Love Is Patient and A Heart's Refuge (7 page)

A
sliver of light played across Lisa’s eyelids, pulling her out of the half-sleeping state she had drifted in and out of for the past hour.

She glanced at the clock beside her bed. Six-thirty.

She wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, even though fatigue still pressed down on her. The party last night hadn’t wound down until three-thirty. Then she had stayed with the rest of the family, cleaning up what they could and loading up the presents in the van hired for the purpose.

She was still tired, but hoped to spend some time this morning without Dylan around. Hoped to ease the jangling in her nerves that had started last night when Dylan had held her in his arms. She had tried to rationalize her reaction, but couldn’t get past the part of her that had responded to him.

Thankfully the bathroom was unoccupied, so she had a quick shower. She slipped on a pair of loose-
fitting pants and topped it with a T-shirt. Dylan had declared that they would take the morning off, but she hoped to get in a few undisturbed hours of work in spite of that. It would remind her why she was here.

She crept down the carpeted stairs, pausing a moment outside the study. The lonely echo of a dripping kitchen tap was the only sound to break the utter stillness of a house asleep. She felt like a burglar.

Suppressing a shiver of guilt, Lisa let herself into the study. In a matter of moments she had the computer booted up and the files she needed laid out on the table. She glanced at her careful notes to get herself up to speed and started the methodical work she had begun before the wedding.

In spite of the emotional investment she had tied up in this work, she found a peculiar serenity in the tediousness of the matching process, and soon her agitated spirits were soothed.

The muted bonging of the grandfather clock in the corner marked off the hour. Startled, Lisa looked up at the time. Eight o’clock and still no sounds drifted down from the bedrooms upstairs.

Lisa rolled her shoulders, and as she looked around the room she gave in to the lure of the bookshelves crammed full. Just a moment, she promised herself. A break.

But as her fingers trailed along the spines of the novels, she felt the pull of familiar titles—classics and modern novels that had at one time granted her solace either from the tedium of a boring job or the stress of the responsibility of raising Gabe.

She moved along and was confronted by a section
of nonfiction books. And from the sounds of the titles, all of them Christian books.

Books by theologians jostled modern books promising help and guidance for life’s various circumstances.

A Bible lay on its side on one of the shelves and Lisa picked it up. To put it away, she told herself. But she couldn’t find an empty space for it.

So she held it, her fingers lightly tracing the embossing on the cover. She flipped it open and glanced down the pages, the familiar words drawing up memories from another period in her life.

Lisa ran her finger down the pages as if touching the words made them more real. She knew the patterns and rhythms. Once they had been a part of her life; once they had given her comfort. She started reading.

“’How lovely is Your dwelling place….’” She whispered the words of Psalm eighty-four, the phrases part of a life left behind when she and Gabe had walked away from the graveyard as orphans.

But the words created a yearning she had long suppressed. “’Better is one day in Your courts than a thousand elsewhere.’” The language was dated, but it dived deep into her heart. And she remembered the promise she had made when she’d prayed her foolish prayer in Dylan’s office. To attend church.

“Excuse me.”

The voice at the door scattered the emotions of the moment and she slapped the Bible shut, laying it on the shelf in front of her.

She turned to face Dylan’s father as he entered the
study, her heart fluttering with guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Don’t apologize.” Alex smiled carefully at her and lowered himself into one of the leather chairs flanking the fireplace. “Our home is yours as long as you are here.” He indicated the sofa diagonally across from him. “Sit down a moment.” Alex let his head drop against the back of the chair, but kept his eyes on Lisa. “Are you enjoying your stay here?”

She nodded as she sank into the soft leather of the couch, once again aware of the kindly warmth this man exuded.

“You and Dylan…” He paused, then smiled at her. “How long have you been dating?”

Lisa held Alex’s gaze, her emotions in turmoil. Though this man had been involved in what had happened with her brother, she remembered his warm welcome. The connection she felt with him that she couldn’t simply pass off. She was surprised no one had asked the question sooner. But the ruse she and Dylan were playing was Dylan’s secret to keep and to divulge.

