Loving Hearts (5 page)

“I sneaked one while I was in the kitchen,” he admitted.

“Good,” she said. But her smile faded too soon and the tension he’d seen earlier reappeared.

He slumped against the chair back, sorry to see the stress return. Expecting silence, he pondered what to say next. Perhaps he should finalize their business and leave rather than create any more distance between them.

With his decision still unsettled, Esther took another sip of coffee before leaning against the armrest. “I owe you an apology.”

Her words caught him by surprise. “You do?”

“You were right earlier when you said I’d acted differently since you invited me to sail. I’m sorry.”

“No need, Esther. I understand your feelings. Maybe I was wrong to ask.” He rolled the chair closer, his knees nearer hers.

She shook her head. “No, it’s natural. If you love sailing, you want to share it with friends.”

Friends. Did she really consider him a friend? Her wavering manner made him uneasy—creating distance rather than friendship. But he understood her attitude toward sailing. “I wish you could see your face when I talk about sailing. Somewhere underneath your apprehension, I sense a longing to sail again. I think under all those fears you miss it.”

He caught her faint nod as if in agreement.

“Your face seemed to brighten the day you stood on the boat and we talked about sailing,” Ian continued. “I guess I wanted to share the experience with you. Remember the sun and wind flapping the sails like it did years ago?”

“I’m being foolish,” she said. “I wanted to accept. I’ve missed sailing, but anxiety hits me and I freeze. Give me time. Maybe one day I’ll accept your offer.”

He reached forward and caught her hand. “But only when you’re ready. I’ll try not to bug you. Promise.”

Her gaze fell to his hand holding hers, and realizing what he’d done, Ian slipped his fingers away slowly for her sake, not his own. The feeling of her flesh against his—the warmth and softness of her touch—skittered through his veins, sending his pulse on a trot.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice uncertain.

Fearing he’d pressed his luck, Ian shifted the chair away, enough to rise. “I suppose I’d better let you
get back to work. Thanks for considering this project.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, rising and moving to his side.

“You can give me a call when you have the proposal ready.” He pulled out his wallet and reached inside for a business card. “I’ll let Somerville know you’re working up something for him. A deal?” He handed her the card.

She accepted it with a nod. “A couple days. Okay?”

“Sure thing.” He extended his hand, and Esther placed her smaller one in his. The same sensation accelerated his pulse again. He released her fingers and stepped back. “Thanks, Esther, and I hope to see you at the Fourth of July celebration.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

He sensed she wouldn’t come, but he wished she would. She would brighten the evening far more than the fireworks display. He knew that for sure.

“W
hat do you mean you’re not going?” Rachel asked, her hands against her hips.

“Just what I said. You rigged the invitation. I’m not stupid.”

Rachel marched across Esther’s kitchen floor, frustration etched on her face. “Maybe you are stupid, Esther. I can’t make Philip Somerville send you an invitation.”

“No, but Jeff can. Or he bought Somerville’s secretary a box of chocolates and she just happened to drop an invitation addressed to me in the mail.” Watching her sister’s face, Esther sensed she had neared the truth.

“It’s a great party. I went last year.” Rachel slid her arm across her sister’s shoulder. “Please come. It’ll be fun.”

Tears filled Rachel’s eyes, and Esther sank into despair. What could she do? If she didn’t go, Rachel would be hurt. If she went, she would cause herself
untold grief, avoiding the men Jeff had conspired with to do him a favor. It didn’t make sense. They couldn’t force someone to fall in love with her…or her with him. “I don’t see the urgency. What difference does it make if I go or not?” Esther knew the difference, but she played dumb.

“I’m tired of seeing you lead the life of a recluse. You can at least get out and have fun.”

Esther slid away from her sister’s embrace and rested a hand on her shoulder. “What’s fun for you isn’t necessarily fun for me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but—”

“Look,” Esther said, trying to deal with her own frustration, “I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise.”

“Thank you. I’m just worried about you.” Rachel adjusted her shoulder bag and stepped back.

Esther felt her defenses slip away. Her heart softened, seeing her sister’s desperation. “You should talk with Dad again. I know it seems useless, but…” Her words faded as she regarded Rachel’s defeated expression.

Rachel gave a faint shrug and headed for the side door. “I’ll talk with you later.” She lifted her hand in farewell as she pushed open the screen door and vanished.

Esther breathed a sigh and sank into a kitchen chair. She understood her sister’s desperation, but it wasn’t fair. Burying her face in her hands, Esther allowed her frustration to surface as tears, and when she’d calmed herself, she turned to the Lord.
Why me, God? Did You lead me to be single or did my
own fear of rejection and my inexperience cause me to think it was You?

No answer came to her. She knew God responded in His own time, not hers, but she hoped the Lord understood her dismay and would give her a clear answer.

Certainly she could change her mind about marriage, but dating and opening her heart would only lead to hurt and even greater loneliness. She’d seen and felt that too much in her life already.

