.

Marsha wanted to erase the past minutes. She’d set them both on edge with her reaction to his embrace. Being honest with herself, it wasn’t Jeff coming to her aid that bothered her. It was her own longing that seeped from the recesses of her memory. She could smell the warm sun on his skin. She felt small and protected beside him. Those sensations had preoccupied her all day.

She sank beside him.

“Let’s be honest. I feel like you do, Marsha.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Uncomfortable. Uneasy in a way.”

Hearing his comment, she winced. “I don’t feel—”

“Yes, you do. For years, we spent time together with each other and our spouses. You were my brother’s wife. Now, Marilou and Don are gone and it’s different. We feel guilty.”

“Guilty? But we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“No, but we’re alive and they aren’t.”

Marsha lowered her head, understanding what he meant. “You’re right.”

“I know, so let’s get rid of the guilt stuff. We’re alive. Life goes on.”

With her heart in her throat, she nodded. “It’s good to talk and it’s nice being with you, Jeff. You were always a good friend.”

“And there’s no reason why we can’t be good friends, is there?”

Marsha felt her heart give a kick. “No.”

“Okay, then,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder.

She felt the warmth of his touch emanate through her chest as she looked across the water at the beginning of the setting sun spreading across the horizon—gold and coral dappled with swirls of cerulean-blue. The hues glinted on the water, rippling into a kaleidoscope of patterns as the waves rolled to the shore.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, motioning toward the skyline.

Jeff looked toward the horizon. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.” He dug his toe into the ground and kicked a spray of sand toward the water.

She hesitated. “Sunsets promise smooth sailing the next day.”

“It’s just an old wives’ tale.”

“I think there’s truth to the statement. The sailors learned from experience, just as I have.”

He gave her a questioning look, and she couldn’t stop herself.

“Sunsets remind me God is faithful to His promises. I remember a verse about satisfying us in the morning with His unfailing love. I see that in sunsets.”

He sat in silence, his head hanging, his hands knotted between his knees. “We’d better get back,” he said, rising.

Marsha sat a moment, then let the subject drop, but the concern stayed in her head as they walked back to the cottage. Jeff needed to find faith again, not only for himself but for Bonnie. She deserved to know Jesus. How could anyone survive without faith and trust?

J
eff stared at the breakfast dishes and rubbed his temples. His nerves had felt on edge since he’d woken, aware that he’d dreamed of Marsha. Marsha. His brother’s wife. The dream had been innocent enough, but she’d seemed so real. She’d worn a dress the same color as the bathing suit she’d worn two days earlier, and he recalled trying to speak with her while being mesmerized by her eyes. What had come over him?

His head pounded and he lowered it and rotated his fingers against his temples. A headache seemed to hang on the fringes of his senses, and he wanted to ward it off. Bonnie had been throwing one fit after another about nearly everything. She talked about Marsha incessantly, and he wondered whether spending time with Marsha had been a good idea.

He’d managed as a single parent, not well, he admitted, but he’d tried to do his best. He met Bonnie’s needs as well as he could, ran his business with an experienced hand and his employees respected him. At least, he thought they did. What did he do for himself? Not much, but then there wasn’t much time for that.

Jeff hoisted himself from the table, happy that Bonnie had gotten distracted by some TV cartoons. He carried the dirty dishes to the sink, turned on the tap and rinsed the plates and silverware, then slid them into the dishwasher. Marilou had insisted on the dishwasher, saying the summer home was her vacation, too. Now he understood what she meant.

Thinking of Marilou, a flash of guilt pierced him. What would she think of him dreaming about another woman? He shook his head. She would have laughed. Marilou hadn’t had a jealous bone in her body. And dreams weren’t much to get upset over, anyway. So why was he rattled by it?

He chewed the inside of his bottom lip, wanting to push the memory aside. He grabbed the frying pan from the stovetop, jerking when the telephone rang. That was a sound he rarely heard on the island, but he kept the phone for emergencies.

Jeff set the pan in the sink and grabbed the receiver, surprised to hear Marsha’s voice. The image of her dressed in the blue dress of his dream rose in his mind.

“I’m thinking about renting a rowboat and taking a ride on Font Lake. Lots of turtles. Would you and Bonnie like to come along?”

His heart beat a little faster, and he swallowed. Her eager voice made his decision difficult. “This isn’t a good day for us,” he said. “Bonnie’s watching TV right now and she’s been in a bad mood. I’d hate to inflict that on you.”

“I wouldn’t mind. Maybe getting out would distract her.”

Jeff drew in a breath and forced the words out of his throat. “I think not, but thanks for asking.”

“I’m sorry you can’t come. Maybe some other time.”

Disappointment filled her voice, but he kept his guard up and didn’t let her quiet response sway him. “Have fun.”