“Our relationship has been somewhat ephemeral,” she said, the vagueness of her words making her wince inwardly. Nerves always brought out the long words.

“I see.” Alex nodded, a smile playing around lips identical in shape to those of his son’s. “In spite of that, Dylan seemed quite attentive to you when you were dancing.”

Lisa couldn’t stop the flush that warmed her cheeks. She chose silence as her answer. Anything she said would either accuse her or make her look as if she was making excuses.

“You’ll have to excuse my bluntness,” Alex said, his fingers doing a light dance on the armrest of his chair. “Though we’ve just met, I have a good feeling about you. You’re the first girlfriend of Dylan’s that the family has ever met.”

Lisa felt even more of a fraud.

“I guess what I’m trying in my clumsy way to say is, I still hope he’ll find someone good,” he continued. “That one of my boys will make good choices.” His voice seemed tinged with regret.

Lisa assumed he referred to Ted and wondered what his vague comment meant.

“I’ve only known Dylan a few weeks, but I think you can trust him to do that,” she said quietly.

Alex raised his head at her defense of his son, his eyes lighting up. “Dylan is a man of principle and values. I haven’t always been fair with him.”

Lisa thought of how Dylan’s voice grew harsh whenever he talked about Alex. She shouldn’t care what happened between them.

But as she looked at Alex she couldn’t help but remember how he and his wife had held hands during their daughter’s wedding. How he had glanced at his wife a few times with such obvious love in his eyes.

“But you are a good father,” she said softly. “And Dylan can be thankful for such good parents.”

“I understand your parents are dead. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“They died a while ago. I was fifteen.”

“So young. How did you manage?”

“I was always kind of independent.” In spite of her
casual words, she felt a warm glow at his concern. What she wouldn’t have given for even a scrap of what Dylan had with his family.

“I sensed you were a woman of strength. But I want you to know that as long as you and Dylan are together, this family is yours, too.”

Lisa held his gaze, and to her surprise she felt her eyes tear up. Alex had given her more than a scrap. He had given her everything he had.

She looked away, unable to speak.

As if sensing her discomfort Alex pushed himself away from the chair and walked over to the table. “Have you and Dylan made any headway on this problem?”

His tact gave her a chance to quickly wipe away the moisture from her eyes. “It’s too early yet,” she said, thankful that she sounded more composed than she felt. “All we’ve been doing is matching invoices to vendors….” Her voice trailed off as she hesitated over her next suggestion. “What I really think you need to do is hire an external auditor to take care of this.”

Alex waved off her suggestion, then picked up a file and thumbed through it. “Maybe later. But right now I prefer to keep this internal until we find out for sure what that accountant has done.”

“That accountant” happened to be her brother. The words were a chilling reminder of where she secretly stood in this family.

On the opposite side.

A sudden edginess propelled her off the couch. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to my room,” she said.

Alex glanced up at her, smiling again as if he hadn’t heard the tight tone of her voice. “Breakfast is very casual this morning. Our housekeeper put a few things out on the buffet in the dining room, so please help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“I should let you know, as well, that most of the family will be leaving for church at about ten-thirty. Just so you don’t think we’re deserting you.”

Lisa felt a jolt of disappointment that he automatically assumed she would be staying behind. At one time she would have gone. Her eyes slid past him to the Bible on the shelf.

Whatever your lips utter you must be sure to do.

“I was wondering…” She drew in a shaky breath, then plunged ahead. “I was wondering if it would be possible to come along?”

Alex’s head snapped up. Then with a half smile reminiscent of Dylan’s he nodded. “That would be wonderful. We’ll let you know half an hour before we leave.”

She returned his smile, then walked out of the study. But a sudden restlessness made her turn toward the dining room instead of up to her bedroom.

As promised, the buffet along the wall held a glass-covered plate of assorted muffins, a carafe of coffee, plates of fruit. She was still alone, so Lisa took her plate of food out onto the deck. Wicker chairs were pulled up to a glass table; Lisa sat down in one of them.