She pushed herself away from the table, poured a large glass of orange juice for energy and headed to her office. The report lay on her desk, and she opened the folder and pulled out Ian’s business card. She needed to tell him the proposal was ready.

Ian. His name billowed into her mind like satin fabric. She tried to gather her thoughts of him, but they slipped and slithered in their own direction—untamed, undisciplined, yet shimmering.

The sensation startled her, and she lifted an unsteady finger to punch in his office telephone number.

Esther left the parking lot and followed the route to the Bay Breeze registration desk. Ian had seemed pleased to hear from her, and though he’d offered to drop by later in the evening, she’d decided to get out of the house and drop the project folder off at his office instead.

“Ian Barry’s office, please?” she asked the clerk.

“To the left and down the hall,” he said.

She thanked him and followed his directions. In a
moment she came upon the offices and in a heartbeat Ian met her at the door. Curious, she looked at him.

He chuckled. “Jim—the guy at the desk—buzzed me.” He motioned her inside.

“I wondered,” she said, accepting his invitation.

The office looked like so many others—dark paneling, a desk and two semicomfortable chairs in front of the desk with a small table between. The credenza seemed the only place that reflected a little of Ian. Amid a stack of magazines and folders sat a model sailboat. A photograph of an elderly gentleman stood near the vessel. Not far from that, Esther spotted another photo of Ian, a bit younger, with a woman nestled at his side, their faces radiant. They stood beside an autumn-hued bush, the leaves unidentifiable. The picture aroused her curiosity and squeezed a little at her heart.

“Have a seat,” he said.

She sat and nodded toward the credenza. “Is that your father?” she asked, forcing her gaze away from the other photograph.

“It is. I suppose the sailboat gave it away.” He grinned, and his cheerful mood lifted hers. “He gave me the sailboat when I was a boy and told me someday I’d have a real one of my own.”

“You fulfilled the prophecy,” she said, pulling her attention from the credenza. She longed to ask about the woman.

He didn’t comment further. Instead, he eyed the folder in her hand. “So what do you have for me?”

“It’s all here. Cost and time frame. If all goes well, I should have a fairly comprehensive report by
the first of the year.” She searched his face, wondering if that was too long.

“That’s better than I expected.” He took the folder and flipped through the pages while she watched.

“I hope I’m not biting off too much,” she added.

He glanced her way. “Maybe I can help a little. I might be able to squeeze some time from the boss.”

“But I don’t expect you to do my work. I know—”

“I might enjoy it. The more I learn about the business the more helpful I can be to Bay Breeze. Know what I mean?”

He wiggled his eyebrows in a silly way, making her laugh.

“I guess I do,” she said.

He closed the folder and rose. “I’ll go over this tomorrow. Once I have a handle on it, I’ll present it to Philip. It looks good, Esther.”

He dropped the file onto his desk, then turned to face her. “Have you eaten?”

“Eaten?”

“Dinner. A while back you mentioned you’d enjoy seeing the sunset from our dining room. Why not take advantage of the evening?”

“Oh…but I planned to have something light when I get home.” She’d planned nothing. In her rush to bring the proposal to Ian, she hadn’t given thought to food.

“We have light entrées here.” He closed the distance between them and extended his hand. “I’d like to buy you dinner.”

“But—”

“But nothing. You’ve done a great job with the proposal, and this is my way to say thanks. You’re making my job easier. You know…a happy boss is a happy employee.”

Her “but” had been heading nowhere. Instead of disagreeing, she acquiesced. His smile put her at ease, and she followed him through the doorway, retracing her steps back to the lobby.

When they passed the registration desk, he gave the man he’d called Jim a wave and guided her toward the dining room.

Tonight the tables overflowed with patrons. Ian spoke briefly to the hostess, and she led them to a table, miraculously empty, near the front of the resort, overlooking Lake Michigan.

The sun hung low in the sky, where muted colors already tinged the horizon. Esther anticipated a glorious sunset. “You have pull for a good table, I see.”

Ian hung his head with a boyish grin and chuckled. “That’s about all the pull I have.”

“That’s enough. The sky looks amazing already.”

He turned his attention from her to the sun-speckled water beginning to tint with pastel coral and lavender. “Pretty,” he said, “but I like the view I have.”

She felt heat slide up her neck and settle on her cheeks. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“Why not? I mean it.” Surprised at his blatant compliment, Ian studied her face, wondering if he’d upset her again.

She picked up the menu and opened it, avoiding his eyes.

He wanted to kick himself for a moment. But when he looked again, she seemed to have dismissed his comment and concentrated on the food choices.

He glanced at the menu, knowing it by heart, and made a mental selection before his thoughts segued to the last time he’d seen Esther in the dining room.

Discomfort jigged through him when he recalled his ridiculous comments…telling her sister he had a library card and talking about the fish.

Esther looked at him from behind the menu. “Good choices. I can’t decide between the salmon fillet and the Mexican chicken salad.”

“They’re both great.” This time he didn’t mention the salmon was fresh.

The waiter arrived, and when Esther made her selection, she chose the salad. He returned quickly with tall glasses of iced tea and a basket of warm rolls.