“Thanks,” she said, and, when she’d hung up, he dropped the phone in the cradle feeling like an ogre. He’d had a nice time with Marsha on Monday, but he was confused. She’d been Don’s wife, and he almost felt as if he was betraying his brother.

Jeff had to admit he found Marsha attractive and, though he’d given her the “no guilt” talk, he still felt guilty. Marsha wasn’t only good-looking; she was amazing. Her devotion and patience with Don still moved him, and he saw the same manner with Bonnie. She’d been gentle and loving despite the years of stress. Naturally, he admired her.

He’d wanted to tell her how he really felt when they had talked on the beach, but it seemed inappropriate. They’d only had dinner, a swim and a walk, nothing that could be construed as anything more. They were in-laws and that was it. He stopped his mental struggle. Marsha had let him know she felt the same when she’d jerked away from him on the beach.

Jeff returned his focus to Bonnie, He knew she’d soon be tired of the TV and she’d be back to her boredom, her whining and misbehavior. Maybe he should accept Marsha’s invitation for Bonnie’s sake. It could be a good distraction, as Marsha had suggested.

Besides the dream upsetting him, he realized what other stress he felt. Her discussion about Barb gave him concern. Marsha had a way of wanting to take care of everyone. She’d taken care of Don, for years, and now it appeared she had her eye on changing Barb. After their discussion about faith, logical reasoning led him to think that Marsha would also like to take him under her wing. Even the thought triggered unbridled tension.

For years, he’d believed he’d been under God’s wing, and now he felt differently. Since his wife’s death, he’d been determined to be under no one’s wing but his own. He’d make his own choices, his own decisions. He wasn’t sure he was ready to trust again—in Marsha or God.

He looked across the room at Bonnie. She looked unkempt, her clothes mismatched, her hair straggly and in need of a good washing. He knew he should talk to her about grooming and clothing, but what did he know about girls’ styles? Frustration flooded him.

“Bonnie, you need to take a shower.”

“No.”

He took a step forward. “Then take a bath. What if we wanted to go somewhere and you weren’t ready?”

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere, but what if we were?”

Jeff realized she’d been sitting there tearing out the pages of a new magazine he’d picked up in town. He grabbed it away from her. “Why are you doing this?”

She jammed her fists against her ears and screamed.

He lowered his head, trying to hold on to his patience. “Bonnie, I’m sorry, but this magazine is new.”
Was
new. “When it’s old, you can tear out the pages.”

She flung herself against the sofa cushions, then beat her fists and screeched.

Jeff felt like doing the same thing.

“Aunt Marsha called.” The words flew from his mouth.

Bonnie’s scream slowed, then stopped, and she lifted her head.

“She asked us to go for a boat ride on Font Lake. It’s filled with turtles.”

“Are we going?” Her fists uncurled and she straightened.

“You’re not ready. Should I call her and tell her you can get ready?”

Bonnie nodded. “I am ready.”

“You need a shower and some clean clothes and your hair combed.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he waited for another fit of temper. Instead, the look became thoughtful. “I need a shower to go to Aunt Marsha’s?”

“Yes.”

She pondered that a moment. “Okay.”

Relieved, Jeff spun around and headed for the phone. He may not be ready to trust again, but a boat ride with an old friend might be good for him and Bonnie.

“Be careful, Bonnie,” Marsha said, extending her arm toward her niece, who was strapped into a life jacket. “Take my hand.”

Jeff held the boat against the dock while Bonnie hesitated with one foot on the pier and one in the rowboat. “Get in with both feet, please.”

Bonnie stretched for Marsha and clasped her hand with a trembling grip, her legs wobbling and fear written on her face. When she had both feet in the dinghy, Marsha helped her make her way to the bench seat in the bow. Bonnie let out a nervous laugh. “I did it.”

“Good for you,” Marsha said, helping her ease onto the bench, then she went to the back of the dinghy, scooted the lifesaver cushions to the side and sat.

The tension in Jeff’s face relaxed, and he put one foot into the boat, then gave a push away from the dock and sat on the middle bench. “We’re off,” he said, grasping the oars and guiding them away from shore.

Marsha watched Jeff as he pulled the oars. His skin had browned to a warm copper and he looked healthy and relaxed. His dark hair tousled in the breeze and a small cowlick stood at the back of his part. She longed to brush it down just to feel the texture of his thick hair. The thought unsettled her and she turned her gaze away.

She’d been surprised but happy when Jeff called back just as she was heading out the door. Renting a rowboat alone hadn’t seemed like great entertainment, but she felt determined to have fun.