A soft breeze sifted up the hill, swishing through the fir trees bordering the property. Below her, softened by the early-morning haze, lay the inlet and the city of
Vancouver. Lisa couldn’t help a wry smile as she buttered her muffin. You fraud, she thought, taking a bite. Acting as if this is so natural.

Only a week ago she had been sitting on a completely different balcony, staring directly at the apartment block only a few meters across the alley from hers, also eating a muffin. Only, hers was plain bran, picked up from the day-old bakery section of the convenience store close to her apartment.

This one had a hint of mango and spices she couldn’t identify. Gourmet muffin, she thought, taking another pleasurable bite, eaten on the balcony of a gourmet home.

“So, here’s where you’re hiding.”

Lisa spun around, almost upsetting the plate on her lap.

Dylan stood behind her, shoulders hunched, his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a T-shirt underneath. His feet were bare.

Lisa felt her heart do a slow flip, his casual dress affecting her just as much as his formal dress of yesterday had.

“You’ve finally decided to get up?” she asked, covering her reaction to him by turning back to her breakfast.

“Finally? I’ve only gotten about five hours’ sleep.” He pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to the table. “How’s the food?”

“Superlative.”

“Most people would just say good,” he said with a grin. He dropped into the chair across from her,
propping his ankle on his knee as he massaged his neck. His hair was still damp from his shower. “What are your plans?”

Lisa wiped her mouth, wondering what his reaction would be. “I’m going to church with your family.”

Dylan did a double take. “Church? Why?”

Lisa felt suddenly self-conscious. “I used to when I was younger.”

“Do you feel you need to confess something?” Dylan asked, slanting her a playful grin.

He’s just joking, Lisa reminded herself, pushing down the flare of shame his words kindled in her. “I just feel like attending church,” she said, setting her knife across her plate. She couldn’t eat any more.

“That would leave me on my own.” Dylan almost pouted. “I guess I’ll have to come along.”

“Surely you don’t have to keep up this devoted couple thing?” Lisa protested. Spending every waking moment with him was making it too hard to maintain her professional distance.

Dylan shrugged and picked up an uneaten strawberry from her plate. “Maybe I want to go, too?” he said, popping the strawberry into his mouth.

“I can hardly stop you.” She stood up, brushing the few wayward crumbs from her pants, and picked up her plate.

“Wait a minute.” He caught her lightly by the wrist and took the other strawberry from her plate.

“Why don’t you get your own?” she said with a nervous laugh. His fingers were warm. If it hadn’t been for the plate she held so precariously, she would have pulled her hand back.

“Not that hungry,” he said, licking his fingers. He looked up at her, his hand still shackling her wrist. “Did you have a good time last night?”

She nodded and gently reclaimed her arm. “You have a wonderful family.” It was easier to talk about his family than the dance they’d shared. Or how for the rest of the night whenever they were apart her eyes had found and followed him. “I had a nice chat with your father in the study this morning.”

“Did you, now.” Dylan squinted up at her, rocking lightly in his chair.

Lisa thought of the pain she saw on Alex’s face each time Dylan turned away from him. “I like your father, Dylan.”

Dylan’s laugh was without humor. “And I think he likes you. Too bad you’re just my secretary.”

It was the truth and it shouldn’t have hurt. But it did.

“I better get ready,” she said softly, turning away. To her dismay, however, Dylan followed her.

One of the twins sat at the table, hunched over a section of the newspaper, eating a bagel. She was wrapped in a fuzzy bathrobe, her wet hair slicked back from her face.

“Hey, Amber,” Dylan said, tousling her hair. “Get all the hair spray out?”

Amber tilted her head backward to look up at her brother. “Barely. What about you?”

Dylan gave her hair a light tug. “I don’t use that girly stuff.”

“Really? Then why is most of Erika’s pomade gone?” She turned around, grinning at him. “She said you borrowed it.”

Dylan just shrugged off her comment and pulled up a chair. Amber glanced at Lisa, her smile growing. “Not only that, he used my blow-dryer. I think he was just trying to impress you, Lisa. Dylan hardly ever fusses with his hair.”