Before Ian could pass the basket, Esther’s attention was diverted to the window. As he’d hoped, the setting sun had decided to perform an extravaganza.

“Look,” she said, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand.

“Talk about God’s glory.”

“Have you ever tried to imagine heaven?” Esther asked. “When I see a sunset or snow-capped mountains like the Rockies, I wonder how heaven can top it…but it does.”

“Whatever heaven’s like, my dad’s enjoying it. I can picture him sailing on a perfect lake in perfect weather.”

“My mom would be gardening.”

He lifted his head. “Your mom’s dead?”

“She died a few years ago. Mom loved flowers. All kinds. I feel sad…sort of nostalgic when I visit Dad and see those bedraggled flower beds. A few pitiful perennials that need separating and weeding.”

“You don’t have a green thumb?” Ian asked.

“I’ve never tried. I suppose I should go over sometime and work on those beds. It’s finding the time, and now, if this project takes off, by the time it’s over winter will be here.”

“Maybe next year, then. Do it as a tribute to your mother.”

“Like you,” she said, looking more relaxed than he’d ever seen, “with your sailboat. Making your dad’s dream for you come true. That’s nice, Ian.”

He’d never thought of it quite like that. It was nice. In the quiet, he turned back to the window, enjoying her company and admiring the deepening hues across the horizon. The colorful display reminded him of July Fourth fireworks. “Will I see you next Thursday?”

A frown settled on her face. “Thursday?”

“The celebration. Somerville’s party.”

“Oh…I’m not sure. If my sister has her way, I’ll be there.” An uneasy look replaced the frown.

Her sister? Then he remembered she’d be there with Jeff. “She’s anxious for you to see the fireworks?”

“Not really,” she said, her answer cryptic and weighty.

“Then…why?” He knew he shouldn’t ask, but
Esther intrigued him. Her discomfort always cloaked her in silence, and he longed to know what troubled her so often.

A sigh rippled across Esther’s shoulders. She lowered her eyes as if in thought, then focused on him. “It’s a long story. One that would bore you, I’m sure.”

“Like the ice cubes?”

His comment took a minute to settle in. When it did, she laughed. “No, that’s not boring…just odd. My story is not only boring, but one that makes me uncomfortable.”

He leaned forward and brushed her hand with a finger. “But now you’ve caught my interest.”

Her intense gaze was direct. “Really? You want me to bare my soul?”

“Maybe it will help. Two heads are better than one, they say.”

She laughed. “I’ve heard that, but I’m not sure it’s true.”

She fell silent again for a moment, then inched her head upward and captured him with her look. “My sister is playing matchmaker. I don’t like it.”

“Matchmaker? With who?”

“Me.”

“With you.” A jolt of concern zigzagged down his back. “You and who?”

“Anybody. She’s determined to find her single sister a husband.”

“But why? I don’t understand.” Anxiety shot through him. Why did Rachel want to marry off Esther?

“Long ago I felt called to remain single. Don’t ask why. It’s complex. A mixture of inner feelings, passing time and destiny. I’m happy with my work and my life. Why take chances on being miserable?”

Her words smacked him. Ian agreed that she liked her work. But she seemed so solitary. So alone. He’d had other dreams and hopes. She’d make a wonderful wife, he felt sure. He expanded his chest. “So if you want to be single, why is Rachel so determined otherwise?”

“Because of my father. My
stubborn
father.”

Honor your father and mother.
The words hit him between the eyes. He remembered her saying them not long ago. “I’m still in the dark.”

“My father has always insisted I experience things first because I’m the oldest. I had to force myself to do so many things because Rachel wanted to do them. If I refused, my sister had to do without.”

Ian felt his mouth drop open like a front loader, and he tightened his jaw to keep it hinged together. He couldn’t believe her father insisted she marry before Rachel could. “You’re not telling me that—”

“Yes, I am,” Esther said. “If I stay single, my father won’t approve of Rachel’s marriage. It’s Old Testament thinking, but he won’t change.”

“And you can’t move him?”

“Faith moves mountains, but not my father. He’s as staunch as Mount Everest. He won’t budge.”

Ian had a difficult time understanding how someone could cling to that belief in contemporary society. Then a question rushed through his head. Had her father twisted the Scriptures to manipulate the
situation? If he wanted to see her married, her father might do just that.

In the business world, Ian had known many people who took the rules and bent them to their own needs. No reason why someone couldn’t do the same with the Bible. He’d probably done it himself.

“Why not elope?” Ian asked as the impossibility struck him.

“How can we honor our father and go against his wishes?”

Stymied, Ian nodded. Looking at her expression, he knew Esther felt the same. The problem seemed insurmountable. “I don’t have an answer. What I do know is you obviously can’t fall in love at your sister’s whim.”

“You got it. Now, try to explain that to Rachel.” As if captured by another new thought, her head snapped upward. “And it’s not totally Rachel. I’m sure it’s Jeff, too. He’s tired of waiting. She can’t even wear the ring he bought her…at least, not around Dad.”