The shore grew more distant as Jeff directed the rowboat toward a small grassy island. The area wasn’t big enough to dock a boat, but she could see the lily pads with their white blossoms surrounding the dot of land, and she remembered from her past trip seeing turtles lolling there in the sunlight.

The sun glimmered off the water and heated her arms. She stretched her legs outward, hoping to pick up a little tan before she returned home. Glad she caught her hair in a ponytail, Marsha tilted her head back to let the sun hit her face, hoping for some color there, too. She hoped to look a little healthier with some relaxation.

When Marsha finally lowered her head and viewed Bonnie, she held her breath. Her niece was leaning far over the boat edge, dragging her fingers in the water. Jeff had his back to Bonnie and couldn’t see what she was doing. Marsha wanted to warn her to be careful, but she was hesitant to issue a directive.

“Watch out for snapping turtles, Bonnie,” she said. “There might be some in the water and they’ll think your fingers are food.”

Jeff glanced over his shoulder as Bonnie pulled her hand from the lake, eyeing her fingers as if counting to make sure they were all there.

“Please keep your hands inside the boat, Bon. What would I do if you fell in?”

Bonnie peered at the expanse of water as a questioning look settled on her face. Then her face brightened. “Can we go to that island?” She pointed ahead of her.

“That’s where we’re headed,” Jeff said.

“Can I get out of the boat?”

“It’s not solid ground. You’d sink into the water, and it’s filled with frogs and turtles and probably snakes.”

Though disappointment replaced her questioning look, the reference to snakes must have settled the possibility in her mind. “I don’t want to get out.”

“Smart girl,” Jeff said, giving Marsha a grin.

Jeff’s expression looked wonderful to Marsha. Earlier, when she’d studied him without him knowing, his face had seemed lined with tension. Now, when he smiled, it lifted her and made her smile back. At that moment, he looked absolutely handsome—like Pierce Brosnan.

Marsha pulled her focus back to the boat ride. Lily pads spotted the water, and, the nearer the rowboat came to the oasis of grass, the thicker the lily pads became.

“Look at the water lilies, Bonnie,” Marsha said. “And look right there.” She pointed. “What do you see?”

“Turtles,” Bonnie yelled, her excitement causing her to nearly rise, but when the boat swayed, she thought better of it and lowered herself to the bench.

Marsha released a relieved breath.

Jeff paddled them around the island while Bonnie clapped her hands and let out yells when she saw the turtles balancing on lily pads or stacked two and three on a log.

As they headed away from the island, Marsha and Jeff’s conversation drifted back and forth easily. Marsha even told him about her thoughts to return to teaching, and he listened without influencing her one way or the other. She wished she could be more like Jeff instead of being so opinionated.

When they fell into silence, Marsha watched Bonnie’s excitement. Though her hair still straggled along her face, it looked clean and shiny. Her outfit was color coordinated, and Marsha guessed she’d had a little help from Jeff today.

Marsha longed to talk with Jeff about Bonnie. Her niece needed a woman in her life. She cringed as the thought struck her. Not me, she added as if dissuading herself, but Bonnie needed so much, especially her first bra and some information about growing up. She hoped Jeff wouldn’t take offense. Marsha cared about Bonnie. Becoming a woman was scary enough for any child, but one with disabilities could face even more challenges. She wondered if Jeff had talked with her, or if he even realized it was time.

The hot sun prickled against Marsha’s skin and she glanced into the clear, sunny sky. “I’m afraid I’m going to burn,” she said, hating to ruin their outing. “You know us redheads.”

Jeff gave a nod and, once they turned around, he veered the nose of the boat toward the shore. As they, again, approached the stand of lily pads, Marsha studied Bonnie to see which way she was looking and, when she knew the girl wasn’t watching, she reached into the water, plucked a water lily and tucked it behind her.

Jeff paddled, his firm stroke drawing them closer to shore. Marsha watched the muscles in his chest and arms ripple against his T-shirt, reminding her he was a single man now. Finally, the dinghy bumped against the dock, and Jeff caught the pier and pulled the boat against the planks. He climbed out, tied the rope to a piling, then helped Bonnie. With her safely deposited, he reached for Marsha’s hand. His strong fingers wrapped around hers and he assisted her onto the dock.

He gave her hand a squeeze. “Thanks for inviting us.” His eyes looked sincere and his mouth curved to a tender smile.

“You’re welcome. This was much more fun with you doing all the work.”

“Good exercise,” he said, grinning and flexing his arm.

She moved forward and pressed her fingers against the hard knot of his bicep, feeling the warmth of his skin and the ripple of his strength. “Not bad,” she said, trying to sound playful, but suddenly she felt breathless. The intimacy overwhelmed her. Feeling the lily in her other hand, Marsha stepped back and held it out toward Bonnie. “Look what I have for you.”